Chapter 2

Viscount Gerald Sykes was sitting at his desk, puffing on a malodourous cigar when his wife Lady Felicia Sykes burst into his office with a frown on her face. “Do you have to pollute the air with those things?” She asked.

He bent down and scratched the ears of a puppy lying at his feet, “See what I have to put up with Snuggles. Once you marry them, they can’t help themselves. They want to rule every facet of your life. When you get married, pick an old fashioned bitch who doesn’t want to try to control you.

I’m delighted to see you too, my love. What brings you to my exalted office?”

“The smell of your cigar is making everyone nauseous. Please extinguish it, Darling,” she said, opening the window.

“Well, you wanted your office next to mine. You have to take the good with the bad. Now come, Deputy Minister of Innovation, and sit on the minister’s lap so he can enjoy your boobies as a consolation prize.”

She climbed on my lap, undoing the two top buttons of her new style blouse and raising the hem of her short skirt, permitting me, her husband, full access to her charms.

“Now isn’t this better than that stinking weed?” she asked while my roving fingers busied themselves with her charms.

“I really like these new style togs you’re wearing, my dear. Much more convenient than bustles and petticoats and all that old fashioned folderol women used to wear.”

“The battle is not yet won.”

“What’s the problem?”

“It’s two-fold; Men don’t want their wives to wear them. They don’t mind if their paramours wear them but not their wives. They’re afraid their wives might be too much of a temptation to other men. The second obstacle is her Majesty. She persists in wearing widows weeds, and women of so-called breeding strive to imitate her. Now stop that, or my pussey will leak all over your pants.”

“I’m prepared to pay the price. Since you started to shave or whatever you do to it, I love the softness of your cleft.”

“I don’t shave it. I have a Nubian woman come once a week to depilate it for you.”

“Just for me?”

“No, Molly too likes it better that way. She says that it permits her tongue to play more freely when we dally together.”

“Speak of the devil, here she is now. Molly, does Felicia’s pussey taste better when it is bald?”

“Gerald, I don’t kiss and tell, though you are most welcome to join us in one of our trysts, as you well know. You have been working so hard you scarcely have time for us anymore.”

“Well, darlings, what would you say if the three of us took a vacation together?”

“A vacation? Where?” Both women exclaimed in tandem.

“Bermuda!”

“How? Why?” blurted Felicia.

“HMS Kraken is going out for her sea trials. We have been invited to observe.”

“That should be fun,” gushed Molly.

“It wouldn’t have anything to do with young Mr. Christian now, would it? You certainly seem to have caught each other’s eye on our last visit.”

“Well, he does have a certain allure, I must admit.”

“He certainly does,” agreed Felicia.

“What you too? Shame on you wife of mine.”

“Now, Gerald, don’t be jealous. I share Molly with you.”

“It must be the uniform. Well, this time, I will be able to compete.”

“You will?”

“Yes. I will be splendiferous in my uniform as Commodore. Just imagine all the gold braid and buttons. In addition, of course, to my sword of office. Ready to repel boarders at all times.”

“I thought you always carried your sword of office ready to skewer any unsuspecting maiden.”

“Well, there is some truth to that vile canard. I am after all a weak man.”

“Snuggles, are you ready to travel? You might meet a dusky corgi that strikes your fancy. Would you like that?”

His short stub of a tail windmilled around in joy. I swear that dog understood human talk.

“Get your valises ready, ladies we have a reservation on the dirigible at one o’clock.”

I packed my satchel with the latest developments implemented to the Kraken, our new submersible dreadnaught. New steam turbines, an improved snorkel system to vent any noxious gases from the interior, especially the modern electrical marvels developed. A totally electrical system to power the twin water propulsion jets was among the most fascinating. They would be noiseless and allow her to approach an enemy vessel with no warning.

When I got home, I was greeted by my two houris modelling their latest finery. Short skirts revealed the length of their thighs, translucent blouses displaying their scrumptious boobies, and other similar clothing items that they were modelling before stuffing them into their valises.

“Just sit there like a good boy Gerald, we have a last item of clothing to show you.”

They disappeared into the bed-chamber while I prepared a weak Scotch for myself. “Close your eyes, darling, and don’t open them till we tell you to.”

I reclined in my armchair and waited for the order. I heard the sound of feet scampering in, and finally, Felicia said, “You can look.”

I opened my eyes, and my jaw dropped. Standing in front of me were two delectable samples of womanhood. They were wearing bottoms with high cut sides, and plain matching bandeaus clothed their breasts. They turned their backs to me, and two delicious asses were wagged in my direction.

“What in God’s name are those?”

“Our new swimming apparel. We imported the designer from France and hope to put them on the market as soon as possible,” Molly said.

“They certainly will cause a revolution at Brighton when they come out.”

“Oh, we certainly hope so. What women wear to go swimming today is about as ridiculous an item that man has ever invented.”

“And for you here is the male equivalent,” she said, producing an item that consisted of less material than a handkerchief.

“You expect me to wear that?”

“Your choice, Darling. Want to see us in these, that’s what you wear.”

Realizing that I was in a losing strategic position, I decided that the better part of valour was to keep quiet.

Soon, the women were ready wearing light, diaphanous dresses that descended barely below the knee, displaying their lower legs magnificently, and revealing décolletages. Those, coupled with high heeled sandals, were enough to set me drooling.

We were quickly whisked to our departure point in my steam-powered Phaeton arriving just in time to get our luggage loaded and scrambling on board before lifting off.

Comfortably ensconced in the luxurious salon of the dirigible, we surveyed the countryside below. I was wearing my senor service uniform and was the cynosure of all eyes. Likewise, Felicia and Molly were the cynosures of all the men present and the objects of indignation or admiration of the women, depending on whether the women were dressed in the old fashion or the new one.

Snuggles, for his part, looked disdainfully at the two bulldogs on the other side of the saloon. I believe he was contemplating the possibility of a corgi damsel he might run into on the trip.

“Gerald, would it not be wonderful to sail through the air like a bird?”

“Soon, Felicia that might be possible. We are testing at this moment some military applications that are showing promise.”

“I would love to be involved in that project,” she said with her wheedling smile.

“Let’s talk about it when we return. I think we are descending. We should arrive right on time.”

When we arrived at the port, HMS Kraken was no longer moored at the pier but was anchored about 100 yards out in the middle of the bay.

A seamen party rushed to our steam-powered Phaeton and assumed the position of attention as we descended from the vehicle. A young midshipman brought the party to attention and saluted me. “Sir, I’m Midshipman Roberts. I will have the honour of escorting you and the Ladies to the Kraken. Please come this way.”

I returned the salute. “Carry on then, Mr. Roberts.”

The welcoming party led the way to the side of the pier. Roughly ten feet below, we saw a garishly gilded Admiral’s Barge. The seaman party clambered down the stone steps and sat at their oars while a boatswain mate unfurled a pennant on the rear staff.

“What’s that, darling?” Jessica asked.

“That what, my dear, the Pirates of Penzance rowboat or the pennant?”

“Both.”

“Well, the rowboat is called an Admiral’s Barge as for the pennant it is to honour my august rank of Commodore as exemplified by this splendiferous uniform.”

“Well, I agree with the splendiferous part, and I have every intention of removing it as soon as we have privacy. It makes me incredibly randy. But what is that mumbo jumbo about the flag?”

“Darling, after all, I am a Commodore. In essence, an Admiral without a ship to command.”

“Well, excuse me, oh Prince of the Sea, or almost, shall I have to curtesy in front of you.”

“That would be a worthy spectacle as it would allow me to take in the sight of your lovely titties. It would also allow all the sailors here to delight in their beauty. You will notice that their eyes have not been off you and Molly since we got out of our vehicle.”

“Now that you mention it, they are a handsome crew. Molly, have you seen so many virile legs before?”

“Felicia, I have been drooling at the legs and the unmistakable bulges they reveal at the crotch.”

“You two will be the death of me,” I said.

Oh, but what a way to die, Gerald,” giggled Molly.

“Come, Molly, carry Snuggles down so we can get underway.”

Once we were seated, the sailors with metronomic precision started their sweeps, albeit without taking their eyes of the ladies, which caused the boatswain to issue continuous course corrections as we zig-zagged to the Kraken.

The young Midshipman was pink-cheeked with embarrassment at their poor performance and heaved an audible sigh of relief as we accosted athwart the mighty submersible Dreadnaught.

We were escorted up a short gangplank at the top of which stood the admirable Mr. Christian, now decked out in an immaculate white Leftenant’s uniform. After the usual exchange of courtesies, where I requested permission to board and saluted the navy ensign, he led us to the stateroom set aside for our use.

The way Molly clung to his arm while making sure her breast rubbed against him was almost comical. I think if she could have performed a nautch dance for him on the spot, she would have.

I turned to Felicia, and my eyes were blessed by the sight of her in her new delightful lingerie. Wearing a pink bandeau in the modern style which barely covered the bottom half of her bubbies and a diminutive pair of panties which again barely concealed her pretties, she stood there summoning me with her fingers to join her.

In a trice, I was out of my dress uniform and threw her on the bed. I parted her thighs after removing her panties, I started kissing and licking my way up her inner thigh. Her feminine aroma assailed my nostrils as I approached her pussey.

To her accompanying moans, I let the flat of my tongue lap at her fragrant slit and was rewarded with her sweet juices. Her hip arched upward, attempting to have me put more of my probing tongue into her petals, which were opening up before me like a delicate flower.

While she writhed in ecstasy, I introduced two fingers deep in her cunny and found her spot of delight while my mouth found her nubbin, which was now peeping from its hood. The result was cataclysmic, and her writhing almost threw me off the bed when she climaxed, flooding my fingers and face with her juices.

I raised myself and cuddled her in my arms as she attempted to regain her poise after the earthquake she had just been subjected to. “Darling, each time is better than the last. I want to feel you in me. I want to feel your strength and your warmth, please possess me.”

I positioned myself between her thighs anew and rubbed my cock against her wet pussey. Bringing my cockhead to her opening, I started to penetrate her delightful grotto when a klaxon blared right above our heads. ‘Proud willy’ instantaneously became ‘limp willy.’

“What the hell is that? I stammered in shock. When a voice boomed out of a tannoy.

“All hands on deck! All hands on deck in dress whites. Commodore Sykes, please join the Captain at the conning tower.”

My naval training overcame my navel desire, and I scrambled out of bed and into my uniform, despite the groan from Felicia.

When I emerged on the conning tower, it was to the sight of the officers and crew lined up on the vessel’s deck.

“What’s happening, Captain? I enquired.

He shrugged his shoulders and indicated that I should look at the pier. He handed me his binoculars and directing my gaze over the water I could see a squadron of mounted cavalry in full dress escorting a carriage to the pier.

Three people descended from the carriage and took place in the Admiral’s Barge while I watched the Royal Standard being unfurled at its stern. I turned to look at the Captain incredulously, and he returned my look equally baffled.

Felicia joined us and asked, “What’s happening, darling?”

I handed her the binoculars, and she focused on the approaching barge. “No! It can’t be. That looks like grandaunt Victoria looked 30 years ago.”

The Captain was gazing at a signalman on the dock who was frantically waving his flags. “Damn,” he bellowed, “Mr. Christian. Where is that boy?”

The slightly dishevelled Lieutenant appeared with Molly. “Here, Captain.”

“Where were you? Well, we can discuss that later. Break out the Royal standard and prepare to take command of the deck party to receive the Royal party. I think it is her Majesty.”

“Aye aye, Captain,” he said, dashing off.

I glanced at an equally dishevelled Molly and smirked. “Well, did you have fun?”

She gave me a coy smile before answering. “I just so love men in uniform. I think you are most attractive in yours and that Christian is quite a dish. Look at those sailors all lined up in their white shorts and knee-high socks don’t they look scrumptious, Felicia?”

“I’ll admit it gets a woman’s blood heated up, my dear,” answered my darling wife.

“What you too?” I questioned.

“Don’t get jealous. I love it when you wear yours and have a hard time keeping my hands off your magnificent sword, so I understand Molly’s reaction.”

“Come, Commodore, and let’s go see what this is all about,” ordered the Captain.

The barge had arrived, and Mr. Christian received the party, which was made up of a handsome woman who had a distinct resemblance to a much younger Queen Victoria. She was wearing a lightweight summer dress that revealed a considerable leg length as she climbed up on to the deck.

No sooner had she stepped on deck, Mr. Christian saluted and then barked a command, and the Royal Anthem blasted out, and all the men on deck came to rigid attention.

She was followed by two men, the first wearing a kilt and the second in Indian garb. The Indian garbed person was carrying two corgis in his arm. Out of nowhere, Snuggles appeared and waved his stump of a tail in excitement.

We joined the party, and the lady looked at me and said, “Is he housetrained?”

“Absolutely, Your Majesty.” Indeed it was Victoria. A new youthful Victoria. No longer in widow weeds and looking younger than I had ever seen her.

“Is he yours?”

“Yes.”

“I presume then, he is a scalawag just as you are.”

“Awe, Grandma, I am now a respectable married man.”

“Married, I know, respectable, I doubt. I see you, Felicia, get that grin off your face. I’ve known your husband far longer than you have.”

“Captain, I’m The Queen, and I will be sailing with you to Bermuda.”

“But, Your Majesty, my orders make no mention of you sailing with us.”

“They don’t?”

“No, they don’t, Your Highness.”

“Well, consider your orders herby amended.”

“I can’t do that.”

“Excuse me, what did you just say?”

“Your Majesty, I need to have permission to allow you to sail with us.”

“Let me tell you, Captain, how things work. What branch of the service are you in?”

“Uhh ... The Royal Navy, Ma’am.”

“Note well the term Royal. Now, what is the name of this vessel?”

“The HMS Kraken.”

“Good note, its name is Her Majesty’s Ship Kraken. So whose ship is it?”

“Your ship. But...”

“Now look here and listen carefully, I presume you, like all good sailors, want to be an Admiral?”

“Of course.”

“Well, here are your choices, you will comply with my wishes, or I assure you your next command will be a fleet of rowboats on the Thames. Am I clear?”

The Captain visibly blushing, said, “Your Majesty, your slightest wish is my command.”

“Good now, please have us escorted to our staterooms and get underway before anyone notices our departure.”

“Mr. Christian,” ordered the Captain, “Please escort her Majesty to her stateroom.”

“We’ll take staterooms three and four as I presume you have placed the Commodore in number one and two.”

“Your Majesty seems to be au fait with the ship.”

“Yes, I am—every last nook and cranny. I approved the design. Now, what is your name, young man?”

“I am Lieutenant Baron Christian Spencer, Your Majesty.”

“So John Spencer is your father?’

“Yes, Ma’am.”

“I can see the resemblance now. Your father was a handsome man. And the young lady who is attached to your arm is?”

“Molly, Your Majesty, I’m Lord Sykes, personal assistant at the Ministry of Innovation.”

“And he brings you along with him when he travels, does he?”

Molly blushed, betraying our secret.

“Don’t worry about it, child. As long as Lady Felicia is agreeable, I have nothing to say. Today’s world is a new one, and values are bound to change. They certainly have for me.”

We had arrived at our staterooms, and Victoria swept in and beckoned to all of us to enter.

“Well, I presume you have unanswered questions?”

“Yes, we do,” I said.

“All of you sit down. What I say will remain strictly under the veil of secrecy, or you will incur my displeasure. Is that understood?”

We all nodded meekly at this very different woman from the one I had known.

“First, let me introduce John Brown, now Sir John Brown, my master of the bed-chamber, and this is my faithful valet Mohammed Abdul Karim.

“Since my husband died, I became bitter and angry. John here has taught me that you are never too old to find happiness, and he and I are now lovers. Mohammed also has been known to afford me pleasure when I require it.”

“Grandma!” I blurted out. “How did that take place?”

“Don’t give me that sanctimonious look. After your escapades and those of my son Bertie over the years, I’m entitled. John was my faithful and non-sexual companion. I discovered he could make me laugh and look at life differently. One day jokingly, I asked him, John, what does a Scotsman wear under his kilt? He answered, ‘Majesty, I can’t tell you that.’ I ordered him to show me. When I saw what I saw, I said, ‘That’s gruesome!’ His answer clinched it, he said, ‘Aye Lass and it just grew some more.’

“That night, we slept together, and the rest is history. Secret history, do you understand.”

I looked at Felicia and Molly, who were struggling to not burst out laughing.

Felicia was the first one to break the silence. “Aunt, you are so changed. How did you do it?”

“From what I understand, thanks to you.”

“Me? What do I have to do with it?”

“A lot! You have as Assistant Minister of Innovation created a whole new clothing industry. This is revolutionizing how women see themselves, starting with me. You have no idea, my child, what for a start your undergarment innovations have changed for women. Getting rid of corsets alone has changed the way women see themselves. And that also goes for the unmentionables that go with them. Then your practical improvements for the home such as automatic feed for coal stoves where women no longer have to hand-feed the stoves and all of the other projects you are working on. Your new dress lines alone save a woman about one hour a day undressing and dressing, not to mention how more alluring they look. Now, as to your health and beauty improvements...”