Joan Called the Swede

by realoldbill

Copyright© 2014 by realoldbill

Sex Story: Joan Suede they called her in Georgetown, but that was a long time ago

Caution: This Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/ft   NonConsensual   Historical   Rough   .

(The following is a translation with some explanations for unclear words)

I was brought to Georgetown about a year ago, more than a year now. I think I was sixteen then, but I'm not so sure. I'm an apprentice, they say, in the kitchen, but I haven't learned to cook much. I just carry things, wash dishes, haul the garbage. I really haven't seen very much of the town and don't have good English yet, but Jinny's helping me.

Mr. McKenzie, who runs the inn here, the City Tavern, he bought my bond. On the ship, it was, we were sold off (auctioned?) like cattle, in the Baltimore Town harbor, Fell's something it's called. They made me take off my clothes and stand up on the hatch cover. Men had to do that too, the apprentices, even the prisoners, criminals. There were some of them aboard, chained. The buyers felt the men's muscles and looked into their mouths, like they were horses. And it was cold. Some of the gentlemen laughed and pointed. One felt my leg. Another poked at me with his walking stick. I tried not to look at them.

I don't know what he paid, Mr. McKenzie. He told me it was a hundred pounds, but I don't know. I doubt it. I think he lies, very often he lies. Most of the men went for ten guineas or less, maybe a few for a little more, them with skills. He could see my bruises, my black eye, and the stripes on my back when I had my dress in my hands.

I can write my name, but I just made my mark on the paper(bond) where they showed me. I couldn't read what it said. Then they let me put my dress back on. It was all I had, no shift or nothing.

I was mistreated(the word she used, "angrippa," could mean raped or attacked) on the voyage over from England. It took nine, maybe ten weeks. I was the only unmarried woman in the hold. There wasn't much food and most of it was spoiled. They made us drink citrus, and they pulled me out of there and fucked me every day, almost. Said they wouldn't feed me if I didn't pleasure them. Even the captain did, and his wife was in their cabin, right there, next to where they did it. She pretended she didn't know, but she must have heard me. Or heard him grunting. I could see it in her eyes; she knew.

At first I yelled "hjŠlpa" and such and fought them best I could, but they beat me. Hit me on the back and belly with a rope end, even used a whip on me once and then a long cane. Sometimes three of them in the room at once, holding me down. I've still got the marks. When they found I was with child, they pushed a sharp thing, a spike, metal it was, I don't know what's it's called, pushed it up in me (likely a marline spike), but I think it was the beating that did it. I bled some for almost a week after I (an unknown or mumbled word, "fals-something" in Swedish that probably means "miscarried").

Then they went right back to humping me again, sometimes two or three a day; always the first mate. I hated to see him come in the cabin. He was the mean one, a "tupp." He liked to hear me yell, to hurt me. The mate, the captain, the whole crew I think, maybe ten of them, a blackamoor, and a Chinee, they did it to me for another month.

I came from Sweden, a small farm. My parents died when I was twelve or so, of bad water I think, black fever they called it. I was away at school with my brother. The minister I stayed with after I ran away from my uncle, he paid the fare from Stockholm to London. Put me on a ship. Him and his son, they had been swiving me, regular-like, for a while. When he thought out that I was pregnant when I missed my courses, the minister sent me away, to England it was. Told me to go to America, if I could, and not tell what he done.

I came to the church there after my uncle climbed in my bed. So I wasn't no virgin when I got to Stockholm. Huh, not hardly. I was fourteen then, three winters ago. My brother, he stayed with my uncle. I didn't tell him why I ran; just told him to stay. This skinny minister took me in, found me hiding in the back of his wooden church, said I could work in his house, in the kitchen. I slept there, on a pallet by the oven. Soon he was coming to my bed, putting his hand over my mouth when he did it. It just took him a minute or two. He smelled bad, too. Then one night, after a year or so, he brought his boy, 'bout my age, maybe younger. He took longer and cried out sometimes. So did I.

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