1922 The Sheik of Piddletrenthide

It is a simple pleasure that very few experience, to have a skill that one does well and that so many of one's fellow villagers find useful. So it was with Eric Gange. Even though many people believed the internal combustion engine would eventually replace the horse, agriculture, at this time, still relied heavily on equestrian power.

A Farrier wasn't a Blacksmith. He knew iron and he knew the forge but mostly he knew horses.

Eric had learned his trade from his father and grandfather. When the Great War had started, the Army requisitioned every able-bodied horse over fifteen hands. On top of this they imported beasts from America and Canada, thousands upon thousands of them.

In 1914 Eric Gange was thirty-five. He didn't want to go to war but on the other hand he knew that all those horses would need shoeing and caring for. He hated to see animals suffer.

In France and Belgium he saw enough suffering to last a lifetime, both men and horses. He could do nothing for the men but Eric could help the animals.

He wanted to forget and he did forget that he probably dispatched nearly as many horses as he shod, at least, that is the way it felt to him. It wasn't just battlefield injuries that brought on their demise, most of the horses and mules simply keeled over from exhaustion or disease.

By 1918, he could finally return to Piddletrenthide, to his forge and most of all to his Ada.

The couple had married in their early twenties. At first Ada was reluctant. She wasn't sure that she wanted to be a Farrier's wife. But Eric had persuaded her that he would do all he could to make her happy and that's what he had always tried to do.

Parting during the war years had been hell for Eric. True, he was never quite sure if he had ever made Ada entirely happy but it made him happy to try.

The problem was that Ada could read and she loved to read. Eric wanted to make her happy so he had bought her all the books that she ever wanted. Books about Romance and Adventure. Books where young ladies were swept off their feet by Knights in shining armour or taken away to Country Mansions or told Arabian stories of magic carpets.

Nothing that Eric could do would ever quite live up to the tales that leapt out from the printed pages. When they made love, Ada was warm and willing but he always had the impression that in her mind she was being ravaged by someone else, somewhere else, maybe on the Spanish Main or in a rainswept, windswept castle in Scotland.

He had a lovely house and, to make life happier for Ada, he employed a maid, Daisy, to help with the heavier domestic work. This left Ada more time to read. Daisy was about thirty and not the brightest of girls but she was strong.

Ada had always had that apple round face that was so common in these parts and now at the age of forty she had a backside and bossom to match. Still Eric loved her and wanted to make her happy.

Each evening, when Eric's day's work was done, he was content to sit by the fire and smoke his pipe while Ada read. His only wish was that she was happy. He had enough letters to conduct business but on the odd occasion that he tried to read a book or a newspaper he had fallen asleep on the first page.

........................................

Within a couple of years of the war ending Eric's business was booming. The number of agricultural horses that needed shoes had returned to their former levels. He felt a little treacherous when he purchased a small van but it proved invaluable. The van could fetch and carry in half the time it took with a horse and cart.

An added advantage was that Dorchester was now within easy reach. Eric took so much pleasure from the delight on Ada's face the first time that he took her to the Palace Theatre in Durgate Street. They called it a theatre but they only showed moving picture films. He had to stop himself asking why in case it made him look foolish.

After that they went every week.

Ada was entranced. She loved everything that was presented but she particularly liked adventure films where the heroine was in danger and had to be rescued by the film's hero. Eric quite enjoyed them too but he sometimes had trouble following the plot if the captions went off the screen before he had a chance to read them. What he did love was the pianist that accompanied the films, the man improvised as the action became more dramatic.

All the way home, Ada would chat about the film. What had happened to the woman and what she thought may have happened but they weren't allowed to show. Eric was happy to see her happy.

As with everything new, it took a while for the latest pictures to reach Dorset. The national newspapers reviewed newly released films sometimes weeks before they were shown at The Palace. This added to the sense of expectation for Ada.

Like so many, she was eagerly awaiting 'The Sheik' starring Rudolph Valentino. Evidently, it was very controversial, as much for what it implied as for what it actually portrayed. It had been based on an even more controversial book by an Englishwoman called Edith Maud Hull. Although it was classed as Romantic Fiction some found it shocking which had only added to its popularity. If the film had implied salaciousness the book had implied even more.

On the return journey, Eric had expected Ada to be gushing. Instead she spent most of the time deep in contemplation. He had thought that the film was alright, although he found Mr Valentino a bit oily, but with its excotic setting and suggested muckiness he could easily see how Ada would like it.

Four days later Ada insisted that Eric go into a Dorchester bookseller and order a copy of Mrs Hull's book.

"You are the fifth gentleman to order a copy this week," said the bookseller, "they've all mentioned that it was for their wife."

"Well, we have to keep the little women happy," remarked Eric.

The shopkeeper laughed and said, "I wish my wife was happy with a book, I've got plenty."

"Yes, that's why I never give the missus horse shoes," said Eric.

...............................................

Even at the village school Ada had been considered a dreamer. She was bright enough, the first to read and write in her class. Somehow she had never quite come to terms with the world as it was. "Wouldn't it be wonderful if............," were the words which began so many of her utterances.

In lots of ways she was fortunate, while the other girls went off to work on farms or in big houses, Ada has been earmarked as a companion to a Doctor's Widow. The lady was blind and so needed someone to read to her each day. The Doctor's library was filled with novels and works of classic fiction as well as non-fiction books of all sorts. Ada had free rein to select any books she chose. Her mistress liked the works of Charles Dickens or Thomas Hardy best of all but she was equally content to hear adventure stories. Ada interspersed tales of London, Essex and Kent, or Wessex with those of Hispaniola or La Mancha or the forest home of the Mohicans.

She liked any book that involved a woman in danger but she particularly loved those where a strong man's will overcame a lady's inhibitions. Even if the author didn't say specifically that this had happened, Ada wasn't above reading between the lines; and often reading between the lines that she had already read between.

For her, Ada's situation was ideal. Like all ideal things, its lifespan was finite. Once the Doctor's wife became increasingly ill, her family decided that she should go into a nursing home. They thanked Ada for her dedication to her mistress and told her that she could take her time in finding alternative employment. It soon proved obvious that the kind of work that was available to her was not a shadow of what she wanted to do.

Eric's offer of marriage was the least unpleasant of her options.

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'Sheik Mania' had gripped the country. There was hardly a woman who had not seen the film. Daisy, their maid, had seen it three times.

As Eric was about to enter the scullery one morning, he heard Daisy's voice, "That Rudolph Valentino could shag me anytime. I'd pretend that I didn't want to at first but then he could do what he bloody well liked to me."

"You mind he don't get sand in it!" laughed Ada.

She went on, "I know what you mean, though. I love to see films or read books where the woman gets into a situation where she doesn't know what will happen. She may get kissed but she may get a whole lot more. It sends a tingle right through me.

"That Sheik is not a man to be denied and he makes you wish you were Lady Diana Mayo."

"He could open my tent flaps anytime," said Daisy.

"Daisy!" exclaimed Ada.

Eric thought that maybe he should go back to his forge.

.................................

Eric wasn't a great thinker but he did mull things over slowly. He had been through the war and had seen a little of the world. During the long nights, when every soldier wondered if it was his turn next, men had talked. Sometimes they spoke about things that maybe they shouldn't. Things that went on in the marital bedroom, things that their wives liked done to them and the lengths that some men would go to to keep them happy. Eric knew that what men wanted wasn't necessarily what women needed.

He so wished Ada to be happy and he knew that he would have to show an interest in the things that made her happy.

Ada sat at her dressing table brushing out her long dark hair in preparation for bed. All of a sudden, Eric burst into the room. Upon his head he wore a piece of striped ticking, from an old mattress, tied on with a piece of washing line. Wrapped around his shoulders was a bedsheet. Apart from this he was as naked as the Cerne Giant and just as proud.

"I am Ammo Benny Assan, The Sheik of Piddletrenthide, and I am going to ravage the ass off you," he said, in a gruff voice.

Ada quickly got over the shock and fell in with the playacting.

"Oh no, I am a married woman and no other man has ever done me," she exclaimed.

"I don't care. I am not used to being refused so I'm having you missus," cried Eric, trying to sound all eastern and masterful.

"We don't do that sort of thing in England," said Ada as she quickly removed her nightdress.

Eric grabbed her by the scruff of the neck and pushed her towards the bed. Luckily Ada didn't resist, he wouldn't have wanted to hurt his wife.

As she fell, Ada spread her legs and Eric climbed between them.

He entered her.

Ada said, "You are defiling me and making me do things that I don't want to."

"Yes! And you love it," said Eric.

Ada pulled up her knees to allow him to sink deeply into her. He grasped both of her ankles.

Eric thrust forcefully with a metronomic rhythm. He could hear himself slapping against her.

"My husband would never do this to me," said Ada.

Eric replied, "That is why you are letting me do it."

"Well maybe just you then but you won't let your friends have me next, will you?"

"I am the Sheik and I will do as I choose."

Ada felt the hot desert wind pass over her as she surrendered to an orgasm.

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The next day the couple did something that they had never done before. They spoke about what had happened the night before.

"It was lovely. It was so wonderful of you to think of it," said Ada.

"Did it make you happy to be taken like that?" added Eric.

"Well, it was exciting."

"What? Even though you knew it was me?"

"To be honest, it would have been better if there had been more danger in it but I did like it."

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Piddletrenthide is a long snake of a village with the River Piddle running right through it. It sits on the road from Puddletown to any of a number of similar Dorset villages. Its serpentine nature necessitates a public house every couple of hundred yards or so. To minimise the temptations of the demon drink the Wesleyan's have built their chapel at the southernmost extremity of the village, thus making every pub in Piddletrenthide at least two hundred yards away. This has deterred no-one.

Now, you may wonder why the need for so many drinking establishments?

In the not too distant past agricultural workers received an allowance of ale, beer or cider as a portion of their pay. Towards the end of the last century, as wages increased, the drink allowance was slowly replaced by actual cash. By the Great War the practice had entirely died out.

As a consequence, workers now had to buy their own beer and needed plenty of places to buy it.

As a farrier, Eric knew people from every farm in the parish. If he walked into any pub in the village he would meet someone he knew. This proved rather useful at times.

.....................................................

The house and forge were separated from each other by a yard in which men and horses waited on Eric's services.

On a warm Summer's evening the yard was empty. Wondering what had delayed Eric, Ada went to look for him. No sooner had she left the house than she was grabbed from behind, an empty flour sack was pulled over her head and she was wrapped in an old carpet. Screaming, she was manhandled out into the lane and placed gently onto a waiting cart.

Avoiding the main street she was driven away from the village.

Some twenty minutes later Ada felt herself carried, still screaming, from the cart.

"Hush woman!" commanded a voice, as she was stood upright and unwrapped from the carpet. The flour sack still in place, her hands were secured behind her.

A loud voice boomed out, "Now you fine Arab gentlemen and Sheiks. Welcome to the slave girl auction!"

With those words Ada's fear turned to excitement. She sensed Eric had planned some further playacting but she had no idea what it was. This was what was causing the excitement.

The voice continued, "How much am I bid?"

"Hold on, we can't see what's on offer or what we're bidding for," shouted someone.

"Oh yes, I forgot. It's my first slave girl auction," replied the auctioneer.

Ada could hear the familiar sound of a penknife being clicked open. The thin straps of her printed Summer dress were cut and it fell to the floor to the sound of applause.

Her first reaction was to protest, and she would have if it had been the new dress that she had bought last week, but it was an old one and Ada didn't want to prevent whatever was happening here. She had no idea what was happening here but she had waited for most of her life for it.

"Do you swarthy eastern gents wish to see more?" asked the auctioneer.

They did.

The button that held Ada's camisole in place shot off into the air as soon as the knife nicked it. The garment slipped down to her waist.

"More?" suggested the salesman.

"More!" shouted the onlookers.

The penknife made short work of her bandeau. The auctioneer pulled it away and Ada's tits sprang into full view to the sound of a great cheer.

"Lovely udders. Nice big teats!" shouted someone.

"Do camels have udders?" asked somebody else loudly.

Everyone laughed.

"Knickers off now?"

The answer came in the affirmative.

The knife was pulled through the elastic and then slit the silk drawers, what was left of Ada's camisole was yanked away with them.

Another cheer went up.

Eric's wife was left standing in just her stockings and pink garters and her shoes. Oh, and of course the flour sack over her head and hands fastened behind her.

"What's hiding in that dense bush?" some wag asked.

The auctioneer went into full sales pitch, "Now, you sons of Arabia, isn't this a fine piece of an English pedigree rose?

He slapped Ada on the backside rather giving the impression that he usually sold livestock.

"What am I bid for the privilege of fucking her?"

Ada felt her knees shaking slightly. She was in danger and she delighted in it.

"A shilling," called a bidder.

"A good start."

"Two bob," called a voice at the back.

"Any more?"

"Three."

"Three shillings, I have."

"Four bob."

"Four shillings it is."

"Five shillings," shouted someone on the far side.

"Five shillings. Any more bids?

"No?

"No?

"Going once, going twice, three times.

"Sold, for five shillings," concluded the auctioneer.

The crowd cheered. Ada was pleased. She was afraid that no-one would make an offer.

She felt herself being bent over a bale of hay. She knew it wasn't straw as soon as her nipples rested against it. She was being gently held down, completely unnecessarily.

"Pay up and step up," came the gruff voice of the auctioneer.

There was a little fumbling before Ada's legs were eased apart and she received the stiff cock. She was warm, moist and completely ready for it. Only the second dick she'd ever had; she was certain that it wasn't Eric.

The crowd cheered as the man started to bang away at her rump.

"Go on, fuck the ass off her!" suggested someone.

"Get your balls up there," cried another helpful soul.

Ada's fucker felt that he needed no encouragement, he was going to do it his own way. Hard and fast.

I'm not entirely sure how long five bob's worth should last but the man obviously believed that he had had full value because he spunked deeply into Ada.

Several people agreed with his decision because they shouted things like, Well done! and Good lad!

The man withdrew to a round of applause.

The auctioneer was now in a unique situation, one that he'd never been in in the whole of his career. He had sold the goods but he clearly still had the same goods available to be sold again.

It did not faze him.

"How much am I bid for the second fuck?" he announced.

It took a few moments for the onlookers to realise the possibilities. Then someone said, "Sixpence?"

"A tanner is bid. Any more?"

"A shilling," came the next bid.

"A shilling, it is."

"One and six," called a high voice.

There was laughter.

"Let the lad have a go."

"Any advances?

"No? Then going once, going twice, third and final time? Sold to the young man," laughed the auctioneer.

"Money out, cock out and up you come."

Ada had never read this scenario in any of her adventure books. Still it was an adventure nevertheless.

The lad got short-shift for his one shilling and sixpence but he did deliver a copious amount of spunk. Ada wondered how long he had been storing it up for.

"A third fuck or not?" asked the auctioneer.

"Two bob," came the answer.

"Three bob."

"Three and six."

"Steady boys, I mean Arab men, let me keep up," said the auctioneer.

"We are at three and six for a go on the fat white rump. Any more bids.

"Five bob!"

Several mumbles of, "Too rich for me!"

"Any more? No? Sold!

"Up you come and up you get. Money first, don't forget."

How romantic Ada thought. Eric hadn't haggled, he'd paid over the odds.

By now, her fanny was wet and relaxed. As he entered her from behind Ada felt that it was probably Eric but she couldn't be sure. He didn't usually take her this way round. She thought that he thought that it was a bit crude for her taste. It had come as quite a revelation to her. She liked the animal nature of it.

Whoever was tupping her was lasting pretty well. Maybe because there was less friction now. Maybe because the other men were urging him to keep it going.

Eventually, Ada pushed herself up on her tiptoes slightly to give her heels a rest. The minute change in angle was enough to push him over the edge. He grasped her hips and tried to carry on but the fire in his knob made him stop. Much to the derision of the crowd.

Ada was aware that he fanny was not retaining all of his semen. The tiniest amount was seeping out of her and heading south.

"Now, now, gentlemen. Just one final fuck for the sake of the ladies health," declared the auctioneer.