Southern Belles

Harvard University, August 2014

Professor Tom Klein looked forward to his summer vacation expedition. A specialist in American History at Harvard University, he could not leave his subject alone. Each summer he would seek out new places in the United States and trace aspects of local history. For the past few years, he had been tracing the course of the civil war and his summer expedition this year took him to Georgia. His plan was to trace General Sherman's march to the sea which had taken place 150 years before and visit some of the key historical sites starting with the great city of Atlanta which union troops had burned to the ground before embarking on this campaign.

Georgia, November 1864

Miss Elizabeth Henderson was attending to her daily duties at the big house. Since her father had been away at the war, the running of the house and indeed the whole plantation had fallen on her shoulders. She was just consulting with the housekeeper when Josiah Quinn her father's elderly overseer came panting up to the front door.

"Quick maam, prepare yourself. There's a party of Yankee soldiers comin' down the road and I'm sure they're headin' for the big house."

Elizabeth was not wholly unprepared. Only a few days a group of exhausted Confederate soldiers had passed through, with a number of wounded men on wagons. It was clear that they were in headlong flight from the approaching Union Army and they urged Elizabeth to join them in their flight. However, Elizabeth was made of stronger stuff.

"If I run off who will care for the plantation and the slaves. What should I say to my father when he returns from the war? That I just upped and left the estate which he placed in my care?"

Elizabeth was in many ways a typical Southern belle. Before the war she had been a spoiled young woman, waited on hand and foot by slaves and courted by every eligible young man for miles around because of her beauty. However, the war had forced her to grow up quickly and she had quickly adapted herself to the responsibilities of running the plantation in her father's absence. Now she did not know when her father would be coming back. It was said that he had been captured and sent to a prison camp in the North but she had received no word from him to confirm his whereabouts. Before the war she had been courted by Jed Harding. His father owned the neighbouring plantation. It was generally expected that she and Jed should marry and join the two estates together in due course. But Jed too had gone off to the war and she had heard nothing from him in months. In many ways Elizabeth valued her new freedom and independence and the thought that when the war ended she would have to go back to doing what her father or even worse Jed told her secretly filled her with dread.

Elizabeth did not have long to prepare herself for the soldiers' arrival. Soon a column of horsemen came thundering down the driveway. Through the window Elizabeth watched as their leader a blonde bearded officer rein in his horse and order his troop to halt. The maid showed the officer into the drawing room where Elizabeth was waiting.

"Good afternoon maam. Captain James Olufsen U.S. Army," said the officer by way of introduction.

"Good afternoon Captain. I am Miss Henderson, what is your business here?" said Elizabeth as coolly as she could.

When the officer removed his broad brimmed hat Elizabeth was able to see his face more clearly. He looked tired and weather-beaten but what immediately struck her were his piercing blue eyes which looked straight into hers and seemed to know her most intimate thoughts.

"Maam, I have orders to requisition food and animals for the United States Army," said the Captain. "You will immediately hand over any grain, meat or other comestibles. I also have information that this house has been used to shelter rebel troops. You will accordingly evacuate the property by midday tomorrow."

"But Captain Olufsen this is preposterous," protested Elizabeth. "This is my home why should I leave it? Besides I need our supplies to feed my workers I have nothing to spare for you."

"Maam, I have my orders. My men will search the property for supplies and then tomorrow this house will be burned as an example of what happens to those who aid the rebel cause." With these words Olufsen saluted and marched back to give orders to his men.

Georgia, August 2014

Tom Klein drew up in the parking lot of the Henderson Mansion. He was looking forward to this day on his tour of Georgia. This was one of the few pre-war mansions left standing in this area. Most of the others had been razed to the ground by the invading Unionist army in 1864. Klein wondered why this house had been spared unlike most of its neighbours which had been in the path of Sherman's "march to the sea".

"Good morning my name is Elizabeth Henderson and I will be your guide today," said the young woman.

Tom's attention was immediately caught as his party was addressed by a pretty young woman speaking in a soft Georgian accent.

The young woman continued. "Before anybody asks, I am a descendant of the Henderson family who lived in the mansion during and after the civil war. In fact, my great-great-great-grandmother lived in the house during the war and I will tell you a little more about her and my family during the tour."

Tom was fascinated by the tour, particularly by the part where Elizabeth described how her namesake, who was her great-great-great-grandmother had persuaded a party of Union soldiers to spare the mansion form being burned to the ground. As the other tourists filed out from the exit Tom held back for a few moments.

"Hi, my name is Tom Kline. I am a professor of American History at Harvard. I was wondering whether I could talk to you a little further about the history of the house and about your great-great-great-grandmother."

Elizabeth looked into the man's face. He had handsome chiseled features and a mop of unruly blonde hair. He appeared too good looking to be a university professor.

"Listen I have to take another tour round in a few minutes," said Elizabeth. Why don't you meet me in town tonight and buy me dinner and I can answer any questions you have then."

Georgia, 1864

Elizabeth did not know what to do. The soldiers were ransacking the house and farm buildings and carrying away sacks of grain and anything else edible. They had rounded up the cattle and horses and were even encouraging some of the male slaves to join their army. And to cap it all the officer was threatening to burn the house down the next day. What would become of her? Finally Elizabeth decided she must make one last attempt to convince Captain Olufsen to relent in carrying out his orders. She had always been able to twist men around her little finger. Wasn't he a man? He must be amenable to persuasion.

Olufsen walked into the study of the big house. He was busy trying to organise his men. The army badly needed supplies and it was the job of his troop to forage for them. He didn't need some prissy little Southern Miss to get in his way. Mind you she was damned pretty little thing and all the more attractive to a fellow who had been in the field for months without any female company.

"Captain Olufsen," Elizabeth began as he walked through the door. "I have asked you to come and see me to beseech you not to destroy this house and plantation. You must leave enough food to see me and my workers through the winter and I am pleading with you to spare this beautiful house."

"But I have orders from General Sherman himself," Olufsen insisted.

"Oh Captain, please have pity on me," wailed Elizabeth throwing herself at the officer's feet. "I am just a young woman trying her best to run my father's estate while he is off at war. I know nothing of politics or why you men are fighting. I simply want my father to be proud of the job I have done keeping his business going in his absence."

As she pleaded with Olufsen in this way she clasped him around his legs and buried her face in his tunic sobbing piteously as she finished her little speech. Tears always seemed to melt men's hearts, at least they had always worked for her in the past. Elizabeth was, however, alarmed that as she pressed herself against the soldier there was marked stiffening in the front of his trousers just at a point near to where she was pressing her face. Elizabeth had little understanding of male physiology and had never seen a grown man naked but she knew what men kept in their trousers and this man's seemed to be growing in size. She recoiled in horror and pulled away.

"No need to pull away so quickly Missy," said the Captain. "You must understand I have been in the field now for months with barely a glimpse let alone a touch of a woman. Is it any wonder a man gets a little ornery when a pretty gal such as yourself throws herself at his feet?"

"I did not mean to offend you Captain, I was just a little shocked at your reaction," said Elizabeth, still trying to mollify him.

"Well maybe you could persuade me to change my mind," said Olufsen. "It seems to me we both want something here. You want to keep Daddy's farm and I sure as hell could use a little relief. Ain't that the basis for some kind of deal between the two of us."

In her naivety Elizabeth was confused. "Are you saying that you are prepared to spare the house in return for something?"

"You catch on quick princess. Now just you come over here while I undo my sword belt."

With that Olufsen unbuckled his belt and laid his sword on the floor and laid his hat beside it. He laid back in one of the big overstuffed easy chairs and to Elizabeth's shock began to unbutton the flies of his pants.

"But Captain what on earth are you doing?" said Elizabeth who had until then not even kissed a man.

"Why I was just going to get John Thomas out so you could stroke him Missy. You didn't want to upset me now did you?"

Elizabeth found the soldier's threatening tone disturbing and all her upbringing told her that this was quite wrong. She should send this man packing and if he burned the house down tomorrow so be it, at least her honour would be i tact. However, a voice in her head told her that if she kept her head she could take control of the situation. Maybe she should make a bargain with the devil. There was also part of her which was secretly thrilled to be alone with this handsome stranger. His piercing blue eyes, aquiline nose and blonde beard were strangely attractive and she was feeling sensations in her loins which she had not felt since she had danced with Jed Harding at that last ball before he and the other young men marched off to war.

Suddenly Olufsen pulled something out of his pants, it looked like a long elongated mushroom with a brownish stalk and a shiny purple head. Elizabeth, of course, knew what it was but she had never seen a man's penis before and certainly not one which was firm and upright like this one. Her eyes widened and her jaw dropped. Olufsen smiled at the picture of this gorgeous Southern Belle standing open mouthed at the sight of his erect pecker. She had the most delicious cherry red lips which would no doubt feel all the sweeter clasped around his throbbing organ and her large dark eyes were staring straight at it in disbelief.

"Come here and kneel down in front of me," ordered Olufsen.

In a daze Elizabeth stepped forward and knelt at his feet. The huge crimson tipped organ stood to attention only inches from her face now. Elizabeth quivered with anticipation. Part of her was horrified at the way this man had exposed himself to her but another part of her was fascinated. She wanted to know what a man's organ felt like, to hold in her hand, maybe even to feel it in other parts of her body.

"That's it. Now just reach out your hand and have a feel of it. Feel how hard and smooth it is," said Olufsen.

Tentatively Elizabeth reached out and grasped the tip of the swollen pole of flesh. At her touch the organ gave a slight twitch and Olufsen gasped in pleasure. Elizabeth suddenly grasped how in giving a man pleasure she might exert some power over him.

"That's it now pull back the skin around the tip, just gently," ordered Olufsen.

Elizabeth slowly retracted the man's foreskin exposing the whole of his swelling purple bulb. She was fascinated by the shape and dimensions of this male organ. So, this is what your husband pushed inside of you when he wanted to plant his seed in you. Of course, Elizabeth had seen the bulls and stallions on the farm making babies but it had never really occurred to her than men might be similarly endowed. Elizabeth gently eased the soldier's foreskin back and forth across his swollen glans. Olufsen began to moan in pleasure as she stimulated his excited organ.

"This is not so bad," though Elizabeth to herself. "This man is putty in my hands and all because I permit myself to rub his little organ. I will give him a bit of pleasure and hopefully he will honour his promise to go away and leave us alone."

No sooner had these thoughts run through Elizabeth's mind than Olufsen spoke again. "That's real good Missy but I want to feel those cherry lips of yours around the root of my oak "

In a moment of shock Elizabeth suddenly realised that this man was not going to be contented with her merely rubbing his organ. Now he wanted her to take him in his mouth. Who knows what else he might demand next? Elizabeth was simultaneously excited and disgusted at the thought of sucking on this stranger's organ. It had never occurred to her that men might expect women to perform such a service and seemed highly unnatural. However, secretly the thought excited her, the idea that she could reduce this powerful soldier to her quivering slave by giving him sexual pleasure.

Before Elizabeth could make a decision as to whether she wanted to give in to her secret urge, Olufsen seized her by the hair and pushed her head into his lap. She was forced to take a good half of his not inconsiderable manhood into her mouth. It felt so hard and swollen with desire and she could feel the firmness of the ridge running around the base of its mushroom head rubbing against her tongue. The Captain guided her head up and down until she understood that he wanted her to bob her head up and down on his organ while sucking on it like some over-sized lollipop.

Suddenly Elizabeth no longer felt in control. She was being used by this man as a mere receptacle for his pleasure. His monstrous organ repeatedly stabbed into her mouth penetrating almost to the back of her throat. She could smell the rank musty odour of his body unwashed after perhaps weeks in the saddle. The idea of being orally ravished by this invader was repulsive to her rational mind but she could not deny the strange feelings that were coursing through her as she sucked on the man's member. In her loins there was strange wetness and a quivering excitement in heart which she had only experienced a few times before after dancing with a particularly handsome young man.

Before Elizabeth could get any more excited she suddenly heard the officer emit a low groan and he cried "Oh God, I can hold it no longer."

At that moment she felt his penis twitch and stiffen and then a great spurt of sticky fluid erupted in the back of her throat. Floods of hot liquid dribbled down her throat and from her lips. His seed had an acrid sharp taste which she did not much care for. Olufsen did not care, he held her by her hair and continued to pump the last drops of semen into her pretty mouth.

Georgia, 2014

Tom Kline sat in the restaurant wondering whether Elizabeth would turn up. He had been immediately attracted by the beautiful young woman who had led the tour that afternoon and could not believe his luck when she had offered to meet him and tell him more about her family history.

A few moments later Elizabeth rushed in and sat down at his table. "I am so sorry to be late. I just forgot the time."

In reality, Elizabeth had been looking forward all afternoon to meeting the handsome blonde professor again and had spent so long deciding what to wear and putting on her make up that she had ended up being late.

"It's no problem. By the way you look absolutely stunning," said Tom.

Indeed Elizabeth did look ravishing. She was wearing a low cut navy dress which showed off her smooth shoulders and firm cleavage. Her dark red lipstick highlighted the perfect bow of her lips and her dark hooded eyes were set off by carefully applied dark eye shadow.

They quickly ordered some food and wine and spent some minutes making small talk. Tom explained his interest in the Civil War and how he hoped to write a paper on Sherman's march to the sea when he returned to the university next semester. Elizabeth explained how her grandmother had been the last member of the family to live in the Henderson Mansion. When she had died, she had bequeathed the house to the county as a museum. When Elizabeth returned from studying History at college she had got a job as a guide in the old house.

"So you're a historian too," said Tom approvingly.

"Well I am no professional like you but I have looked into the family records a little and the local county archives.."

"One thing that intrigues me is why the Henderson Mansion escaped the destruction which most of this area experienced in the civil war," said Tom. "You said something during the tour about your great-great-great grandmother's role in saving the house.

"Oh yes," said Elizabeth trying to swallow a mouthful of food. "She was called Elizabeth like me. She seems to have been a pretty feisty lady. Her father left her in charge of the plantation while he went off to fight the Yankees. He died in a prison camp and never came back. It seems like a party of Yankee soldiers came to the plantation foraging for food and threatened to burn the house down. Somehow Grandma Elizabeth persuaded the officer in charge to leave them alone and so the house was left standing."

"A fascinating story, but do you have any documentary evidence about this or is this just a tale handed down in the family," asked Tom

"Ah I see you are a real historian. My professor at Savannah used to always remind me to back my arguments with sources. Well, it just so happens that this story is based on more than a family tale. Grandma Elizabeth kept a journal throughout the war and for many years afterwards. Parts of the journal are in a strange kind of code which I never managed to decipher but there's enough there to get a general idea of what happened.

Tom and Elizabeth continued to chat excitedly about what Elizabeth knew about the history of her family and their shared love of history as they ate and drank. It became clear to Tom that Elizabeth was a gifted scholar who could easily have gone to grad school. She seemed bored with the provincialism of small-town life but seemed to genuinely enjoy sharing her enthusiasm for the past with the hordes of tourists who flocked to the Henderson Mansion each year.

They were still talking in this way at eleven o'clock when the head waiter tactfully asked them if they would like anything else as they would shortly be closing. Tom paid for their meal and walked Elizabeth to her car.

"Listen if you want to see Grandma Elizabeth's journal it's over at the big house," said Elizabeth. "I have keys, I could take you in and show you some of the stuff you don't get to see on the regular tours."

"Well, I don't want to put you to any trouble," said Tom.

Tom required little persuasion and was soon speeding towards the Henderson Mansion again in Elizabeth's battered convertible. Elizabeth quickly unlocked the doors and turned on some lights leading him towards the study of the house. She unlocked a glass case which Tom had examined that afternoon and pulled out the small leather-bound volume which was Grandma Elizabeth's journal of 1864. The journal had been open at a page with entries for July they recorded mundane details of activities in the house and on the farm. Elizabeth, however, quickly turned to an entry for November 1864 and showed it to Tom. It recounted how Yankee soldiers had arrived at the house and how their officer, a Captain Olufsen had said that he had orders to burn the house to the ground the next day. Grandma Elizabeth then recounted how she had thrown herself at the knees of Olufsen and pleaded with him to spare her home. At this point the entry made no sense and became a bunch of jumbled letters.