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Inspired by the splendid works of George MacDonald Fraser. Readers are warned that this story contains period-typical language, as true of the original Flashman books.
The Royal Victoria Military Hospital at Netley has its roots in the Crimean War. Queen Victoria laid the foundation stone for the hospital in a ceremony on 19th May 1856. The first patients were admitted in March 1863 and the Queen made her first visit to the hospital on 8th May 1863, which is the year I decided to set this story in.
The Royal Victoria is a lot more comfortable than others I have had the pleasure of frequenting. So far, not a single rat, nor the stench of an unemptied chamber pot.
I am proud to have three prime talents, namely – horses, languages and fornication. I can add robust health to that list. A lesser man may have bled to death after being shot in the leg. My time at the hospital has been so far uneventful and that needs to change. A man’s loins grow restless in a very short period of time.
Presently, two nurses come marching down the long corridor. I recognise the first one – grim faced crone Sister Bertha O’ Connor. Ghastly creature, with breath that smells awful foul. The second one’s a pretty little filly of about twenty – definitely worthy of being cropped, ridden hard and put away wet. I pretend to be asleep.
The old hag Sister Bertha mutters something to the filly. It looks like she’s forgotten something. Her false teeth perhaps? Before the filly can say anything, Bertha’s disappeared back down the corridor. No sooner has she hurried off, my eyes open a fraction, rather like a crocodile as it waits to ambush its prey. The filly approaches my bed.
“Mr Flashman. Time for your…”
“I’d much prefer if we made haste down to the boiler room. You don’t mind a damn good thrashing do you?”
“I beg your pardon?”
“I’ll ride you through the night like a wild mare fleeing through a forest fire, pink tongues of flame licking your gleaming flanks, the night owl’s shrieks stifling your broken moans!”
Her fair features have flooded with colour. “Mr Flashman! I’m running late and have to report back to Sister O’ Connor.”
“Don’t pendik escort waste your time. She’s the ugliest woman in the hospital.” I suddenly propel myself out of bed. My leg protests at this sudden movement, as I pin the filly against the wall. “Come here. I want to take handfuls of you.”
I’m a man of my word too. When I come to think about it, it’s been three months since I last ravished a woman. Too bloody long.
“Stop doing that!” She squeals. War hasn’t caused my sense of direction to falter. “You can’t go around doing things like that!”
“Up guards and at ’em! Tally ho!” There is much I can teach this inexperienced filly. At that point the cord on my robe somehow unfastened itself and I once again proved my point.
“You were in India and Africa, were you?” She humours me.
“Ah yes. Such glorious days amongst the sepoys and slavers. That’s where you meet them. Niggers with fine, wobbling tits slapping against your belly. Splendid! That’s the stuff that makes a soldier stand to attention.” At other times, I would’ve been happy to spin manifold tales of my time in the Empire colonies. Now however, I was more than a trifle heated.
“Methinks you ought to sheath it,” she replies.
“I know where I’d like to put it. You have a fine rump, my dear.”
All at once there’s the sound of heavy footsteps approaching. Sister Bertha appears and I feel like a hound who’s lost the scent. Dash it all. Nobbled.
“What on earth are you doing, Nurse Emily?”
“Sister! This man went mad the moment I approached him. “He started mauling me and suggested we do inappropriate things in the boiler room.”
The old hag looks suspiciously at her and then at me.
“In my weakened state, I am in no suitable position to go anywhere, let alone mad,” I plead.
“I don’t wish to hear nurses on my watch utter such filth! You are needed on Burkenhare Ward at once!”
Nurse Emily rounds on me so fiercely that my face reddens, as always happens when I’m afraid. “You wicked man! You are the most wicked man in England!”
Quite the compliment.
My joy is short lived when escort pendik Sister Bertha turns to me. “Very well Mr Flashman. It is time for your blanket bath.”
I find out later that the hospital is to be visited by Her Majesty Queen Victoria. It is the first public appearance of the Queen since the death of her husband Prince Albert in 1861. I have heard rumours bandied about that this hospital is built on the ruins of a 17th century brothel. What a hoot. Though I trust the good Queen will be most unamused. I find the increased prudishness spreading through society like a new strain of pox most tiresome.
For the first time, there seems to be a sense of urgency around the wards. Everyone’s rushing around making sure the place looks shipshape and Bristol fashion ready for the monarch’s visit. How miserably boring. I am beyond needy by this point and there’s no sign of my fierce little filly anywhere. I overheard one of the senior hospital staff discussing an amusing matter earlier. Portly fellow, with a nose bashed red from decades of drink. One of the surgeons somehow left his pocket watch inside a patient. They opened him up again and retrieved it. And by the greatest of fortunes, the watch still works.
A few hours later and the Queen is due to arrive. I however, have more pressing needs. In search of relief, I shuffle out of bed, crutch under my arm and go off in search of a filly. Now a weakened leg won’t stop Flashy – as demonstrated earlier, the rest of me remains in fine working order. I’m hurrying down some stairs when I trip, but luckily some kind soul saves me before I can damage my leg a second time. It’s none other than my filly – Nurse Emily.
She scowls at me as though I’m some horse dung she’s trodden in.
“Stop snivelling. I can’t stand women who snivel. I was looking for you.”
Oh dear. She is such a difficult woman. So strong minded and serious. Fancy me bothering to come and look for her. She should be very flattered.
“What do you want with me?” Emily asks as we stand together on the staircase, my hands still gripping her upper arms. I’m starting to like the pendik escort bayan feel of my firm chest pressing against her bosom. Her nips are as hard as pygmy’s cocks.
“Well I want you,” I breathe. “But not here.”
“The attic?” She exclaims as I lead her up a smaller flight of stairs on the top floor.
“Too many people roaming around the usual spots. I hate to be interrupted. Curse you for being so irresistible.”
She doesn’t protest this time. Which is a relief actually. I wasn’t much looking forward to getting a well-aimed kick in the plums….or my bad leg.
“Mind where you step. We don’t want to fall through the ceiling.” I take her by the arm and guide her into the enveloping darkness. “Are there spiders in here?” She asks.
“Methinks yes. Probably a few as big as tarantulas.”
“I beg of you, don’t say that!”
“Relax my dear. I’ll smash the blighters to a pulp if I see any.” Luckily it’s almost too dark to see a damned thing. I intend to offer this filly my more than generous appreciation. I hurl my mouth against hers and my deft fingers quickly slip under her skirts and have those bloomers down. Almost in the same moment, I open my robe and there’s a rush of hot air like a kiln door opening. I press her against my body and she comes into the presence of something large and splendid – Flashy in all his glory.
Surely, I’m going to take it slowly? Not a chance. Let the dog see the rabbit, I say. I thrust inside that velvet pie hard and fast. Good and tight. Now she knows what a sausage skin feels like at the moment of truth. After a while she relaxes as I pummel her cunny. By jove, it feels good!
Before long, she’s moaning like a whore and the noise must surely be enough to raise the roof.
“Ooh Mr Flashman! Please!”
Abruptly, I change my position and and there is a crack like a gunshot. Light floods up through the floor and I drop as if into a hole. In fact it is not a hole. It is the ward below, in which the hospital management are in the middle of showing Queen Victoria round. I discover this when I plummet past Emily, my robe slides off and I land on a display table amid a shower of plaster. Above us, Emily dangles with her bloomers round her ankles. Bloody hell. I will always remember the expression on Her Majesty’s face as she gazes at me, naked as a newborn and with my member at full draw, like a boa constrictor peering out of a tree.
Something tells me I am going to get into a lot of trouble for this.
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