Work Text:
From: C█████@████████.ac.uk
To: K████████@███████.ac.uk
Subject: Ross papers
Hi K████,
Sooooo so sorry for taking so long to reply to your email! You know what it's like at the start of the academic year, everything has just been so hectic.
But I have big news!
Do you remember a few months ago we got contacted by the owners of James Clark Ross's old house at Aston Abbotts, saying they'd found some documents they thought might be of interest? Last weekend I finally picked them up, and I've been going through them ever since.
Apparently they've been having building work done and the builders found this box hidden beneath the floorboards of what the owners reckon was probably once Ross's study. Unfortunately most of what's in there has pretty bad water damage, but there were a few papers in the middle that I was able to salvage.
I know we'll need to get it checked properly, but I'm 99% sure these are genuine letters from Ross. I've checked against every scan I could find of verified correspondence from him, and the handwriting is completely identical.
It'd also check out that somebody would want to keep these letters hidden, because the contents are pretty salacious. One, they're explicit. And second - actually, no, I don't want to spoil it, you should be as surprised as I was. I've attached a scan and a transcript of one of the letters. Text me once you've read it. You're gonna flip out.
Oh, and it should go without saying but DO NOT SHARE THIS with anyone else. If this leaks, I'll know it's you!
happy reading,
xx C
Attachment: Scan-2025-10-14.pdf
Attachment: RossLetter.docx
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My darling Ann,
I promised you in my last letter that another would be forthcoming, and here it is. Before you continue further, I must advise that this is not one to be read while in company. Should any curious children or long-nosed aunts be present, pray close this now and take it away to your bedchamber, to be read only when you may be certain of not being disturbed!
There, now. Are you alone? In my mind's eye I see you in your nightdress, all by yourself in such a large and empty bed. I know how much you have enjoyed my little stories of how Frank and I have passed the time while away from your loving bosom, and so I hope what follows may warm your heart and stir your ardour until we return in person to satisfy it.
Have I described to you Frank's steward, Mr Jopson? He is a strapping lad of four-and-twenty, very hardworking and as devoted to Francis as a sheepdog to its master. He is also, I should note, quite uncommonly beautiful. You would think him plucked from the pages of a fairytale rather than the streets of London - like the story of Snow-Drop, with skin as white as snow and hair as black as ebony. And such eyes! The very colour and lucidity of sea-glass. One might expect such a handsome young man would be tomcatting it with all and sundry across the fair town of Hobart, yet he stays ever at Francis' side.
Yesterday, I discovered the reason why. As I have mentioned in my last few letters, I have of late left Frank to manage affairs at the Rossbank Observatory while I have been travelling about Van Diemen's Land. The building is humble but pleasant, and more importantly offers far more space and privacy than can generally be found aboard any ship. I have told you before of the sport we had during its construction, when we slung hammocks side by side like we were young mids again, and conducted ourselves with similar abandon, tho' our aching backs and knees reminded us of our age the following morning! I had such fancies on my mind as I approached Frank's office that evening. I had missed him during my sojourns, and the nearer I drew to Hobarton again, the more my mind returned to thoughts of how we might spend our return.
Never in my most elaborate phantasies, however, had I anticipated the sight that met me upon entering the room. There was Francis sat by his desk, as expected - and there upon his lap was young Mr Jopson, the two of them kissing with lascivious passion. When he heard my entry Frank pulled his mouth from Jopson's and smiled in my direction, one hand reaching down to idly fondle the place between Jopson's legs.
"Join us, why don't you?" he said.
At these words Jopson turned with a start. "Sir!" he yelped.
Frank caught him with a steady hand around his waist, holding him fast lest he try to escape.
"Now, now, it's only Captain Ross. He shan't give us any trouble."
He reached for his glass on the desk beside him, and frowned to see it empty. "James, dear, would you be so kind as to fill my glass again? I'm afraid my steward has his hands full."
"It seems to me you're the one with your hands full of steward," I remarked, but I did as he asked, locating the decanter to refill his glass before helping myself to one of my own.
"Don't be jealous," Frank said merrily, "I'm happy to share."
It had not escaped my notice that Jopson clung to him like a shy child to its mother's skirts, his face half buried in Francis' neck.
"And what of him?" I asked. "Is he willing to share?"
"Does a steward have a say in the matter of who he serves?"
I might have admonished him, but then I caught sight of the wolfish glimmer in his eye, and intuited the nature of the game he played.
I watched as he drank deeply from his glass, then offered it to Jopson. "Drink. It'll settle your nerves."
He tilted the glass to Jopson's lips. Jopson seemed hesitant at first, as if expecting the offer to be rescinded, but after a moment of silent conference between his eyes and Frank's, he opened his mouth to take what was given. The strong drink made him cough, and the last of it spilled from the glass and across his open collar.
Frank clicked his tongue in dismay. "Not like you to make a mess."
"Why don't I clean that up?" I offered. I approached and tilted Jopson's face up with two fingertips pressed firmly beneath his jaw. He gasped, and before he could speak, I kissed the whisky from his lips - then his chin, and his neck, and down to where the last droplet had settled in the hollow between his collarbones. His hands pressed to my shirtfront, as if to push me away, and yet he tilted his head and bared his neck to me in willing invitation.
"That's it," Frank said, his voice lowered almost to a purr, "Be a good lad for Captain Ross."
Jopson whimpered, and I felt my loins heat. I knew I had to have them both.
"My goodness," I said, when I pulled myself away at last. "I had not known your servant was so wanton." Mr Jopson had always seemed the very model of a steward when I had seen him busying about Frank's cabin, as diligent and unobtrusive as one could wish for.
Frank teased his fingers over Jopson's thigh. "He's a dirty little beggar and no mistake. Did you know, this morning I caught him in my cabin, pulling himself off while sniffing my bedsheets?"
"Is that true, Mr Jopson?"
Jopson made a very good performance of looking shamefaced; so good I might have believed it if not for the ruddy great cockstand tenting out his trousers. "I'm so sorry, sir. I couldn't help myself."
"You'll have to try harder than that," I said. "We can't have the captain's steward unable to perform his duties without abusing himself and the linens." A plan of action came to mind. "On your feet."
Jopson stood up. Frank's eye caught mine, and I returned his look with a smile which I hoped said 'do not worry, I have this all in hand'.
"Undress," I said.
Jopson obeyed. I was gratified to see that although he has a sweet and boyish face, beneath his uniform he is all man - very well built, and quite deliciously hairy. He has a fine crop of it about the centre of his chest, and a charming little trail that leads like a path on a treasure map down his taut, flat stomach to his handsome prick. Given that he is but a young man I dare say he has more to grow still, and may well one day outdo both Frank and I.
Thus bared, Jopson stood to attention - in more ways than one - awaiting his fate. I looked to Frank.
"What your steward needs is discipline. Do you by any chance have a suitable implement of punishment?"
I would have used my hand if necessary, but I knew I could trust in Frank to do me one better. He crossed the room, opened a cabinet, and produced a rattan cane, of the kind I remembered all too well from my own days as a young volunteer. Whether he had purloined it from the boatswain or purchased his own I did not ask, for as you can imagine, my mind was not on matters of provisioning.
"Here's the thing for ill-mannered young men," he said, brandishing the instrument aloft. Jopson blanched at the sight of it.
"Oh, Captain, you wouldn't," he implored, before turning those great wide owlish eyes on me. "Captain Ross, please, have mercy."
"Now now, dear boy, we'll have no complaints. This is for your own good," I said. "But if you are brave and take it like a man, I shall see that you receive a fit reward."
With no gun barrel in our vicinity, we instead had him lie over Frank's sea chest, the better to present himself for punishment.
I sat down and watched as Frank took off his waistcoat and rolled up his sleeves, before taking up the cane and proceeding to set to work. Once, twice, thrice, the cane whistled through the air and cracked sharply across Jopson's rear, and the lad made no sound but for a sharp intake of air upon impact.
In that moment I thought 'twas both a pity and a mercy that Frank had never become a schoolmaster. A pity, because he applied the cane with a marksman's precision, with only the slightest flush upon his cheeks to show for his exertions. A mercy, of course, to the poor boys who might have suffered such a tyrant.
It seemed Jopson's stoicism vexed him, for on the fourth stroke he aimed to hit right upon where he had struck before, and this at last made Jopson cry out in a way that brought delight to Frank's eyes. Now he had his target, and he struck twice more upon the same welt, causing Jopson to whine most piteously.
"That's six, sir," the boy gasped, "Please say there won't be more."
"I have the say of when we're done," Frank replied, "and you may take six more for speaking out of turn."
Oh, my dear, you should have seen what a picture they made. Frank looked so masterly, wielding his wicked instrument as deftly as he handles the Fox, and the boy Jopson was a divine vision of suffering. My arse tingled in fond memory of the times that I had tasted Frank's hand myself - a feeling I know that you are well acquainted with yourself, mischievous little devil that you are.
Three more strokes were administered to Jopson's buttocks, and Frank paused to wipe his brow. Jopson turned his gaze to me, eyes shining with unshed tears. "Have a heart, sir," he pleaded. "I don't know how much I can take." Yet at the same time as he begged for mercy, I noted how his back arched, his glowing rump presented as if to ask for more.
I decided it was time to take my turn. I rose and went to Frank, taking the cane from his hands and casting it away so I could embrace him and kiss his handsome face. I whispered my plan into his ear, and he answered with another long and passionate kiss, his hands clutching my buttocks to pull me close and feel the press of his cockstand against my hip.
At last, I tore myself from his grasp and sat back down again. "We said you would have a dozen, Mr Jopson, and so you must," I said. "But as I am feeling generous, you may have these last three from my hand."
Frank helped Jopson stand, and laid him down across my lap. I stroked the long smooth dip of his back, and admired Frank's handiwork. No blood had been spilled, but Jopson's pert buttocks were criss-crossed with a set of pretty pink stripes that he would no doubt be feeling for some days to come. I felt his arsecheeks in my hand as if to assess their weight and heft, and pressed my thumb against the marks to feel him flinch and whine in response. Then, at last, I raised my hand and slapped him sharply.
What exquisite agony! He moaned in mingled pain and pleasure, and I felt his hips rock against my thigh - wicked boy, he was rubbing himself off against me. I struck again, and again, and he cried out so enticingly that it took all my willpower not to continue, but I am not a man who breaks his promises.
"Good man," I said, my voice dripping with sympathy as I petted his quivering flanks. "You've taken it very well. And so, as promised, you may have your reward."
With help from Frank we put him over the sea-chest again, arse-up like before, and I knelt down to kiss him better. With my lips and tongue I traced the glowing lines across his arse and the charming dimples at the base of his spine, before parting his cheeks to unveil the treasure concealed within. His hole was thickly ringed with fur like the sweetest little cunt, and like a cunt I lavished it with licks and kisses until it was wet and dripping. I could have quite lost myself there, blind and deaf to all but Jopson's sighs of pleasure, until I was brought back to reality by a tap on my shoulder. It seemed that Frank wanted his turn again.
So we manhandled Jopson once more - a cushion placed upon the sea chest, and him sat upon it, and Frank knelt between his legs to gamahuche him.
You know, my dear, how especially talented Frank is with his mouth. I have often admired the look of his lips around my piece, and even more the sight of him as an ardent worshipper at your Temple of Venus. I had not previously had the privilege, however, of watching him pleasure another man.
Mr Jopson is equipped of a very fine instrument, and Frank played upon it like a virtuoso. Tho' at first glance it might seem that they had swapped roles and Frank now acted the servant, it was clear to me that he still remained in command, with Jopson merely his vessel to be guided upon the stormy waves of pleasure. The boy trembled and moaned, and I thought him close to spending, until he cracked an eye open and beckoned to me.
How could I refuse? I was drawn to them as if my prick were magnetised and they the Pole I had long sought - tho' it was of course my pole that Jopson was after, deftly taking me from my trousers and sucking me down with unseemly greed. I looked to Frank and our eyes met, and in that moment I felt connected by a trembling thread, as he were passing on his attentions to me through his steward as medium. I cannot account for it - three should be less intimate than two, and yet with you and Frank, to share always makes me feel closer than ever to those that I enjoy such delights with.
At some point it was indicated to me that we should change places, so it became my turn to toy with Jopson's pretty prick while Frank in turn had his own piece well serviced. Here, my dear, I fear I may disappoint you. You have written to me of how you like to hear our exploits in detail, and most especially when we admire and enjoy one another's stiff cocks, but at this stage my recollections become rather blurred. I know that at some point while I was on my knees I took my time to lick and suck Frank, too, and positions were changed so all had the opportunity to taste each other, and this joyful exchange continued for some time, until at last a fever pitch was reached.
Now this I do remember, in some clarity: Jopson was brought to a trembling crisis by Frank's clever mouth, Frank clearly being more expert in I in knowing what makes his steward come. I kissed the taste of it from Frank's lips, and then together we stroked ourselves and baptised Jopson with our seed, his mouth wide open to receive our offering - tho' most of it ended up falling upon his cheeks and nose. Thus sated, we all fell together in an ungainly heap upon the floor, and there is where I shall draw the curtains to a close upon our little play, with all the players quite happily exhausted.
My goodness. I feel myself quite inflamed just recollecting all of this, as I very much hope that you are too. Or perhaps now you are lying satisfied, one hand holding this letter while the slick fingers of the other pet over your spent cunt.
But enough of my jabbering on! I shall bring this letter to a swift end as I fear I must take myself in hand or burst. Let it suffice to say that Frank and I are very comfortably fixed here in Hobarton, and looking forward to many more pleasant evenings upon our further journey. But most of all, my darling love, we look forward to our triumphant return to England and to joining you in what will, very soon, become our marital bed - you and I and Francis all together, and perhaps, all being well, we may bring home a pretty pet to grace our sheets from time to time.
But for now, my beloved, I wish you good night, and the most deliciously dirty of dreams.