TEA, TAXES, TORIES, AND TAR, A REVOLUTIONARY ENF TALE

[MrMongo]

TEA, TAXES, TORIES, AND TAR, A REVOLUTIONARY ENF TALE
by tomb125





*I have taken numerus liberties with the historical record.



*All characters are fictional and over 21 years of age





1773, BOSTON, THE GOVERNOR’S MANSION



The opulent dining room was a sharp contrast to the bustling streets of commercial Boston. On a linen-covered mahogany table, a fine silver and china service graced a refined seated trio. Portraits of nobles, landscapes, and statuary lined the walls. The footman stood silently in the corner.



At the head of the table sat Thomas Hutchinson, governor of the Province of Massachusetts Bay. He was elegantly attired with a powdered wig, and regarded his guests with the formal paternalism of his office.



To his left, sat his niece, Ms. Primrose Dubois. Primrose was a striking beauty with a full bosom and all the lines of fine breeding. She was fetchingly attired in a gown that displayed all her fine assets. Intelligent and spirited, she gracefully sipped from a glass of claret and smiled.



Across from her, on the governor’s right, sat Miles Fairmont Jameson, her handsome suitor, also from a fine Loyalist family.



Miles said, “Sir, I just fail to understand the grounds upon which ‘Patriot’ protests are based.”



“Well Miles, we have governed here since 1691 and have never taxed these colonists as we have in other parts of our empire. Our recent tax levies to finance our late war with France, have surprised them all. They resent our Stamp Tax most fiercely.”



Miles pressed on, “Still, sir, by definition, this colony is England, and I cannot imagine our leaders here stooping to ‘negotiate’ with these colonials!”



Primrose said, “Miles, the situation here is not like other colonies. These people are strong, literate, and have their eye fixed on a voice in their government.”



“Boston has changed, Miles. What once was a trading post is now a crucible. We must govern carefully...”



“SIR!” Miles protested, “We cannot loosen our hand on their reins, especially now.”



Primrose said, “Uncle, Miles is correct. The insurrectionists are an unruly lot. When I travel the streets, the men all leer at me like I am a tasty morsel, a crumpet, just ready to be gobbled up.”



The governor shook his head slowly and looked down.



“Miles and Primmy,” he confessed, “rumors abound the Crown is planning to replace me with an officer, a professional military man, England born, who will bring the rebels to heel with martial law.”



A silence fell in the room.



Primrose offered, “Perhaps we could speak of something less... incendiary? There’s music in the salon, Uncle.”



Governor Hutchinson said, smiling tightly, “Always the direct diplomat, Prim. Just like your mother...”



The footman interrupted with a note.



The governor scanned the dispatch and said, “I apologize, but I must go. There is a matter requiring my personal attention.”



He continued, rising from the table, “Please enjoy yourselves here. I should not be too long.”



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Primrose and Miles smiled to each other and retired to the salon. They quickly got down to business, smooching and quickly advancing to heavy petting, when they both heard a commotion outside.



Miles peered from the window just as a stone smashed the pane above him.



A mob was outside, demanding an audience with the governor.



A servant was trying to explain that the governor was not home.



Miles announced to his lover, who blinked in astonishment, “We’ll go out there now and settle this once and for all!”



Miles, are you quite sure? I mean...my uncle is gone, and we...well, we have no...”



He interrupted, “Primrose, it is now or never! These mongrels always back down from a figure of authority. We must remind them to behave or face the Crown’s displeasure. Let’s go.”



Primrose paled, but followed her beau outside to confront the rabble.



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BOSTON, THE LONG WHARF



At Long Wharf, angry shouts echoed all along the waterfront. Further down the pier, torches flickered as large chests of tea were broken up and thrown into the harbor. A colonial mob, men, and women alike, was in full revolt and destroying property of the East India Company.



Miles alighted from the carriage and helped Primrose down. He straightened his powdered wig and taking his lady’s arm, walked authoritatively into the fracas.



“What is the meaning of this?” Miles demanded.



A hush fell as Jedediah Scruggs, a local tavern owner they both recognized, stepped forward. His face was blackened and he wore feathers in his hair, the wild-eyed leader of this crowd.



“Look who’s come to bless us all with their royal stink! Lord Pudding-Britches and his Lady Lobster Redcoat!” he declared loudly.



Miles shouted back, “I’ll have you know that this tea is the property of the Crown, and that you sir, and this gathering...this rabble...is participating in an act of open rebellion!”



“You dare deter us on the very eve we declare our Independence from your King and from overpriced, moldering tea leaves?” Jedediah asked.



Now Primrose piped in, “What my man is saying, is that you should all cease, desist, and disperse.

“It’s too late for that m’lady.”



She added haughtily, looking at Miles with her nose in the air, “Besides, aren’t you commoners fonder of the drink coffee, smuggled in by the Frogs?



Miles quipped in response, “Why yes, my dear, you are correct. These pigs don’t have to wait for that swill to steep like a proper cup of tea.”



A hush fell on the wharf as all eyes stared at the arrogant wealthy couple. For a second, the two thought they may have gone too far.



“RIGHT!” Jedediah shouted. “Let’s have at ‘em boys, and they’ll soon enough know a proper steeping!”



With a roar, the mob surged toward Miles and Primrose. They soon found themselves held aloft and being passed about overhead by the crowd, shouting, jeering, and beginning to divest the duo of their finery.



“Unhand us this INSTANT!” Miles barked, as his expensive jacket was peeled off.



Primrose, feeling her dress being roughly unbuttoned, shrieked “Stop it now, this dress is worth a small fortune!”



“Indeed!” a ruddy middle-aged woman responded, “Which is why it will bring a tidy sum at resale”



Primrose and Miles watched wide-eyed through their elevated splayed legs as their coach was led away by the Patriots. They were completely at the mercy of the mob.



---------------------------------------------------------------------------



BOSTON, DOCK SQUARE



A drum began beating as the crowd surged toward the Dock Square and Faneuil Hall, carrying the two hapless snobs who were both now wearing far less than when they arrived on the wharf.



Miles, now bare-chested, bellowed, “Those shoes are made from Spanish leather and worth a fortnight of your pay!” Two ladies just laughed and yanked down his breeches revealing absurdly frilly pink underdrawers. “I just knew he was a fop!” they laughed.



“Have you no decency?” Primrose screamed as calloused hands removed her fine petticoats and pannier. Her plump breasts threatened to spill from her corset, as her chemise was shucked off.



At the square, the two are finally returned to their feet and pulled atop a merchant’s platform where they stood unsteadily, looking out at the boisterous crowd surrounding them on all sides.



Blushing furiously, Primrose pranced in place, knock-kneed, on only one heel. One hand was at her chest, and the other was trying to hide the shadow at the front of her small, sheer silk drawers. Her legs were covered by the remains of her white stockings. One was still properly gartered around her shapely thigh, the other had slipped down to her knee. Above her drawers, Prim wore only a small corset, from which the fine breasts of her heaving chest just peeked above. Her crinkled areolas rose from the lacy corset like pink rising suns, highlighting her delectable undressed hourglass figure.



Miles stood beside her, clutching both hands over his barely covered manhood. Aside from his ridiculous underwear, he wore only his wig, now canted askew at a comic angle.



Two smallish barrels were handed up and placed on the platform. Miles and Primrose were joined by a man and a woman from the mob, of similar age and stature; each of whom was then handed a barrel stave from a cooper. As this pair flashed toothy smiles of bad intent, Primrose’s and Miles’s eyes widened like saucers.



“Wait! You CAN’T DO THIS!! Do you know who my uncle is?” Primrose protested, trying to back away.



“You wouldn’t dare!” Miles declared bravely, but his face now pallid.



With huzzahs and cheers, Prim and Miles were each pushed over a barrel top while the two Patriots prepared to lay on, wood to rumps, grinning gleefully in their efforts.



Primrose gasped, “My Boobs!” as both her beautiful melons popped from her corset, her teats tightening with an near-audible “SPRONG” in the cool air. The low barrel forced her bottom up high and her heavy breasts hung over the lip like a pair of swaying wineskins, topped with rock-hard pink nozzles. She whimpered sadly knowing the cleft of her bottom was clearly visible through her sheer underpants. She clamped her legs together tightly.



“Whoosh...Crack!”



“Whoosh...Crack!”



Primrose yelped as the first swats fell on her tender flesh. She looked over at Miles to see he was similarly positioned, but the sturdy Patriot woman had lowered his underpants and was now spanking his bare bottom. Prim winced to see a red glow forming on his white buns.



She sobbed, hoping the spanking would soon stop, but suddenly jolted to feel fingers fumbling with the silk ties of her own undies. Her mouth popped open to form a perfect ‘O’ as the hands untied her lacy drawers and lowered them to her knees.



The crowd roared to see the snooty couple have both their bottoms bared.



Primrose squealed while Miles yipped as dozens of swats struck home on their bottoms.



Despite the discomfort, seeing each other naked and embarrassed caused each to sense a sudden tingling in their loins. Through their squeals, grunts, and barks, both tried to force themselves to ignore this arousal, but to no avail.



“How could I be somehow enjoying this?” Primrose shrieked out loud, furious her body was betraying her, a heavy dew forming in the nest between her thrashing thighs.



“Oh No!” moaned Miles, “I’m getting hard!”



The mob shouted with delight to watch this unexpected humiliating reaction, as the spankings reached a crescendo then stopped.



The two were suddenly pulled to their feet by more Patriots on the platform. Modesty went with the wind as Miles and Primrose hopped about frantically shrieking and rubbing their reddened bottoms with both hands. Prims moist snatch winked at everyone and her magnificent tits flapped unfettered with her wild jumps. Mile’s boner bounced in accompaniment. Sadly, they both hopped out of their half-masted underpants as well. These were immediately snatched up by Patriots and put with the rest of their clothes.



Primrose found herself wearing only her waist cincher, gloves, one stocking and a single heel.



Miles, was, well, completely naked.



They soon realized the scene they were putting on, and clutched each other, face to face, hands clasping each other’s bottom. They stared out, open mouthed and tomato-faced, completely dazed by their undoing.



Then they smelled it.



The unmistakable stench of hot tar.



Both shook their heads in disbelief, each mouthing “NOOOO!!!” in a silent scream.



A cauldron of the stuff was lifted to the platform as Primrose and Miles were each held down on the planks by their arms and legs. Bags of the hated tea were packed in their mouths, muffling their wails of protest.



Wild-eyed with terror, Primrose and Miles felt hands brush the noisome tar on their writhing bodies.



Thankfully, the tar was only warm, and while it didn’t burn them, it was thin enough to coat the front of their naked bodies well. They looked at each other in shock as the crowd taunted them.



"That expensive corset is going to look quite kinky in black!"



“Make sure to cover their hair; curtains, and drapes!



Primrose gurgled into her teabags to lean up and watch a tar brush completely coat her womanhood, while another mopped her coiffed head.



“Now they match!” someone shouted.



The tarring stopped and was followed by the feathering, as several pillows were ripped open above them and rubbed in for good measure.



Finally, the couple were rolled over but instead of more tar, a different decoration was decided on.



With their beautiful upthrust bottoms quivering in the evening air, covered with goose pimples and still quite red from their spanking, Primrose and Miles had no idea what was going to happen.



Their hands were then bound behind their backs.



A laughing man from the custom’s house approached with a curious tool. “Without this dreaded stamp, these two are null and void, but I’ll set it right, as they have paid the tax.” He shook Miles’s purse before the happy crowd.



The mob laughed and pointed as the official then firmly embossed a stamp on each pair of bare buttocks.



Finally managing to spit out most of the foul tea, both Primrose and Miles howled with discomfort, as they were hauled to their feet. Miles’s ruined wig was now stuck back on his tarred head.



A patriotic fiddler played a ridiculous jig while dancers from the mob spun the two in circles, causing them to become very dizzy; slipping and falling about like a pair of naked, feathered fools.



Finally, the two are cut free and the crowd began to dissipate as rumors circulated troops were on their way.



Miles spluttered, one hand gripping Prim’s, the other clutching his tar-dipped stick, covered in feathers, “You’re all mad!”



Jedediah grinned and replied, “We’re Revolutionaries. There’s a difference.”



Primrose, with her free hand clamped against her tar-blackened panty hamster, whimpered, “How will I ever live this down?”



A mob member yelled, You won’t, m’lady! Franklin’s printers are already working up engravings of you two nudies. See and read all about it tomorrow!”



Primrose burst into tears.



-----------------------------------------------------------------------------



As darkness fell, Miles and Primrose were forced to walk back to Governor’s House; stripped, spanked, stamped, and covered in tar and irritating pin-feathers. As they began their shameful journey, Miles screamed at the departing mob leaders: “This, you rabble, THIS IS TYRANNY!!”



Jedediah turned and answered, “No sir, this is BOSTON."



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THE GOVERNOR’S MANSION



They finally reached the governor’s mansion. Without knocking, the two hurried inside with the hope to scurry to their rooms upstairs, sight unseen.



However, upon rushing in, they found themselves bathed in bright candlelight. They had forgotten the governor was hosting a reception tonight, for all of Boston’s elegant society. After dozens of shocked gasps, Primrose and Miles stood in silence, so shocked their arms hung at their sides. For a long moment, the only sound heard was the ‘splat’ of tar dripping on the elegant parquet flooring in the foyer. Everyone stared open-mouthed at the ruined couple.



In the din that followed; shouts, squeals, shrieks, all filled the foyer, while Miles and Primrose scrambled, bare-and-stamped asses over elbows, up the grand staircase.



Governor Hutchinson palmed his face and ordered, “Recall the Regulars!

[mikewozere]

Love it

[Freesub]

A unique and excellent story! I loved the historical setting.
Do you plan to do any other such stories in different historical time periods? A wild western perhaps, or one set in the French Revolution.

[Somebody]

Wait, why over 21? Sorry I really couldn't get past that distraction.

[jojo12026]

I have been looking for ENF stories based in historical eras. There are very few. I appreciate the story setting. Hope you have more coming.