Next they reached under me and retrieved patches like the ones they use with an EKG machine. They peeled the backs from them and pressed them onto each breast, one on each side of my nippes, which were rock hard in anticipation. Then they went down between my legs and applied one to each side of my pussy next to my clit. I was curious how it would feel as they attached wires to them and to a console beside the cross. I asked them to turn it on so I could feel it. They assured me it was wonderful and went on about their work. As I watched them I notice the height of the cross I was on. It was perfect "cock height." Anyone would have access to me anywhere, because the cross was narrow enough so that it looked as if I was floating in air at perfect height to be fucked. I was already imagining what all this would feel like when one of the young gentlemen asked me to raise my head. They had a beautiful mask for me. It looked like the ones ladies wear at lavish masquerade parties with. Sir John kept a tight rein on his fleet, and Syren's signal mates and the signal midshipman were busier than a one-armed publican on a Saturday evening, sending and receiving signals between main body and rearguard. Anson suspected that after the months spent cruising the Dutch coast, they had to pay the dues doing the gruelling fleet duty.At least, being part of the fleet made for frequent mail deliveries. He wrote and received letters at weekly intervals, profiting from the fact that Elizabeth was a frequent guest at Admiral Wilbury's house. The old admiral and his wife had almost adopted her for want of their own offspring, and Elizabeth enjoyed the contact and the comfort. She was always able to sneak in her letters before the mailbag was sewn shut and tarred, and she was the first to receive incoming letters.During the last days ashore, Anson had got a measure of her expressive nature, and her letters bore true testament to that, too. They were a joy to read, simply because of.
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