Feature Writer: Redsliver
Feature Title: LIKE RABBITS 6
Published: 05.08.2014
Story Codes: Erotic Horror, Mind Control, Ma/Fa, mt/ft, Ma/ft, Fa/Fa, ft/ft, Fa/ft, Mult, Teenagers, Mind Control, Magic, Lesbian, BiSexual, Heterosexual, Fiction, Science Fiction, Paranormal, Incest, Brother, Sister, MaleDom, FemaleDom, Rough, Humiliation, Group Sex, Orgy, Black Female, White Male, White Female, First, Oral Sex, Anal Sex, Masturbation, Petting, Double Penetration, Slow, Violent
Synopsis: Carter was an island with a history of violence, romance, piracy and witchcraft. Today it feels like a hole. One Emily wishes to run away and crawl into. The only problem is what is waiting for her there.
Like Rabbits 6
Craig 5
June 29th, 2013
“C’mon, wake up.” Emily reached down with both hands and shook Craig by his exposed shoulder.
“What the fuck?” Craig’s croak was a hard split from his basso snoring. He rolled onto his back and was thankful Emily had left his lights off, “Shit, Emily. Pussy’s across the hall.”
The smack across his cheek woke him up. He sat up in his bed and realized he was wearing nothing but his boxers. Embarrassment quickly overtook indignation. He turned away from Emily.
“She is not ready to be out there yet!” Emily hissed. “Be a bit more considerate.”
“I got to put some pants on,” Craig groaned. He was about to swing his legs off the bed and out from under his covers, but he noticed Emily just waiting for him. She met his gaze with an even impatience.
“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” Emily rolled her eyes, “You don’t have anything to be embarrassed about. And it will just take longer if you don’t get ready.”
Craig have Emily a flat stare. It took a few moments to form his response. This tactic was the fundament of Craig’s contentious reputation. He wasn’t picking his words with care; he was slowing himself down to keep his voice from cracking. His frown darkened as the moment dragged on.
“Strip then,” he grumbled, “If you’re going to watch me shower, I might as well have something to watch too.”
Emily flushed. Embarrassment fed anger until she turned in a huff and stomped out to the kitchen. “We only have twenty minutes! Hurry up!”
Cleaned and dressed finally, Emily hurried Craig out to the elevator. He wasn’t happy. Breakfast had been skipped. “Well you should have woken up earlier. You agreed when we got home last night.”
“So did Keira. How’d she duck out of it?” Craig waited for Emily to step through the doors before he got off.
“I think yesterday freaked her out,” Emily chewed her lip, obviously worried, “I’ll talk to her later.”
“Yesterday freaked me out too,” Craig admitted, “Can I go back to bed?”
Craig was punched in the shoulder as they stepped out of the tower. Emily smiled. Craig sighed and hoped to get a bacon biscuit breakfast sandwich when they got downtown. Today was gonna suck. Emily seemed determined to disagree. She happily chatted and he appeared to listen. She was feeling real hope. Craig gave her back a smile.
The late morning sky was overcast, the morning fog wispy as it refused to burn off. This is not how he was looking to spend his Friday. His hands were shoved in his pockets, causing his posture to slump. He had money. Which was an uncommon enough situation, because since Keira started working at Doc Connors, Craig’s allowance had been a lecture about getting a job. If the money had come from his dad, Craig would have thought it was payment for helping family move in. But the hundred bucks was his mother’s doing. He was apparently $100 a summer gigolo.
“There’s a smile!” Emily beamed. She leaned in and bumped Craig’s shoulder, “We’re almost there. It’ll be fun.”
“You don’t believe in ghosts and shit right?” Craig voiced a concern that had been needling him.
“Pfft! No,” Emily laughed.
“Then why —”
“I love stories! Ghost stories are classics. Plus this gets literally all the attractions Carter offers off the table and I can really get down to doing what I came to Carter to do.”
“Sex tourism?” Craig quipped. She went fire truck red.
“No! Why would you say that?” she hissed and bumped him again. She was smiling, when she could manage it.
“Did you or did you not travel to another country and fu–bang an underage girl?”
Emily couldn’t stop blushing, but she did throw a hug around Craig’s shoulders. Her mellifluous laugh chimed right in his ear. Craig was blushing worse now. She punched him in the shoulder again.
They turned towards the harbor off the end of Garden Street. The Laughing Man brewery was built in the back of Pegasus Public House. Emily checked her phone, ignored the texts from Angela and Eddie and saw they were arriving with just three minutes to spare.
“You’re not going to act weird around Diane’s mom?” Emily whispered sharply out of the side of her mouth.
“I haven’t made any plans,” Craig snarled. Emily was surprised by the tone but didn’t have a chance to respond when Audrey Mackenzie turned away from an elderly Japanese couple. Craig was considering an apology, he hadn’t meant to be testy. Things were very weird. Diane Mackenzie was his first. Emily was the girl he wanted as his first. Emily had somehow ended up not only intimate with his previously very straight sister, the blonde had actively sought him out other pussy so they could be friends without worry of sexual tension. Craig wondered what kind of crazy female logic suggested that just because a guy banged one chick, he’d never want to bang another. He sighed, he had several things he could say, but underneath it all he was coiled like a spring. It wouldn’t be fair to let loose on Emily. She was here now, she’d be gone later, whatever happened this summer would be memories, good or bad. Craig was finally getting his head around the words “Be bold.”
“Oh! Hello! You’re here for the tour? I’m glad to see you’ve made it in time!” The bright and cheery smile of Audrey Mackenzie greeted Craig and Emily. Emily was quite surprised. Diane was a thinnish girl with clear curves and big puffball of black curls. She was a dark skinned girl, obviously black, whose complexion had made Emily almost jealous. Audrey was a very different woman, except for the long lashed blue eyes. Audrey was just above average height. Her curves were only apparent thanks to her breezy summer dress. Her skin was very pale and dotted with red freckles over her nose, cheeks, and forearms. She had vibrant red-orange hair that was cut off at the base of a slender neck. She smiled a bright pink lipped smile; her nose crinkled as her right cheek dimpled, “Were you the two who were going to pay here?”
“Yes,” Craig responded with a bored tone. He picked out three twenties from his pocket and handed them to her, “It’s good to see you again, Ms Mackenzie.”
“Oh, please Chris, I only know how to answer to Audrey.” She slipped the the bills into a pocket behind a thick white belt. She handed Craig back a ten.
“I thought it was thirty bucks a head?” Craig had let the name go. Emily had raised her eye to it, but he had no concern if this woman knew who he was. He hadn’t said word one to her since an elementary school birthday party with her daughter.
“Or fifty for two, sweetie.” Her grin seemed completely genuine. Emily might not have flashed back her own smile otherwise. Audrey’s hands clapped together, “Good morning, everyone!”
The Japanese couple kept their spot. Craig and Emily sidled up on their right. A young couple with a young boy sitting on the father’s shoulder came up on the left. Another older man sitting next to a middle aged woman in a flower print top looked up from the bench outside the Pegasus Pub.
“My name is Audrey, I’m your guide. I’m going to take you through the shadows and memories of our little town.” She leaned forward and looked into the little boy’s eyes. His father looked down Audrey’s dress and his wife rolled her eyes, “I know where all the spooks hide. I will show you where the pirates went wild and where the bootleggers stood their ground. I know where a quiet young widow, mourning the loss of her soldier husband, still looks out to see the ships coming in. But most importantly, I’m going to tell you the tale of The Laughing Man.”
The boy’s eyes went wide. The rich and tumbling cadence of Audrey’s energetic opening brought a smile to Emily’s lips. She knocked Craig in the shoulder again. He wasn’t smiling. His mind was just shouting out “Bullshit!” to punctuate every one of Audrey’s claims. She slipped back onto her heels.
“There are all kinds of mysterious tales that have hung around our town since it was first settled as Le Bouchet by French settlers in 1654,” Audrey looked around as she continued, she made sure to look into everyone’s eyes as she talked. The Japanese couple took her picture as she spoke. She was animated, not a hand talker, but practiced choreographed sweeps and posture changes that simply ratcheted up her telling. She continued going over a brief history of the island, “It was mostly a fishing community. The harbor was helpful for ships coming around the western side of Nova Scotia; but, with the huge Bay of Fundy tides, it had never became much more than a small community. Eventually, the British would take control of much of Acadia, which they called Nova Scotia or New Brunswick, and those French settlers who refused to switch allegiances from their motherland were shipped back home. Many would later leave France again, becoming, among others, the Cajuns of Louisiana.”
“It was these French settlers, who gave us our first spectre. The Laughing Man is the oldest local legend of Carter. He’s always described as a man with summer hair and a bright smile. He’s kind of a trickster spirit, playing with people and teasing them. But all of his stories are full of grisly murder.”
The boy beamed as Audrey drew herself up and projected her voice. Craig noticed precisely how this posture affected Ms Mackenzie’s assets.
“Fog rose up over the bay. The Boatman was pulling hard at his oars. The man in his boat was tall and strong. His light summer hair tossed in time with the waves and winds. He had smiled and had paid for The Boatman to take him to the path of The Daughter of the Woods. The Boatman had first been greedy. He saw the coin and set out across the bay. The man sat in the stern facing The Boatman. He laughed or smiled but was looking forward in hunger. Cold fear chilled The Boatman.
“‘The Daughter of the Woods was the favorite of my people.’ She had always liked The Boatman. The Boatman felt the payment in his pocket. It was enough money to take him to hell. ‘The Daughter of the Woods has given me her kiss.’
“The man just looked past The Boatman. His eyes reached out for the object of his desires.
“‘I will not give you the path to the Daugher of the Woods.’ The Boatman shouted at the man. He pulled hard on the right oar, turning them to the rocks. ‘Her heart is meant for better than you.’
“He just laughed.
“And The Boatman died. The Laughing Man took the path. It led up the beach from among the rocks and broken bones.
“The Great Hunter walked the woods. He was after the black bear. He came across the man, laughing and dripping as he marched up from the shore. The Great Hunter called out and greeted the man. They were two of the same: strong men and trained. The Great Hunter told the man about the Daughter of the Woods.
“‘She is our favorite, ‘ He told him, ‘She gave me her family.’
“And the black bear had found The Great Hunter. Her eyes were red and her jaws were strong. The Great Hunter set off to face the bear and the man set off along the path. Cold fear chilled The Great Hunter. Down the path was the village, his family and the heart of The Daughter of the Woods. The Great Hunter turned his spear from the black bear.
“‘I will not give you the village of The Daughter of the Woods.’ The Great Hunter shouted at the man. He beckoned the black bear to run and take them. ‘Her heart is meant for better than you.’
“He just laughed.
“And The Great Hunter died. The Laughing man took the village. It lay beyond the new grave of The Great Hunter and the black bear.
“The village was filled with the people. Their Chief came down to meet the stranger. He saw the man laugh and extended his greeting.
“‘This is the home of the The Daughter of the Woods.’ The Chief promised. ‘She is a lovely and strong as the tales have said. She gave me her pride.’
“The chief showed the man the village and it was clear he was not welcome. Cold fear chilled the chief. He stood in the doorway of a home.
“‘I will not give you the home of The Daughter of the Woods.’ The Chief shouted at the man. He accepted a knife from the woman inside. ‘Her heart is meant for better than you.’
“He just laughed.
“And The Chief died. The Laughing man took the home. Its threshold was growing warm and wet.
“In the home was The Mother. She was old and handsome and waiting with dark eyes. She did not listen to the laughs of the man. She did care for his light and summer hair. Cold fear chilled The Mother.
“‘The Daughter of the Woods is not waiting for you here.’ She made a promise. The man saw through her lies and would not be dissuaded. ‘She gave me her dreams.’
“The man would just as soon walk around The Mother. She refused to be circumvented and called out to the village.
“‘I will not give you the Daughter of the Woods.’ She shouted at the man. Her voice brought in the faces of her neighbors and friends. They looked past the man and to her. ‘Her heart was meant for better than you.’
“He just laughed.
“And The Mother died. The Laughing man took the Daughter of the Woods. She was waiting for him dressed in her finest clothes.
“‘I am The Daughter of the Woods.’ She greeted the man. ‘You have come for my heart. But you have left The Boatman in the bay, he is lost with my kiss. You have left The Great Hunter in the woods, he is lost with my family. You have left The Chief at the door, he is lost with my pride. You have left The Mother in my home, she is lost with my dreams. You have seen all of these things and have none of them. You cannot have my heart.’
“He just laughed.”
Audrey spread her arms and laughed. A full guttural sound that punctuated her story like battle drums. Emily jumped and Craig pulled her close around him. She settled a hand on his far shoulder, eyes wide as Audrey turned her gaze onto Craig. The guide’s lips looked so wet and hungry. Craig pulled Emily against his hip and she let him. A hot breath ruffled his dark hair. Audrey spoke, “And she died in his arms. He laid the daughter of the woods onto the shores right under our feet. She had given him everything she had promised she would keep from him. He took it, and not as a legacy of love, he took from her like a thief in the night. He still carries her spirit, bringing the love and fire to the women he chooses or the blood and laughter to men he befriends. The story of The Laughing Man will repeat over and over again throughout the history of Carter. Maybe even one of you will be his next Daughter of the Woods.”
Emily burst out in a bright grin as Audrey directed the last story to her. The little boy on his father’s shoulders was starring enraptured. The mother had a disapproving frown and the father showed all of his teeth.
Audrey popped up bubbly and fresh. She looked around. “Now that you have the story of The Laughing Man we can go and visit all of the haunts and corners of Carter’s smaller spirits. We’re going to take a long walk, down across the harbor front towards the shipyard. The navy won’t let us wander right up to the Carter Armory so I’ll be telling that story from out front. Then we’ll begin snaking up the hill, which we call The Bucket after Carter’s original name.”
“Le Bouchet!” the boy eagerly recited.
“Precisely young man,” Audrey’s smile seemed to make the boy a little hyper and his father had to grip his knees and tell him to stop, “On the way up we’ll cross Our Lady of Mercy parish and Mary of Angels cemetery. There’ll be the stops at The Carter Infirmary and Bucket Park. And we’ll end our tour, in about two hours from now, at the estate of Josham Castle.”
“We’re going to go to the castle!” The boy was quite excited about that. Emily smiled. She had never been to a castle before. She had seen it on her drives across Carter. It was a three story mansion with two stone turrets and huge glass windows. The roof had parapets and copper roofs covered in green patina. She assumed it would be a great place to stop.
“Yes, and for the family, we have a deal with the tourism board. The day’s receipt from the ghost tour will give you a ten percent discount at the restaurant in Josham.”
“That sounds great,” the mother said, she was looking up The Bucket to see how “I’m sure I’ll want to get off my feet and have a nice meal when were all done this.”
“You didn’t happen to get us a deal at the brewery?” The father gave a hopeful smile. Audrey gave a bright laugh.
“Sure, if you show up wearing a tour t-shirt they’ll give you your lucky thirteenth beer at half price.”
“Be careful,” laughed the mother, “he’ll do anything for a bargain.”
Craig leaned to Emily’s ear, “That explains his taste in women.”
Emily nearly collapsed laughing. The mother wasn’t too bad. She was a bit chunky and a little bit sour-faced. She seemed to have an underlying distaste for Audrey, but she was keeping it in check. Still, Emily belted out her laughs. Craig blushed at the attention. He was partly terrified he had been heard. However, Audrey started up the next leg of the tour with a smile that said, this is just between you and me.
“Speaking of the brewery, I’d like to tell you all about the ship that The Pegasus takes her name from. And her dastardly pirate princess captain, Abigail Blackheart…”
****Abby 2 ****
November 15, 1777
“Another round!” Abby slammed her wooden cup onto the cracked and dripping table. Her cheeks were flushed and her tunic unlaced. She was holding her liquor like a sieve. The Pegasus was sitting its first night in the harbor. The first drink had been for the king. The second had been for Red Tom Gallivan. The third had been for home. This one would be for her.
Outside, Carter was freezing. The first snow of November was falling. The moon almost shined through the twist of clouds. There wasn’t a star to find. Tavern lamps bled out into the vacant streets. Merriment and laughter spread further.
Inside, Carter was cooking. Real beef that hadn’t been salted and boiled into leather was all over the fingers and chins of the sailors. Abby belched as she pulled a tough knot from between her teeth. She and her fifteen men had crowded into the public house on Garden Street. There were eight casks in the taproom and they were determined to empty each and every one of them. A few locals had gathered around Bray to hear the final legends of Red Tom Gallivan. A barmaid was redder than the drunks and squirming out of Marshall’s lap. Bright Eyes was the loudest and Jolly never shut up. Abby cracked her mug off of Three Bean’s.
The pub could only comfortably sit twenty or so men. There were that many and half tonight; and a half dozen ladies and women who didn’t quite match that description. Three more girls served the drinks. Missus White, the wife of the owner, was snatching up the empty mugs so she could refill them from the barrel. For the first time, in spite of a particularly rowdy crowd, she was hauled down into the lap of a sailor. She laughed and rolled back against his shoulder, using her momentum to keep his grip from getting too tight as she twisted back out into the alleyways of her tables.
“You better keep your boys on their best behavior, Captain,” Missus White tutted behind a smile.
“You best keep your girls between you and them, Erin,” Abby called back to her. The sailors gave a whoop and a cheer. Erin White gave a curtsy and a smile, a few copper hairs falling out of her bun. She was a looker, and suffered the indignity with a smile and smarts that kept her patrons drinking until dawn. Her husband seemed quite at ease with the flirting and hands, just so long as the coins kept piling up in his coffer. He kept the spigots open and traded a tray full of full mugs for Erin’s tray full of empties.
“The wench with her tits near falling out.” The door had slammed open inward. A howl of white speckled wind chased in after the square body of Reverend Argus Winters. He pointed to Abby.
“Gus! C’mon share a drink with us!” Marshall called out. The next girl on his lap slipped off his knees and cracked her bottom on the floor. He laughed and patted her head like a dog’s.
The constable was a portly man. His jacket had been sewn for him when he was a much younger member of the police. It was maintained with obvious pride. Not a bur out of place on his white braided epaulettes. The black of his cuffs and lapels was decorated with bright brass buttons. Even the iron bands around the truncheon on his hip had been polished to shine. He tipped his head; the little snow on his tricorn hat sloughed onto the pub floor. His boots clacked loud on the wood. Argus smugly followed over to Abby’s table. Almost every set of eyes was on the policeman and the preacher. Three Bean waved for Missus White to replace his empty mug. No one else was that committed to getting drunk.
“Constable!” Abby kicked out of her chair and startled the man. He reached for his club. She sidled up to him in mock flirtation. Her little lips blossoming into a fiendish grin. Her affections pinned his left arm against his side. He was bigger than her, but she was quite good at putting large men on the ground. She quaffed her ale. Foam spilled down her chin and cleaned away a bit of gravy. “You look like a man who only gets out of bed for a drink, and only gets back into one for a dozen. Come, join the wake.”
“This woman is a mutineer and whore.” Argus growled. A mostly empty mug flew through the air. The hair on the back of his head were tossed by the accompanying breeze. The beer splashed the back of his neck. He nearly jumped out of his skin. His eyes were wide and his snarl was vicious. Not an eye met his. Sailors looked down into their mugs, and in one case hands.
“Let cooler heads prevail boys,” Missus White begged. She was carrying a filled cup to a sheepish privateer.
“It takes more than one woman to mutiny a ship, Reverend,” Abby hissed. She met the eyes of a dozen of her boys, “You’re not saying the rest of these men are mutineers? Are you Gus?”
The privateers of the Pegasus were slow to act. Each one looking around to the others for a clue. Marshall was usually the hothead who lead any fight or stand in a tavern. He really didn’t want to face off with Argus. He may not have been the pick for Captain of the Pegasus, but he was still an old friend, a close mate, and a comrade in arms. Three Bean ordered another beer.
The constable pushed Abby back off of his arm. He was impatient. He was ridiculed and he had every reason he needed to beat this woman into the floor. He pulled his club up and prodded Abby between the tits. It was a harsh poke but if she had given ground it wouldn’t of hurt.
“That’s enough Argus. Leave Abe out of it. You weren’t really meant for sea anyways,” Bray’s words were reinforced by several sailors rapping their mugs on their tables. Winters might have seen the reason in it. But he looked at Abby and saw her triumphant look. He pushed the constable forward.
“Take her with us Wallace. This can be dealt with in private.”
“C’mon, wench.” With his left hand, Wallace grabbed Abby’s right elbow. He couldn’t keep a grip as she yanked back. He raised his club but she swung first. She committed everything. Her foot lunged forward, stepping by Constable Wallace. Her whole torso swung a three quarter circle. Her balled fist knocked a tooth loose. His lip was cut and his blood spotted her fist. The constable collapsed in a heap. Her hand throbbed; Abby tongued the blood off of her ring finger. Her eyes whipped about the room.
“You craven dogshits!” She yelled at her men, “May the devil piss on you all! This is Tom’s Goddamn wake! Liven the fuck up!”
Something slipped in and through her men then. Marshall moved first, he picked up his barmaid and slammed her straight on the table. She giggled and screamed. Three Bean snatched up Abby’s untended flagon. She cursed and spat. Jolly grabbed Erin White by her calves and pulled her down onto the floor. He collapsed out of his chair under her. She moaned and smirked.
“Argus,” Bray put a hand on the reverend’s shoulder, “Get out of here before the boys get even stupider.”
Winters looked around and watched as his old friends just turned into howling monkeys. Bright Eyes and Bray Lords were the only men with a handful of wits and the two of them were here to drink for Thomas. He looked at Bray, “I’ll go.”
“Good.”
“After this,” Winters promised himself a bit of justice. Abby turned in time to see the slap. She wasn’t braced for it. The crack reverberated in the little pub. She spun and twisted down off her feet. The rowdy sailors growled like beasts. The other patrons recoiled. But not all were quite so uniform. Bray grabbed Argus and bodily tossed him against the door. Three Bean just had another drink. Marshall didn’t give one thought to his surroundings, he stripped his girl of her skirts and slapped apart her knees. Jolly rolled around on the floor with a flustered Missus White. Bright Eyes motioned Bray’s audience to their feet. Winters huffed; he reseated his coat and rushed outside before the sailors moved on him. Constable Wallace twitched on the floor.
“Now this is worth Tom Gallivan.” If Bray hadn’t scooped up Abby by her waist and pulled her back into the pub, she’d have been out in the thin fallen snow kicking the shit out of Winters. As it was, she was forced back in with her sailors, her boys, her crew. She decided it was time to truly celebrate. Besides she hadn’t gotten fucked since before Tom had been shot, “Women want more than just a cuddle and a tickle, Jolly.”
“That is my wife!” Mr. White tried to rush around the bar. He found himself stopped by two privateers with empty cups. His face twisted with indecision. In a few heartbeats, his eyes went dark and he was laughing and handing out full mugs.
Erin giggled and twisted as Jolly tickled her. Abby’s words soon hit the mind of her sailor. Erin starfished under Jolly as he kissed her with a heavy gentleness.
“Oh my God! Let her go!” Another serving girl hustled up to push Marshall away from her friend. Abby pointed to two of her men and then to the girl and she was swept aside to another corner. She screamed until she started giggling. Abby twisted her head about. The whores and ladies patronizing the pub were being doled out. Bodices were unlaced, slit open or torn. Abby was looking for someone herself. Bray’s hands fell onto either side of her hips.
“I didn’t think you’d ever bend me over.” Abby turned to see his greying beard, “Get on with it then, I need the humping.”
“You don’t bend your captain over, Abe,” Bray whispered against her ear, “She’s got to man the helm.”
Abby’s eyes flared. She had never had it on her terms before. She had asked for it, but if she wasn’t over a barrel, she was on her back. Her lips bloomed in the first beautiful smile Bray had ever seen her shine. He clearly lost his footing when she twisted in his grip. Her hands slapped against his broad chest and her ankle was just behind his own. A light tap in the direction of his toes and captain was standing over her quartermaster.
The pub was a symphony of cussing and fucking. The few men who couldn’t share a woman, or make due with a sailor, were amusing themselves with more drink or consoling themselves with even more drink. Marshall had his barmaid’s skirt inverted and her petticoats torn. She moaned through the muffle of her woolen skirts. Jolly was nursing himself on Erin’s pale white tits. She was kicking her bare legs free of her stockings and trying to push Jolly’s wide head further down to her messy bush.
“Happy friends, heavy drinks and hard fucks,” Abby shouted as she tossed her tunic to her left. She nearly tore the laces on her breeches getting stripped. Bray yanked his trousers down to his boots. The floor was carpeted in a harsh rope rug, softened by a long life of spills. Abby was the first sailor truly naked. She kicked the inside of Bray’s thigh as she hurriedly stepped over his lap. He had the strangest, sincerest grin when she used the sole of her foot to lay him onto his back. His cock was as stout as the rest of him. Abby sank into a squat over it.
“You, my big friend, are in for the best night of your life.” Abby’s knees pressed down into the rug on either side of Bray’s wide hips. She was eager and ready and she held back, leaning in to kiss her old friend. He settled his hands lightly on her shoulders. His cock stroked the dripping lips of her sex. He didn’t take her. She was sailing this ship.
She took her time with the kiss. Her heart rushing harder than it did in a fight. She had been kissed hundreds of times, but never in this slow and gentle way. She rolled her tits across his tunic. She could witness his fires building up. Bray was an uncovered lantern in the magazine. One wrong spark, too much heat and there’d be nothing stopping the blaze. She kept teasing. Her fingers running through her dark bush and along her lips. Her knuckles teasing the head of his cock. He resisted another moment. Always deferring to her piloting. He kissed her with passion when she kissed him, but waited when her lips teased the air just above his. His hands went as they were directed. Rolling and rubbing her breasts with Abby’s demanded strength. If she wanted him to ease up, he slacked off without a word. If she couldn’t handle anymore delay, he tightened and took what was offered.
She wanted a fuck. It wasn’t right to remember Tom with sweetness and warmth. That wasn’t the man Gallivan was. Abby’s fingers tightened around Bray’s cock. She slapped her hips down, reverberating on his raised lap. She took the lord’s name in vain. She took the Lord’s name every which way it could be. She flooded her desire over Bray’s sac. Dripping and running like she never had before. Her shoulder rolled back and her hips rolled forward. Swiftness, hardness, eagerness and, yet, powerlessness. She was sitting up on his cock. Unwillingly, she noticed the adoration beaming up from Bray’s smile. Rising and falling she bellowed. The tremors caused her to stagger and spasm, but she kept right on fucking, right on riding.
“I’m done with this one, Jolly. What say we trade?” Marshall stood without his trousers. His cock reasserting itself as it glistened red in a barmaid’s desire and monthly. Missus White was shouting. Jolly’s inexperienced cock was bobbing hard into a wet hole. Jolly didn’t want to stop, but he wasn’t about to talk back to Marshall. He rolled onto his back.
“Sacre Bleu!” Swore Erin in her native French. She was on top of Jolly now, looking to her left and seeing Abby riding high on Bray’s cock. To the other side was her husband, but just for a heartbeat. Marshall pressed his cock to Erin’s lips and she tasted the hired help until she had to gag.
Abby had one hand full of Bray’s hair. She had another tight around his neck. He could breathe, but every now and then he wheezed. Her hips hammered to meet his own powerful upthrusts. Bray was red faced, fighting every moment of pleasure. His hands had tight grips just above his captain’s knees. He watched the color of her eyes disappear up into her skull. She condemned God and the devil as she shivered against his cock.
“Fuckin’ Bray!” She hissed as she wiggled back out of her stiffness. Her hips rolling again. “This is a fuck, not a famine. Enjoy yourself!”
The words left her lips in time with the seed leaving Bray’s cock. She fell forward. Everything ached and felt delicious. She only rested a minute, just time for Bray to stroke her hair and settle bonelessly on the bar floor. Abby rolled off, both her and Bray’s cum slickly running out of her. She looked around. The whole pub was gone mad. It seems only she had been with a single man. A barmaid was sucking a cock and taking it like a bitch, her body squeezing and pulling like some sort of obscene accordion. Abby mussed up her sailor’s hair as she stepped over the girl between. Her ass glowed red from the slaps back they gave her.
“You’re getting along nicely,” Abby pulled Three Bean’s chair out from his table. He kept his mug in his hand. He was still dressed. Choosing a different vice than most of her other crew. Their eyes met. Bray had been a barely contained firestorm. Bean was a thundercloud moments before the clap.
She dropped to her knees and tugged his trousers down to his ankles. Drops of ale fell into her sweat messed hair. His cock had always been her favorite. She hadn’t had it in about four years. It curved up towards his own belly button. It was happy to see her as it remembered her tongue running from the seam of his balls, proving the nickname came from his deep voice and not for some quirk of nature, to the ruffle of his foreskin. She gave it a kiss; but if a captain’s job was to sail, she sure as shit was done sucking cock until they popped.
“For Red Tom,” Three Bean met her.
“For all the blood spilled with him,” Abby threw her kiss onto his lips. Her cunt pushed down all the way to the bottom of his cock. Three Bean’s bass and Abby’s contralto were banging hard from wall to wall of the pub. She had sailed Bray through blue skies. Three Bean was a ship in a storm. Her whole body rocked and tossed, and she could hardly keep her toes touching the ground on either side of his chair. His lips and teeth were determined to make their mark all over her tits.
Erin choked back the bleachy release of Marshall Witt. Jolly was cumming in her cunt for a third time. The simple boy had seemed to be immune to the dead time she found her husband always needed after a bedding. Her bush and thighs were darkened with moisture. Her hair was pulled out of its bun, ending snagged and curled chaotically down to her shoulders. Jolly was heaving and his cock slid out of her. Erin was only upright by Marshall’s hands holding her by the skull. Tears and the final moments of Marshall’s release were blinding her. He let go, turning to Abby and Three Bean. Missus White collapsed, falling backwards. Her head bumped the side of Constable Wallace’s leg. She was semi conscious, and now so was he.
“Mutineer…” The constable moaned as he pushed up to his knees. Everything seemed impossibly uneven. The Earth must have started spinning twice as fast. “Whore…”
A passing sailor booted Wallace in the ribs. He stayed up on his knees by holding the edge of a table.
“Look who’s up,” Marshal sneered. There was a consensus of hatred among the Pegasus seamen. No one, but no one, pushes around one of theirs, definitely not their captain.
Abby hopped onto the floor. Three Bean’s spending clumping and falling down between her feet. She pushed passed Marshall who followed her marked breasts with a lecherous gaze. Constable Wallace was red faced and shaking like an idiot. Abby slipped up behind him. “I need a new jacket, and you’re not quite fit to be a copper, are you?”
She prodded an index finger into Wallace’s forehead and he collapsed like a sack of potatoes. She grinned and pushed him onto his chest with heel of her left foot. “Yes, I think I’ll look good in red.”
She laughed over the chaos as she hauled the jacket off of Constable Wallace’s shoulders. The man was down to his shirtsleeves and soiled trousers. She smelled the jacket and was pleased to find it carried little smell, beyond the few beers that had fallen onto him. It sat an inch wide on her bare shoulders and the tails dropped to the back of her knees. She twisted and looked at herself. It wasn’t the worst fit.
“Erin!” She shouted. One of her boys had dragged her from the floor. He let go of her hair so she could pull off and answer.
“Yes, Captain?” She shrieked and giggled as she was spun about. She didn’t need her mouth to keep him interested.
“I’m going to need another plate of food,” Abby said, pulling the front closed over her chest and wondered how tight it’d feel with a sweater underneath. “Potatoes and stew should do. Then you can fill Three Bean’s cup. He’ll be happy to fill yours too, of course.”
“Of course, Captain,” Erin moaned, her thick French accent destroying almost every word.
“Thanks, Abe,” Three Bean nodded.
“No worries, the best for all my boys.” Her sailors cheered. Marshall pushed up behind her. His cock still slick with cunt and spit.
“The very best?” He asked in her ear. Goosebumps rolled over her skin. She could see the wreck of the two barmaids he had already made.
“The captain sails the ship.”
“Maybe, it’s time I mutiny then.”
“Bright Eyes! Get this man another serving girl,” she said, pulling out of Marshall’s grip with a sneer. He pushed her forward and Bright Eyes lifted a girl from off a table and handed her to his mate. “Now, you sons of bitches! Who’s got a ship that needs sailing?”
THE END OF CHAPTER SIX