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From: Kelvar Varkel <var_kel@yahoo.com>
Subject: {ASSM} Jake and the Castaway Daughters (Mf M+f MF mg hist oral rape) {Varkel} [5/12]
Date: Mon, 17 Apr 2000 22:10:26 -0400
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Chapter 5: Cross-currents
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<1st attachment, "2jnar05.txt" begin>
Jake and the Castaway Daughters
a Novelette by Varkel
Spring, 2000
CHAPTER 5: Cross-currents
A week passed and then another. Belle came to dread the morning,
the return from slumber, because the day promised nothing. Each
was like the one before, equal in the squalidness that she had to
endure. She had no chair to sit on, no books to read, no one even
to talk with whose ideas had not already been expressed many
times, except perhaps the man, and Belle was queasy of <his>
ideas. As for music the girls had begun to sing naughty ditties
taught by Higgins, who seemed ominously to be always near them.
"The Boston lass has learned the knack
"Of catching doodles in her crack.
"Though easy to flee from her hot pen,
"It has to be hard to first get in."
Jill's piping voice: "Is that a riddle, Jake?"
She was weary, very weary of her life, and she despaired of ever
leaving the island. She worried about the girls, about Higgins,
who though tame at the moment had proven himself capable of
excess, but mostly about Higgins and the girls. She awakened each
morning with hope, only to find that it was reality which had
become the horrible nightmare.
The girls seemed happy enough, however, playing all day at the
beach and in the trees, fully tanned now and bare breasted as
savages, with Higgins always about, playing with them, often
caressing their arms, shoulders and buttocks in a presumably
fatherly manner, to the neglect of his work on their camp. To her
the odious man seemed a wild cat stalking small game; he was
deciding which of her sisters was more vulnerable to his lust.
She had not bathed in days. Her garment was soiled with the stain
of her curse, and her hair was a tangle. At least Higgins had cut
short the hair of the girls, using his huge knife. They were
children and trusted the hand that fed them not to harm them,
reminding her of the puppies she had fed tenderly in Hanchow. But
she knew better. She had vehemently refused Higgins' gesture
toward her own head.
* * *
"Higgins," Belle called to the man one morning as he played with
Jill and Marie next to the hut on the ledge. "Higgins, when are
you going to fix the roof so that it doesn't leak? When will we
have benches to sit upon and perhaps a table?"
"I'll get to it soon enough, Belle," he replied flippantly,
deliberately using her first name without invitation.
"Man, are you expecting a rescue?" she shrieked suddenly, causing
the two girls to look up in concern at their elder sister.
"Should we pile our meager goods on the beach to await the coming
of a ship?"
Jake sniffed disdainfully, shrugged and turned away from the
distraught young woman, but Marie rose to her feet, went over and
embraced her sister lovingly.
She looked back and admonished in a voice no longer shy, "Yes,
Jake, we must assume that we'll be here for a long while. We have
to make this place decent to live in."
"I'll help," Jill offered in her little girl voice.
"Let's do it then," Marie responded, incongruously a leader, if
only for an instant. "Belle, go bathe and wash your petticoat
while we fix up our house."
Belle felt a spark of hope. At least it was not Higgins giving
the orders. She rose from the ground where she had leaned against
a rock and went down the path to the beach. She removed her
petticoat before plunging into the sea, almost calm this morning.
She would soon be sixteen years old -- in the same week that Jill
would turn eleven, a date that she had misplaced in their troubles
and which was possibly already gone. She splashed knee high in
the sea and rubbed her maturing body clean. The water was
refreshing, rejuvenating and she felt again gay as a teenager
should be.
She stooped and submerged her head in the cool water, staying
under until she needed to breath. She moved deeper into the ocean
until gentle swells struck her neck and bounced her feet from the
sandy bottom. Looking back at the ledge above the cove she could
make out Higgins -- Jake -- working on the roof of her shack at
last. The sight pleased her and she grasped her breasts, a
generous handful each, and squeezed them, causing a tingle between
her legs. It was the perfect time to do it, she said to herself,
the most perfect time. Belle allowed herself to cry aloud without
inhibition as her finger brought forth a tremendous pleasure.
Only the gulls in the sky above could hear her, and they didn't
care.
It was sufficient, that orgasm, to bring the young woman back to
her senses. She stooped again under the water and then jumped up
high with her lovely arms above her head. She was almost young
once more -- except for what that <Jake> had done to her! Well,
if she had to be so adult ... In a fit of naughtiness, driven by
curiosity, she inserted first two fingers, then three into her
vagina, accommodating them with ease and more importantly without
pain. She would like to feel something more interesting there,
but Jake was the only man about.
Belle scrubbed her petticoat near the sea shore and then sauntered
confidently up the beach to the small fall of fresh water that
emptied onto the sand. Above her the man paused in his frond
tying. She knew that he was looking down at her nakedness, and
her reaction to that knowledge surprised herself. She walked
slower and thrust out her chest. She rinsed the salt off body and
garment in the chill spray of the fall, then stepped back almost
out of breath from the shock of it.
But the petticoat did not conceal her as she meant. It was wet
and clung to her breasts, her stomach, hips and upper thighs. The
shape of her was obvious. She set her chin and ascended the path
to the ledge nevertheless.
"Higgins," she called out to the man on the roof, who gaped down
at her with a slack mouth, "how's it going with the thatch?"
He mumbled something which she did not bother to hear. What she
wanted from him was the unconcealed longing on his face as his
eyes raked her figure. Carefully she avoided naming what she felt
in response as she turned away to pull down a banana.
* * *
The four of them worked together on the small structure until it
was decent, given the circumstances. Belle continued to flaunt
her body, letting him see her naked from a distance or
"forgetting" to lace closed the upper part of her petticoat,
tormenting the man she despised but the only man available. He
was three times her age, hardly taller than she, with a body
scrawny although wiry and tough. His face was worn by time and
excess. But when she thought of his penis, of which she knew the
gauge, her body trembled. She gave her head a sharp jerk to
remind herself that she was still a civilized, proper young woman.
Belle recovered from her depression once the hut was finished.
Jill and Marie came back to her, somehow knowing how she needed
them as they had once depended upon her. For a few days Higgins
was left out of their doings, and they began again to speak
Chinese among themselves in his presence. No one mentioned
Father's prohibition.
One afternoon a blood-curdling scream rang through the clearing.
Belle, dozing in the shade of the hut, sprang wide-eyed out the
opening. She heard pounding footsteps as Higgins raced up the
path to the ledge. Behind him came Jill. Where was Marie?
The scream sounded again, from the trees off to the right.
"Marie's in trouble," she called to the approaching man, and
dashed through the underbrush toward the cry.
She pulled up short in the little clearing containing the trench
Jake had dug for the girls to relieve themselves. Marie stood
backed against the boulder behind the hole, on the lip of which
lay coiled a black snake, its fat body circled with thin yellow
bands, the inflated head weaving before the girl in an S-curve.
Marie, flattened against the rock, threw back her head and
screamed again.
The man arrived, puffing for breath, and briefly examined the
scene. He grinned at Belle. "They've trapped each other."
"Well, <do> something!"
He nodded, leaned across the narrow trench and caught the
reptile's neck just behind the head with one accurate swipe of his
hand. When he raised the hand, curiously the animal seemed to
relax so that its body hung straight down into the hole.
Belle dashed around him and caught her sister up in her arms.
Marie hugged the elder and burst into sobs against her shoulder.
Belle turned to regard Jake.
"Kill it!" she ordered, eyes glinting.
His eyebrows rose. "But it's only a mangrove snake, hardly even
venomous, and it eats scorpions, which can kill <you>."
"Then what will you do with it? Turn it loose to bite one of us
later -- as I did with you?"
The young woman's expression was fierce, her tone contemptuous.
The man shrugged. "Have it your way." He drew the long knife
from his belt, decapitated the snake against the boulder, and
threw the now writhing body into the underbrush.
Marie freed herself from Belle's embrace and snuggled against the
man instead. "Thank you, Jake, thank you," she murmured. "You
saved my life."
"Hardly that," he replied reassuringly, his arm stealing around
her. He looked inquiringly at Belle, who turned away.
Jill regarded her from the path. "Did Jake really catch the snake
with his bare hand?" Her voice was expressive of purest awe.
Belle bit back the retort that formed on her lips, to the effect
that one snake might readily catch another, and pushed past the
youngest. Behind her she heard Jill declare breathlessly, "Jake,
you must be the bravest man in the world!"
Belle awoke late on the next morning and found the girls gone. A
quick survey disclosed them down on the beach playing with
Higgins. Both were naked. Even the leaf skirts were becoming too
much trouble. She sighed, thinking she really must take them to
task about that. At least the man wore his tattered uniform
britches, though he had long since left off his shirt. The hair
on his chest was beginning to gray in the manner of his beard and
was nearly as thick.
Even at this distance she could see Marie flaunt her immature body
at the old man, sidling up to him in the shallow water near the
shore, rubbing her hand, then her chest, across his bare back.
Belle watched for a long while but she never saw Jake respond to
the obvious invitations. He seemed to be more inclined to favor
little Jill, whose golden head did not reach his shoulders, who
was too innocent to know about flaunting one's body, or so Belle
thought -- though one could never be sure about Jill.
Perhaps she should join their games herself and deflect Jake's
attention from her younger sisters. But what if he overreacted?
Now was a good time to do something she had been planning. In the
hut, under her mattress that was a litter of leaves covered by
abandoned clothing, she had hidden the pistol box. It had been
saved along with most of the other articles Higgins had left on
the beach when his mind had turned to rape. By now all the rest
had been shared with the man. She thought it was curious that he
had never asked about the pistol.
A last look down to the beach revealed the others carousing in the
relatively quiet waters of the cove. Jill was perched on the
man's shoulders while Marie seemed intent on pulling her off.
Belle resolutely put from her mind the thought of so much naked
flesh in contact, went into the hut and retrieved the box from her
bedding. When she pried it open with her too-long fingernails,
the well-oiled pistol gleamed evilly at her.
A year ago, with his wife dead, her father in sudden resolution
had shown her how to load the pistol he kept in his bedside
drawer, a breech-loader with ball, paper cartridge and percussion
cap, and even allowed her to fire it a few times for
familiarization. This one was different, larger and heavier, a
revolving repeater made by the Colts Firearms Company, but it
operated on principles identical with her father's single-shot.
It was loaded. She proceeded to unload it, noting the location of
the parts of each load removed. Its hammer had to be manually
cocked, just like Father's, except that the action of cocking it
rotated the revolving cylinder to place another ball-cartridge-cap
combination in line with the barrel. How marvelous! It would
shoot five times without reloading.
Carefully she restored the five loads to the weapon, noting that
the box contained spares adequate for three full reloads. She
knew how to use it and felt confident of defending herself and her
sisters against an animal, though from the wild results of her
previous shooting she doubted that she could save Marie from a
snake without harming the child.
But <how> to use it was not the question. Could she deliberately
harm a man? More to the point, could she shoot Jacob Higgins even
to save one of her sisters?
* * *
The rising sun usually woke Jake from the hammock he had woven of
screw-pine runners and slung between two palms on the edge of the
beach. But not today. He opened his eyes to the gray light of a
solidly overcast sky. Everything was motionless. The palm fronds
hung listlessly above him in the still air. Only the relentless
surf moved, thudding and splashing on the strand. He had no way
of knowing how much farther past dawn he had slept than usual,
except that the pressure in his bladder could not be ignored.
He got down and strolled out on the beach to survey his world.
Though naked, he had not wandered far from the spear and long
knife still in the hammock. All colors were muted. The clouds
were an even dark gray, not a storm portent, just bad sailing
weather. He smiled grimly as he lifted penis to make water well
away from his feet. At least he had no sailing to do. The other
problem with windless days was the biting flies, but they had yet
to realize their opportunity.
"Let me guide it," suggested a girlish voice. "I know how."
He turned quickly to see Marie nearly upon him, also naked. Her
tanned skin was dark as a wahine's in this light.
"What do you mean?" he asked her.
She slipped behind him and pressed against his left hip. Her hand
covered his own on the flaccid manhood. "Let me do it," she said
again.
With a shrug Jake left her a clear field. She grasped the organ
behind the glans, withdrawing the foreskin and directed the stream
up and down. As is common in men who have just held their water
for many hours, his flow was thin but enduring. She described
rounded block letters, joined together at the bases, before the
stream became a useless dribble.
"C M M," he read. "What does it mean?"
"Clister Marie Meron, my initials," she responded in her clear
soprano, grinning up at him. Her fingers gripped him and began to
slide the skin back and forth.
He caught her wrist in his hand. "Your sister would slip her
hawser if she saw us."
"What does that mean?" asked the girl, flexing her wrist to
manipulate him despite his hold. He could feel tendons working in
the small arm -- and a tightening in his groin.
"If a ship slips its hawser -- in a storm, say -- it's out of
control. Better quit that, honey."
"I can feel it growing," she noted. "Belle's still asleep."
It required an act of will to pull her hand away from him, but at
last he managed it. He took a shaky breath. His organ stood
straight out.
"Ooo, it's so big!" the girl breathed with wide eyes.
He grunted. "As if you never saw it hard before!"
"Only the time you put it into Belle. It was her first time, you
know. No wonder it hurt her!"
He sighed and shook his head. "I'd give anything if I hadn't done
that."
"Why did you?"
He threw out his hands. "Because I was drunk. I didn't really
know what I was doing."
Marie cocked her head at him thoughtfully. She stood with one
hand on a hip. In the windless air he could smell her: a
tantalizing hint of spice. This was very nearly a woman, he
realized: respectable tits even if the nipples were yet tiny,
along with a small tuft of pubic hair. She had already bled at
least once to his certain knowledge.
"Is that what it takes?" she asked.
"For what?"
"Do you have to be drunk to put your thing into one of us?"
"Wh-what?"
Her lip curled. "Wu Fong didn't need any rum. Why do you?"
"I don't ... You girls are ..." His voice died in confusion.
Did she truly want fucking?
"Huh!" she sneered, pivoting on her heel and running lightly out
of sight toward the cove.
* * *
Jake used a large slab of slate discovered earlier to construct an
impromptu griddle over the fire. He patiently dribbled sea water
over the hot slab while the fire raged under it.
This was new and Jill was curious. She cocked her head at the
hissing dribbles, each of which dried quickly, leaving a white
ring, and asked, "Why are you trying to cool it and heat it at the
same time?"
"I'm not. This sea water leaves salt on the slate. Eggs are no
good without salt."
"Eggs! Do we have eggs?"
"Yes, my poodle. I found a cache of turtle eggs laid just last
night."
"Turtle eggs? Are they any good?"
"The best eggs in the world. You'll find out."
"Did you see the mother turtle lay them?"
"No. She covered them up but she was careless even so. She
didn't hide her tracks up from the water, which were new since
yesterday."
"Did you find enough for everybody?"
"Oh, yes: nearly two dozen. Damn!" The fire spat an ember onto
his thigh. He brushed it quickly off his britches but the spot
was smoking. He unfastened the waistband and nearly ripped the
garment from his body, cursing the while. He bent and threw water
onto the source of the smoke, then inspected his leg.
The girl bent also. "Did it burn you?"
"No. But it would have." He put his hand into the britches leg
and pushed a finger through the new hole. "If this keeps on," he
groused, "pretty soon I'll be naked as you."
"You <are> naked as me!"
He shook his head, turning his genitals away from her. "I'm
sorry, poodle. I don't mean to worry you."
"Worry me? I don't mind it. Why do you have to wear britches all
the time anyway?"
"It's ... just better if I do," he answered after a moment's
pause, spreading the garment's waist before stepping into it.
"I don't know why you think so. I like to see your <klung>
jiggle."
"You shouldn't notice such things. Especially you shouldn't talk
about them." He refastened the waistband. "I don't mention how
your crack ripples."
"Ripples? It ripples like water?"
"No, not like water. I guess a better word is 'flexes.' Like a
sail when the ship comes about."
"Like what?"
"When you walk, the sides stretch different. It's easy to see
from behind. Can't you feel it?"
Both the child's hands darted between her legs. She looked up
into the man's eyes. "Show me what it does."
He grinned and shook his head. "All you have to do is walk."
She turned away and stumbled across the clearing, hands pressed to
her labia. At that moment Belle emerged, stretching, from the
hut, wearing her customary tattered petticoat. Her eyes widened
at sight of Jill.
"What's wrong, honey? Are you hurt?" She swung glinting eyes
toward the man.
The girl answered in Chinese without swerving from her path. The
eldest responded in the same language. They conducted a short
dialog consisting of obvious demands from Belle and ever shorter
answers from the child, who turned suddenly and slunk past her
sister into the hut.
Belle approached the man. "Higgins, did you tell my sister that
her vaginal lips <twist>?"
He stared at her, his mouth working. At last he admitted, "When
she walks. It's only the truth."
The young woman took a deep breath. Her eyes flashed. "Can't you
discuss something else with her?"
He drew breath also. "We did: turtle eggs."
"Turtle ... eggs?"
"I found some. That's what I'm doing: getting ready to fry them.
We'll have a feast for supper."
Belle stared at him and visibly swallowed. When she spoke, her
voice was less harsh. "I'm so tired of coconut and bananas!"
He dropped his eyes. "I've not had much luck with fish lately.
But I think you'll like these eggs. The Hawaiians taught me how
to cook them... And I'm about ready to start. Why don't you call
your sisters, Miss Meron?"
The feast was a culinary success. Jake also grilled sliced
breadfruit for them to use as edible plates. All the eggs were
eaten, washed down with coconut milk and fresh water from the cut
in the rocks.
Distant clouds were crimson from the sun setting behind the hill
when Jake leaned his elbows upon the unfinished storm wall beside
Belle, who was staring out to the sea's knife-edged horizon.
"Any ships?" he asked jocularly.
"No, more's the pity."
"Are you so anxious to leave our little paradise, Miss Meron?"
"Oh, god, if we could only leave!"
He sighed and mumbled glumly, "I'm sorry, ma'am."
She turned to regard him. "Please don't think me ungrateful for
all you have done, Mr. Higgins. I'm aware that you have saved our
lives many times over. We couldn't live here without you. This
delicious meal was a strong reminder. I'm grateful also to the
Hawaiians who taught you."
"They are friendly people," he noted, smiling in pleasure at her
words, the warmest she had ever directed to him.
"They must have been, to teach you so well."
"I owe most of it to their women."
"Their women?"
"They were the friendly ones. They cotton to a stranger right
off."
"I see." Her face hardened. "Did they teach you to expect that
from all women?"
"Well, no. I know better than that."
"Is that why you expected me to enjoy your attentions, Mr.
Higgins?"
He sighed. "Miss Meron, I am very sorry about that. I've told
your sisters how I wished many times it never happened."
"Especially since you can't remember it anyway!" A red spot
appeared suddenly on both her cheeks.
He dropped his eyes and suggested softly, "I think it would be
worse if I could remember it."
"Oh, no!" She laughed bitterly. "Then you could compare me to
your friendly Hawaiian women."
He gaped at her. "Would you like <that>?"
She turned her gaze back to the ocean, her lips forming a thin
line.
"Miss Meron, I ... uh ..."
"You have already apologized. What more is there to say?"
He took a breath. "A lot, actually. May I understand that you
enjoyed the eggs?"
"Yes, thank you."
"I'm glad you did. Eating is a simple pleasure, isn't it? But
all we have now are simple pleasures. Would you ..."
"Would I what?"
"We could give each other a great deal of pleasure, Miss Meron."
She did not look at him. "What are you suggesting, Mr. Higgins?"
"You ..." His voice softened almost to inaudibility. "You are a
very desirable woman."
She kept her eyes turned away. Her voice was bitter. "And you
might as well be the only man in the world."
He grunted. "A poor choice, is it?"
"<No> choice!"
"There's always the choice between 'yes' and 'no.'"
Her lip curled. "Haven't you already denied me that one?"
"Perhaps I did once, Miss Meron." He shook his head. "But you
must have noticed: now I can deny you nothing."
She turned at last to study his face.
He cleared his throat and took a deep breath. "I've been
thinking. I've stuck close to camp because ... you ladies might
need protection, but we need to find out where we are and what's
here with us. I want to explore this island but I want to take
all of you with me. If it doesn't rain tomorrow, I propose to
climb our hill to the top and look around. Will you come with
me?"
The young woman nodded slowly. "Yes, Mr. Higgins. We'll come."
* * *
The girls each wore a petticoat. The hill presented few
challenges to climb, but the often steep slope was heavily wooded,
reducing the reliable breeze to an occasional flutter. Soon the
two youngest were naked, their petticoats left to adorn bushes for
retrieval on the return path. Belle pressed doggedly on, using
the hem of hers to wipe perspiration from her brow whenever she
thought the man's attention was otherwise engaged.
"Why don't you just take it off?" Jill asked. "Jake won't mind,
would you, Jake?"
Smiling, the man looked away.
Jill added, "She would if you would, too, Jake." He was even
wearing his armless shirt.
"That's enough!" barked Belle.
Jake suggested deferentially, "There's no reason for you to be
uncomfortable, Miss Meron."
Belle's retort was acid. "Isn't there, Mr. Higgins?"
Eventually the trees died away to low brush. The two youngest
pushed through the tangle and arrived first at the crest. The
other two were right behind them.
It was apparent that they occupied the north-eastern half of a
pair of islands with a narrow channel between them. From the
pinnacle they could see the strip of white sand that encircled
their own islet except directly behind them, where oddly the slope
was steepest.
Jill asked, "Is that really another island?"
"Yes, my poodle. About the same size as this one."
"What's wrong with its beaches?"
"She's right!" exclaimed Belle. "They're black! How can that be,
Mr. Higgins?"
"Not really black. Seen close to your eyes, the sand's a mixture.
It's caused by the kind of rock in that hill. I've seen the same
in Hawaii."
"The devil's work!" Belle declared.
"Perhaps you would know." Something in his voice caused her to
regard him suspiciously. He was grinning at her.
She smiled also. "Do you think I have his acquaintance, Mr.
Higgins?"
"No, but I wish I did. If so I would offer him a bargain."
"Is your soul so unusual?"
He shook his head. "Whatever it's worth in exchange for wafting
you wherever you want to go."
"Mr. Higgins!"
Marie pointed. "Look! A ship!"
Everyone spun about to gaze as she had directed. The sails in the
north appeared similar to the last they had seen: only the
topmost. The ship's hull and mains were well down below the curve
of the Earth.
"Is it coming toward us?" Belle asked anxiously.
"No. She's moving to the east," the man stated.
"How can you be sure?"
"Because of the spread between the masts. If her path was in line
with us, the masts would be together."
"You have good eyes," Belle admitted.
"A sailor needs good eyes."
They watched it for a long while. Jake proved correct.
"What's wrong with that cloud?" asked Marie. Now she was looking
south. When the others turned, she pointed to a small cloud low
on the horizon. "All the others are moving except that one."
"That's not just a cloud," answered Jake. "See the dark smudge
underneath it? That's the next island of the Marquesas."
"How far away is it?"
He shrugged. "That's probably a hilltop like this one. It could
be as much as 30 miles."
"What's the name of our island?" asked Jill.
"I think this is the northern-most one. I'm sure I've seen its
name on charts but I don't remember it. The Pacific has too many
islands."
Belle sighed. "Now we know."
"Know what?" asked Jill.
"That we're stuck here. These islands are too small. People will
never come." Tears welled in her eyes, overflowed her eyelashes
and ran down her cheeks.
Marie came to her and incongruously gathered the larger girl into
her arms. "Remember, Belle, at least we're alive. Out of all the
people on the ship, we and Jake are still alive. We can still
laugh and cry. They can't. That ought to tell you something. As
long as you're still alive, you should never give up hope."
<1st attachment end>
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