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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} [B/12]
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Chapter 11: The Long Way Home
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<1st attachment, "2jnar11.txt" begin>
Jake and the Castaway Daughters
a Novelette by Varkel
Spring, 2000
CHAPTER 11: The Long Way Home
The long boat came right into the cove, past the last breakers.
Wet oars flashed in the sun as the oarsmen raised them out of the
water with that uniformity for which military crews are noted.
Jill, jumping up and down at the edge of the water, marveled at
that, too. It was all just too wonderful! Strange faces, even if
all but one were bearded, filled her heart with the joy of
novelty. She could not suppress her cries of welcome. "We're so
glad to see you! We're so glad!"
The boat's way was sufficient for it to glide to the sand almost
beside her. The leading oarsmen jumped out into the shallow water
to lift the bow high and dry, the beardless one among them. Why,
that one, wearing only ragged but tight britches, was not much
more than a boy, not much older than Jill herself! She studied
his sleekly tanned back and supple muscles with increasing
interest, unaware of the spectacle she herself represented, bare
above the waist, wearing only the tattered leaf skirt Belle had
insisted she don before sailing down the well-worn path. Her
golden hair, sun bleached almost white, danced below her
shoulders. Her breasts were yet just beginning their development,
but the nipples were already prominent. With the boat stopped,
the beardless oarsman stood before her, returning the scrutiny.
A man in a blue coat stepped between them. "Do you understand me,
<mademoiselle>?" he asked.
Jill reluctantly tore her eyes from the beardless one. "If you
say something, I will."
"Ah, yes." He coughed. "Do I have the honor of addressing Miss
Jill Meron?"
He formed his words strangely, but she understood him
nevertheless. "I'm Jill. How did you know?"
"And I am Pierre LeContreau, lieutenant of the navy of France. As
to how I know, I am happy to tell you, your sister Clister Marie
survives. She told me your name."
"Marie!"
"Very much alive. I cannot believe you have succeeded so well
alone, Miss Jill. Where is your older sister, Annabelle?"
"She's coming. She went to get Jake."
* * *
The man, as had become his morning habit, was soaking in his dank
"bathtub," which was in fact little more than an eddy in the creek
that fed the falls. Huffing from her climb, Belle swung her
massive torso around a palm trunk and stood before him across this
wide spot, with hands on hips, wearing her last tattered remnant
of a petticoat blouse over a leaf skirt, a strange light in her
eyes as they rested on the man, who was submerged except for his
head.
"What do you want?" he asked coldly.
"Didn't you hear Jill screaming?"
"Screaming?" He lunged to his feet. Her lip curled at the sight
of his erection. So he preferred a fist to her swollen belly, did
he? At least Jill had not succumbed yet to his further
blandishments. She smiled secretly. All those worries were about
to vanish.
"Is she hurt?" he demanded, climbing out of the pool to face her.
Grudgingly she gave him credit for the real anxiety in his voice.
"Not yet," she retorted, "no thanks to you."
"To me? I would never harm a hair of her head."
"It's not her head I'm worried about."
Jake shook his head impatiently. "What are you talking about,
Belle?"
"A ship's boat is coming ashore in the cove as we speak."
"A ship ... a <what>?" His mouth sagged and his eyes glared.
"It flies the tricolor," she added, studying his reaction.
He stared at her. "My god!" Suddenly he spun about, leaped over
the creek and dashed away toward the ledge below.
"We're saved!" she shouted to his back. Unaccountably she had to
fling tears from her eyes as she stumbled after him.
* * *
"<M'sieur> 'Iggins, do I understand correctly that you refuse to
be removed from this otherwise uninhabited island?"
Lt. LeContreau and most of his men by now had met all three
castaways. He had kissed Belle's hand to Jill's annoyance and
inspected their pitiful accommodations on the ledge. He had made
notes while Jake related the general circumstances of the Fleeting
Star's demise.
Returning to the beach, the lieutenant had asked if they wished to
remove anything along with their persons to his ship. Belle's
answer was an uncompromising, "No." Jill wanted to keep a small
iridescent shell. Jake wanted to retain the pistol and his long
knife. When LeContreau agreed only on condition they be
surrendered to his keeping, suddenly Jake declared an intention of
staying behind.
"I'll wait for the next ship," Jake added, hands on hips. He had
pulled on his extremely ragged uniform trousers but was otherwise
naked.
"That may be a very long wait," the lieutenant argued. "Only
French nationals are permitted to bear arms in the Marquesas, Mr.
Higgins, but your property will be returned to you when you depart
French territory."
Jake's chest swelled. "That has an ominous sound, Lieutenant.
Would you leave me unarmed in this cannibal hell-hole?"
The officer shrugged. "It's the law."
Jake backed away. "Then good-bye to you all. And don't try to
stop me."
LeContreau said something in French and Jake found himself facing
two pistols and a musket, leveled with hammers cocked, while his
own weapon was still in his belt.
The lieutenant said softly, "I know about your repeating pistol,
Mr. Higgins, but do you think you can fire it faster than three
others at point-blank range?" He added something in French and
the beardless oarsman swung wide around Jake, approaching him from
the side. The lad reached gingerly toward Jake's belt. Jake
gritted his teeth but let the pistol be removed and brought to the
officer.
Another word of French caused the weapons to be lowered. The
lieutenant studied the Colts revolver curiously, then shoved it
into his own belt. He said to Jake, "Very well, Mr. Higgins. I
shall not force a man to be saved. It is stretching the rule a
bit, but you may retain the bayonet. If you keep your wits about
you and stay in the woods to avoid projectile weapons, you may
take comfort from knowing the natives have no better knife. Of
course, sir, you may yet change your mind and come to Timuata with
us. When you then depart our realm, I can return this interesting
piece."
Jake glowered at the man and took another step back.
The lieutenant grunted and said to the wide-eyes girls, "Come,
ladies, my men will help you take seats in the boat."
"Hold!" cried Belle, raising her hand imperiously. "Mr. Higgins
should not be left alone here to the danger of other women who may
land."
The lieutenant nodded. "I can see that you might have a valid
interest in his accountability. But do you think he is dangerous
to women?"
"I know he is. He raped me."
The officer drew back. "Madame, that is a most serious charge!"
"Nevertheless it's true. If he denies it, both my sisters were
witnesses. He got drunk on a floating cask of rum and took my
virginity quite against my will."
"Did that happen here, Miss Meron?"
"Yes, sir, on this island."
A volley of French led the three weapons to menace Jake again.
"In that case, Mr. Higgins," the lieutenant declared, "you will
come with us after all. In fact you shall have the seat of honor
in the bow, where your hands can be tied with the painter." He
added a phrase of French and two husky oarsmen advanced upon Jake,
securing his arms and holding him while the others boarded.
Jake shook his head as Belle passed before him. "I can't believe
you would do this to me."
She sniffed. "Did you think you'd get away from me so easily?"
* * *
The Ellette docked in the harbor at Timuata the next morning.
Though it had been especially equipped with two oversized cotton
shifts in aid of the girls' modesty, wives of the commandant's
staff came aboard with servants bearing boxes from which decently
European if less than glamorous clothing was found for Belle and
Jill. They were led onto the dock in a gay procession past the
staring waterfront idlers and into the common room of the stone
fortress still abuilding. Behind them stumbled Jake, now
restrained in chains and manacles, still wearing only his ruined
uniform britches, having spent the night in the warship's prison
in grim reflection on the ironies of fate. "I can't believe I was
saved from the storm for <this>!"
Marie met her sisters just inside the raised portcullis. The
whole procession stopped and milled about, the marines holding
Jake well back, waiting stoically for the female passion to
dissipate. She hugged and kissed them together and separately,
all bending over Belle's belly, about which she said one word:
"Jake!"
Belle sighed. "Yes, of course. It was the only way to keep him
from doing to Jill what he did to you."
Marie's eyes sparkled. "Instead he did to you what he did to me."
"Well, don't forget he injured me first."
"Is that the word for it?" She turned and shouted over her
shoulder, "Ko'u-e, <apports-moi mon enfant>!"
The hovering women parted to let the dusky maid, skirted but
barefooted and holding two infants to her breasts, approach. When
she was near, Marie took one of the babes from her and held it up
for Belle's inspection, saying with a smirk, "I think this shows
who was injured first."
Belle's eyes grew large and her lips parted. "You <can't> mean
..."
"That this is my son, John Jacob Meron."
"My heavens!" Belle's hands went to her cheeks. "<Jacob>? Do
you claim only Jake -- That chin!"
"And that's not all. No, I don't claim only Jake. But he was
first."
"Wu Fong was your first!"
"Well, yes, but Jake put my son in me the night before I was taken
away. Where's Jake? Obviously the Hivans didn't kill him."
"Can I hold your baby?" asked Jill, staring enviously.
"For a short while, but give him back to Ko'u-e or he'll start
crying. Where <is> Jake?"
"Back there." Jill twitched her head to indicate something behind
them while gently gathering the swaddled babe into her arms. Two
pairs of blue eyes stared into each other with instant love.
Marie turned away, twisting through the crowd, her wide skirts
swaying. "Jake!" she squealed when she spotted her objective,
standing with hanging head between two marines. The guards moved
to intercept her but stood aside in recognition of the personal
nature of this attack.
She almost leapt upon him, throwing her arms around his bare
shoulders and showering his beard with kisses. "Jake," she
squealed repeatedly. "Oh, Jake! I have so much to tell you."
The man smiled, too. "You did live! I'm sorry I couldn't protect
you."
"I'm not!" She stood back, suddenly appreciating his manacled
state. She glared at the nearest marine and demanded in French,
"Why is this man chained?"
Marie, now in a Parisian gown, was very much the woman grown and
important. The marine gulped. "Lieutenant's orders,
<ma'm'selle>."
"Release him at once!" Her namesake, queen of France, could not
have glared more imperiously.
"But, madame, he is a prisoner, charged with rape, to be shown to
the captain. He is a dangerous man, especially to women."
"Belle!" Marie sniffed. "I know this man. He is not dangerous
to me. I am the captain's ward. Release him in my custody."
She locked eyes with the marine sergeant. He himself had seen
this one on the beach in the captain's arms and knew well whose
career nestled in whose hand. He took the key from his pocket and
struck the manacles off his prisoner.
"But, sergeant --" began his comrade.
"Shut up!" was the sergeant's response. "You heard the lady." He
said to Marie, "Tell him to mind you. If he breaks away I have
orders to shoot him."
Jake, who had understood only Belle's name of the whole exchange,
stood with mouth hanging open. He flexed his freed wrists and
ankles and stared at Marie in a mixture of disbelief and awe.
She took his hand, smiled up at him and reverted to English. "The
soldier has given you to me. Come on. The captain wants to see
you." She frowned. "You need a bath. Where did you spend the
night?"
He grunted ruefully. "In prison again."
"Belle told them you raped her?"
"Yes, she did."
"And you did it to her again?"
"No!"
"Then who put that baby in her?"
"It was not rape!"
"I'll bet <she> thinks it was! Don't worry. I'll get you out of
this. I know someone who's going to love you as much as I do."
* * *
The assembly did not have long to wait. It fell silent when a
soldier grounded his musket and cried for attention. Naval
captain Maurice duValier marched through a door at the back of the
raised platform and took his seat at the elevated desk. Lt.
LeContreau accompanied him, smiling at the ladies, frowning when
he saw Jake's clearly unfettered state. The marine sergeant,
expecting that reaction, pointed ostentatiously to Marie, still
holding Jake's hand. The lieutenant's eyes narrowed but he nodded
almost imperceptibly.
Into the silence the captain intoned, "I extend the hospitality of
the Marquesas to Annabelle Celeste Meron and to Jill Anna Meron,
as previously done to their sister, Clister Marie Meron. These
three, and one other, are the only survivors of the Fleeting Star,
an American clipper that foundered on the shoal above Eloa during
the great storm of July last. To them I say," -- he switched to
fluent English -- "You ladies are welcome here in Timuata and in
my home. My wife and I shall be pleased to receive you informally
after this assembly."
He continued in French, "My wife asks me to announce that when our
new friends have recovered from their ordeal, we shall hold a
reception for them. All officers and their wives are invited. We
hope they will relate to us some of their history in America and,
ah, China."
He took a paper from his pocket. "Four people survived the wreck
of the Fleeting Star. The fourth one is the man, Jacob Lester
Higgins." In English he added, "Mr. Higgins, please step forth."
Jake took a breath, squared his bare shoulders and walked forward
before the platform, Marie still holding his hand.
"Marie," the captain said not unkindly, still in English, "please
step back."
But Marie spoke in French. "This man is the father of my child.
I ask you, Capt. duValier, to think what reason my sister might
have to accuse him."
The captain's eyes narrowed and he responded similarly, "Very
well, but for this he must stand alone."
Marie released Jake's hand and backed away.
The captain stared down at the disheveled man, who sighed but
returned his stare. In English he asked, "Mr. Higgins, Miss
Annabelle Meron has charged you before the French navy with
drunkenness and rape of her person on the night of 3 July, 1848:
that is, the night after your mutual deliverance from the
shipwreck. Do you deny that charge?"
Jake's mouth twisted. "Honestly, your hon-- ah, sir, I don't
know."
"You don't <know>?"
"I was, I admit, very drunk, sir. And Mar-- one of the girls told
me later that she struck me in the head with a coconut. That may
also have affected my memory of the event."
"But you do not deny the charge."
"I cannot, sir."
The captain regarded him thoughtfully. "Your speech is that of a
man with some education, Mr. Higgins, apparent even to one whose
native tongue is not English. What was your position on the
Fleeting Star?"
"On the voyage to Canton I was first mate."
"And on the voyage to New York?"
Jake hesitated.
The captain suggested, "You were no longer first mate?"
Jake squared his shoulders. "No, sir. I was imprisoned, charged
with barratry."
"And were you guilty of barratry?"
"The captain thought so. But he was wrong."
"Can you account for your arrest?"
"Yes, sir. Some of the cargo was wrongly marked, and the second
mate wanted to be first."
"Captain, cargo and mate now at the bottom of the sea?"
"I believe so, sir."
"Your barratry, if any, occurred beyond the jurisdiction of this
command." The captain swung to Belle's attentive face. "Miss
Meron, you have brought the charge of rape, which occurred on an
island of the Marquesas. Do you wish to see this man loose his
head?"
Belle's eyes rounded in horror. "No, no, sir! Please don't kill
him."
The captain's hand rose to his beard to conceal his smile. "Then
what compensation do you expect from French justice?"
"I ... don't know, sir. He is the father of my unborn child."
"He can hardly deny that, either! And clearly it results from
acts that he undertook well after last July. Do you charge
additional rape, Miss Meron?"
Belle blushed, lowering her eyes. "N-no, sir. I ... accepted him
to spare Jill."
"He offered you a choice, did he?"
"No, not in so many words. But she was curious, and I feared ..."
"The worst, did you? But he did spare her, did he? Very well,
then, do you perhaps wish him to marry you?"
Belle raised a strained face toward Jake. She took a shaky
breath. "I would ... m-marry him for the sake of my -- our baby,
if he wished it."
The captain opened his mouth to direct an obvious question to
Jake, but Marie spoke first in English.
"Hold on! He's the father of my child, too!"
The captain frowned slowly, looking from one girl to the other.
At last he turned to Jake. "And did you also rape Marie?"
"No, sir, I did not!"
"Very sure about that, are you?"
"Captain, I swear I never had lewd designs on her."
The officer's eyebrows rose. "Do you claim to recall no sexual
contact with her either?"
Jake dropped his eyes. "No, sir. We had ... one night together."
The captain sneered. "No doubt <she> seduced you, is that it?"
Jake stood straighter. "Sir, I did not rape her."
"Aha, I see! <She> raped <you>!"
Excited voices among the audience translated that charge into
French. The captain looked about him with disgust, brought a
reversed pistol up from beneath the desk and struck the surface
with its butt. "Silence!" he roared and received it instantly.
Lt. LeContreau, standing behind the captain, leaned forward,
tapped him on the shoulder and engaged him in a whispered dialog.
When the captain again faced forward, his eyes sought Marie. He
stated in French, "I understand that this man was brought here in
manacles. How is it, Miss Meron, that he appears unfettered now?"
Marie's high voice did not lack confidence. "I ordered him
released in my custody."
"<You> ordered?"
"Yes, sir, as your ward."
Knowing smiles appeared on several faces in the audience, after a
moment on the captain's likewise. But only for a moment. His
eyes narrowed as the smile vanished and he said to Marie, "You may
regret that."
He studied Jake thoughtfully as the latter's head swiveled
anxiously from him to Marie, then addressed Jake in English. "Mr.
Higgins, I offer you a choice. While awaiting the final
disposition of your case, you may choose to languish in the
Timuata dungeon. To be frank, sir, that <might> be the better
alternative! On the other hand, Miss Marie Meron has taken it
upon herself to have you released into her custody. If you will
give your oath to serve her faithfully as a manservant, to obey
her in all things, you may choose that she continue as she has
begun. What is your choice, Mr. Higgins?"
The captain allowed the excited translations to proceed unhindered
while a wide-eyed Jake stared at Marie, who winked at him
provocatively. When an expectant silence fell, the captain asked,
"Your decision, Mr. Higgins?"
"I ... I ..."
"The dungeon awaits if you cannot decide otherwise."
"No, no! I swear ... I swear I'll serve her."
"Very well. I'll erect the guillotine for you in front of this
building if you don't." The captain switched to French. "Marie,
take possession of him. And get him a bath."
* * *
Marie led Jake by the hand through the rooms and corridors to the
connecting personal quarters while other women cared for Belle and
Jill separately. Among her familiar servants at last, Marie
called out orders right and left. Reaching her bedroom, she bade
Jake stand in the middle of it. "Don't touch anything," she said.
"You're filthy!"
He stood as if dazed, hands dangling at his side, watching as two
husky and dark women, dressed only in long skirts, brought a tin
bathtub into the room, then returned again and again with buckets
of steaming water. A third woman, thinner, attended Marie,
assisting her in removing the gown and all her voluminous
undergirding. They spoke in French, apparently ignoring him. He
understood not a word. But he could not ignore the very shapely
woman -- no longer a mere girl -- revealed as Marie's last
petticoat passed over her head. Her breasts and hips were large
and heavy but her waistline was narrow. The dark tan she had
acquired following him about the northern island was long faded.
Her body hair was silky and the hair of her head was lush below
her shoulders.
A young dark woman, similarly skirted, came to the nude Marie with
a baby on each hip: one light, one dark. Marie took the light
one and put it to her own breast. Obviously male, he suckled
hungrily.
Jake inquired hesitantly, "Is that ... maybe ..."
"Your son," Marie declared positively. "John Jacob Meron. You
can play with him when you're cleaned up." She grinned. "I've
only done the C with him."
"The ... sea?"
"Remember C M M? He doesn't pee as long as you do. Not yet."
She added something in French. One of the husky women came to
him, hands extending to his waist. Marie said, "Your bath is
ready, Jake. Give her your britches."
He shrugged and peeled them down his legs. Marie backed away,
making a face. "You are <ripe>! You never went so long without a
bath before."
"It's not that," he explained. "Ship prisons all stink."
"Well, I think you've seen your last one. For rape, at least. Is
the water too hot?"
Almost, he wanted to say. He stepped over the tub edge and sat
down gingerly. In a moment he began to relax. "Ah-h-h!" he
breathed.
A woman set a chair before the tub and Marie settled into it, her
babe cradled in her arms. "We'll let you soak awhile, then my
women will scrub you. Tell me what happened on the island after
the Hivans took me away."
"'Hivans?'"
"That's their name in their own language. Were you badly hurt?"
He grinned sourly. "About the same as what you did to me.
Nothing happened to <us>, but look what happened to <you>!"
She smiled. "I'll tell you all that later. I'm having a very
good time, Jake, and now with you here it'll be so much better.
If I could just find Wu Fong, too, it would be perfect. Ah, well!
Even I know you can't have everything."
She rattled in French. Another chair was placed beside the tub.
The thin woman sat in it with a tray across her lap. Jake found a
goblet of wine pressed to his lips. Marie continued in English,
"But <something> happened on the island. Look at Belle!"
The wine was cool and sweet. He took several grateful swallows.
"Well, yes. We, ah ... You know, Marie, to be honest with you, I
always wanted Belle."
"Why? She hated you, you know."
He sighed. "With reason, I admit. She hated me until I touched
her. Then she loved me."
"Huh! I think I know what you mean. You've got a part that's
hard not to love. Tell me: did you put it into Jill?"
He coughed. "Marie ..."
"Tell me."
"Dear, I'd rather not talk about Jill. She's too young for us."
"For <us>? How old do you think I am?"
"14, aren't you? Lot's of girls marry at 14."
"Yes. I need to, so the captain says. But, Jake ..." She waited
for him to accept the confection pressed to his mouth. "Do you
remember when I told you I was your slave?"
"Well, yes." He chuckled grimly around his mouthful. "Things
have got a little mixed up."
"You think so? Just that you're my slave, too. A slave has to
obey his master. Did you fuck Jill?"
He sighed as he swallowed. "She learned my weakness, and she
wanted it as bad as you did. I meant to give it to her, too, but
when it hurt her, I backed off. She was so young I was afraid it
would <really> hurt her."
"You didn't put it in her?"
"No. She did bleed, but I left her maidenhead intact."
"How do you know?"
"You can tell that with a tongue."
Marie smiled lazily. "Well, she may still have it now, but she
won't when she leaves here."
He agreed dryly, "I know the French reputation."
"They deserve it. They don't think at all like my father did.
But you don't either, Jake."
"Yes, I do." He dropped his eyes. "I just don't live up to it."
She shook her head. "Bet he never heard of the Boston Lass."
He took more wine. "Maybe not. But let's talk about you. What's
going to happen to you now -- you and your sisters?"
"Oh, we'll be all right. I'll stay here. Capt. duValier wants to
adopt me as his daughter. <Marie duValier>! I rather like it.
He's far sweeter than most fathers, I gather, but I like that,
too. As for Belle and Jill, well, did you know we're all rich,
Jake?"
"Rich?"
"My sweet new papa has told me all about it. Father owned 23 per-
cent of the Fleeting Star, which means that we sisters own 23 per-
cent of the insurance proceeds, and that's over eight million
pounds."
"You don't mean pounds sterling!"
"But I do!"
"Good god, 40 million dollars! ... Your share would be three
million apiece."
"More than that." She grinned at him. "Want to marry me, Jake?
Or do you prefer Belle?"
"I ... Good god!"
"You could marry both of us. The law here is whatever the captain
says it is. Of course, Belle would never agree, despite that
little speech she made in the assembly. She'll go back to
Massachusetts, after her baby is born, and take Jill with her.
Belle is not going to get along with the French any better than
Father would have." The girl chuckled. "They're too much like
the Chinese."
She said something over her shoulder. All three serving women
came forward with brushes, cloth and soap. They scrubbed him
tenderly, back and front, cupping their hands with water for head
and beard. Marie watched with a slight smile, the woman with the
dark baby looking over her shoulder.
When the women paused, Marie called, "Stand up, Jake." Their
hands had already fondled his genitals more than a little. He
rose to his feet with some trepidation, exposing a fat manhood
almost erect. The women sucked in their breath, commenting among
themselves in short barks and giggles. One leaned over the tub
and scrubbed the admired object vigorously between well-soaped
hands. He felt other soapy fingers enclosing his testicles and
penetrating his anus.
Marie laughed. "Do you know you're blushing, Jake? Next time
I'll have a mirror so you can see your face." She added something
in French and the fast hands fell away. Involuntarily his hips
moved to follow them.
"Oh, no, Jake. We'll save that for a better use, but I'm glad you
liked it."
At her commands in two languages he stepped out of the tub. Two
of the women dried him while the third scrubbed his feet, lifting
one at the time. Again Marie laughed. "Does it tickle, Jake?"
They enclosed him in a silken robe and sat him in a padded chair.
He realized that a man had come into the room, apparently a barber
from the tools he bore. Neither Marie nor the other women, some
equally naked to spare their skirts during his bath, seemed
concerned for modesty.
"This man shaves the captain, Jake. He'll cut your hair and shave
you. You've gone pretty shaggy, my love."
Jake sighed. "I suppose. Did you say, 'shave' me?"
"That's right." Her voice hardened. "I want everyone to see that
cleft in your chin."
His face clouded up but only for a moment. He shrugged. "Yes,
mistress."
"Jake!" She lifted her chin. "You know my reason. Look at this
boy. Would you deny him?"
She stood over the man and thrust her baby against his chest. His
arms rose hesitantly to support it. He stared at the child's
face, then between the legs. He admitted shakily, "No, I ...
guess I can't." He smiled. "John Jacob, eh? Where'd you get the
John?"
"He needed another name, but my father always hated his."
Jake cocked his head. "You know, this is not a bad looking lad!"
"And neither will you be. Now let the barber proceed."
A woman knelt to cut low upon fingernails and toenails while the
barber danced around her, snipping high, a hot cloth softening
Jake's beard the while. In the background he heard the tub first
emptied then removed. He twitched when someone took his flaccid
manhood, insecurely covered by the robe, in hand and peeled it
back. The inspection, though repeated twice, was brief. Whether
barber or a woman he could not tell, though he suspected -- and
hoped -- the latter. Not a word of English passed any lips around
him. When towel came off and razor took its place, all the women
stood close to watch the operation, volubly commenting in French.
He wondered what afforded them so much entertainment.
Finally the barber dusted him with talc and rose water before
departing. He sneezed, then smiled contentedly at the hovering
Marie, who nodded. "The exact same cleft! In fact you're much
more handsome without the beard, Jake. Didn't you know that?"
"Uh, thank you. I used to shave, but it's such a lot of trouble."
"Not any more. Could you get accustomed to it, Jake?"
"I don't know. I wonder if heaven is like this."
"Isn't this close enough? We'll try a bath together soon. Right
now someone wants to see you up close."
He grinned. "What else can you do to me?"
She arched an eyebrow. "Quite a bit, in fact." She gave her baby
to the dark woman and extended her hand to Jake. "Come along."
He stood up. Suddenly aware of his exposure, he pulled the robe
closed and asked, wide-eyed, "Where are we going?"
"Through that door."
"Don't you ... have something more for me to wear?"
"No, unless you prefer to dress as I do." She stood stark naked
and smiling. A drop of milk trembled on one of her nipples.
She led him to an unfamiliar door that opened to her knock. An
older serving woman, heavy breasts sagging above an ample skirted
belly, stood holding the door. He followed Marie into a larger,
fancier bedroom. A very large four-poster bed occupied the
center, veils obscuring its occupant. As they approached the
veils were drawn from the inside, and Jake found himself presented
to a woman sitting on the high edge. She regarded him from
sparkling dark eyes in an unsmiling Gallic face, black hair loose
to her shoulders though beribboned in pink. She wore a filmy pink
garment through which heavy body, dark nipples and pubic triangle
were discernible.
Marie spoke in French, from her tone a set speech containing his
name, then followed in English: "Mme. Nanette duValier, my
patroness, may I present Mr. Jacob Higgins, my lover."
She nudged Jake, who stammered, "Uh, ah, I am very pleased to meet
you, Mrs., ah, duValier."
The dark eyes twinkled. "Nanette," she directed.
"Nanette," he corrected himself. "And I'm Jake."
She extended her hand, palm down. Though he had never done such a
thing before in his life, he was inspired to raise it to his lips
and bending over it, kiss the back. Her response was to rotate it
and rub the ball of her thumb along the cleft in his chin. She
smiled at him and said something in French.
As he straightened up, Marie translated: "She agrees with half
the evidence of little Jake's father."
To his discomfort Marie suddenly parted his robe. She struck his
hands away when he moved with a start to cover himself. "Surely
you're not ashamed of it!"
He felt heat on his face that spread down his chest when she
dropped to one knee and took him in her mouth. He stood with
sagging chin and dangling fists, staring into the woman's amused
eyes, while Marie suckled him noisily and cupped his testicles.
In a moment she released him, now rampantly erect, and turned to
see the effect upon the woman, who took an audible breath. Her
eyes were no longer amused. She spoke animatedly in French.
Marie looked up at him. "Jake, how long since you made spunk?"
"Ah, uh, since day before yesterday."
After an exchange in French she added, "Nanette wants to taste a
man so potent as you."
The woman shrugged out of her peignoir and backed fully up onto
the bed. She took Jake's hand and gently pulled him after her.
"Would you like to taste her, too, Jake?"
From that he understood what was wanted. The woman lay back, arms
and legs spread, and he reversed himself atop her. He felt her
hands grasp him, followed by a rough wet stroking, then wet
contact along the entire shaft. He gasped involuntarily, wide
eyes on the grinning Marie. But the aroma below his face drew his
own tongue. He found the woman more than expectant. The wine
sang in his veins and he applied himself with a will. Shortly her
hips were moving in response to his strokes and she groaned
nasally behind him.
"I knew it," murmured the hovering girl complacently. "And you'll
love Nanette, too. Just wait till you fuck her properly."
She peered under the man's torso at the woman's face, beet red,
nostrils flaring for stentorian grunts, eyes clamped shut, mouth
relaxing as a thick stream of seminal fluid escaped a corner of
the lips.
She smiled with a distant look. "Nanette likes to sing, too.
Between times you can teach us all the rest of 'The Boston Lass.'"
<1st attachment end>
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