Juicy Secrets Forbidden Tales of Lesbian Love

A quick recap of the Story Thus Far: Rural paramedic Nettie Hastings finds herself in the middle of a flurry of unexplained overdose calls and, with the help of her best friend and former lover, Terry Wilder, puts clues together to link the source to her own hometown. A DEA agent named Bridgette Ramscone is brought in to work the case, and she takes a special interest in Nettie who, in the meantime, has entered into a clandestine affair with Terry’s preteen daughter Halee. It turns out that Terry’s ex-wife Kathryn is the linchpin of the criminal enterprise behind the overdoses. A showdown occurs in which Halee is shot, and Terry taken hostage. Thankfully, Terry escapes, Halee survives, and the drug dealers are all arrested or killed. While Halee is recovering in Intensive Care, Nettie meets an anesthesiologist named Hannah; both feel an immediate attraction. Hannah quickly recognizes the love Nettie holds for Halee, and reveals that she is sexually intimate with her thirteen-year-old daughter Bethany. Shortly thereafter, Hannah invites Nettie to her home for dinner… and whatever else they might think of to pass the time. Dinner passes pleasantly enough – now it’s time for dessert.

For a more detailed breakdown of this story’s chapters, please consult the Chapter Links.

by Rachael Yukey

My pulse hammered with excitement as Hannah and Bethany led me to the lower level of their home, which featured a large, luxurious bathroom with a bathtub big enough to accommodate four or five adults comfortably. Water was running, and I now understood what Bethany had been doing when she went downstairs.

Hannah turned to me. “Bathing should be a social activity when it’s possible… wouldn’t you agree, Antoinette?” She pulled the unflattering scrub top over her head, revealing smooth, silky skin.

“I would,” I replied, removing my sweater. I did it slowly, going for a light tease and hoping my pits didn’t stink too much after a long day. I started to reach behind my back, but Bethany was there first, reaching for my bra clasp.

“May I?” she said.

I nodded, not trusting my voice to remain steady. She undid the clasp, gently peeled my bra away and tossed it atop my sweater, which I had just dropped to the floor.

Hannah was eyeballing my chest with desire etched into every pore. “Oh, Antoinette,” she said. “Those are nice.” Bethany scooted around behind her mother, unclasping Hannah’s bra and casting it aside. Now it was my turn to stare. Hannah’s breasts were large, round, and looked gloriously firm. Her nipples boldly protruded from quarter-sized pink aereolae.

She caught my gaze and held it, craning her neck to maintain eye contact as she slowly shoved her scrub bottoms and panties to the floor. I undid my jeans, pushing them down from my hips along with the underwear. As I stood there, pants around my thighs, Hannah removed her socks, eyes flicking downward to my womanly center. I’d shaved it smooth that morning in anticipation of this evening.

Finally Hannah stood upright, and I took a good long look down below. She was as freshly shaven as I was, her pussy lips pressed tightly together. She was an innie. I bent over as I pushed my pants down the rest of the way, taking the opportunity to get a better look at her cunt. Seeing what I was doing, she placed her feet further apart, showing me everything she had.

After I’d divested myself of pants and socks, I stood upright, and our eyes met again. Hannah stepped forward, took my hand, and guided me to the tub. She climbed in, sighing with pleasure as she stretched her body beneath the water’s rippling surface. I admired the view from above for a moment, then joined her, luxuriating in a tub with room enough for me to stretch out full length. I closed my eyes and allowed my head to sink, so only my face was above the water.

I lifted my head, and was treated to the sight of beautiful little Bethany standing a few feet from the tub admiring her mother and me, her expression a portrait of helpless lust. Her breathing was wobbly and harsh. Mostly, her eyes were on me, roving up and down my bare body.

It wasn’t lost on her mother. “I warned you,” Hannah said to me with merriment in her voice, “Bethany is all about tall and dark. You’re in deep trouble.”

She turned her eyes to her daughter. “So… are you joining us, or what?”

As if in a trance, Bethany pulled her t-shirt over her head, tossing it into a corner. She wasn’t wearing anything underneath, and my eyes fixed on her budding breasts. They were larger than Halee’s, but still just small mounds that could be almost entirely concealed by a baggy enough shirt. The aereolae, however, were the same size and hue as those of her mother. The nipples stood stiff and erect.

Bethany pushed the leggings to the floor, leaving her panties in place for the moment. When she stood, she ran both hands up the inside of her thighs, coming to rest just below a dark wet patch in the white cotton. “That’s how hot I think you are,” she said. It occurred to me that this girl would probably also be attracted to Halee, who was already taller than Hannah and still growing, and whose natural hair color was a dark brown. I ought to set up a playdate, I told myself, filing that delicious thought away for later.

Bethany slipped out of her panties, revealing a smooth, silky slit with just the faintest sprinkling of red down. Between Hannah’s intoxicating proximity, the naked nymphet standing before us, and the imminent thrill of sex with a mother and her daughter, I felt like it would just take one more stimulant to make me come.

Bethany stepped into the water, stretching out at my side. I felt a little overwhelmed, lying there in that bubbling pool, the woman pressed against my left arm, the girl at my right. Glancing at Hannah, I found her watching me with an intense, hungry expression. Wrapping my hand around the back of her head, I pressed my mouth to hers.

There was no subtlety to the kiss, no buildup. Tongues dueled frantically, desperate desire oozed from every pore in our bodies. Then she pulled away.

“Let’s… oh, God.” Hannah’s words came out raspy and harsh. She drew in a steadying breath “Look, you keep doing that, and it’s all going to go down right here. But I always feel gross after a shift at the hospital, so let’s get cleaned up first. Then we can do whatever we want.”

I nodded, forcing myself into some semblance of control. The truth was, after a long while with no opportunity to shower, I felt pretty disgusting myself.

We lay side by side, washing our bodies with big, soft sponges, then shampooing our hair. Every movement, every touch of our bodies, hit me like a dose of low-level electric current. When I ran the sponge over my cunt, an intense wave of pleasure coursed through me, and I bit my lip to stifle a moan. Uneven breathing to either side of me gave me to know that I wasn’t the only one in this state. None of us spoke much.

Finally Hannah stood, water cascading in rivulets down her glistening buttocks. Reaching above her head, she plucked a towel from the rack. “Who’s ready to adjourn to the bedroom?” she inquired, vigorously toweling her hair.

We padded naked up the stairs – Hannah in the lead, me right behind her and Bethany bringing up the rear, no doubt staring at my ass every step of the way. Hannah’s bedroom was surprisingly goth, adorned with lava lamps and smelling of incense. It occurred to me that I’d never seen her in anything but scrubs, and I wondered what her wardrobe looked like. Then I spied the king-size bed, and the excitement of what lay before us expunged all other thought from my head.

Hannah gestured towards the bed with an ‘after you’ flourish. I climbed aboard and stretched myself out, tingling from head to toe. Advancing towards the bed, Hannah lowered her body onto mine. The weight of her glorious nakedness, skin pressed to skin, the warm wetness of her cunt against my thigh… well, it tore away the last vestiges of my control.

I threw both arms around Hannah, crushing my mouth to hers in a bruising kiss. Our tongues dueled, bodies ground together. I felt like we’d been restraining ourselves from doing exactly this from the moment our eyes first met in Halee’s ICU room.

I ran my hands down Hannah’s back, fingernails scraping the soft skin until I reached her shapely yet oh-so-firm backside. It fitted my grasp perfectly. I began to squeeze and massage that amazing ass, slipping my fingertips into her crack and sliding them up and down. She broke the kiss, trailing her lips across my chin and down to my neck. I began to thrusting my hips into hers, my body alive with raw animal hunger.

In my peripheral vision I saw Bethany sitting cross-legged on the bed. She lifted one hand to her budding breast, dipping the other between her legs. Thrusting a finger between those sweet pussy lips, she threw her head back. A hitching breath was followed by a low moan.

Hannah must have heard as well, because she lifted her body slightly to look up at her daughter.

“Keep going, you guys,” Bethany gasped. “I’ll g-get my turn.”

Hannah turned back to me, but before she could return to her ministrations, I used her semi-erect posture to get my hands on those luscious tits. I cupped them both, glorying in a perfect combination of firmness and pliability. They felt every bit as good as they looked. I circled my hands around them, sampling their impressive heft. Hannah arched her back, mewling like a cat. I buried my face in the valley between those two mountains of succulence, running my tongue around one, then the other.

Hannah was ecstatic, making little growling noises in the back of her throat. Her hands sought out my tits, flicking my nipples, then pinching them. “Fuck!” I panted.

When I finally took the tip of her breast between my lips, teasing it with lightning-fast flicks of the tongue, she moaned, then began grinding her pelvis against mine.

I glanced up at Bethany, still perched on the edge of the bed. Her hand was still moving in a slow, steady, thrusting motion as she fingered her cunt. The girl’s breath came in huffs and sudden sharp intakes of air. Her lips were slightly parted, jaw trembling.

Meanwhile, Hannah’s movements were becoming more urgent, her need for release plain to see. I chose to be merciful. Placing my hands on her hips, I brought a leg up between her thighs. She went with it, stretching her legs out behind and rolling us a little to one side. She slipped her leg in, thigh grinding against my pussy. White lights went off before my eyes as I fell into Hannah’s rhythm.

We moved frantically, urgently, squeezing each other in a mutual death grip, crying out in purest bliss as we humped each other. Blinding flashes of pleasure radiated out from my center, surging through my body. Hannah’s moans became low and guttural as mine grew more high-pitched and strident.

Then I was coming, pleasure overwhelming my senses and shutting out any remaining capacity for rational thought. I’m sure I screamed.

My rhythm slowed as I came down, but Hannah was thrusting harder and faster against my thigh. I met her equally, determined to give her what she’d just given me, and was rewarded with renewed fireworks of my own. Her body went rigid; she pressed her face into my shoulder and howled as a convulsive orgasm consumed her. And suddenly I was coming again, my cries mingling with hers in shared ecstasy.

Then we lay still, clinging to each other like children. “Oh, my God,” Hannah whispered. “Oh, my God, Antoinette.”

As my eyes slowly drifted open, I became aware of movement on the other side of the bed. Looking up, I saw Bethany still sitting there, still masturbating.

Hannah gave her head a sharp shake and rolled onto her back, eyes fixed on her daughter. “I’m sorry, sweetheart,” she said with an abashed chuckle. “I guess we kind of forgot you were there for a moment.”

“That’s okay, Mom,” Bethany intoned in a husky voice. “That was, like, the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen. You two just… just melded together.”

“But now you need to be taken care of,” the girl’s mother replied.

Bethany simply nodded, lowering her head and drawing a shuddering breath. Her finger had yet to cease its slow, steady grind between her labia, making tantalizing liquid sounds with each stroke.

A wave of renewed lust hit me like a thunderbolt. I just had to have that tender young cunt in my mouth.

“May?” I said, beckoning the girl closer.

She drew near, straddling my belly as she presented her sex to me. I snaked my way between her legs until my head was directly beneath her glistening cunt. Reaching out to cup her delectable little buttocks, I guided Bethany down to my already open mouth. Bethany was shivering in anticipation, and I wasn’t even licking her yet.

Knowing this wasn’t the time to tease, I slipped my tongue straight up into her slit, moving it in slow circles, then licked a pathway to the hard bud of her clitoris. She rewarded me with a hoarse moan, and her nectar began to flow, coating my lips and chin. I picked up the pace, maintaining pressure and moving my tongue in a circular motion. Her shaky breathing and those little catlike sounds she made were sweet music to my ears. Bethany was slowly working her hips against my jaw as she raced toward full-on meltdown.

Determined to make that orgasm one to remember, I reached between Bethany’s legs, teasing her dripping hole with a finger. Moving cautiously, I penetrated her, meeting no resistance. I found myself wondering how old she’d been when Hannah took her hymen.

When I entered Bethany, she gasped loudly and bucked against my face. Encouraged, I decided to risk a second finger. It went in easily, and she shuddered, accompanied by a sharp moan. She was humping faster now, fucking my face and fingers, making ecstatic noises with almost every breath.

Hannah, I saw, was stimulating her little girl’s nipples with the fingers of one hand. “Fair warning,” she whispered in my ear, “Keep finger-fucking her like that, and you’re apt to get squirted on.”

Sounded good to me! I licked her even faster, my  head moving in time as I kept the pressure on with my tongue. I worked my fingers in and out at the same tempo, Bethany’s body moving along like a well-oiled machine.

Then she was jerking helplessly, crying out over and over, her pussy muscles squeezing my fingers so hard that it actually hurt. Her cries mounted to a sharp scream, and a gush of warm liquid drenched my face. Wow, she really can squirt! I marveled, trying to gulp down every drop of her essence.

Bethany finally collapsed, slumping to one side. Hannah caught the girl and lowered her to the bed with the ease of long practice. She held her baby girl, snuggling her close and whispering softly in her ear. I wrapped my arms around Bethany from the other side, placing gentle kisses on her cheek.

After a moment, Bethany opened her eyes. She smiled at me, turned to smile at her mother, then looked back at me. “Hope you didn’t mind getting sprayed.”

“Oh, I warned her, but she didn’t stop,” said Hannah with a giggle.

“You taste amazing,” I assured her.

Hannah leaned over her daughter, capturing my lips with hers. We made out slowly, sensuously, and then she let the tip of her tongue roam my cheeks and chin.“Scrumdiddlyumptious,” she said.

We all laughed.

***

“Bethany has school tomorrow, so she has to go to bed soon,” said Hannah. “Would you like to tuck her in, Antoinette?”

We adjourned once more to the lower level, and they led me to Bethany’s room. It was obviously the bedroom of a girl transitioning into her teen years, equal parts stuffed animals and band posters.

I arched an eyebrow. “How much time do we have?”

“Oh, enough to do it properly,” Hannah replied, tipping me a wink.

Loosening my towel and letting it drop to the floor, I advanced on Bethany. I practically ripped the towel from her body, then took her face in my hands, fingers sliding across her cheeks and tangling in the girl’s still-damp hair. Her breath was already quickening and becoming irregular; Hannah hadn’t been kidding about that short fuse.

Sensing that Bethany wanted to be dominated, I tilted her head back and began nuzzling her cheeks, her chin, her nose. Every time I got close to her lips, I backed away. Those lips were parted, tremulous breaths shuddering in and out.

“Your Mommy says it’s bedtime,” I said, wondering what had gotten into me. “Were you a good girl? Did you eat everything on your plate?”

I heard a whimper from my left. Casting my eyes that way, I saw that Hannah had discarded her towel, perched herself on a chair, and was now fondling her breasts.

“Yes, I ate every bite,” a wide-eyed Bethany whispered.

“Then you can have some dessert,” I said, and my mouth captured hers. Our lips alone dueled for a moment, sucking and nibbling, finally bringing our tongues together. Without breaking our kiss, I lifted Bethany by her bare butt and carried her the last few feet to the bed, tumbling her down upon it.

I stood over her, hands on my hips, feeling my skin tingle deliciously as I gazed down at that sweet little body.

What a time these last few weeks had been! I’d had the adventure of a lifetime, and all my secret sexual fantasies had come true, starting with Halee, continuing with Naomi and Chelsea, and culminating in this bizarre yet amazingly hot tryst.

“That was delicious… but it’s not really what I wanted for dessert,” Bethany gasped.

I looked across the room to Hannah. She was hand pinching and caressing a nipple with one hand, the other playing across her belly. “This is some spoiled brat you have here,” I observed.

“You have no idea,” Hannah breathed. “But if we’re going to have any peace tonight, you’ll have to give her what she wants.”

“Fine,” I said. I lay down on the bed, spreading my thighs wide. “Here, kiddo. You decide what you’re hungry for.”

Bethany loomed over me, then swooped in like a bird of prey, mouth leaving traces of fire all over my belly. Then she found my breasts, licking, sucking and lightly biting at my nipples. When she moved higher, her tongue flicking out across the nape of my neck, I groaned loudly.

Bethany lifted her head. “Ooh, Mom,” she said. “Her neck is one of those, um, erogical zones.”

“It’s erogenous, sweetie,” Hannah said with a laugh. “And yeah, I noticed that when we were in the tub.”

Then Bethany was kissing and biting my achingly sensitive neck, unfolding her sweet, clean, delicate body on top of mine. I clutched her tightly, kissing her face and ears wherever I could find a way in.

Resuming her journey, she scooted down to kneel between my open legs. As her mouth explored my thighs, she paused, her kisses now slow and deliberate. She kissed one leg, then the other, slowly moving upwards and inwards.

“It’s all delicious,” she whispered, “but I’m getting close to what I’m really hungry for.”

Then her tongue was sliding across my pussy, circling my hole, finally coming up to brush across my clit. I whimpered, clamping my hands across the back of her head. She reached between my legs, slipping a finger inside me. I shuddered in ecstasy.

She lifted her face as far as my clutching hands would permit. “Two fingers… or three?”

“How many is that now?” It came out as almost a wail as she withdrew, then slid them in even deeper.

“That’s two.”

“Oh… oh, my God. Three!”

Another finger joined the first two, and as her tongue found my clit again, she began pumping them in and out.

“Oh God,” I heard myself say. “Oh God, oh yes, fuck me.”

Bethany’s tongue and finger action only increased in urgency. Suddenly Hannah was by my side, her sweet mouth covering mine, a warm tongue parting my lips. Her hand caressed my breast, tweaked the nipple.

“Bethany loves the dirty talk,” Hannah whispered in my ear. “Isn’t that right, you filthy little slut?” she said more loudly.

A guttural sound escaped the girl’s throat, her tongue grinding against my clit.

“Harder, you d-dirty bitch,” I spat out. “Eat my pussy like the little whore that you… oh… dear fucking God…”

As I climaxed, my hips were rocking so frantically that I was afraid I’d throw Bethany off like a rodeo bull. But bless her, she rode it out with me, her face and mouth remaining firmly in place until I collapsed in a dazed, sweaty heap.

She scrabbled up the bed, throwing herself onto me. I kissed her hungrily, tasting and smelling my own juices. She was humping my thigh, little “uhs” and “ohs” escaping her lips. I ran my hand down the gentle curve of her ass, then slipped a finger into her pussy from behind. I meant for it to be just a little tease before moving on to something bigger, but it turned out to be the catalyst that tipped my young lover over the edge. She came hard, her lips still crushed against mine, emitting little yelps straight into my mouth.

Afterwards, we put Bethany to bed for real. She washed up, got into pajamas, and brushed her teeth. Then Hannah and I each kissed her goodnight. Hannah gave her daughter a full, hungry, open-mouth kiss with lots of tongue, and I could only follow suit. As I held this bewitching little beauty for the last time that night, I felt the fire inside me smoldering again, despite having already enjoyed three orgasms that evening. Jesus, girl, you’re just fucking insatiable these days.

Then Hannah and I were together in her big queen-sized bed on the upper level, exploring each other’s bodies, taking our time. Eventually the moment came when I buried my face and two fingers into that sweet pussy for the first time and ate her, glorying in her frenzied movements and guttural yowls.

“Oh, by the way,” she gasped as her gyrations reached maximum intensity, “the squirting is genetic… UUUUHHHHOOOHHHH!”

As her vagina clenched my fingers, Hannah’s warm fluids doused my face and trickled down my chin. I lapped up as much as I could, then crawled up the bed to flop down next to her. We shared the heady essence of pussy in a sensuous kiss.

Finally she broke away, smiling. “Will you sit on my face?” she asked, exactly as one might say, ‘Please pass the peas’.

Moments later I was on my knees while Hannah ate my pussy from below. I reached around behind and finger-fucked myself, shuddering and groaning as my final orgasm of the night claimed not only my body, but my soul.

Afterwards, we lay together in relaxed silence. I felt drained of energy, not to mention fluids, but completely at peace for the first time in what seemed like ages.

Finally Hannah spoke.“It’s too bad we live at such a distance,” she said, “because I’d really like to get to know you better. I don’t think I’ve felt such a strong connection to someone on such short acquaintance, not ever.”

“I’m there with you,” I acknowledged. “I mean, it’s too early to tell anything for sure, but I like you a lot. And sexually…”

“I know,” she said, giggling, “when we were humping, just wrapped around each other, I was gone. I’ve never experienced anything like it before.”

“It isn’t hopeless,” I said. “We can FaceTime or whatever for now, and get together when we can. And if it’s really good for us, who knows? I’ve been toying with the idea of moving to the city for a long time.”

Hannah laughed. “That’s funny. I was about to say that I’ve been toying with getting the fuck out of the city for a long time.  I know Bethany would be all about it. She keeps telling me she wants to be closer to flowers and trees and nature.”

I laced both hands behind my head, smiling as I realized I’d picked up the gesture from Terry.

“So we date, in person when we can, digitally when we can’t. And we keep our options open.”

Hannah nodded. “I like it. I do think it’s a little early for exclusivity. You agree?”

“Oh, definitely.”

We fell asleep in each other’s arms.

***

Of course, the nursing staff was in on it. We told Halee we were leaving for the day at a quarter to four, got the cake and pop out of the fridge at the nurse’s station, and assembled the troops outside of her hospital room door. I was astonished at the sight of the pop; Terry rarely allows his girls sugary drinks.

At five minutes to four, Hannah and Bethany arrived. Bethany was dressed to kill in a form-fitting turquoise sweater, a maroon floor-length skirt, and a green scarf looped fashionably about the neck. Hannah, of course, wore scrubs.

And so it was that myself, Terry, Halee’s sisters, Hannah, Bethany, and a handful of nurses burst through the door, singing “Happy Birthday.” Halee put both hands over her face and groaned, but I could see the smile underneath.

After the song, the nurses excused themselves, and Terry got things rolling with his customary efficiency. He’d brought a set of bluetooth speakers, and on his phone he’d already conjured a playlist of the indie punk that Halee had been indulging in lately. I knew this music was sandpaper on Terry’s soul, but he put it on with an easy grin, then began cutting the cake.

As he attended to these tasks, I beckoned Hannah and Bethany over to the bed. “Halee,” I said, “these are the new friends I was telling you about. I thought you’d like to meet them. This is Hannah, and her daughter Bethany.”

Halee perked up considerably upon meeting the two lovely redheads, and it did my heart a world of good; she’d seemed pretty down at the mouth when we’d told her we were taking off for the day. She and Bethany were instantly making eyes at each other, and even better, they hit it off right away. Hannah and I shared a secret smile.

How Terry had gotten a bakery to bake a personalized cake on such short notice I’ll never know, but he’d chosen a good place, and the chocolate cake, emblazoned with “Happy thirteenth birthday, Halee,” in green icing, was delicious. Terry presented her with an iPhone, and her sisters each had an accessory for it to give her. I gave her a gift certificate for the best hair salon in Johnstown, remembering her desire to put colored highlights in. Of course, I’d cleared that with Terry first.

Hannah and Bethany brought a gift as well, something Hannah had procured during her lunch hour. She’d quizzed me that morning on the sort of clothes Halee liked to wear. I wasn’t sure of her size, but Hannah had seen enough of Halee during surgery to make a decent guess. Their gift was a set of ripped-looking goth jeans.

“You didn’t have to do that,” Terry mouthed at Hannah as Bethany stepped forward with the package.

Hannah reached for my hand; gave it a squeeze. “I wanted to.”

***

After the party, it really was time to go. “Your sisters have to be back in school tomorrow morning,” Terry said to Halee. “We’ll be back either Friday evening or Saturday morning, and now that you have a phone we can communicate whenever you like. Call me anytime, kiddo, and I mean that.”

“That goes for me, too,” I told her. “You want to talk, I’ll be there.” I’d noticed earlier that when Halee was setting up her new phone, she’d tested it by sending Bethany a text. I had a feeling those two would be communicating quite a bit in future.

As we all filed out of the room, Terry turned to Hannah. “Are you still on-shift?”

“No. I swapped off my last couple of hours so I could come to the party.”

“We’re going to stop for dinner on the way out of the metro. Would you and Bethany care to join us? I’m buying.”

Hannah smiled. “I never turn down free food.”

On to Chapter Twenty-Three!

by kinkychic & kinky’s_sis

Chapter II: A Treasure Galleon

After a bit of thought, I decided that I would transfer back to the Siren. Jensen would be the master of the Majestic – the slaver’s new name, chosen by the crew. She was indeed a majestic ship. More heavily gunned than the Siren, she could fire a total of two-hundred sixteen pounds against the Siren’s one-hundred seventy-two, and she could carry more sail – that is, when she had a full crew. I, however, was more comfortable in familiar surroundings. Besides, as we had proved in our battle with the Naval frigate, a lone twelve-pounder was worth more than two, possibly even three, nine-pounders by way of the damage it could cause.

The freed slaves had gathered on the Majestic’s deck, keeping their heads bowed whilst Yaima spoke to them. She explained that we would try and return them to their homeland, if we could find it. I saw them look up as she pointed at Marianna and me. They turned as one, facing us, before breaking into a chant. Bowed lower as the tempo quickened, they would no longer look us in the face.

I raised an enquiring eyebrow at Marianna. She spoke to the interpreter. “It seems we are now acolytes of a religious order, my Captain,” she said.

Again, Yaima spoke, but only briefly before her subjects – for such they were – filed away to return below deck. Only one remained above – the one who spoke the better Spanish.

I had managed to calculate roughly where we were on the chart, having added more detail which might be useful at some future time. It took an age to explain the concept of the chart in relation to our physical surroundings, but eventually, the interpreter seemed to grasp it, if only partially. Reckoning by the time they had been at sea, we surmised the hidden entrance to their river might be only about a day’s sail away.

One of the two black men we had liberated asked to speak with me. He spoke Spanish quite well, plus a little French and English. He asked what was to become of them. Were they truly free?

He appeared to be wearing a uniform of sorts, although it was now grubby and tattered. In answer to my question, he related how he and his companion had been captured by the slaver. They had been in a small sailing cutter, fetching fresh provisions from one island to another, when they were caught in a sudden squall. Their mast had snapped, and they were capsized. Only the two had survived before being picked up by the slaver. This man had been majordomo to a Spanish admiral on Hispaniola, but still remained a slave. His Spanish name was Enrico, but he preferred to be called by his African name, Enofe.

I told him that they were indeed free and could stay with us as long as they wished – certainly, until we found somewhere safe to drop them off. He stood to attention before he said, in a halting macaronic, “El Capitán and dama not having… serviente.” He tapped his chest. “I a man but very… discreto.”

I held up a hand. “Enofe, I don’t want servants, but I could do with a steward. As such, you would be a crew member… share the rewards and the dangers, comprende?”

Marianna interrupted – “Un senescal.”

Enofe gave a small bow of his head. “Then I go work. Gracias, Capitán.”

The remaining black man also wanted to join the crew, in any capacity where we thought he might fit. Better a free pirate than a slave, he said. I left it to Halcombe to decide, as I was sure he’d find the man a suitable berth. If we set these men ashore, he said, they would only be taken into slavery again.

Yaima, plus two of her people, along with Enofe and his fellow African, returned to the Siren with us. I had to send more crewmen over to the Majestic, which left us both severely under-crewed.

***

“She’s up an’ down, Cap’ain!” The shout came from forward. It told me the anchor was now directly below the Siren.

“Let go the main,” I called.

It was barely daybreak, when the night breeze still blew out to sea. It would soon change direction, but for the moment, it gave us steerage in the fast-flowing current.

“Haul away the anchor!”

For a few moments the men on the capstan gave it all of their might, and the anchor broke free of the clinging mud. The Siren surged forwards. She felt eager to be out to sea once more.

“Why do we get this wind at about dawn and at sunset?” Marianna asked me. “And why does it blow in the opposite direction?”

“At certain times of the year, when the sun comes or goes, the land temperature is different from that of the sea,” I said. “As the sun beats down, the sea warms more slowly than the land. This causes a difference in pressure, and thus a wind. It doesn’t last long, but it can be useful for getting in or out of a tight place if you’ve timed it right.”

“How very clever, yet simple when one knows,” she observed.

The ships sailed on in a southerly direction, as close inshore as we dared. I knew the cleft we searched for was hard to spot. It would usually never be seen, but we were looking for it, aware that it existed, and so had a better chance.

I had just got to wondering where we might anchor for the night when the lookout shouted down. “Deck ho! I maybe’s seein’ som’it Cap’ain – ’ard to be certain like.”

I snatched up my telescope. At first, I saw nothing. I took another sweep, more slowly this time. There! The upper profile of the cliff looked odd. It didn’t fit with the surroundings. A quick check of the wind told me we could beat in the right direction, anchor off for the night and take a closer look in the morning.

We took many soundings before dropping anchor. We were now quite close to the cliffs. In the rapidly fading light, I could see what might have been a dogleg, which could well have been the way in. Tomorrow we would find out.

“Anchor be holdin’ fast,” Davy shouted. “Seems a good bottom.”

Soon, everything was stowed, and I could send the hands for their evening meal. Majestic was anchored close by. I ordered an extra issue of rum, with a double issue for the observant lookout, which brought a resounding cheer that echoed from the cliffs.

Enofe had a bowl of hot water ready for me, and the table was set for dinner. Three full courses – how rare! Thoroughly refreshed and in clean clothes, I came from behind the screen to find my new steward waiting for me in the company of two beautiful girls.

I immediately noticed his uniform. It had been cleaned and repaired. He was standing with a napkin over his arm and a bottle in his hand, looking every inch a true majordomo.

The wine was a crisp, dry white, though don’t ask me the name. I was never a connoisseur. I knew, though, that Enofe had dangled it in the sea below to cool it as much as possible. I’d tasted many different vintages from the ships we had raided. The names meant little to me, but this was Enofe’s world. He knew exactly what went best with what we ate.

He served us soup. I didn’t ask how he had produced such a thing – and so delicious. For our main dish, we ate what the crew ate, something I had always insisted on, and yet Enofe had somehow made it taste different … much better.

Then a dessert such as I’d never tasted before. Enofe had taken stale bread, added a sweet madeira sauce, then topped it with brown sugar. It was then quickly oven-baked at the highest temperature the cook could achieve. The result was a cracking toffee on top. It was so easily prepared, yet quite delicious. I later learned that the ship’s cook had not been too happy with this black man doing strange things in his galley. But when he saw what was produced from almost nothing, he had shaken Enofe’s hand. “You’ll be doin’ alright for me,” he had said.

After dinner, I sipped a glass of port (that much I knew), while Yaima and Marianna had a sweet madeira each. I thanked Enofe and told him to take a glass of whatever he fancied, though I guessed he most likely had already done so. I told him his duties were done for the day, and we’d see him tomorrow.

He paused at the door, “Capitàn … happy … with my…?”

I laughed. “Enofe, you have a job with me as long as you want. Now bugger off!”

It was obvious that Yaima was unused to drink, for she seemed quite tipsy. With a coy look, she produced her pouch. I held her hand and shook my head. She didn’t understand my words when I told her we didn’t need her magic potions, but I think she got the idea.

I worried that she might fall when she climbed onto the table, as there wasn’t the headroom for her to stand. Instead, she wriggled free from her shift and lowered herself to her knees. She writhed this way and that, her rapidly moving hands giving only brief glimpses of the pinkish lips between her thighs. Always moving, always teasing, she was an expert in the art of arousal. I reached for those glistening lips, but she playfully smacked my hand away.

Leaning forward, she faced Marianna, her small breasts drawing close enough to provoke a quick attempt at a kiss. This movement bared her arse to me, and I again reached out, but even as I made contact, her hand took mine in a firm grip, holding me fast. She straightened up, head held high, and began to chant.

I saw her draw Marianna’s head down and in. The chanting rose in tempo as her body went rigid. Marianna was suddenly pulled in tight, her mouth at Yaima’s pussy. My hand was also held fast. Yaima gripped my thumb, forcing it hard into her arsehole. The downward surge took me into her hot depth, and somehow she curled my fingers, urging them into her dripping cunt. Her hips undulated in many directions as she literally fucked herself on both of us, with Marianna’s lips at her clit, and my fingers busily employed in both of her openings.

The chant went on. Then a sudden silence. I felt the tremble, gentle at first, which seemed to come from deep inside of her. Mariana and I fucked and sucked her harder, and the tremble grew to a feverish quaking. Yaima gave a short screech, then shook violently as she rode her orgasm, on and on, like a wild beast. My hand and wrist ached, as I suspected Marianna’s jaw did as well. Time seemed to stop in deference to Yaima’s climax, but eventually she calmed, touching our heads ceremoniously and murmuring some sort of prayer.

When she had climbed down from the table, she took our hands and bent her head towards the cot. We stripped briskly and climbed between the sheets. Yaima gently placed her fingers against Marianna’s mouth, and then against mine. Reflexively, I licked my lips, and I knew at once I was lost. There was the bitter taste. That damn’d philtre again, and there was no resisting it. A momentary dizziness, and then, madly, deliriously, I was clutching Marianna to me as the cabin spun about and the candles began to go dark.

***

It was that hour before dawn when the quiet is broken by the sounds of a ship waking to a new day. The night watch was relieved, eager for breakfast and sleep. Majestic’s cutter was already on its way, bringing Jensen to the Siren. It was a larger boat than anything we possessed, and it could carry a fair-sized sail, but more important, it could mount a two-pounder bow swivel gun.

It was soon agreed Jensen would take ten armed men and one native to investigate what lay hidden at what seemed to be a misalignment in the cliff face. The Siren would fire off a pistol shot if the cutter was to make an urgent return. Jensen would repeat the signal to show he had heard. Otherwise, we’d fire a cannon.

The natives on board, as jungle folk, had never been to sea before being taken by the slavers. They were already chained below deck when the slave ship had sailed away, and none of them had the slightest notion whether we were in the right place.

I wished I had gone with the cutter myself. The waiting was eating at my nerves, and our position was too vulnerable for comfort. The lookout thought he saw the masts of a ship breaking the horizon, but whoever it was, they either had not seen us or were not interested enough to investigate.

I had barely stepped down to my cabin when a lookout shouted, “Cutter in sight!”

Back on deck, I saw they were having to row. The wind was wrong for their sails. Through my telescope, Jensen looked to be bursting with news, urging the oarsmen to pull harder.

He was climbing the ladder almost before the cutter was alongside, and he hadn’t even reached me before the incoherent jumble of words poured out.

“Tom,” Interrupted him, “please calm yourself and speak in a manner that we might understand.”

He took a deep breath and contained his excitement. “Sorry, Captain. There’s so much to tell. It most likely is the right place. That front portion of cliff” – he pointed to the left of where the cutter had disappeared – “hides a deep channel that runs parallel to the front of the cliffs, with another cliff behind. It is about a hundred yards before you bear right into a deep-water bay. The bay is sort of pear-shaped. The far end is fed by a wide river that we followed for some distance before turning back. It all appears to be perfectly navigable.”

I saw his excitement when he paused. It was evident something dramatic was in the offing. “There is a large ship, wrecked many years ago, Spanish I believe. The name was quite indistinct but I thought it said the Santa Sofia. There are no signs of any survivors in the area.”

Tom was still holding something back. With a flourish, he raised a hand. There was a gasp from all that could see, for he held a clutch of doubloons and several other odd-looking coins –  mostly gold.

“We were looking for any sign of people, and Taylor saw something glittering in the water. It only took minutes to collect these. There must be hundreds more.”

An excited babble grew in volume until I raised a hand and called for quiet. “Never fear, my lads. We will search out every bit of gold or silver that ship may have dropped,” I said. “It would seem we are lucky that the slavers did not spot it. It could well be that we’re all rich. Shall we not sail in?”

Of course, I knew the answer, but I wanted my crew to feel they had their say. A good pirate captain always works in that way.

***

The Siren was smaller and handier than the Majestic, and so we led the way. All went well until we turned into the cleft between the cliff faces, where we lost the wind. I had, however, anticipated this situation. We had a tow line to the cutter that sailed just ahead of us. The bosun saw our bow swing away. “Out oars!” Davy yelled. “Pull, you bastards! You be wantin’ gold, then fuckin’ work for it!”

Slowly, laboriously, they pulled us in.

The bay, when I beheld it, was a hidden paradise, a place of true beauty, and the promise of gold only enhanced its allure. Marianna and Yaima stood beside me as we reached the centre of the expanse, where we could see the ghost of a once proud ship.

Yaima spoke so softly, I almost didn’t hear. “Sofia,” she said. How did she know that?

It was still early morning when we dropped anchor. I insisted on both ships being tidied before allowing the hands to surge onto the beach.

In minutes, we heard excited shouts. There was gold almost everywhere, vast amounts of it. As a crew, we were already quite rich. Now we were wealthy beyond imagining. This was not just the scavenging of a few scattered pieces of eight. This was the haul of a lifetime. The slavers had sailed away with a valuable cargo of captives. A moment more of their time, and they could have been kings.

I left Jensen in charge of the salvage operation. He had looked hard at me. “You would trust me with all this gold and a ship with which I could sail away?”

“Aye, my friend. I would trust you, and there are few I would.”

We sailed upriver. Sometimes the wind was in our favour. At other times, the cutter had to tow us. It was hard work.

The natives grew excited. Their one interpreter told me that some recognised what they saw. We were drawing close to their home. Then a cheer erupted as we rounded a bend, and I beheld many hundreds of natives on the riverbank. They must have known we were coming. Both on board and ashore, a strange, deafening whistling assaulted our senses. We had brought these people home.

Yaima stepped forward. She spoke in her chanting voice, indicating our ship as she addressed the others. Then she, in turn, bowed her head. The gathered crowds now looked up at us, then they roared and whistled.

Hundreds of boats surged out towards us. They stopped alongside, not attempting to board. That strange whistling sound continued.

Then silence… complete silence.

I could see a woman on the bank, dressed in a shimmering golden robe, surrounded by many more women and girls, all dressed almost as radiantly as she.

She paused, letting the moment linger. “Yaima” – the name carried across the water. I understood nothing more.

Yaima replied only a few words at first: “Ingles y Espanol.” But then she went on, and we understood nothing of it.

The woman onshore interrupted her in mid-flow. “Is enough, I am understand,” she called. “You bring our special one back. We must thank you.” She clapped her hands and spoke rapidly to the crowd around her.

The freed captives were soon ferried ashore, to be met by many ecstatic relatives. They had never expected to see their loved ones again.

A man climbed to our deck from a boat. He spoke a form of Spanish I could barely understand. Marianna translated for me.

“He says our ship is safe here, they will watch all the time. The men may come ashore. We welcome them. You and I are asked to go with our precious lady, Yaima. Please to not worry or fear.”

Yaima smiled at us, “Ven conmigo.” Her Spanish had improved on our short voyage. We accepted her invitation and followed.

***

We were carried in something like a European sedan chair, weaving through the jungle for what seemed an age. There would never have been the slightest chance of us finding our way back unaided. At what seemed a clearly defined point, the men handed us over to the women. It seemed yet another age before we arrived at a huge clearing surrounded by trees that seemed to reach to the heavens. Stone steps rose to a towering gate.

Yaima took our hands so that Marianna and I were on either side of her. Then she led us up.

The woman we had seen on the shore was there to greet us. She bowed low before squaring her shoulders regally and addressing us.

“You not know. Cannot know. You are now special to us. You bring back to us our most important one, the pure one. She tells us you are believers, you are at one with us. Yaima also says you are worthy of our elixir, that you may take with us.”

There was a loud chorus from those gathered around us before she continued. “Yaima tells us you have tasted the elixir, that you were one with her. l not allowed this to happen yet but she said it is time. You two her first. Now, you are now special to us.”

I was unprepared for this. I did not know what to do or say. So many on their knees before us. What should I do?

Yaima turned to face us. She unfastened her clothes and let them drop to the plank floor. She stood facing us, totally naked, as the chant began from the gathered sisters. A young girl came forward. She touched a finger to a vial and then to our lips – Marianna, Yaima, and myself.

Everything around me seemed to swirl. The chanting grew louder. I saw my two beautiful girls close by, and they looked utterly inviting … fuck, I needed them. Them? No, I was them. And yet they were me. I was aware that Marianna and I were now naked, yet not when or how or where our clothes had gone.

We three were spun together. Yaima, Marianna and I were as one as we made the most beautiful love.

The women prayed to us. Their most sacred one had come of age. They chanted as we fucked. The sounds lifted us ever higher. A maelstrom of fingers, tongues, clits, and finally, an almighty orgasm. I heard screams echoing about the vaulted ceiling, although I had no recollection of screaming myself. I had always put conscious thought into my lovemaking, but here there was none. It was as if our spirits simply united. It could not be explained. It merely was.

After the ceremonial fuck, Marianna and I were carried away to another room, where we were deposited on a bench of solid gold – in fact, everything appeared to be made of gold. Jewels sparkled everywhere in the flicker of lanterns. The legends my lover had unearthed were indeed true.

Yaima was carried in by a dozen naked young girls, who stopped before us and lowered her to the floor.

She spoke her name before continuing. The interpreter came forward, translating her words: “I, Yaima, the true holy one, am now of age. These two have brought me forth. They are holy sisters. They are of us, the Sisterhood of Sofia.”

She looked around at the many faces. “Yet … they are not of us. They come from a different world, a world we cannot know. I have seen enough of this world to know it is evil, even though they themselves are holy.”

Yaima came forward and held our hands as she spoke the next words: “I would wish them to stay with us, to be of us. Yet I know it cannot be, and so I wish them a safe journey to wherever life is to take them. But you, the Sisters of Sofia, will write them into our story. Bren and Marianna are now at one with me and therefore with us. Embrace us, sisters, we are the true Trinity. We three, at this moment, are your one God.”

I am not at all religious, but I knew enough to realise how blasphemous that statement would sound to the priesthood of the outside world. Did I care? Not one bit! I was, however, intrigued. What was this Sofia business? Was there some connection between these people and the wrecked ship?

The one that I thought of as the High Priestess, whose name was Atiena, was pleased to spend some time with us. She wanted to know more of the outside world, and she wanted reassurance that she and her people were safe from further raids. When I asked about the Sofia, she didn’t pause to think. It was more like the recital of a well-remembered litany.

The ship had been struck by a hurricane and driven many miles off course. Badly damaged and foundering, she was swept onto the rocks beneath the cliffs, where she would have been smashed to pieces, and all aboard lost. Miraculously, the split in the cliffs had saved them. The crew managed to tow themselves into the bay, driving the ship onto the beach, lest it sink. This had happened in the days of Atiena’s ancestors, ages ago, though naturally, given the lack of written records and her people’s apparent indifference to time, she could not provide a precise date.

Though safe from the storm, it transpired that the Sofia’s crew and passengers had merely exchanged one nightmare for another. They came down with the fever, over two hundred of them perishing within a month. Only three survived – a nun, a young girl and an Englishman who had been a prisoner.

The fact that the young girl’s name was Sofia, the same as the ship’s, was quite coincidental, but to Atiena’s people, it was a portent of great significance. The Santa Sofia had delivered the founder of her order.

The Englishman, whose name was Thomas, had taken a small boat and travelled upriver, promising to come back for the other two if he found help. Eventually, after many months, he did return.

Meantime, the nun and the girl had built a small Christian chapel, where they prayed for deliverance. They survived by foraging, which led them to a plant that possessed a most powerful magic. One morning they had awakened to find themselves lying naked and wrapped in each other’s arms. Still under the influence of the plant, they had again made love.

They understood what had occurred, and both were happy about it. They consumed more of the plant, laying together day after day under the spell of their discovery.

Thomas, on his return, found the nun was now quite mad from overindulgence in the plant. The chapel, now believed lost, had become a shrine to female worship, with Sofia herself the object of that worship.

With great reluctance, Sofia and the nun travelled back upriver with Thomas, who had established himself with the tribe. They hadn’t been there long when the nun, now known as Sister Caterina, discovered the site that was to become the present-day home of the religious order.

Eventually, it was said, Thomas fathered a child with Sofia. They were Yaima’s ancestors. There are many descendants, and it is from these that the sisterhood recruits its followers. The sisterhood became connoisseurs in the herbs of the forest, which allowed them to cure most of the illnesses from which the tribe suffered. The well-being of the people came to depend on these women, and in time a new religion was born. Above all, the sisters cultivated the lust-inducing plant, from which they learned to distil their irresistible elixir. It was their most sacred medicine.

We listened with rapt attention. It was a remarkable story. Marianna and I were now members of the order. We may not have placed our faith in its otherworldly mysteries, but we were certainly converts to the favours of women.

On to Chapter Three!

A quick recap of the Story Thus Far: Rural paramedic Nettie Hastings finds herself in the middle of a flurry of unexplained overdose calls and, with the help of her best friend and former lover, Terry Wilder, puts clues together to link the source to her own hometown. A DEA agent named Bridgette Ramscone is brought in to work the case, and she takes a special interest in Nettie who, in the meantime, has entered into a clandestine affair with Terry’s preteen daughter Halee. It turns out that Terry’s ex-wife Kathryn is the linchpin of the criminal enterprise behind the overdoses. A showdown occurs in which Halee is shot, and Terry taken hostage. Thankfully, Terry escapes, Halee survives, and the drug dealers are all arrested or killed.

For a more detailed breakdown of this story’s chapters, please consult the Chapter Links.

by Rachael Yukey

Terry flatly refused to be debriefed before he’d seen his kids. The DEA was less than thrilled, but Agent Ramscone herself made the call to cut him loose. “He won’t be of much use to us anyhow, not until he gets some sleep,” she said.

Terry and I were transported back to Bronning by helicopter about an hour after the mercenaries surrendered. I don’t remember the trip; I was too exhausted to stay awake for most of it. I got him home, shoveled his semi-comatose ass into bed, then stretched out on his couch. Even making my way to the guest room felt like too much work. Before I crashed, I set my alarm. I still had obligations to meet.

When the clock went off a couple of hours later, I staggered to the kitchen, got some coffee going, and called my mom. She cheerfully agreed to keep Dawn and Maya until I was ready to come get them. I got a cup of coffee and some toast into my gut, then drove to Chelsey Milne’s grandma’s house.

Natalie Milne greeted me cordially, told me the girls were in the bedroom down the hall, then settled down in front of the television, turning it up even louder than it already was. As I neared the end of the corridor, I could hear the muted sounds of girls giggling. I found my way to the door from which the giggling emerged, knocking lightly.

Instantly the giggling ceased, and I heard the sound of frenzied movements. “Hold on, Grandma,” Chelsey called out.

“It’s Nettie,” I said. There was a chorus of renewed giggles, then the sound of the door being unlocked from the inside. Naomi was staring up at me. I couldn’t help but notice that her blouse was buttoned crooked.

“Hi, Nettie!” she said, stepping back and ushering me in. I stepped inside and closed the door. It wasn’t lost on me that Naomi immediately relocked it. Chelsey was supine on the bed, covered to her chin with a blanket. I felt a grin spreading across my face; there was no missing what had been taking place here.

“We thought you were Grandma,” said Chelsey, smirking at me.

“Yeah, I thought so,” I replied. “Aren’t you worried she might hear you?”

“Hear us doing what?” Naomi inquired innocently, and both girls erupted in a fit of giggling.

“Grandma can’t hear very good,” said Chelsey, “so we don’t worry. Don’t you hear how loud she cranks the TV?”

“Any word on my dad?” Naomi asked, her voice suddenly anxious.

“He’s home,” I told her.

“YES! When can I see him?”

“He’s sleeping right now,” I told her, “but I’ll take you back with me. You can see him when he wakes up.”

Naomi looked at Chelsey, then back at me. “So do we need to go now, or…”

I chuckled. “Exactly what was happening when I knocked?”

“Well,” Chelsey said in a saucy tone, “I just made Naomi come, and she was about to eat my pussy.” She threw the blanket off with her good arm, and I caught my breath at the sight of her glorious nudity.

I advanced towards the bed, suddenly overcome with need. Not a need to get off myself, but a need to touch this beautiful young body. I sat down on the edge of the mattress, running my fingertips from Chelsey’s soft young neck and down across her belly. The girl shivered deliciously.

“I’d like a taste of that,” I said. “If it’s okay with you girls.”

“Are you cool with that, Naomi?” Chelsey inquired.

“Oh, yeah, then I can watch,” Naomi said, her voice a bit breathy.

Gently I spread the girl’s thin young legs, running my hands up and down her thighs. Chelsey’s response was immediate, her breath harsh, hips moving. I bent to her, my tongue delicately tracing those smooth, almost hairless labia. I split her open with my fingers, a blissful sigh escaping my lips at the sight of her glistening, girlish treasure.

I slipped my tongue inside, enjoying the tangy flavor of her vagina before moving upwards to find her clit. I began to lick, slowly and gently at first, enjoying her response. Out of the corner of my eye I saw Naomi off to the side. She’d shucked her pants and was fingering her sweet hairless pussy, lips shuddering, mouth working soundlessly.

I slipped a finger into Chelsey’s tight little cunt, then another as she opened up for me. She moaned in response. Sensing her readiness, I really went to work, licking her clit and fucking her. In what seemed like no time at all she was crying out, then coming, grinding her pussy against my mouth.

Looking up, I saw Naomi masturbating furiously off to my right. I lifted my body until we were at eye level.

“Do you want to taste Chelsey on my lips?” Naomi nodded, and our mouths came together in a furious kiss. She threw her head back and wailed as she came.

***

“The locker, as near as we can figure, started out as a sort of science lab,” Bridgett was saying. She, Terry, and I were sipping coffee in his living room around noon. Terry and his girls had been reunited a little over an hour before, although Dawn and Maya, not fully comprehending the import of what had just happened, had gone off to play in fairly short order.

Naomi had been a bit more clingy, but when she’d received an invitation to go to the local clinic for what Chelsey referred to as her “brace removal party”, Terry had encouraged her to go and be there for her friend. Really, we figured Chelsey’s grandma would need help getting her in and out of the car. Finally, the kids mollified for the moment, Terry had agreed to tit for tat; he would talk if Bridgett would. He’d given his sworn testimony, and now it was her turn.

“They were experimenting with a new drug,” Bridgett went on. “According to Adam Bixley’s grandson David, they’ve been working in there since late December. They had the perfect setup; an entry and exit pathway nobody would remark on because it’s private land and no one knows the owners, and a location no one visits anymore. This stuff they were making… among other things, it uses ordinary sap from the sort of pines that grow around here, so that was definitely a bonus.”

“David must have been involved from the outset,” Terry said thoughtfully.

Bridgett favored him with a humorless smile. “My people arrested him last night, and it took all of five minutes to shake him down. Turns out, he and his wife have been involved in the distribution of meth coming up from Mexico for years, and they’d been integrating their sixteen-year-old son into the family business.”

“Jason,” I said.

“Jason,” said Bridgett with a nod. “If Fronse had the brains God gave a goose, it would have occurred to him at some point to wonder how David Bixley was making a living on a two hundred acre hobby farm. I think his grandfather must have suspected; he did the same thing with the meat locker for fifteen years. All Ms. Wilder had to do was channel some inquiries through her old contacts and find out who was distributing out here, then make overtures.

“This experimental narcotic is powerful stuff,” she went on. “I don’t understand it all, but basically it operates directly on the brain’s pleasure centers. It’d be like an hours-long orgasm. And it’s fairly safe while you’re using it; almost impossible to overdose on. The trouble is it’s addictive as hell, and worse, the stuff stays in your bloodstream. It goes inert after four or five days with no supply, and the inert form causes the kind of distributive shock with strange neurological symptoms that the two of you saw in your ambulance.”

“So what Sam Jensen told me was right,” I said. “It was withdrawal symptoms we saw, not the actual high.”

“Yes, but it probably looked like a high. And the stuff they found in the bloodstream was in its altered, inert state. At the time Jason Bixley had his accident, his dad tells me that they’d used up their first batch a few days prior. So the kids they’d been testing it on started to come down off the mountain, and go into withdrawal. Jason was just the first one it hit, and it was really bad luck it happened when he was driving.”

“So that’s why his parents protested the autopsy,” I said. “They were worried about what would come up in the blood tests.”

“That’s right,” said Bridgett. “They were devastated, but not so devastated that they wanted to go to prison. But they’ve had a few weeks for it to eat at them, and they broke down in no time when we questioned them last night.”

“What was the Milne sisters’ involvement?” Terry wanted to know.

“The Bixleys have been using them as mules for years, mostly paying them in meth for their own use. It was easy enough to incorporate them into the new venture.”

“So where does the heroin come in?” I asked.

“Kathryn Wilder is nothing if not an opportunist,” Bridgett replied. “She took note of the inconsistency of hard drug supplies in this area, and thought it would be a fantastic way to create a revenue stream while they were ramping up the new product. She hasn’t talked much since we arrested her last night, but we were able to establish that she went heavily in debt with various underworld financial backers to fund the whole thing.

“So she got in touch with some of her old contacts, and those people thought even bigger. They saw Bronning and the meat locker as an ideal distribution point not just for the area but for the entire region, including funneling product up into Canada. There’s an international drug kingpin associated with all this. It’s mostly members of his organization who were involved in the raid on Smokey Bear State Park last night.”

Terry stretched, then sipped more coffee. Despite his affected nonchalance, he looked gaunt and haggard, and I knew the experience would stay with him for years to come. I promised myself that I’d be there for him, come what may.

“So how did that play out?” he wanted to know. “There’s been zero press.”

Bridgett cast a surprised glance in my direction. “Didn’t you tell him?”

“Haven’t had a chance to yet,” I replied.

“Our people are preparing a public statement for tonight,” she said. “Until then, media blackout. The short version: you did us an enormous favor by ducking out of the cabin last night, Mr. Wilder, although there were a few tense moments going in to get you. The whole reason your ex-wife stayed in the Bronning area after the locker was raided was to try and find a way to get the heroin out of that tunnel. We think Darren Sanders was possibly on a mission to find a secluded place to burrow in and get at the goods from another direction. There was millions of dollars worth of product in there; the single biggest heroin bust in the history of the state. The people who provided it would have the person who lost it strung from the yardarm, so to speak.”

She sipped her coffee. “So anyway, a small army of soldiers for hire was sent in to retrieve Ms. Wilder, with enough firepower to back down the DEA and police forces that were cordoning the area. They dispersed into the woods and surrounded the place, probably right about the same time you slipped out the cabin door. It’s a miracle that you saw them first.”

“Not really,” said Terry. “I was trying to be quiet. They weren’t.”

“Fair point. But what they didn’t know was that there happened to be National Guard units conducting a field exercise nearby, and the governor agreed to call them up without wasting time on deliberation. They were given orders to deploy less than thirty minutes after the mercenaries forced the authorities in the area to stand down. It was one hell of a lucky break for us, needless to say.

“So… the mercenaries surrounded the cabin, identified themselves, and advised Ms. Wilder and her men to surrender peacefully. There was a shot fired inside the cabin. We discovered later that one of Ms. Wilder’s people shot and killed the guy with the wounded leg. He was already dead weight, and at that point he was calling for surrender so he could be taken to a hospital.”

“He almost got shot a couple of times while I was still with them,” said Terry. “Like you said, he was dead weight. They didn’t like him slowing them down.”

“I’m not surprised,” Bridgett said with a grim smile. “We don’t know all the details, but Ms. Wilder eventually surrendered to the mercs anyway. By this point we had you out, Mr. Wilder, and there was nothing else to stop the Guard from surrounding the place. The mercenaries had assault rifles, but the Guard units had armored vehicles, drones, body armor, and night vision. The mercenary unit commander said ’Get the fuck out of our way, we’re coming through.’ The Guard commander said ‘Make my day.’ The mercenaries realized the Guard was there in sufficient force to simply surround the cabin and starve them out. A few of them tried to fight their way through the line, with predictable results. The remainder surrendered shortly thereafter.”

Terry threw his head back and laughed. I looked his way with concern.

Bridgett’s eyebrows were raised. “Something funny, Mr. Wilder?”

Terry sobered, met her gaze. “Tell you what,” he said. “You stop calling me Mr. Wilder, and I’ll stop calling you Special Agent Perky Tits behind your back. What’s funny is that I got the girls out of LA partly to get them away from the drug culture, and the gang situation that goes with it. Then we come here, and it fucking follows us.”

Bridgett chuckled into her coffee. “There is a certain irony here, isn’t there… Terry?”

Terry shifted in his chair and picked up his phone. “If we’re going to be in Minneapolis when Halee comes back out of surgery this afternoon,” he said, “we’ll need to depart soon. But I do have one further question. What caused the explosion at the meat locker?”

Bridgett sighed. “Bad luck, aided and abetted by carelessness. It was apparent to them that somebody had put two and two together and alerted the police. David Bixley told me that last night. So Kathryn, her backers, and her suppliers all agreed to pull up the stakes and re-establish elsewhere. They actually did try to prevent any further withdrawals. The morning of the meat locker raid, they’d called as many of the kids as they could reach to come get something they’d developed that would help wean them off.

“By this time they’d consolidated all of their supplies and equipment into one room. Which was a terrible idea, because they had some different items stacked up together that caused a chemical reaction.”

Terry was shaking his head. “And of course it just happened to be the room Kathryn’s hired dickweed stuffed the kids into when they threatened to go to the fuzz. The timing is incredible.”

“Isn’t it?” Bridgett replied. “According to our forensics people, the stuff that went off would have taken roughly an hour to build up to a reaction. We’re thinking when they moved the kids into the room, something got bumped or shifted that caused the interaction.”

“So… wait a minute,” I said. “There were more of those withdrawal cases over the next few days after the raid. A couple of them died.”

“They weren’t able to reach all of the young people who’d sampled the goods,” said Bridgett, “and not all the victims knew each other. Some of them went to different schools, or weren’t in school anymore. The whole reason we had those kids from the raid kept in the hospital was so they could get fast treatment when they inevitably got sick. Even once they identified it, the docs couldn’t figure out a way to neutralize that toxin. They just had to wait for it to finally filter out of the bloodstream. The kids from the raid were able to identify some others who were at risk, and we rounded them up, but a few slipped through the cracks. Unfortunately.”

“What did they have planned for the heroin?” I asked.

“David doesn’t know, and everyone else has lawyered up. I imagine getting it out presented something of a problem. It would have taken them months to stockpile that much.”

“Wish I could have seen it,” Terry replied. “Fucking Adam Bixley. Who would have thought that old coot was a coke dealer?”

“It’s never who you expect,” Bridgett replied.

“All that aside,” Terry said, with an air of finality, “Naomi should be back any minute, and we have to be ready to roll at that time. I’m going to book a suite for the girls and me. Shall I get you a room, Nettie?”

It wasn’t lost on me that he wasn’t inviting me to sleep with him in the hotel, but this time it didn’t hurt. Some things can’t be undone. Terry’s my best friend, and I think I’m his, but maybe it’s better to draw that line between us. We’re great in bed together, but we’ve already tried and failed to make it as a couple. We both needed to move on.

Besides, I had other plans. I’d received a text from Hannah that morning that read: Don’t know if you are planning on coming back to see Halee today, but if so my calendar for the evening is open. 

“No need,” I said with a smile. “I’m staying with people tonight.”

We saw Bridgett to the door. She shook Terry’s hand. “I misjudged you,” she said. “For that, I am sorry. And I just want to add this: you have the balls of a tiger.”

She gave me a carefully restrained hug. “I’ll see both of you around town,” she said as we parted. “The follow-up here is going to take a week, at least.” She turned to go, then looked back, favoring Terry with a raised eyebrow. “Oh, and Mr. Wilder?”

“Yeah?”

“I think I like Special Agent Perky Tits. Continue to use it, if you want.”

Terry was chuckling as she walked away. I couldn’t help but notice how he watched her ass sway to and fro under that tight black skirt. That was okay, because I was looking at it in exactly the same way.

***

Hours later, I sat with Halee in her hospital room. Terry had taken the other three girls to the cafeteria. He’d offered to buy me dinner as well, but I’d pleaded not hungry. It wasn’t really true, but I wanted a little time alone with Halee. At least this time they’d deemed her stable enough to put her on the floor rather than ICU, so we had a reasonable amount of privacy.

“Remember what you said the other day, that the rules dictating who can do what with who are dumb?” I said.

“Yeah… why?”

“Did you mean that?”

She nodded, a suspicious grin on her face. “Yes, but where are we going with this?”

“What if we were talking about a mother and her daughter? Say, a girl Naomi’s age or older.”

She seemed to consider. “I guess I can’t see a problem, if they both wanted to. Now c’mon Nettie… what’s going on?”

I filled her in on my meeting with Hannah and Bethany the previous day, and my plans to spend the night at their house.

“You wouldn’t think I could get turned on right now, but this is making me kind of wet,” she said.

“So you don’t mind?”

“Of course not! It’s awesome. I just wish I could go with you tonight.”

I smiled. “I have a funny feeling that we might be able to offer you a rain check, once you’ve healed up a little.”

“Well,” she said with a smirk, “thanks for giving me something to look forward to. Maybe now I can muster up the will to go on living.”

We both laughed. “God, you have to knock that crap off,” I said. “You’re starting to talk way too much like your dad.”

She sobered. “Speaking of which…” She let the question hang in the air, but I knew what she meant.

“I think that’s over,” I told her. “He offered to get me my own hotel room tonight, instead of inviting me to sleep in his. And that’s probably best. We both need to move on.”

“If I know Dad,” Halee said with a roll of her eyes, “he’ll probably just end up screwing the hotel receptionist or something.”

I chuckled. “That wouldn’t surprise me at all, and good for him if he does.”

She reached out and took my hand, wincing as she did so.

“You okay?”

“Yeah,” she growled. “I can’t stop using my arms, just because my chest hurts.”

“If it hurts too much, the nurses can get you some more Dilaudid.”

“I know, but I’m not there yet.” She shifted a little, then settled in again. “You really like this Hannah lady… don’t you?”

I pursed my lips, trying to think of the best way to respond. More than anything else in the world, I didn’t want to hurt Halee. At the same time, I knew I couldn’t lie to her. “I do,” I said. “There’s an attraction between us that’s hard to explain.”

“Good,” said Halee.

“Is that really how you feel about it?”

“Yep. Remember what we talked about the night before I got hurt? I’m twelve… well, almost thirteen. I’m not ready for a forever thing. I probably won’t be for a long time. But you… you need someone, Nettie. And… can I say what I’m really thinking?”

I sat back in my chair, almost faint with relief. “Fire away,” I said, a smile tugging at the corners of my mouth.

“Don’t screw this one up, like you did with my dad.”

Three weeks before, I’d have taken offense. Probably been pissed off, as a matter of fact. Something had happened to me during that time, something I still can’t put into words. Sitting there in Halee’s hospital room, I felt like maybe I’d finally come to a place where I could go the distance with someone, and not fuck it all up.

“I’ll try not to,” I said. “But on another note, let me tell you a little something about DEA agent Bridgett Ramscone…”

***

Hannah picked me up at the main entrance to the hospital at six, waving through the windshield as she pulled up to the curb.

Terry, standing by my side, raised his eyebrows in appreciation. “Nice booty call,” he mouthed into my ear. I slapped his shoulder, but couldn’t suppress a grin.

“Stay put,” he told his girls, as both of us stepped towards the car. I got into the passenger seat, as Terry walked around to the driver’s side. Hannah obligingly rolled down her window as he bent low.

“Hi, I’m Terry Wilder,” he said, flashing her that same flirtatious grin with which he always favored beautiful women, and sticking a hand through the open window. “I hear you participated in my daughter’s care.”

Hannah shook the proffered hand. “That’s right. I did anesthesia for her surgeries, both yesterday and today.”

“I can’t possibly thank you enough,” he told her.

She smiled back at him. “My pleasure. She’s a trooper. Anesthesia can be really tricky with that kind of pulmonary damage, but I had almost no trouble. I think she’ll pull through just fine. On another note…” she hesitated, then plunged ahead. “I saw her date of birth when I was looking through her paperwork, and couldn’t help noticing she turns thirteen tomorrow. Is there something she would like for her birthday?”

“Halee needs company more than presents,” said Terry. “We’re having a birthday cake in her room tomorrow. Probably around three. If you’re able, come to the party.”

“I wouldn’t want to intrude…”

“Don’t be silly. You’re a friend of Nettie’s. She tells me you have a daughter Halee’s age; even better if she could drop in, too.”

Hannah pursed her lips. “If Bethany took a city bus from school, she’d be here by four.”

Terry shrugged. “I could push it back that far.”

“Then we’ll be there,” Hannah said with a brilliant smile.

***

“So that’s Terry,” said Hannah as she pulled away from the curb. She drove with her left hand, fingertips of the right coming to rest lightly on the back of mine. I wondered at the source of this incredible magnetism between us.

“That’s Terry,” I agreed, taking her hand in mine.

“I get it,” she said. “I’m gay as they come, but he has kind of an aura, doesn’t he? If I wanted to sleep with a dude, I’d have exchanged numbers with that guy.”

“I slept with him the day we met,” I admitted.

“Nothing wrong with that,” said Hannah. “Have you eaten yet, Antoinette?”

“Uh-uh.” Our fingers were intertwined now; our hands resting together on my thigh.

“Good, because there’s a roast in the crockpot. Bethany should have it ready to eat by the time we get there.”

It was a fifteen minute drive from Children’s to the pleasant little suburb of Bloomington. We spent it in light conversation, getting to know one another. I found myself admiring Hannah all the more as I learned about her life, and the struggles she’d faced to get to where she was today. The time flew, and before I knew it we were entering a neighborhood full of virtually identical split-level homes. I imagined on a drunk night, you could circle the blocks for hours and never identify which house was yours.

I followed her up the walk, overnight bag slung over my shoulder. As she opened the door, we were greeted by the wonderful aroma of roast beef and herbs. The entryway was typical of a modern split-level, with one short stairway going down, and another going up.

Music was coming from upstairs… heavy music, which after a moment I identified as Disturbed. I’m not that into the extreme side of metal, but I can appreciate it, and it’s not everyday that I meet other young women whose tastes in music even remotely align with my own.

“Perfect timing!” a voice called out. Bethany’s face appeared a moment later, peering down at us over the railing of the upper level, red hair hanging down. I was struck by how much she looked like her mother.

“Dinner’s on the table,” she announced.

“Hi, sweetheart,” said Hannah. “We’ll be right up. There’s something I have to do first.” Then her hands were on my waist, her body pressed against mine. She turned her face upwards.

“I probably smell bad,” I warned. “It’s been a long day.”

She giggled. “Who cares? I’m still in my scrubs. We’ll get cleaned up after dinner.” Then she stood on her toes, elevating her open mouth to mine.

We came together in a lover’s kiss, exploring each other’s mouths in a leisurely, unhurried fashion. The kiss deepened, slowly but surely reaching a frenzy. Finally she pulled away.

“Okay,” she said, voice unsteady, “you keep kissing me like that, and we’re not gonna make it past the entryway.”

“I’d be down with that,” I said, trying to get my own breathing under control. I let her lead me up the stairs.

Bethany was waiting for us at the top, hands on hips. “I’m being deprived,” she declared. “That’s twice I’ve had to watch you two make out.”

Stepping boldly into my path, she wrapped both arms around my waist, tilted her head back, and gazed up into my eyes. “Will you kiss me?” she inquired.

I glanced towards Hannah, who rewarded me with a big smile and a nod of encouragement. I leaned in, bending the girl back slightly, and took her lower lip between my teeth. I sucked it in, then felt her tongue tracing my upper lip. Such a bold move from this delicate red-haired creature, barely into the early stages of puberty – almost drove me over the edge. I opened my mouth wide, letting my tongue dart between her lips. She met me with a lustful fervor, and I pulled her closer. Her hands dipped lower, cupping my ass, and I let my fingers trace her butt crack through the bottle-green leggings she wore. When I broke the kiss, her breath was coming in harsh gasps of deep arousal. She was kneading my buttocks, desperately hugging my body against hers.

Hannah chuckled. “I should have warned you: When it comes to sex, Bethany has an even shorter fuse than me, and that’s saying something. We’d better eat now, or that roast will be bone dry before she’s had enough.”

We parted, Bethany visibly struggling to get her desire under control. Truth to tell, I wasn’t in a much better state. I scanned the room, trying to focus my mind on something besides how Bethany would look divested of her clothing. Their home was a big, open-concept space, with the living room opening out directly before me, a dining table and chairs to my right, and the kitchen beyond that.

Peering into the living room, my eyes widened as they fell on the wall where the TV was mounted. There was a decent component stereo system there, with bookshelf speakers and a subwoofer. Nothing remotely on the same level as my own setup, or even on the same planet as Terry’s, but a far cry from the crappy soundbars they sell at WalMart. And there was a large rack of CDs. Physical media, as opposed to streaming. Wow.

Hannah saw the direction my gaze had wandered. “Bethany,” she said, turning to her daughter, “why don’t you find some music that’s a bit more suited for company?”

“No, this is fine,” I assured her. “I’m a metalhead myself. I’m more into the melodic side, but I can dig the extreme stuff.”

Hannah’s room-warming smile reappeared. “Cool! I’m the opposite. I prefer the extreme stuff, but can dig the melodic side. Who’s your favorite band?”

“Blind Guardian,” I said without hesitation. “What’s yours?”

“Lamb of God,” she replied. “Let’s eat.”

Bethany had laid out the roast, the potatoes, the carrots and the gravy in attractive serving trays, and properly set the table. There was also a chilled bottle of Reisling, with nice long-stemmed wine glasses. Bethany poured a glass each for Hannah and I, and grape juice from a pitcher for herself.

“It’s a special evening,” Hannah told her daughter. “You can have a glass of wine if you want it.”

“No thanks, Mom,” she said, making a face. “The last time I had one, it gave me a huge headache.”

As we dug into the food, Bethany was eyeing me speculatively. “Y’know, Mom,” she said, “if Nettie can stand the same godforsaken racket that you and I like, maybe you should just skip the whole dating thing and marry her.”

“Bethany!” Hannah said, but there was laughter in her eyes.

“What kind of music does Halee like?” Bethany wanted to know.

“She’s just recently gotten into punk,” I replied. “Indie bands, of the angry girl variety. Not my thing, but I don’t mind it too much. Her dad’s worse. He’s got like twenty thousand dollars worth of audio equipment, and only plays classical music on it.”

“I like classical music,” said Bethany. “I’d love to hear Bach on a twenty thousand dollar stereo!”

I snorted. “I can arrange that.”

The conversation continued this way and that, flowing easily around the table. I learned that Bethany was planning to follow her mother into medical practice, with an eye on possibly becoming a doctor. She knew a good deal about hospital life from Hannah, and proceeded to ask me some very smart, penetrating questions about how things are done in the prehospital setting.

“Sounds like working on an ambulance would be a good job to have while I’m in college,” she mused. “You’ve got to have some kind of medical work on your resume to get into med school.”

“Once you’re sixteen, I can get you in for a ridealong day to see what you think,” I told her. “If you’re still interested, we’ll talk.”

About halfway through the meal, Bethany excused herself and ran downstairs, returning a couple of minutes later. She and her mother exchanged secretive smiles.

Finally our plates were clean. Pushing her chair back, Hannah rose from the table. “Bethany, you wanna help me get these leftovers stuffed into the fridge?” she said. “Then we can introduce Antoinette to our idea of dessert.”

On to Chapter Twenty-Two!

Note from JetBoy: Here’s what you’ve been waiting for, happy readers: Part Two of the swashbuckling sapphic sea saga of Captain Bren, in which you will find our heroine and her crew embarking on new adventures, seeking unimaginable wealth, engaging in combat with cannon and sword… and in the case of Bren and her lover Marianna, fucking beautiful women and girls at every opportunity.

Infinite thanks to kinkychic and kinky’s_sis (our beloved Kinky Sisters), for once again sharing the contents of their wicked imaginations with us. Truly, we are blessed.

 

By kinkychic and kinky’s_sis

 

Chapter I: The Slave Ship

The wind was kind to us, providing a rapid departure from Tortola and towards the open sea – and safety. We saw no sign of any pursuing ships. It seemed we were clear away.

We needed to consider our options more thoroughly than we had so far. I hailed for Calico Jack to please come aboard and instructed Halcombe, our newly promoted deck officer, that he was to make sure no one, especially not any English officer, came anywhere near the skylight to my cabin. We must not be overheard.

The first mate, Jensen, the bosun and of course Davy were invited to join the meeting. It was a tight fit, what with those three, Jack and Anne Bonny—who followed him everywhere—Marianna and myself all crammed into my not-so-spacious cabin.

I pointed at the large map of the Caribbean spread out upon the table. “We are heading southeast towards Antigua,” I began, “a fact I’m sure our prisoners will be well aware of. I’ve been pondering the best place to put them ashore – preferably somewhere not garrisoned by the British, yet where they will be treated well until their Navy picks them up.”

I had thought of Montserrat, which, although it was English, had no garrison as far as I was aware. Rackham, however, had a better idea.

“May I suggest the Guadeloupe islands?” he said. “As you likely know, they are in French hands. For once, we are not at war with them. They won’t hurry themselves in deciding what to do with our guests, but they’ll look after them well enough while we make good our escape.”

I had not previously anchored anywhere in the Guadeloupe group, although I had sailed through it. It comprised a considerable number of islands, which would give us plenty of cover. I liked the idea. The only reservation came from Davy,

“Best hope that volcano don’t go blowin’ its ‘ed, it bein’ one of the nasty ones in these ’ere parts,” he warned.

He was not at all upset at the ripple of laughter his observation incited. It had been many years since the mountain had last erupted, although it smoked continually.

Jack raised the very question that had been nagging at me. “May I enquire, Captain, if you are still planning on sailing for Antigua?”

“It’s a good question, Jack,” I replied. “I haven’t put my thoughts to the men yet, but I am leaning towards taking a look south, down the American mainland. There’s a lot of gold coming out of there, bound for Spain or Portugal. No one will be expecting us to head in that direction, least of all the King’s Navy. I wondered whether you might want to sail with us?”

“Aye, I see your reasoning. It’s quite sound, but I will decline,” Jack said. “My crew have made it clear they want to head for New Spain, towards Vera Cruz. They hear of the large Spanish gold flotas sailing from there.”

I had myself considered exactly that possibility, but I knew the flotas were well protected by Spanish frigates. Tangling with them was a risk I neither wanted nor needed to take. “Take care, Jack. There could be big rewards, but it’s a perilous undertaking.”

Later, I put my thoughts and reasons to my own officers and crew, who agreed to my plans. Few had ever sailed far south, but most had heard stories of both wealth and beautiful women. There were tales of an immense river that disappeared into the interior of the country, and of hidden cities where gold was to be seen everywhere. For myself, I believed not a word of it, but it would be wise to disappear for a while, and this was as good a place as any for the purpose.

***

We dropped our captives on the main island of Guadeloupe, as planned. The volcano smouldered at us, but did not interfere – perhaps because Davy kept a constant eye on it.

The Naval lieutenant was none too happy at being put ashore on a French island, yet he maintained his courtly demeanour.

“I must admit to being puzzled,” he said. “Why are we hunting you, Captain? You have treated us well. My conversations with your officers have led me to believe that you have been unfairly branded a pirate when in truth you have a privateer’s warrant. I know you never kill or mistreat anyone unless you are forced into battle. Your action against us was in self-defence, although I’m sure you know it will not be seen that way in England. You are now regarded as an enemy of the state.” He offered me his hand. “I never expected to say this to a woman – indeed, a very young woman – but you are one of the most capable sailors I have ever met. My hope is we do not meet again. I believe you will understand.”

With that, he snapped off a smart salute. Bugger me! It was the first time I had ever been so honoured. I was far more used to seeing the knuckle on a cap.

“Go in peace, Lieutenant,” I said. “If you are able, then speak for me, but do not worry yourself on the matter.”

We cleared the harbour at Le Moule and headed north as if we were indeed sailing for Antigua, but as soon as we were out of sight of land, we tacked and headed northwest. We would round the head of Grand Terre and head for the mainland.

The next day, I waved farewell to Jack. He carried on the way we had been heading, whereas we tacked to the southwest. I was more than a little worried: Why would he even think of heading towards Jamaica? I would have taken a much wider route to avoid the small but dangerous British squadron stationed there. You don’t have many friends outside of a ship in this way of life. I had come to think of Calico Jack as the nearest person, besides my fellow shipmates, that I counted as a friend.

***

“Marianna, listen to this.” I was reading from the Spanish account of one Don Caltez and his explorations in the south. “This Don writes of a hidden bay, impossible to spot from out at sea. They came upon it by accident when a storm almost drove them onto the rocks. He speaks of immense wealth, great quantities of gold and jewels. He is then shipwrecked in another storm, and it seems that he did not properly chart his journey. A few have tried, but no one has found the place again.

“Oh, and he also describes a cult of virgins. Exquisite young women, in his estimation. I must say, that tempts me more than the riches.”

Marianna laughed, “Whoever heard of such a thing? Just more wishful nonsense from men who have been at sea too long, don’t you think, my love?”

I had to agree, though the account did seem quite vivid in its telling. True or not, it was intriguing.

“Land ho!” the topman shouted. “Two points on the starboard bow!”

I hastily dropped the journal and rushed up on deck. It was our first sight of the mainland after two weeks of heading south.

As we approached, we saw a much varied coast. Sandy stretches, backed by tall forest and towering cliffs broken only occasionally by sharp crevices. We scoured our charts, but they were out of date and told us little. Nothing much was known of this area. Once again, it was Davy who spoke up. He was becoming more forward in expressing his thoughts these days, although certainly no clearer.

“I seen this afore,” he said. “We needs to head more south, leastways, I think so, beggin’ your pardon, Cap’ain.”

It made little difference. South it would be.

The following day, the top lookout reported an opening in the coastline. “Could be a bay!” he shouted.

Cautiously, we edged closer. We had our topsails furled, only our bare top spars showing. It would be hard for anyone to see us as the sun dropped below the horizon ahead.

It appeared to be a huge bay with deep water leading a long way inland and no sign of shallowing or reefs.

“What do you see?” I called to the topman.

“Only one sail!” he replied. A short pause, then – “A brig of some sort, lot bigger’n us, almost frigate size. Gettin’ too dark to see prop’ly, Cap’ain. But I sees no activity aboard. Big fire on the beach. Can’t be seein’ if she’s a Frenchie, Spanish, or any other.”

We gathered together – Jensen, Marianna, Davy, and myself.

“What say you? Shall we take her out?” I asked. ”It strikes me her crew are most likely ashore. It should be an easy job.”

I liked Jensen. I always had. But now, I more often saw he had the kind of attitude I needed in my officers. He seldom questioned my judgement, but he was quite willing to express his thoughts.

“Give me the longboat and a few hand-picked men,” he proposed. “We’ll take her for you, Captain.”

“No, Jensen, I must disappoint you. I will lead the boarding party. I want to be on the spot to make quick decisions, and we may not have time to send messages back and forth. I want you to remain in charge of the Siren.”

It proved much easier than we imagined. The majority of the crew, who turned out to be Spanish, were indeed ashore. Those left on board were senseless with drink. It was but a matter of minutes before we had the ship. One lone sailor managed to grab hold of a pistol and fire off a shot. He came nowhere close to hitting anyone, and he was quickly overpowered.

I put what crew there were aboard a small boat and set them adrift. The anchor was soon hauled, and we raised sufficient sail to clear the bay. We kept our speed to a minimum, as we were passing through a narrow gap in what was now complete darkness. We sailed together, two reasonably powerful ships under my command.

Davy reported there were slaves below – dozens, he said. By God, I hated slavers, but the poor devils would have to wait until we had cleared the point before I could take a look at them. It wouldn’t do to be trapped inside the bay should a warship appear, especially as my men were now split between the two ships, and each was too undermanned to give fight.

The Spanish ship hadn’t been built as a slaver. It was, rather, a twenty-four-gun man-of-war hastily converted to that damnable trade. I expected conditions in the hold to be wretched, of course, but nothing could have prepared me for the awful sight, nor the dreadful stench that assailed me when at last I went below. So many souls, unwashed, half-naked and crammed into such a confined space! Oddly, they were not black, as I expected, but of a lighter brown. I guessed them to be South American natives. One young girl seemed to have been given her own small area apart from the rest, as far, at least, as her chains would allow. No one was sitting close to her.

There was something about her. She had fairer skin than the rest. Even through the grime on her face, I could see she was beautiful, her delicately boned face topped by lustrous, blue-black hair. Whereas most of the slaves cowered in fear, she remained proud and defiant, sitting perfectly upright with her feet tucked close to her body. Her eyes were on me, and a slightly puzzled look on her face.

There were only two others among the slaves that sat equally defiant. These two were of the African origin I had expected.

I shouted up the ladder, “Get the hatches open and get fresh water down here!” I could not see a key hanging anywhere. “And send someone down with tools to get these chains off.”

I heard Marianna gasp behind me. “These poor people, Bren – such cruelty!” She pushed past me and stopped in front of the girl, who appeared to be the only young one among the captives. She did not flinch when Marianna put a hand to her cheek.

Just as the hatch was lifting, allowing the fresh sea air to come flooding in, young Jason came rushing down the ladder. “I got a key, Cap’ain,” he said. “Might it be the one we be needin’?”

Marianna almost snatched it from the lad before bending over the girl. The key was indeed the right one, and in a moment Marianna was helping the young captive to her feet.

“Take her to the cabin, Marianna,” I told her. “She needs water and something to eat.”

The manacled slaves now seemed less afraid of us, as they had seen we were releasing them and passing buckets of fresh water around. I listened to their jabber, but did not recognize the language. One man, who seemed to be some sort of elder, came forward. He pointed to where the girl had been chained, then at the ladder, speaking an endless, agitated stream of meaningless words. It dawned on me that he, amongst other things, was likely asking where she had been taken.

He went quiet when I beckoned him to follow. He hesitated a moment or two, then apprehensively ascended the ladder behind me.

I entered the ship’s cabin to find Marianna washing the girl’s face. The opening of the door startled the child, but she visibly relaxed when she saw it was me. The elder, if that’s what he was, would not come through the doorway. Instead, with hands clasped in front of him, he bent at the waist before he spoke only a few words.

For the first time, the girl spoke. It was a soft lilting voice, almost chant-like. The concerned look on the elder’s face immediately dissipated. I shook my head at what was probably a question he asked me. I hadn’t a notion of what he might be saying. He pointed to the sores on his wrists then held them together as if still manacled.

I took hold of his hands and pulled them apart, and I attempted to mime removing his chains and throwing them away. It appeared to work. He smiled up at me before clasping his hands together once again and bowing, exactly as he had done when the girl had spoken. He then turned and went back the way we had come. I closed the door.

Marianna had finished washing the girl and was now brushing her hair. This young girl – whose beauty had become fully evident – would surely never pass for white, yet she was quite different from the other natives. It was also now obvious that she was younger than I had thought. She could not have been older than fourteen, possibly younger.

Marianna and I sat together as we watched the girl eat the fruit we had offered her. Her eyes never left us, and the slightly puzzled expression we noted earlier had returned. She glanced down. Marianna had placed her hand on mine, and she had seen. She leaned closer, her eyes searching our faces. The smile that suddenly appeared was dazzling, as she reached out, and her hand covered ours.

She spoke once more. I shrugged, not understanding. It brought her frown back for a moment, but then she entwined her two little fingers together before pointing at us.

Now, I understood what she was asking and so did Marianna, who, ever more expressive than myself, turned and gave me a quick kiss on the mouth.

The girl’s smile widened, and she stood. I was astonished as she unfastened the string that held her smock together. There was no shyness as she spread it wide, revealing her body.

We were stunned by the tattoos that adorned her. I gasped, amazed not only by the unquestionable skill of the unknown artist, but also by the subject matter – beautiful girls, cavorting in the most outrageous ways imaginable. Most would have thought it depraved. I, however, found it quite bewitching.

She had exposed only half of herself. I ached to see more, but she lowered the curtain once again, concealing her body and the small pouch that hung on a string around her neck. Her eyes sparkled. Clearly, she had enjoyed seeing our reactions.

I pulled myself together before turning to Marianna. “Why don’t you try some of your language skills while I go and organise things on deck?” I said.

***

Jensen, in the Siren, followed us along the coast in a southerly direction. After a day of cruising, we had yet to find a safe anchorage in which to spend the night. I was wary of drawing too close to shore, as we had spotted a number of reefs, some just breaking the surface. This was a dangerous area in which to sail without good charts, and this close in, all but impossible at night.

“Deck ho!” the topman shouted. “I sees what looks like a strong flow of dirty water.”

As we edged closer to the coast, lookouts posted to warn of any obstructions, the water changed colour from greenish-blue to yellowish-brown. We could no longer see what dangers might lie beneath the surface. The leadsmen, one to starboard and one to larboard, cast their lines ahead of the ship and continually shouted out the depths.

It was soon clear that we were following a deep, albeit narrow, channel. The helmsman looked concerned. “That be a strong current comin’ out of there, Cap’ain, but I reckons we’ll be fine if the wind don’t suddenly shift. Might be just a tad difficult when we needs to be leavin’.”

I signalled for Siren to drop anchor. We would go on alone for the moment. There was little point in risking both ships running aground.

Any concerns soon proved unfounded. The channel was deep enough all along the centre of our route, no doubt scoured out by the fast-running waters. As soon as the entrance widened into a large bay, I gave the order to proceed towards the northerly shore.

“I thinks one of these ’ere wants to speak, Cap’ain,” Davy said.

An agitated native hesitantly came forward, pointing at the shore towards which we were headed whilst pouring forth a stream of incomprehensible words. It was quite clear to me that he was not at all happy with the choice I had made.

I pointed to the opposite bank, which I estimated was two miles away. He shouted what may have been a ‘yes’, but he certainly looked happier. He then pointed at where we were still headed before miming a bow and arrow, a man throwing a spear and a strange blowing motion which I failed to understand.  What was clear, though, was that there was trouble on that side.

“Take us about. We’ll head for the southern shore,” I said.

The water was now a thick, dirty brown. “Keep those soundings going. We’ll drop anchor if it gets to three fathoms.” I called a powder boy over. “Signal for Siren to follow us in.” He looked at me, a quite blank expression on his face. “Hoist a green flag, younker.”

“Yes Sir, Cap’ain, Ma’am.” He grinned as he hastily searched the box of flags.

The cook had no inkling of what the natives ate, but they cautiously tried what he dished up during the day, and they seemed satisfied. It was not long after we had dropped anchor and the Siren was close alongside that everyone partook of the evening meal.

It had been a long day. I was tired, hungry and in need of a glass or two of something strong. “Mister Halcombe, you have the deck,” I said. “Any concerns, shout for me. You may eat and drink while you watch. Keep a lookout on the shore and upriver.”

It surprised some the way I ran my ship, for my methods were quite unlike those of most pirates. My way had more of a Naval leaning about it. My mentor, Captain LaFarge, had always been a gentleman. Being a privateer had suited him, but a pirate … no! He had been a cut above most men of that type. I found that an element of discipline made for a more efficient ship. It wasn’t overdone or harsh, not in the way of many Naval officers. The men had learned, a few grudgingly, that it worked. It gave us an edge over our opponents when needed. I prided myself in the fact that the Siren most likely carried the best gun crews of any pirate ship in the Caribbean.

***

I saw the steaming bath the moment I entered the cabin. Marianna passed me a glass, and a quick sniff told me it was brandy. She knew it had become my favourite.

“Drink up, my Captain,” she said. “As you see, we have a bath ready for you.”

It was the one luxury – though nothing more than a leaky tin contraption – we had found aboard this Spanish ship.

“We?” I asked, quite startled.

It transpired that one or two of the freed natives spoke a smattering of Spanish. Marianna told me it had been a slow process but she had managed to learn a little of where they and Yaima came from – for that was our tattooed beauty’s name. “But enough of that for now,” She pointed at Yaima, who stood by the door behind me. “Yes, we have everything ready for you. You have toiled long and hard this day, and we shall be your servants for the evening. You will remove your soiled clothing, if you please.”

I glanced from one to the other. Marianna wore her cheeky grin. Yaima, who was now dressed in a clean, flowery shift, looked expectant, perhaps quizzical. For myself, I was too tired to care, and the bath looked most inviting.

Sword and pistols dropped to the deck, and my clothes quickly followed. I stepped into the tub and sank into the warm water, almost unaware that Yaima’s hands were guiding me. My eyes closed at last, and I felt my body relax, the day’s tension slowly draining away.

I revelled in the attention as my hair was washed and rinsed with a jug of warm water. A sponge was drawn over my body. My breasts were gently raised as they were soaped. I drifted close to sleep, yet well aware of the pampering I was receiving.

Lips softly touched mine. There was a strange, slightly bitter taste, and then my senses reeled. My heartbeat quickened. Every touch on my body was a caress of fire – yet not of pain. My pussy throbbed even as my breasts were pressed and pulled. I was engulfed in sensations, with a heightened awareness of every caress.

My hips responded, jerking at the invasion of fingers deep within me. My clit felt a brushing, so soft, gentle, and loving. My body was coming alive. Never had I been so aware of the wonder of being made love to. I briefly thought of the taste on my lips. A potion? If it was, I would not fight it. Indeed, I could not. I was now at a different level of being, somewhere I had never gone before.

I opened my eyes in time to witness Yaima pour a drop of something from a vial onto a handkerchief, which she then held out to Marianna, who touched it to her lips. Her eyes closed for a few seconds, and when they opened again, the look on her face was one of unfathomable longing, of the purest, most unbridled desire I had ever witnessed

Together, they easily lifted me from the tub to the deck. Then they attacked me.

Yaima seemed to be everywhere. She probed my pussy, biting and sucking my clit, and yet… she was also kissing my breasts and sucking on my nipples. But – the oddest thing! – so was Marianna. They were both all over me at once.

I tasted a familiar pussy, then a different, but equally stimulating tang. I sucked an unfamiliar clit that offered itself to my face. My mind was swimming. This could not be real. Such feelings defied all the laws of Nature. Yet as my body reached its peak, I realised it did not matter. We three were now as one as our orgasms clawed at us.

We lay together, breathless from our exertions. Slowly recovering my senses, I remembered the vial, the contents of which Marianna had touched to her lips, and the bitterness in my own mouth. Yaima evidently possessed some native philtre that could cause three women to be wholly conjoined.

When I looked at her, she smiled and spoke softly as she touched both Marianna and myself, her voice a murmuring, rhythmic chant, her fingers the merest whisper across my lips.

Soon I would learn that she had just initiated us into her sect – a cult of love and worship open only to women.

On to Chapter Two!