Juicy Secrets Forbidden Tales of Lesbian Love

by Rachael Yukey

Tuesday, October 10th, 2006 (continued)

I woke up from a dream. Julie and I were kissing like those women in the story, and her hand was between my legs rubbing my clitoris. I could feel those waves coming fast, and that powerful feeling was starting to build again when I woke up.

As I came to my senses I saw that my light was on, I’d kicked the blankets off, and I had nothing on except my pajama top. I panicked. Was it morning? Had Mom come in and seen me like this? Oh Lord, where was Lisa’s book? And my diary?!

Then I looked towards the window… it was still dark outside. The clock on my wall read 2:17 A.M. I looked over the edge of the bed and saw Lisa’s book and my diary on the floor.

I collapsed back onto the bed, trying to steady my breathing. It wasn’t working. I realized that I was breathing funny because I was very aroused. It must have been the dream. I closed my eyes and tried to bring it back, but all I could remember were those last few moments, with Julie kissing me and touching me down there.

Almost on its own, my hand crept down my belly. Alarm bells went off in my mind, same as before, but this time they seemed distant and far away. I’m not sure I could have stopped even if I wanted to.

I was super-wet, so much that when I slipped two fingers into my folds it made a sloshing sound. I began to gently rub myself, picturing Julie touching and kissing me.

It only took a few seconds this time. Had I been touching myself in my sleep? Almost right away the waves were coming on top of each other and this amazing, powerful feeling was building up deep inside of me…

It was like my whole world exploded. I could feel a powerful sort of pulsing down there, and a strong surge of pleasure rippled out from my midsection and through my entire body. My back arched, my butt hung in midair, and I moaned out loud several times, unable to quiet myself. My thighs slammed together and my fingers, which still moved furiously, were mashed in between my labia. It seemed to last forever, but not nearly long enough!

As the sensations died out my butt crashed down onto the bed. I took my hand from between my legs—it was too sensitive now. I was gasping for air, taking long slow breaths to try and steady myself. I suddenly remembered that I’d made some noise, and listened carefully for footsteps downstairs. Nothing.

So THAT’S an orgasm! No doubt at all that’s what it was. The websites all said you’d know it if you had one. I couldn’t imagine anything in the whole world feeling better. Another word for it they used on the websites and in Lisa’s book was “coming”, and I thought it kind of fit. All the tension I’d felt earlier was gone, and I was all peaceful and relaxed.

I realized I was drifting off and jerked myself awake. I was lucky the first time, if I’d slept all the way through the night and Mom found me half naked with my diary and Lisa’s novel… I didn’t even want to think about it. I got my PJ bottoms and panties on and slipped downstairs. I wasn’t noisy, but I wasn’t going out of my way to be quiet. I get up to pee sometimes, and it never disturbs my parents.

In the bathroom I peed, then got a washcloth wet and scrubbed myself down there really good. I didn’t know if Mom would be able to smell what I’d been up to, and I wasn’t interested in finding out! I buried the washcloth in the hamper, then washed my hands and went back upstairs. I tucked the diary and the book back into their hiding space, turned out the light and got into bed.

It took me awhile to crash… the guilt was coming back. It wasn’t as awful as I felt before, but it was there. Is masturbating a sin against God? I totally bet it is. And what about getting excited while thinking about doing sex stuff with girls? I didn’t even have to wonder about that! Being gay was definitely against the teachings of The Word.

Is that what I am, then? A lesbian? Maybe not. After all, I got a tingly feeling when Julie was reading that story about the man and woman having sex. I tried to picture myself being kissed and touched by one of the cuter boys in my grade… ewww! I tried again, this time with a high school boy who had always been nice to me. That was different—I kind of enjoyed it. So maybe I’m into both, I thought. But that’s not any better. It’s not okay for girls to like girls that way, not even a little bit. Even if they also like boys.

All these thoughts were still chasing each other around in my head when I finally fell asleep.

***

Monday morning I woke up feeling tired but pretty relaxed. Wow, an orgasm sure is great for getting rid of stress. Thinking about it made me feel kind of guilty all over again, but it also made me start to feel all warm and tingly. Did I want another one already?! I pushed it away and went about getting ready for school.

Julie was waiting for me when I got off the bus, which makes her the best friend ever because it was cold! She hugged me and whispered in my ear: “Is everything okay?”

I gave her a huge smile. “Fine,” I said. “Let’s get inside before we turn into girlsicles.”

We both got giggling about that, and we went in together. Some other girls came and sat with us at breakfast so we couldn’t talk about much, but it was still really good to be together. We don’t get much time for breakfast anyway.

It wasn’t till after lunch on the playground that we got to be alone. It was just warm enough that we got sent outside for free time, and instead of going over to the playground with the other kids, Julie and I huddled behind the bus garage out of the wind.

“Did your parents fight any more?” Julie asked me.

“No,” I said, “they didn’t even talk to each other. Mom went to bed early, and Dad was still watching TV when I went upstairs.”

“So… did you read any of Lisa’s book?”

“Some of it,” I admitted. I’d been planning to tell her everything but suddenly it seemed kind of embarrassing to talk about.

“I read a bunch last night,” said Julie. “It was a terrible book, but I read all the sex stuff in it! And…” she looked around to see if someone was close. “I tried it,” she whispered. “You know, masturbating?”

Now I felt a little ashamed. Julie was willing to tell me everything, and I was holding back. But still I hesitated.

“Was it good?” I asked.

“Really good, for a while. I mean, really strong feelings, like big ripples through your whole body that feel amazing. But I don’t think I quite… I didn’t have an orgasm.” She looked disappointed. “At least I don’t think so. It’s supposed to be like this big ka-boom, right? I didn’t get that. It just leveled off and started to not feel as good as before. I finally just gave up and went to sleep.”

“I had one.” I hadn’t meant to say it, the words just tumbled out. I felt my face getting hot.

Julie’s mouth dropped open. “You WHAT?”

I gave her the short version of what happened the night before. Talking about it was getting me all heated up again, and Julie looked kind of flushed herself.

“Oh, my God,” she said when I was done. “That’s so incredible! I guess that means I shouldn’t give up, then. It was really that good?”

“Yeah,” I said, “It sure was.”

It was time to go in. I hadn’t told her about how guilty I felt. Julie seemed so excited and enthusiastic about it all, and I didn’t want to spoil it for her. She doesn’t have to worry about that stuff. She’s not a Christian. Sometimes I wish I wasn’t either.

That pretty much catches things up. I still have about twenty minutes before I’m expecting Mom at my door, and I’m feeling really heated up from writing about all this masturbation and sex stuff. I promised not to touch myself again until I get all this figured out, but I guess one more time won’t hurt.

Wednesday, October 11, 2006

I promised myself on Monday that I wouldn’t masturbate again until I’d figured out whether I was committing a sin or not. But then yesterday morning I was writing in my diary, and the stuff I wrote about got me so aroused that I just HAD to touch myself again. I didn’t have much time before Mom came to wake me up, so I just stuffed my hand down the front of my pajamas. I wasn’t trying to think of anyone in particular, but I couldn’t help imagining that I was touching Julie there instead of me. She hasn’t had an orgasm yet, so it was really exciting to pretend like I was giving her the very first one! I came only a minute or two before I heard Mom coming up the stairs.

Last night I figured I’d flip through the rest of Lisa’s book and see if there was anything else worth looking at before I wrote in my diary. But part of me knew what I was really up to. I was looking for more sex parts.

It didn’t take long to find another one with those same two ladies getting together. I only read a little way into it before admitting to myself why I was really doing this, then I got completely naked. As I read about the two women touching and kissing all over each other’s bodies, I explored myself with both hands.

One weird thing really got me going, when the book described kissing. I traced my lips with my thumb, slipped it into my mouth, then pinched both lips between my thumb and index finger. Playing with my nipples kind of had the same effect. By the time I reached between my legs, it was dripping wet down there.

In the scene I was reading, the younger lady used her MOUTH to give the older one an orgasm! It also described how much she loved the taste of the woman’s juices. I thought that sounded gross, but after I came I got curious. I ran a finger around the outside edge of my vagina where it was the wettest, then brought it up under my nose and breathed in deeply. I noticed Sunday night that I liked the scent, but I’d been so upset at the time that I never took the time to get a real sense of how it smelled. It was nice, kind of strong, and a little bit musky. I felt myself getting all tingly again! I wasn’t expecting to like the taste but I screwed my eyes shut, stuck out my tongue, and licked the end of my finger.

I opened my eyes. I’m not sure the word “delicious” came to mind, but there was something… I tried to figure out the right word, and came up with one that the ladies in the book I’m reading kept using. Sexy. I’m not sure it’s a flavor I’d want to sprinkle on my chicken, but there was something warm and kind of dangerous and just plain sexy about the taste. I was getting aroused all over again! I shoved my finger into my mouth and sucked on it.

That did it. I had to touch myself again.

I was masturbating with my right hand, so I reached down with the left to get my finger nice and wet, then brought it up to my mouth and sucked the juices off. When I’d licked and sucked it clean I went back for more. The third or fourth time I did this I felt an orgasm coming, and knew right away it was going to be a big one. When it happened I rolled over onto my belly with my hand still between my legs and bit down on the pillow to keep from screaming.

After taking a moment to catch my breath, I got my pajamas back on. I know better than to let Mom come in the next day and catch me naked! I was too tired to write anything, and nothing else interesting had happened that day anyway, so I put the diary and book away, turned the light off, and climbed into bed.

But my brain was buzzing, and I couldn’t fall asleep right away. I can’t stop, I realized. It feels too good, and I want it too much. So what do I do?

Suddenly I realized that I wasn’t feeling particularly guilty, not anymore. Maybe a little twinge, but nothing like what I felt Sunday night. I thought about the Bible, and wondered why this kind of thing would be a sin in the first place. Why would God make us with these crazy strong urges, then tell us we’re not allowed to do anything about them? That’s just dumb.

I’m having a lot of rebellious thoughts about God lately. We do all these logic games in A.L. that teach us to think critically, but whenever I use that kind of thinking on the Bible I run across a ton of stuff that doesn’t make a whole lot of sense. I try not to think about it, but the stuff keeps smacking me in the head. It was with all these things troubling me that I finally fell asleep.

Wednesday, October 18th, 2006

My creative writing teacher in A.L. gave me an assignment today. He wants me to go back through the story I’m writing for his class and see if I can figure out where it might be better to use semicolons instead of commas. Guess I wasn’t using them when I was supposed to. Anyhow, I think I’ve got it figured out, so I’m going to try and throw some into this diary. We’ll see how it goes.

It’s been a week since I wrote anything, but I guess there hasn’t been much to tell. Julie got the flu and missed a bunch of school—Friday, Monday, and Tuesday. It killed me to not get to see her, and I was worried, too. We talked on the phone Monday night. She was doing much better, but her dad wanted to keep her home one more day. I read to her from our fantasy book for a little while. We talked again yesterday evening for about an hour. Just chattering—it’s not like we can talk like we really want to with our parents listening in. Julie said she was feeling fine, and would see me on the A.L. bus in the morning.

Other than that, there’s not much to write about. I’ve been playing piano a lot this last week. My teacher is giving me some heavy-duty practice goals, and they’re really hard to meet when Mom is always watching TV in the same room the piano lives in. So I’ve been grabbing time when she’s cooking dinner or out doing church stuff, and on Saturday I got Dad to drop me off at the church when he drove into town, so I could use the piano in the basement. I got five hours of practice that day!

Oh, and I’ve masturbated twice more. I’m trying really hard not to, but I keep having these sexy thoughts, and I get SO worked up! It just gets to a point where I can’t stand it, and I have to do something. If I wasn’t trying to hold back, I’d probably do it every day.

Mom woke me up this morning looking pretty droopy. Wednesday is A.L. day and I have to be up early and get driven into town. While I was getting dressed I had a bright idea.

“Hey, Mom,” I said as I entered the kitchen, “how come I don’t have an alarm clock in my room?”

She gave me a blank look.

“What do you want an alarm clock for?” she asked.

“Well,” I said, “I know you work really hard, Mom, and you’re tired a lot. I get myself ready for school, so if I had my own alarm you wouldn’t need to get up so early to get me out of bed.”

I could tell from her face that I had played it just right; she’d probably sleep half the morning if she didn’t have to wake up and pretend she was helping me get ready. Except for Wednesdays when she has to drive me in for A.L., but on those days I knew she’d sleep till the last second and drive me to town in her pajamas.

“I’ll think about it,” she said.

I kept my face still, but I was grinning inside. I knew I was getting my clock. I’d have to be careful the first few days, but before long I wouldn’t have to worry about falling asleep before hiding the evidence of my wicked behavior.

“By the way,” she said, “after I get back from Alex I’m scheduled to help set up for the Bible study potluck tonight. I’ll tell your father to come pick you up when the A.L. bus gets back.”

I was almost afraid to ask, but after the clock conversation had gone so well I was feeling lucky. “What if I went to Julie’s house after school?” I said. “Then I could ride home with you. Mr. Hanson said I could come anytime.”

“But I’ll be staying for the potluck and then Bible study,” said Mom. “I’m sure the Hansons haven’t planned on an extra for dinner.”

“So at dinnertime I’ll walk over to the church and eat potluck with you. Then we can be together for dinner, and Dad won’t have to stop working to come and get me.”

Oh boy, was I ever getting good at feeding my parents a load of baloney! I knew Mom would just gossip with the church ladies and completely ignore me at the potluck, and Dad doesn’t have a lick of work to do on the farm. It’s late in the year and still too wet to finish combining, so the corn that’s left in the field will probably have to wait till spring. Anyhow, I’m figuring out that my parents are fine with letting me do whatever I want, as long as it makes things convenient for them.

Speaking of gossip, I wonder if Mom and Dad realize how much people at church are probably talking about them now. If I was them I’d be too embarrassed to show my face there ever again.

Mom was thinking it over. “We should still call and make sure it’s okay,” she finally said.

“I will!” I said, going straight for the phone.

“Mallory! It’s too early to call people! What if they’re sleeping?”

“But they’re not,” I said. “Julie will be getting ready for school, same as me.”

Mom shrugged, so I picked up the phone and dialed Julie’s house. Lisa answered.

“Hi, Lisa,” I said. “It’s Mallory. I wanted to know if it’s okay for me to come over for a while after school.”

“Of course it’s okay! We love having you. Will you be staying for dinner?”

“I think my mom wants me to go to the church for the potluck,” I told her.

“Well, if you want to eat with us and it’s okay with your mom you certainly can. There’ll be plenty. Can’t wait to see you, sweetie.”

We said goodbye and hung up. Mom had disappeared into the living room while I was talking to Lisa, and I found her on the couch flipping through channels.

“It’s all set up,” I told her. “Miss Jenkins invited me to dinner. Do you want me to come by for the potluck anyway?”

Mom shrugged. It’s her new favorite gesture.“I’ll leave it up to you,” she said. “I’ll be helping out people who can’t serve themselves at the potluck, so I won’t see very much of you anyway. If you decide to eat at Julie’s house, come over to the church after dinner so I don’t have to come get you. It doesn’t have to be right away, Bible study runs till 7:30.”

I wanted to jump up and down, but kept myself under control. I finished getting ready, toasted a couple of Pop Tarts for breakfast, and Mom drove me into town to catch the A.L. bus.

As I was getting out of the Explorer I saw Lisa’s little Honda pull up to the curb just ahead of us. Julie practically bounced out of the car just as I was walking past, and we hugged. Lisa waved to me from inside and gave me a bright smile, then drove off.

“Where’s your dad today?” I asked as we climbed onto the bus.

“Out duck hunting with my grandpa this morning,” she replied. “It’s probably going to be the last time this year, because we’re running out of freezer space. We need to save room for deer season.”

I slid into an empty seat four rows back on the driver’s side, and Julie piled in beside me.

“Lisa doesn’t mind,” Julie went on. “She has to get up anyway to go to work. She works for the city.”

I knew that already, but I just nodded. Lisa’s the person at the city office who processes people’s utility payments. She probably does some other stuff too, but I don’t know what. Julie scrunched way down in the seat. I’m such a shrimp that it brought her face pretty much even with mine.

“I keep trying, and it keeps not working,” she told me in a low voice. I didn’t have to ask what she was talking about!

“Still nothing?”

“Not exactly nothing. It feels great for a while, but then it just kind of… fades out. All the websites said if you have one you’ll know it, so I’m pretty sure I haven’t.”

“It’s true,” I said. “You’ll know. It’s like… like a bomb exploding.”

“Well, I haven’t felt that. I want to! I just feel so frustrated when it’s over. Is it still working for you?”

“Yeah, I’ve done it a bunch of times now. It’s been working just great.”

I felt almost like I should apologize for that. Poor Julie! Building up all that excitement, and not getting the big payoff at the end.

“I wish I could help,” I said.

Julie shrugged. “I must be doing something wrong,” she said. “Hey, why don’t we read for awhile?”

It was Julie’s turn, so she pulled out her copy of the fantasy book we were on, found her place and began to read out loud.

It turned out to be a really great day at A.L. We did group problem-solving exercises in the morning, which meant I got to be partnered with Julie, and at my art class the teacher said she wants to send one of my line drawings to an art competition! She said I should find a really interesting medium to draw on, so I’m thinking about that. We have until the end of January to get our submissions in, so I have time.

That kind of assignment is what they call a type-three project. Julie is already working on one. While I’m in art she takes an electronics class, and she’s building some kind of device for electric guitarists. I really don’t understand what it is, but she’s pretty enthusiastic about it.

On the bus ride home I read to Julie, and as we approached the building I could see Jason’s pickup truck waiting for us at the curb.

“Thought you ladies might like a ride,” he said. “This damn wind is just vicious.”

We got our seat belts on and he pulled out of the lot.

“Did you get any ducks?” Julie wanted to know.

“Filled out our bag limit, and brought in a couple of geese to boot.” said Jason. “They’re in the garage; you and Mallory can clean ‘em when you get home.”

Julie shrugged. “Wouldn’t be the first time I’ve cleaned a duck, Dad… but I think you’re full of it.”

Jason sighed. “You were more fun when you were gullible,” he said in a pretend-sad voice. “But you’re right, dem birdies done already flown demselves into de freezer. So maybe you two can go down and bleach the basement walls instead.”

“Or maybe,” said Julie, “we can find another fun game to play. Like hang a cage from a tree in the backyard like in a pirate movie and stuff the evil tyrant in it. See how long it takes the crows to peck your eyes out. Whaddya think, Mal?”

I threw my arms into the air. “Mutiny on the high seas!” I hooted.

Julie and I both broke into a mad fit of giggles. We were just pulling up in front of the house and Jason put the pickup in park, killed the engine, and opened his door. A gust of icy wind blasted through the cab, making Julie and me squeal.

“Who the hell is building a crow’s cage in this?” said Jason. “Your mutiny is over before it even got started. The smart mutineer bides her time until the ship sails into warmer waters.”

No arguments from me! We got ourselves inside. The air was thick with a delicious smell.

“Lisa told me you might be eating here, Mallory,” Jason was saying. “There’s chili on. Don’t worry, it’s spicy but not insanely hot.”

“I like spicy,” I told him. “It smells amazing.”

“Good,” he said. “I have to go teach. Lisa should be home in about fifteen minutes. You two need anything before I go?”

“We’re good,” said Julie. He filled a travel cup with coffee, hugged us both, and left. Jason teaches guitar in a little back room at the Salvation Army store. I heard they let him use the space in exchange for helping fix some things up.

Julie and I found a snack, settled down on the living room couch, and chattered about our A.L. projects while we ate. Well, it started out that way. The talk turned to the sexy books we’d borrowed, and by the time Lisa walked in we were talking about masturbation and how Julie hadn’t been able to have an orgasm.

We hadn’t heard her car pull up, so when the front door opened we both shut up and gave each other guilty looks. Julie’s face was red, and mine probably was too. Lisa closed the door, looked first at one of us, and then the other, and pursed her lips. Then a smile tugged at the corners.

“Well, well,” she said, shrugging out of her coat and hanging it on the hook, “I don’t remember ever seeing you two with nothing to say.”

Lisa sure is pretty. She was wearing another of her floor length skirts, this time a pale yellow one made of thick material. She also had on a pink top with a scarf that matched her skirt. I think scarves are her favorite fashion accessory.

“Um… hi, Lisa!” Julie said, just a little too loud.

“Hi,” I got out.

Lisa giggled and started towards us, holding out her arms. “Come here, you two.”

We both got up, and she pulled us close. She smelled really nice, and I pressed my face against her. A guilty thought occurred to me: what would she think if she knew about the things I imagine about her at night? What would Julie think if she knew the thoughts I had about her?

Lisa let us go and disappeared into the kitchen, returning a moment later with a cup of tea. She sat down in one of the big overstuffed chairs, facing us. “So,” she said, still looking amused, “What are we talking about that’s so secret you clam up the moment an adult walks in?”

Julie and I looked at each other again, and I felt my face getting hot. I blush really easy, and I hate it!

Lisa laughed. “It’s okay,” she said. “I was your age once. If you don’t want to tell me we’ll drop it. But I want you both to know that you can talk to me about anything… and I won’t judge you or get mad. Who knows, it might even be something I can help with!”

Julie’s eyes widened, and I perked up a little myself. It hadn’t occurred to me that Lisa might be able to help with Julie’s problem! I already know she masturbates; after doing it myself I’m totally sure that’s what we heard her doing the second night I slept at their house! And she’s been doing it a lot longer than we have. So it made sense that she would know stuff we didn’t.

“Mal?” said Julie in a questioning voice.

I shrugged and made a face. Sure, I was nervous about talking to Lisa or any grownup about this stuff, but there was another part of me that WANTED  to talk to her about it. Badly.

Julie opened her mouth, then closed it again. She looked down at her hands.

“We were talking about the stuff we read in your books,” she said finally. Lisa’s smile grew wider. “And about how it made us feel. And… and we were talking about, you know… masturbating.”

Lisa leaned back into the chair, still wearing that lazy smile. “Is that all?” she asked. “It’s nothing to be embarrassed about, you know. Everybody does it.” She thought for a moment.“If I’m getting too personal, tell me to mind my own business, but are either of you doing that when you read my books? Or do you feel like you want to? The only time I ever read them is when I want to masturbate. They get me so hot, you could fry an egg on my stomach!”

I busted up at that image, but Julie was still staring at her hands. Finally she looked up. She tried a smile, and it looked good on her. I felt a powerful urge to lean over and kiss that smile, and oh Lord God, what is happening to me?

“I’ve tried it a few times,” Julie said. “That’s what we were talking about when you came in. It starts out feeling really good, but it doesn’t… you know… go anywhere.”

“You mean you haven’t been able to come yet,” said Lisa.

“Right! It really, really sucks.”

Lisa looked at me and raised her eyebrows. It was a question, but she didn’t ask it out loud. I looked right into her eyes and decided there and then to tell her everything.

“I tried it too,” I said, still staring into her eyes. Lisa’s eyes are this deep hazel color, and I just want to lose myself in them. “That first night, when I brought your book home. I touched myself, and it worked for me. I’ve had lots of orgasms since then.”

Lisa clapped her hands. “Good for you, Mallory,” she said, then looked back to Julie. “I was about a year older than you the first time I tried it. And it took some time before I was able to come. Can I ask a couple of questions?”

Julie nodded.

“First of all, do you read while you’re touching yourself?”

“No,” said Julie. “I read till I get really worked up, then I put the book down and do it.”

“Okay. What do you think about while you’re doing it?”

“Not much. Mostly what I’m doing, and trying different ways to keep the good feelings going.”

“Well, there’s your problem!” said Lisa. “It works best when you have a fantasy in your head. I sometimes read my books while I’m touching myself, or else I’ll read them for a while, and then close my eyes and fantasize about being one of the characters or something like that. You have to keep yourself excited. Your best erogenous zone is your mind.”

Julie and I knew about erogenous zones. We’d read all about them on the internet. Julie turned to me.“Is that what you do?”

“Yeah,” I said. “But I didn’t realize it was important till now, or I would’ve told you.”

“It’s okay,” she said. “Lisa, can I ask you something?”

“Sure, honey, anything.”

“You and Dad, you guys… ummm, you know… have sex, right?”

“You know we do,” Lisa replied with a laugh. “Don’t tell me you don’t hear it!”

Julie smiled. “Well… yeah,” she said. “So if you get to have sex, why do you still masturbate?”

“Well, sometimes your dad isn’t available when I want to have sex. Other times, I want to get into a fantasy of my own. Sometimes you want to picture yourself in situations you can’t actually be in, or with people you’d never have sex with. It’s no different from the fantasy novels you two read. You read them because they take you somewhere else, right? A sexual fantasy is like that. It doesn’t mean you’re not happy with where you are or who you’re with. I’m very happy… it’s just that different can be really exciting. Does that make sense?”

“Sure does!” said Julie.

I must have had a look on my face, because Lisa turned her attention back to me. “Did you have something you wanted to say, Mallory?”

“I…” I wasn’t sure how to bring it up. Finally I took a deep breath and just went for it..“It’s about the fantasies,” I said. “And the people you pretend you’re with. That book you loaned me has women doing stuff with other women, but never with men.”

“Sure,” she said. “Lesbian sex. Maybe I shouldn’t have given you that one, but it didn’t even occur to me. I picked it because it’s a better story than most of them, and it’s not part of a series. I don’t think anything of the lesbian stuff, because I’m bisexual. Do you know what that means?”

Julie answered. “I think it means you like both men and women, right?”

“Right. Or to be more specific, it means I’m sexually attracted to both. Your dad knows that, and he’s okay with it… just in case that’s your next question.” Julie blushed and giggled.

“So, Mallory,” Lisa said, “does the lesbian sex bother you? It’s a big turn-on for me, but if you don’t like it I have plenty of books that just have men with women.”

I struggled between telling an uncomfortable truth or a comfortable lie. But Lisa was being so helpful about all of this that I couldn’t lie to her.

“It turns me on too,” I said. I was looking down at the floor, and it was hard to talk. I went on in almost a whisper. “Thinking about girls and women turns me on. And that makes me scared, cus I think maybe it’s bad.” I was almost in tears.

Lisa got up, crossed to the couch and sat down beside me. She held out her arms, and when I fell into them she drew me into her lap. She stroked my hair, and Julie slid close to join our embrace.

“I know you’ve been taught to follow the teachings of the Bible,” Lisa said, “and maybe that’s what’s right for you. But I don’t believe that two human beings making each other feel good can ever possibly be bad. I don’t think any kind of love between two consenting people is wrong. And this I know for certain… you don’t get to pick who you’re attracted to. You didn’t ask to get turned on thinking of women, did you?”

I shook my head. I couldn’t talk.

“Now why would any loving God make you like that, and then tell you it’s bad?”

I forced the words out. “It could be the devil putting those feelings in me,” I said. “Or maybe God is testing me.” Now I was crying, just a little.

“Any God that would do something like that to a girl your age, or to anyone… that isn’t a God I can really believe in, or would want to follow,” she said gently. “I’m not telling you what you should believe, Mallory, or what you should do. I’m just saying you have the right to make up your own mind. Don’t let someone else make it up for you. Not your parents, not me, not anyone.” She paused. “I don’t  really know what the Bible has to say about a lot of this stuff,” she said after a moment’s thought. “I wasn’t raised in a religious household.”

“I know it says being gay is a sin,” I said, wiping my eyes. “Masturbating I’m not so sure of.”

“You should ask Jason,” Lisa said.

“You think we should talk to Dad about this!?” Julie blurted.

“Why not? Your father is more open-minded than you might think. It wouldn’t bother him. And even though he’s not a Christian, he knows A LOT about the Bible. More than some Christians, I bet.”

She was rubbing my shoulders now. I loved the feeling of her hands on my body. She moved her hands down my arm until she was rubbing my forearms, with her fingertips lightly tracing my belly though my t-shirt. It sent little shivers through me, and I realized with a start that I was getting turned on.

This isn’t my fault, I thought. Heavenly Father, if you don’t make these feelings go away, I’m going to stop fighting them. Lisa’s right, this isn’t fair. 

Suddenly I felt much, much better. I craned my neck to look up at Lisa, and smiled at her. She bent down and kissed my forehead. Julie put her arms around me again. I felt safe, happy and loved. I never feel like that at home.

A lot more happened this afternoon at Julie’s house, but it’s getting late again. I’ll get it all written down tomorrow. I need to find a way to keep these entries shorter or this diary is going to be longer than the Bible!

On to Chapter Six!

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

by kinkychic and kinky’s_sis

Chapter Nine: The Pirate Galley

We sailed between Tunis and Rabat on the North African coast, keeping well to the east of the Balearic Islands. I had my best lookouts posted, and if we were lucky, we might catch one or more of the pirate vessels out at sea. We would then try to cut off their route back to their home ports.

We had heard that a galley averaged about five to six knots when pressed, and could achieve a short burst of ten knots when attacking. We could therefore easily outpace them.

I no longer felt we needed to practise our gun teams, which had become as fast as any I had ever seen. We did engage in musket drills, however. I had quite upset the Gibraltar armoury by requisitioning one hundred of these weapons. The admiral, in reply to their complaint, had told them, somewhat grudgingly, that they were to accede to my wishes.

Loading a musket is no easy task. It can take an inexperienced shooter up to one minute. I wanted men who could load at least twice in that time. Most sailors, when told to fire a musket, simply point it in the general direction of their target and pull the trigger. I now had fifty men on each ship that could choose a target, aim, and fire. They would be the decisive force in any contest with a galley, if we got close enough.

Three tedious days passed without a glimpse of anything worthy of our attention. We even sailed in close to two of the ports where the pirates were likely to be hiding. When we saw the massive fortifications, though, we knew it would be suicide to approach any closer. If the galleys carried twenty-four-pounders, the forts most likely had even larger guns.

The early hours of the fourth day brought a sound like thunder. I bounded from my cot, for I knew instinctively it was not thunder, but the roar of a heavy cannon. I had barely emerged onto the deck when the sound was repeated. Now I had a direction – to the north and away from the coast, which is exactly what I wanted, if this truly was a pirate ship.

Luck was with us. So engrossed in attacking the merchantmen were the pirates that they failed to notice our rapid approach. I was astounded at how many oars the vessel carried, and at the way they swept back in perfect unison as the galley closed on its victim.

“Guns, see if you can lay a shot right on her bow before she rams that ship.”

Halcombe must have had the two starboard eighteens already sighted, for no sooner had I spoken than both of them roared out. Barely seconds later, the galley’s forecastle was blown to splinters. The armed men who had been massing and waiting to board were sent flying by the impact.

My men were ready with their muskets. I had explained to them that the pirates would gather near the front end of the galley. This was to be their target—and not the men at the oars, who could well be slaves.

Spencer, high up the mast, knew his task – to find and bring down their captain.

Siren and Majestic were on either side of the pirate. “First party, fire!” I yelled. Twenty-five muskets spat fire and smoke. Jensen had done the same. At least a quarter of the gathered pirates fell in those first volleys.

“Second party, fire!” Another fifty muskets blasted their shot at the enemy, who fell in their dozens.

We were now close enough to see the oarsmen were in chains. They were indeed slaves. We could not come alongside, for we would have fouled the oars and likely killed many of the rowers. I called for grappling hooks to be readied. “Snag what’s left of their forecastle. We will attempt to turn her away and then board.”

The pirates had clearly never experienced concentrated musket fire before. The few of them still standing fought like men possessed. Gradually, they were forced back by the sheer weight of numbers we deployed from our two ships. But the butcher’s bill was going to be high.

Majestic’s men boarded from her stern, and the last few pirates found themselves facing us from two directions. They must have known there was no hope of avoiding defeat. In their midst was a huge, bearded man who towered over the rest. One arm hung uselessly at his side, but the other held his scimitar aloft. Anne Bonny spread her arms wide as if to hold our men back, then pointed her sword at the giant and shouted at him. I couldn’t hear her words, but whatever she said, it gave the barbarians pause.

The bearded man turned to look across at me. I called for quiet, but it took several more shouts before the noise subsided.

I pointed at the giant, who was obviously the leader. Through my trumpet, I told him, “Your fight is lost. Lay down your arms now… or you die.”

“We die here or die where you take us,” he shouted in return. “What difference?”

They would all be hanged, of course, but that wasn’t my concern. Better to end the fight now, lest more of my own people be injured or killed. But before I could answer, a surge of bodies rose up from below. The slaves must have gained possession of the keys to their shackles. Howling with blind rage, they reached up to grasp pirates by the legs and hauled them down into the depths.

I called to my musketeers, “A volley over their heads, lads!”

This had the desired effect. Everything came to a stop, and quiet returned. Anne stepped towards the captain. I held my breath. She was taking a huge risk. The brute raised his scimitar even as I shouted, “Spencer!” The shot rang out. The captain staggered, blood staining his filthy shirt. His sword came down, but not to strike. He had stuck it into the deck. A man went to hold him upright, but was pushed away. I saw the pistol for only an instant before the captain placed the barrel into his mouth, and the back of his head burst into bloody fragments.

***

The slaves were almost all Europeans and of just about every nationality. Several had been ship’s officers. Others were notable persons who had been passengers on board the captured vessels.

I spoke with one such person, who introduced himself as Sir James Parkinson. I took an instant dislike to him and his attitude, even making allowances for the ordeal he had suffered. He was none too steady on his feet, no doubt from months of labouring at the oars. Enofe fetched him a chair, and Parkinson looked with distaste at the black man.

“You are the captain of this vessel? A woman?” He didn’t wait for me to answer. “It matters not, I suppose. You will take me to Venice with all due haste.”

“And why do you suppose I should do that?”

“Because I am ordering you to do so. Your flag indicates you are a British warship of some sort, although I have never seen those colours before. It does mean, though, that you are subject to my orders.”

I had to laugh at his arrogance. “You haven’t even asked who I am. Yet you assume you can order me. Allow me to introduce myself. I am Captain Brenda Dawlish, but I am also known as Sir Bren, duly knighted by the King. My colours were given at His Majesty’s instruction, and no one, not even the Admiralty, gives me orders. Do I make myself clear?”

“Sir? A woman? Impossible!”

“It is, I admit, a unique state of affairs.”

“You must have deceived the King.”

“Not at all,” I said. “Allow me to show you proof of my authority, then perhaps we can begin again.” I retrieved from my desk the letter from the Prime Minister that gave my status and freedom of movement, etc.

He glanced up several times as he read, then lowered the document to his lap. “It seems, Sir Bren, what you say is true. I had no idea such a thing were possible.”

I bowed to him. “Now that we understand each other, would you tell me who you are and what you know?”

It transpired he was the British envoy who had been on his way to Venice on behalf of the government when his ship had been attacked by two galleys. His wife and daughter were, as far as he knew, still held captive. He was fairly sure his wife was in the sheikh’s harem. The sheikh was also the bearded galley captain who had shot himself. His name was Amastan Zammit. He was but a minor chieftain and had operated three galleys from a small fishing port.

“This anchorage – what defences does it have?” I asked. “The man’s base, is it fortified? How many men are there? How many ships?”

“There is one small fort – made of mud, I believe. It mounts three or four cannon. He has perhaps three hundred fighters plus a number of clerical types. His base is but a jumble of tents, in the Berber fashion. There is a small palace, also of mud bricks. That is where the harem is. He has three galleys – well, two now – and a captured brig. The galleys are all manned by slaves. The brig is unmanned and lies at anchor. There is not much else that I can tell you. You have already killed more than a hundred of his men.”

“It seems, Sir James, you were prepared to sail away and leave your family to their fate. I might have thought you would ask me to attempt their rescue. Besides all of the other European slaves.”

Most might have shown some measure of guilt at my observation. Sir James, however, was a diplomat. “Sir,” he said, “… or Ma’am …”

“Either is acceptable.”

“I would consider any rescue attempt a futile exercise. You are sailors, not an army, and most likely, considerably outnumbered.”

“Sir, I have rescued people from the prison fort in Jamaica right from under the British garrison’s nose. Why should I not do the same here? Besides, I would find it more seemly were you enthusiastic at the possibility of seeing your family returned to you. Is that not so?”

“I… well… I mean to say, Ma’am… “ His bluster was a false front. It was clear he did not care a whit for the fate of his wife and child.

I held up my hand. “Is it perhaps that you believe your wife has been sullied by this sheikh fellow?”

He protested vehemently, but I had him dead to rights. He would rather she were left where she was. I had heard enough. He had nothing more of use to tell me. I called for Mister Halcombe. “Take this … gentleman … and see his needs are looked after. Then summon all officers to attend in my cabin.”

As he rose, Sir James asked. “You have suitable quarters for me, I assume?”

I had had my fill of this man. “There are no quarters, I regret to say. You may even have to remain on the galley, Sir James, but you are now a free man once more. Be satisfied with that.”

Halcombe ushered him out of my sight, which was just as well. My patience had been tried quite enough.

***

Many of the freed slaves were seamen. A good few were in poor physical shape, but many were fit and keen to help in the raid I now planned. I distributed them among the three ships and placed some of our own crew on the galley, of which Taylor was made captain pro tem.

He cut a caper when he heard my decision. “Can I be ’avin’ a cocked ’at, Cap’ain?”

“Taylor, you are the galley captain, not its jester. Would you kindly act accordingly?”

“Yes indeed, Ma’am, beggin’ your pardon like.”

We approached from the east, edging towards the headland that sheltered the pirate’s bay and keeping a constant lookout on the coast. We saw no movement. I knew the fort was just over the brow of the hill. A number of the former slaves had said the Mussulmen never believed they’d be attacked and the fort was manned only by a few lazy layabouts.

In the evening dusk, the cutter headed for the shore with a group of heavily armed men, plus the master gunner and his mate. I acceded to Halcombe’s request that he might lead the party, and I watched as they clambered ashore, quickly disappearing amongst the dunes before the cutter made its way back.

The next few hours would be an anxious wait, and I prayed we would hear nothing to disturb the quiet of the evening. At midnight, with the ships in complete darkness and no moon to expose our position, we sailed to the mouth of the bay. There we cautiously dropped anchor and continued our vigil.

“Why don’t you come to bed, love?” Mariana said “It serves no purpose, your sitting there all night.”

“I’m sorry, but I’m thinking things through. I must be sure I’ve missed nothing. Besides, I couldn’t possibly sleep.”

“I’m sure you’ve thought of everything,” she said, laughing. “You should stop worrying. And if you can’t sleep… why don’t you come and fuck me?”

I laughed with her. “I know you’re right, but I cannot get undressed. We might be called into action at any moment. Perhaps you would join me for a walk in the night air. It’s so much more pleasant than the daytime heat.”

***

The time dragged slowly by until at four-thirty I gave the order to man the guns, which had been primed and run out before we moved to the bay. Muskets and pistols, though, had not yet been loaded, as I didn’t want to risk having one dropped and going off.

Suddenly, a mighty explosion rent the pre-dawn sky in a blaze of light. The walls of the fort simply crumbled away, the huge cannons dropping and tumbling. A second explosion followed, and I knew the gunpowder store had blown.

“Do you think Nateby used bigger charges than was necessary?” I asked Marianna. “Still, the fort is no longer of any threat.”

The explosion was the signal for the men to haul in the anchors, which were, in any case, already up and down. With our sails dropped and tightened in the morning breeze, we sailed toward the enemy. At only a hundred yards from the shore, we again dropped anchor. The momentum swung the two ships sidelong onto the port, whereupon we dropped second anchors. We were now stationary gun platforms, our broadsides facing the enemy.

The sun peeked over the horizon enough for the gunners to aim their weapons. Two broadsides blasted out. The enemy on shore, still rushing from their tents and taking up weapons, were hit by a ton of iron. It was slaughter. The city of tents was ripped to shreds, and our victims flew in all directions.

Our captured galley now surged towards the beach. The Berber may have thought it was their own forces hastening to their aid, but a hundred sailors, along with another hundred freed slaves, poured ashore before the pirates had an inkling that they were undone.

The former slaves, bent on revenge, attacked like savages. Those Berbers who had survived the bombardment of our cannons stood little chance. They died in droves. Others tried to run for the desert, but most were downed by musket fire before they got very far.

A detachment of thirty seamen headed for the small palace, Anne Bonny and Daphne in the lead. Their task was more to prevent our former slaves from ravishing the harem, rather than subduing the enemy.

I had worried that one or both of the anchored galleys might fire on us. It turned out, however, that only a few guards had been left to watch over the sleeping slaves. We later learned that all of the guards had jumped overboard as soon as our cannons fired.

Halcombe’s party had arrived at the port. It was he who directed the two galleys to be brought to shore and the slaves released from their shackles.

The full morning sun found me climbing from my cutter with Davy, as ever, at my side. Jensen was already organising shelter, water, and food for the newly freed slaves. I headed for the palace.

The exterior was rather drab. But once inside, Marianna gasped, “My God, it’s beautiful.”

And so it was. The dazzling colour was provided by hundreds of silk drapes. Luxurious carpets covered the floor, and the chairs and benches were heaped with shimmering cushions.

I heard shrieks coming from a heavily curtained arena and, upon ordering the men to hold back, I cautiously eased one curtain aside with my sword, concerned the harem guards might still be there to offer resistance. There were none, however, and Marianna and I stepped through. Davy remained in the gap.

The shrieking ceased, replaced by a collective gasp when they saw two women appear in front of them. They began to babble, louder and louder. “Quiet,” I shouted.

One stepped out of the crowd of about thirty women and girls. “You are English,” she said. “What are you –  a pirate?”

I saw a young girl peering from behind her. “Remind you of anything, Marianna?” I said.

“Oh my God, Bren. Yes, it does! Mother and I, all those years ago.”

I waved my hands for quiet again. “We are not pirates,” I said. “We have just delivered you in the name of His Majesty the King of England. You are Lady Parkinson, I presume?”

Her hand flew to her mouth. “But how did you know? My husband – is he alive?”

I did not answer her just yet. Rather, I addressed the throng of females. “A few of my men will enter. You are quite safe. Ignore their rough looks. They answer to me and will not molest you. Raise your hand if you have understood me.”

Only about a half complied. “Marianna, please.”

Marianna repeated my words in Spanish and French. This time all but two raised their hands. These two had very pale white skin. Lady Parkinson told me that she believed them to be Icelanders. No one had been able to speak with them.

I pushed my way through to these two, who seemed frightened but defiant. I held out a hand and waited. Slowly they reached to take hold of my fingers. I bent and kissed their hands. I knew nothing of their language. All I could ask was… “Dansk, Norse, or…?“

Obviously, I had struck on something. The pale women began to jabber at me. I raised my hands and shrugged just as they grabbed hold of me and covered my face with kisses. Marianna, who had followed me, now pulled me back. She pointed at me and then at herself in a way that clearly stated I was hers. The two Nordic girls laughed, but now flung their arms about Marianna and subjected her to the same kisses I had received.

Marianna looked quite flustered once she had managed to extricate herself. I just got a glimpse of the hand that had been pressed between Marianna’s legs as they separated.

“Enough,” I said. “Please, will you all sit? I have things to organise.”

***

I called a conference of my officers. Even Taylor was invited.

Jensen had been busy talking to many of the freed slaves. It seemed it was several days’ ride to any place of significance, and he did not believe any of the pirates had fled on horse or camel. Those few who had run off on foot would not survive. The fishermen were not Berbers. Indeed, they had no love for the pirates. They had not been treated well in the least, and they were grateful our cannon fire had avoided the houses and storerooms of their small community.

This intelligence enabled me to decide that we could remain here safely for a time. There was a well with sweet water, and an ample supply of food. The men and former slaves soon built a small city of tents. A lookout station was established on the hill above the ruins of the fort. The ships were anchored with their guns pointing to sea. We had taken a few prisoners, whom we locked up safely in the small prison block.

With a guard roster set for the ships, I felt I could safely stay ashore. I made my headquarters in a wing of the palace, where Lady Parkinson came to see me. Why hadn’t she seen her husband? she asked. It was a question I didn’t want to answer. She saw my hesitation.

“I think I know,” she said. “He assumes that I’ve been defiled by that horrible man, the sheikh, or whatever he is. The truth is, I haven’t. I’m glad to say that he was too busy to bother with me or my Elizabeth. I can only guess my husband has disowned us. – There’s no need to answer. In a way, you already have. May I ask, how or where will you deliver us? I have nothing and nowhere to go. What I will do, I have no idea. The only thing I do know, and with certainty, is that you, Captain, have delivered us from these devils.” She hesitated a moment. “I see you and the one called Marianna. You are … together, are you not? I was not familiar with those things until I was brought to this place. Here, amongst us women, it is common. We give each other comfort. So far, thank God, my daughter has been spared, even though she has witnessed so much.”

“Lady Parkinson –”

“My name is Cynthia. It would please me should you not refer to me as Lady Parkinson anymore. I have no further use for the name or the title.”

“Cynthia,” I said, “I cannot yet answer your questions. Just be assured that you will not be abandoned. It is not my way.”

“Then, Captain, may I extend my heartfelt thanks. I am in your debt, and yours to command.”

Her implied statement hung in the air, but it was at that moment that Marianna pushed her way through the hanging silks. “May I interrupt?” She came and took my hand. “I have an inclination to go and to try to converse with the Icelanders. They appear to be asking for me. Besides, you seem pleasantly occupied.”

I laughed, knowing full well what she intended. “Go, love, but be aware, these Vikings can be dangerous.”

I noticed how Cynthia now stared at me. “So, you have an arrangement that allows for dalliance? And Marianne just implied you were occupied. May I ask, Captain, are you occupied?”

Before I could conjure a reply, another voice – a smaller one  – interrupted us. “The Captain, I owe her my life. She is the most wonderful and bravest person I’ve ever met. I want her to love you, Mother, but most of all, I want her to love me… to be my first.”

I sat astonished. Cynthia gasped. “Child, whatever are you saying? It is unheard of. It’s not to be conceived.”

“Oh, but it is, Mother,” the girl, Elizabeth, answered. “We would both have been taken by the sheikh, but we were saved by the grace of God. This woman, this captain, has delivered us, and she loves women. I saw that today. I have come to know that I want to be hers, if only for a day.”

“Do you truly understand what you are saying, my sweet? You are but twelve years of age.”

The girl answered by slipping her dress from her shoulders. It dropped to the floor, leaving her stark naked.

“I watched you and some of the other women,” she told her mother. “I saw what you did with them. Did you think I didn’t have feelings? Did you not consider that I might want comfort, too?”

It was my turn to speak. “Elizabeth, I was your age when Marianna and I first met and fell in love, so I know you’re not too young.” I held my hands out to them both. “Cynthia, your child has grown up.”

I led them to my curtained quarters. Two Nubians had filled the sunken bath with warm, scented water. I told them they could go, that they were free men, albeit they were eunuchs, but here they still were.

With a shout of glee, Elizabeth jumped straight into the bath. Cynthia was more reserved. I beckoned her to me. “You don’t have to do this,” I said. “I seek no rewards. You owe me nothing and I will still see you safe, somewhere that suits you.”

“Captain, it’s not regret. It’s my natural shyness returning. If you would perhaps undress, then I might follow.”

In moments my clothes were laid aside, and I was settling into the water. Elizabeth watched as her mother slowly disrobed. She grasped my arm. “My mama is beautiful, is she not, Captain?”

“You both are,” I told her.

“Really?”

“I swear it,” I said. “Perhaps, young lady, it’s time you gave me a kiss. Is that not possible?”

The girl splashed into my arms, her lips searching for mine as she straddled my thighs. She was tentative at first, but her fervour mounted as my hands explored her. I stroked the length of her back, then the cheeks of her arse and the cleft between them. She instinctively rose to meet my grip as she clung to me.

I felt a hand on my leg — Cynthia had joined us. She pushed my legs apart, sliding into my crotch. There was no hesitation now. Briefly, she kneaded my pussy lips before burrowing her finger inside.

The girl began to rock. She was riding my thigh, gasping in my ear. “Oh my! This is so…nice. I knew it would be. Oh God… please.”

Then she was shuddering as her arms gripped my neck. She jerked violently as the orgasm washed over her, and I had to wonder if it was indeed her first.

“Shall you take us to your bed, my Captain?” Cynthia said. “We would like to make love… no, we want to fuck you. There, I’ve said it. And it’s true. I want to see my daughter fucked for the first time, and you … well, it must needs be you.”

It was the strangest experience when the two Nubians dried us. They regarded it as nothing more than a duty, but I must confess, it made me feel like a queen.

Once again, Elizabeth led the way. She jumped onto the bed and lay with legs akimbo, her pussy on full display. Her expression was a delightful attempt at appearing seductive.

“So, who wants to fuck me?” she said. “Mother, Captain… or both?”

Cynthia feigned shock. “Goodness, how wicked she is!” Then she laughed with me.

Cynthia wanted to kiss her young daughter, I wanted my tongue in that beautiful little pussy. We both got our wish. The child’s legs folded about my head, drawing me deeper into her slit. She rocked her pussy against my face. If this was her first time, she was learning very fast. Her clit pressed to my nose as I tongue-fucked the tightest pussy I had ever known.

Hands were exploring my naked body. Two of them were small and could not reach very far. But the other two went everywhere, lingering only a moment here or there before moving on. A touch at my arse made me jump, but then it brushed the lips of my pussy.

Elizabeth squealed in delight. “Oh God yes! Here it comes again!” Her legs gripped me, and she began to shake, wailing again and again as she climaxed.

Now, a tongue pressed to my pussy. Hands raised my arse. Cynthia sucked at the juices flowing from me. Cynthia had been taught well by her “comforters” in the harem.

Elizabeth’s young lips pressed to mine, kissing me with a new-found passion. Her hands clutched my breasts. I pushed her girl’s head down, guiding her lips to a nipple. She understood, sucking quite hungrily, then biting.

I smacked her arse.

“Bitch!” I shouted. She only bit more emphatically. I grabbed her arse this time, pressing a finger to her hole. She tensed, but I didn’t hold back, forcing my way into the tightened ring. She raised her head and gaped at me. “Oh! That’s –!”

Her expression held both shock and pleasure as I pumped her arse. But she was dry, and I didn’t want to injure her. I lifted her and swung her around, spreading her cheeks wide and reaching for the twitching star with my tongue.

Cynthia meanwhile, had been working magic of her own. My cunt spasmed as it gripped her plunging fingers, and my clit throbbed beneath her flickering tongue.

“Come, Captain,” she said. “Come for your bitches.”

“Is that what we are, mother?” said Elizabeth between joyful gasps. “Are we her bitches?”

Cynthia didn’t answer. She only sucked more forcefully as she sensed my climax approaching.

“Fuck!” I cried as it doubled me over.

I had a brief thought … I hoped Marianna was enjoying herself as much as I was.

***

I enquired after Sir James, only to learn that he had been killed in the early stages of the landing. For all of his failings, cowardice was not one. He had fought like a true knight when surrounded by the barbarians.

Cynthia did not shed a tear. Indeed, her smile neither shocked nor surprised me. “I had thought I was destitute, with nowhere to turn. His death brings me wealth and social standing. I suppose I should grieve for him, but I cannot. He chose to abandon us, and his death is my salvation.”

My foremost concern was the disposition of the harem women and the hundreds of freed slaves. Many of the women were from various parts of North Africa, and some of these were not pleased to have been liberated. They had been content enough as pampered concubines. The Europeans, though, wanted to be returned to their own countries, a task quite beyond my capabilities.

Much the same situation applied to the men. I would need a good number of them to sail the two galleys and the brig away from here. The galleys I would take to Italy, where we would be paid a bounty for them. The brig would go to Gibraltar for prize money from the British, and the funds would be shared among the slaves. Our own men hardly needed more wealth than they already possessed.

The freed slaves, though, if taken to Gibraltar, would find themselves pressed into the Navy against their will, all except the few that had some social standing. Those native to the Mediterranean could be landed somewhere suitable, whence they could make their way home.

A few of the girls had already set themselves up in business with the sailors. As one said to me, “One stork is the same as another, at least I now get paid to dip it, and I’m free to pick and choose.”Others moved to the village to seek more suitable work or partners.

That still left about seventeen others, of whom several were only young girls. One or two had more or less grown up in the harem, with no inkling as to their origins. Only their language gave us any clue. We discussed the problem between us, but as of the moment, failed to find a solution.

I allowed the women to strip the palace and share the spoils fairly among themselves. I had also discovered the dead sheikh’s strong box, which contained a considerable amount of coin and jewels. I intended to estimate the value and apportion a share, in coin, to all of the freed men and women.

Halcombe had taken a party to retrieve the cannons from the fort. I thought the Navy might find a use for them. The carpenter had carried out what repairs he could to the galley we had attacked. The four captured ships were now provisioned and ready for sea. We had no trouble in finding volunteers to crew them, as long as they would not be rowing.

There had been sufficient officers among the captives to take temporary command of the ships. I left Taylor in command of the first galley. He had done well enough, his only weakness being his inability to navigate in the event we got separated. I soon found someone who could and who didn’t object to a mere seaman taking command.

The women were divided between the Majestic and the Siren. It was an amusing affair listening to them decide who wanted to go where and with whom, but finally, it was settled.

The last thing we did was blow the palace to pieces. It would not do to leave it for other pirates to use.

When the time came to raise anchor, the crew stood by, watching the two huge Nubians as they turned the windlass on their own. They had both begged to not be left behind.

“Lay a course due northeast,” I instructed. The Siren led a convoy of six ships, making it unlikely that anyone would venture anywhere near us. We should, if the winds were favourable, make Naples within two days.

I gave up worrying about what our passengers and crew got up to. The mingling of former concubines and lusty sailors almost ensured that I had no say in the matter – unless I had the women locked up between decks, and that was not my way.

Two days of good weather and no sightings of anything that might cause us concern left us with plenty of time to enjoy the Mediterranean sun and air. It was a pleasure and a relief to be on the open sea, free from the knowing gaze of love-sick girls and petty officials, where I could wear a breeches or a petticoat, as I chose, and let my titties stand unbound beneath my shirt.

I also had time to reflect on our future. Would we hunt more pirates, or perhaps head for fresh lands and waters?

Then, on one of his visits to the Siren, Jensen handed me a sheaf of papers. “Might you care to take a look at something I’ve been working on, Captain? Your thoughts would be appreciated.”

On the top page was written, in a hand far more elegant than I could ever manage,

From Gamine to Queen of the Seas
A Nautical Adventure
by Captain Sir Thomas Jensen

The End – for now.

***

Historical Note, or Busting Myths.

 Many books have been written that detail the supposed ‘facts’ of the Golden Age of Pirates. The vast majority do little other than either repeat or add to the many myths that others invented.

The first such book was A General History Of The Pyrates, published in 1724, only three years after Anne Bonny and her compatriots were imprisoned. The author was given as one Captain Charles Johnson. A 1728 reprint was a revised edition. More rubbish detail was added, all of which is almost certainly the product of the author’s imagination – one example being the biographies of three pirate captains who have since been proven to have never existed.

There are many problems with this book, not least that Captain Johnson himself didn’t exist, either. The name was a pseudonym. It has never been established who the author was, although many attribute the book to Daniel Defoe, author of Robinson Crusoe. This early history is directly responsible for the many of the legends that subsequent authors continue to peddle as accurate history.

In 1724 it was quite impossible that a writer would know all the details he presented as fact. And be certain—they are not! Nor could he have ever met more than but one or two (if any) of those portrayed in the book.

Anne Bonny, many books claim, was born in Kinsale, County Cork, Ireland. Her father is said to have been one William Cormac (sometimes McCormac), a lawyer in said county. The name of her mother, a servant, is given as Mary Brennan. Anne is said to have married James Bonny before they moved to Nassau, the Bahamas, where James is said to have worked as a spy or informant for Governor Woodes Rogers. She is often referred to as the Queen of the Pirates. Woodes Rogers’ proclamation refers to Anne Bonny, nee Fulford. So, where did the Fulford come from?

No such lawyer is registered as having practised in County Cork. Moreover, Woodes Rogers is known to have kept meticulous records of everyone who worked for him. Yet there is no record of a James Bonny. There are many stories, mostly contradictory, of James and Anne’s comings and goings, but Anne Bonny was never truly a pirate. She was a common prostitute who ran away to sea with Jack Rackham when Nassau was raided by the forces of Woodes Rogers. She spent only a little more than two months at sea before her and Rackham’s capture, and she is known to have robbed only one person, who gave evidence at her trial.

My research leads me to believe that Anne Bonny was initially a London prostitute who was lured to Nassau by the prospect of the good money that women of her profession were said to earn there. I do not believe she was Irish-born or that her name was ever Cormac. More likely, she was born with the name Bonny somewhere in the English Midlands.

Her most recent biography is Born of the Sea: The Untold Story of Anne Bonny and Mary Read by Kate Castle  – yet another heap of unsubstantiated rubbish that does nothing but perpetuate the myths surrounding Anne Bonny.

Nor do I believe any such person as James Bonny existed. There is no documented evidence of his ever having worked for Woodes Rogers, even though, as mentioned above, the man kept thorough records of his employees.

It is generally claimed that the time and place of Anne Bonny’s death are unknown. This is likely not true either. She is listed in the official register of the district of St Catherine’s (not a church), Jamaica, as being buried in the public cemetery in 1731. The cause of death is not given, which was often the case for prostitutes who died from the diseases common to their profession.

Calico Jack Rackham has become something of a legend among pirates, but the sad truth is he was a two-bit player. He achieved nothing of renown and never made any money. For the most part, he captained very small ships and attacked only tiny fishing boats that couldn’t put up a fight. The record of his ultimate capture suggests he was also something of a coward. The only truth to his legend is his eccentric style of dress.

All of the other historical characters we have brought into the story are more or less as we have portrayed them – or so it is claimed!

by Rosey M

July 1, 2006 – Rhonda

My mouth is so dry. It feels like it’s full of cotton or something. 

As I slowly came to, I realized I was tucked into Ashley’s bed, still naked under the covers. I sat up, exposing my bare chest. With a start, I realized Ashley was sitting next to me with her back against the headboard.

She had changed into a loose shirt and a pair of shorts while I was sleeping. My drowsy gaze hovered over the smooth flesh of her long legs, then up to the laptop resting on the bed. Ashley was regarding me with an amused smile as I wiped the sleep from my eyes.

Her tablet was braced against her knees, the stylus poised in her hand as if she was in the middle of drawing something. Ashley placed them both down by the laptop before reaching over to softly brush the hair out of my face. “Hey, sweetie. How are you feeling?”

I smiled blearily at her. “Good. Just thirsty.”

Ashley leaned away to grab her glass of water off the end table, then pushed it into my hands. I drained it in one large gulp, and my sister chuckled as she watched some of the liquid dribble down my chin and onto my neck. “Guess you needed that, huh? Want some more?”

I gave a vigorous nod, and Ashley plucked the glass from my hand, kissing me on my forehead before getting up to leave the room. She returned a minute later holding two glasses, passing one to me before moving her laptop and tablet on to the end table and settling herself back on the bed.

I drank half the glass before my thirst was satiated. “Is Mom back yet?”

“Nah, it’s only been a couple of hours since you fell asleep. I’ll be surprised if she stumbles in before midnight.”

As much as I dreaded having to see Mom again, I also just wanted to get it over with. I wasn’t sure what I was going to say, but some part of me was hoping she’d just go back to ignoring me like she used to. It used to hurt a little, until I realized it just worked better for all of us that way. Ashley and I could be together as much as we wanted, and Mom could drink herself into oblivion.

If I could just explain all of this to her, I’m sure Mom would agree with me. I knew she didn’t like me very much, but she must have wanted what was best for us all. Surely she loved me enough to realize that, right? 

The thought made me quiver in anxiety. I finally asked in a small voice, “Does Mom hate me?”

Ashley winced. “No, Rhonda, of course she doesn’t hate you! How could anybody ever hate you? You’re amazing! Mom’s just… she’s never been a very good mother, that’s all.

“She did all kinds of shit to me when I was younger, but I thought she’d moved past all the bullying. I thought maybe she’d find it harder to justify hurting you. I guess she just needed the right excuse to start up all that bullshit again. She’s a fucking cow, but that doesn’t mean she hates you. She hates me, but we’ve been at each other’s throats my whole life. I wish things could be different; you deserve so much better than this.”

My heart filled with love for Ashley, even as I began festering in anger at the thought of Mom hurting her growing up. I was really starting to hate her a little myself.

“You deserve better too, Ashley. W-will you tell me about what it was like when you were little? I wish I could have been old enough to protect you.”

A bitter chuckle escaped my sister’s mouth. “I’d never want you to stand in the line of fire for me. That’s an older sister’s job and mine until the end. Besides, I don’t want to drag you into any of my shit when we’re still dealing with all of this.”

I frowned at her. “But it’s okay for me to drag you into my sh-sh-shit?”

Ashley broke into peals of laughter. I huffed as I shoved her shoulder halfheartedly, and she wiped tears from her eyes. “Don’t swear, Rhonda! It is the weirdest thing I’ve ever heard, coming from your mouth.”

I stared at her beseechingly. “Please, Ashley? Be serious for a minute. You never talk about what it was like when you were younger. I… I just want to know more about your relationship with Mom.”

That sobered Ashley instantly. She ran a hand down her face like she always did when trying to regain her composure. “I never talk about it because I don’t have many nice things to say. Ugh! Do you really want to hear about all that stuff?”

I hardened my resolve, nodding firmly. Ashley groaned, then slid down the headboard until she was flat on her back. She lay in silence with her arm pressed against her forehead. It took a long moment before she began speaking.

Her voice stuttered and cracked as she recalled all the things I was too young to remember – What it was like before I was born and how lonely she had felt. How Mom and Dad were always drinking or fighting, or taking their frustrations out on her. All the times they would hit her over stupid things, and how nobody would say anything about Ashley’s bruises. One time, a counselor tried to speak to Ashley about her home life, and Ashley told me how much shit she’d caught for it when our parents got a visit afterward.

Ashley’s laugh was bitter when she talked about starting puberty, and how Mom would tell her to keep her legs closed around guys or else she’d probably grow up to be a slut who got knocked up by some piece of shit. Ashley had shot back by asking if that’s what happened to her, and Mom had beaten her black and blue for it.

I had the vaguest memory of Ashley limping around in pain when I was really little, but I didn’t really understand what had happened at the time. I’d never stopped to consider what she’d gone through when she was younger. I couldn’t bear the thought of it. Why hadn’t she told me any of this before? 

I listened in horror as she spoke about Dad leaving, and how unstable and angry our mother became afterward. How Ashley tried her hardest to keep Mom’s vitriol directed at her so I wouldn’t be in the firing line.

It only really stopped when Ashley overpowered and pinned our mom to the floor a couple of years before, only releasing her after the slew of screamed insults tapered off and Mom backed away in tears. Now Mom only tried to hit Ashley when she was good and wasted, too inebriated to recall the folly of those hard-learned lessons.

I felt appalled and ashamed by everything Ashley had been through in her struggle to protect me, wishing I could have made it all better, somehow. Sure, Mom had whacked me a few times, but I never had to experience much of her violent, hurtful side. The mom I got was the one who preferred to act like I was invisible. But I’d have taken the full force of her anger and violence if it meant Ashley didn’t have to.

I hated Mom for every unkind word she’d ever spoken to Ashley. Every punch, every demeaning insult. How dare she treat my sister like that!?

Ashley was getting distressed, and I realized we needed to stop talking about Mom. I soothed her until she calmed down a little, then cradled her head to my chest.

“I’m so sorry that happened to you, Ashley. I love you so, so much, and I’ll always be here for you. One day it’ll just be you and me, and we won’t have to deal with Mom ever again.”

It was Ashley’s turn to sniffle. “Fuck! Fuckfuckfuck. I love you, Rhonda. You’re my reason for living.”

She pressed her fists against her eyes to rub the tears away. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to say that. I don’t want you carrying that shit in your head like I do. I can’t seem to keep my guard up when I’m around you anymore. You’ll know all my secrets before long.”

I glared at her. “You don’t need to keep your guard up around me. I’m your sister, damn it!” Taking her in my arms, I whispered, “I want to know everything about you, Ashley.” I kissed her to show I meant it, and she returned my affections gratefully.

That’s how it’s always been with Ashley and me, then and now. All it takes is seeing my sister in pain, and my own worries fade into the background. I’ll never know how I managed to stay calm whenever she was unhappy or upset, but I was always glad for the chance to offer support when she needed it.

I knew she shouldn’t have to stand up for me the way she did earlier. I had to be stronger. For Ashley, for both of us. I decided I needed to talk to Mom alone. My mother had one thing right: I needed to grow up. And if that meant having a hard conversation without my sister there to protect me, so be it.

“There’s still time before your shift. You should go to work tonight.”

Ashley looked a little hurt at my words, so I rushed to explain. “I just think it’s silly for you to miss your shift because of this. I promise, I’ll be fine. Mom probably went out drinking, and she won’t be back until after you’re off, anyway. Not that I don’t want you here, but I’ll be okay by myself. I’ll probably just take a nap after you’ve gone.”

She didn’t look convinced, so I pulled out the big guns. “You know how much I trust you. But I need you to trust me, too. I’ll be fine. If Mom comes back, I’ll deal with it. I don’t want you to end up getting fired because of her. Please, Ashley?”

She ran her hand down her face again, but finally agreed. “There’s no changing your mind, is there? Fuck. Fine. But I want you to call the store if she gets back and it seems like she’s about to freak out. I’ll come racing home. I mean it, Rhonda.”

“Deal. Now can we cuddle before you go to work, or should I give you your room back and go hang out in mine?”

Ashley kept me right where I was.

***

Ashley left for work a little while later. They hadn’t been able to call anyone in to replace her, and were glad she could make it in. Thankfully it was a short shift, so she wouldn’t be gone for too long.

A couple of hours passed, but there was still no sign of Mom. The longer I waited, the more my nerves faltered.

I took a shower to take my mind off things. I don’t know how long I stood underneath the water, staring blankly at the tiled wall as I tried to put my thoughts in order. Eventually I turned the faucet off, got out and toweled myself dry. I went to my room to change into pajamas, then just stood by my dresser.

I could hear that buzzing noise in my ears again, making it hard to concentrate when I tried to think. I grabbed my book before returning to Ashley’s room, but I couldn’t focus on reading, either. The words were a jumbled mess on the page, and I was getting a headache trying to decipher them.

The light was hurting my eyes. Why was it so bright!? Frustrated, I threw the book onto Ashley’s nightstand, then tried to stand. I could barely summon any strength into my limbs as the world swam before my eyes. I stumbled over to the light switch to flick it off, barely making it back to the bed before my body buckled under me.

I curled myself up in the center of the mattress. It felt like the room was spinning, the colors of the pictures on the wall blending together. I shut my eyes to try and dispel the nausea.

I couldn’t clear my mind at all. I was filled with dread at the thought of facing my mom. Why did she have to be so horrible to us? Couldn’t she just ignore me like she used to?

But that wouldn’t be fair to Ashley. She’d gone through so much already, and Mom had to answer for how she treated us, didn’t she? But that would cause trouble for Ashley, too. Urgh!  Why did this have to be so hard to figure out!? What was I supposed to do?

I could barely move, as if my limbs, my head, my body had turned to stone. All I could do was lie there, knees tucked against my chest, whimpering, “Oh, God… oh, God…

Why didn’t I just let Ashley stay with me?

This feels awful…

***

The last of the light had already faded by the time I came to, and the room was bathed in darkness. My brain felt foggy, my mouth bone dry. I climbed off the bed, and even though my limbs were still weak, I was relieved to find them able to support me. I navigated my way to Ashley’s door and left the room.

Shuffling my way from the hall into the kitchen, I went straight for the sink. I drank directly from the faucet until my throat stopped feeling like it was coated in dust, then grabbed a cup to fill with water. As I held it under the tap, I heard the sound of glass clinking from the living room.

I flinched, causing the cup to slip from my hand and land by the drain with a loud clatter. Fortunately it didn’t break, and I let out a relieved sigh.

“Which one of you is that?”

The sound of the voice turned my insides to ice. I closed my eyes, feeling like my heart was about to beat out of my chest. I pressed a hand over it to try and gain some control. Calm down, Rhonda, I told myself. You knew you’d see her tonight. You’ve got this. 

Swallowing loudly, I slowly made my way over to the living room. It was dark, but I could still make out the shape of my mother sitting on the couch. I moved to the wall and flicked the light switch. As light flooded the room, Mom raised one arm to shield her face.

“Shit! What the fuck is wrong with you!? Are you trying to blind me or something!?”

As my vision adjusted, I spotted the case of beers on the coffee table. A few empty bottles were scattered haphazardly beside it. After several long moments, Mom lowered her hand and glared at me. “Oh, it’s you.”

She reeked of booze, and her vision seemed unfocused as she tried to keep me in her sights.

“Um, are you okay?” I asked reluctantly.

Mom looked at me like she didn’t quite understand the question. Then her eyes suddenly sharpened as she snapped, “What? I’m fine. I was just over at Heather’s.”

I was pretty sure her friend lived across the city. I went over to the window to check outside and saw Mom’s car, parked at an awkward angle between her space and Ashley’s. Alarmed, I turned back to her. “Did you drive home drunk?”

“What’s it to you? I’m in one piece, aren’t I?”

“It’s just, aren’t you not supposed to do that? I’ve seen commercials.”

“Well, you’re not supposed to fuck your sister, but apparently that’s fine these days.”

My heart sank. “What? W-we’re not—“

Mom interrupted me with a chuckle, “Oh, calm down. I’m just messing with you.”

She leaned forward to grab a bottle from the case, then slammed the top against the edge of the coffee table to pop the cap off. She slid the bottle towards me. “Here, have a beer. You and I need to chat while Ashley’s not here. Girl to girl.”

I made no move to reach for the bottle. Mom opened another and took a long swig. As she placed it back on the table, her attention turned back to me.

“Take the bottle, Rhonda. If Ashley thinks you’re a big enough girl to screw, then clearly you’re old enough to have a drink, right?”

I was rooted to the floor. Unable to form a reply, I shook my head, and Mom responded by slamming her fist down on the table, making the bottles rattle from the impact.

“Just take the fucking bottle already! I’m trying to be nice here!”

Her raised voice sent a jolt of dread through me. I stepped closer to the table and took the bottle of beer, cradled it awkwardly between my hands.

“There. Wasn’t so hard, was it?” Mom said in a congenial voice that was somehow more terrifying than the shouting. “Take a seat, Ronnie. Or do I have to shout to make you do that, too?”

She shifted her body to one side of the couch, and I moved to sit gingerly on the edge of the furthest cushion, ready to bolt at the slightest provocation.

Mom seemed satisfied that I’d done as I was told.. She grabbed her bottle for another drink, beckoning me to do the same. “Take a sip. It’s not gonna kill you.”

Hesitantly, I took the smallest sip I could while she watched me intently. It tasted so gross I couldn’t believe anyone would drink the stuff willingly. Mom burst out laughing at my look of disgust, so I tried to school my expression back to normal, wanting nothing more than to wash the foul taste from my mouth.

Her eyes had a cruel cast to them as she smiled at me and asked, “So, how long has Ashley been molesting you? When did it start?”

I couldn’t help but flinch. Awful as those words were, they sounded so much more perverse coming from her mouth. “It’s not like that…”

“Not like what? I have eyes and ears, Rhonda. You think I can’t tell when my girls are fucking? The walls are thin around here, hon. Frankly, I’ve heard enough of you two and your creepy shit to last me a lifetime.” Her voice shifted into a shrill, mocking tone. “‘Do you, uhhhhhhhh… wanna kiss again, Ash-leee? I’ll always have time for you, Aaash-leeeee. I love you soooooo much!”’

Mom shook her head in disgust. “Like, come on! Seriously? You think you’re actually in a relationship with her? You know your sister’s only messing around with you because she’s a fucking lunatic, right?”

I shrank away from the mockery in her voice; her words laying to rest any doubts about whether she’d actually heard us or not. The way she quoted them back to me made those cherished memories seem silly and childish.

“D-don’t talk about Ashley like that! She’s not a lunatic, and she’s not molesting me! We love each other!”

Mom rolled her eyes at me, then drained what was left of the bottle. “Whatever you say, Ronnie. You didn’t answer my question, though. Ashley’s been eyefucking you for years; when did she finally make a move?”

Why was she so focused on making Ashley sound so horrible? That’s not how it was, at all! “She didn’t! I was the one who started it. I asked her.”

My mom peered curiously at me, as if seeing me in a new light. “Oh! Well, never mind then! I guess I should be having this conversation with Ashley instead, huh?”

She started laughing again, but when I didn’t join in she extended her leg and kicked lightly at me. “Relaaaax, for God’s sake! I’m just fucking with you.” She looked up at the ceiling and sighed. “How’d I end up with two incestuous dykes for daughters, anyway? I don’t even know any queers that might have influenced either of you.” She studied me thoughtfully. “Is that what you are? A queer? Or do you think you’ll go back to normal and start taking dick when you’re older?”

I blushed at her coarse words. “N-no, I’ve only ever liked girls.”

“Well, I guess we’ll find out. But hey, I guess it could be worse. At least neither of you are out there slutting it up with guys. Imagine how the neighbors would react if I had two pregnant kids!”

I shook my head slowly from side to side. “That’s… No, Mom. I-I don’t even think I’m old enough to get pregnant!”

“You’d be surprised! Stuff like that happens sometimes when little girls are raped.” She leaned toward me and whispered conspiratorially, “Good thing Ashley’s a girl, huh?”

“It’s not rape!” I cried out. “We both wanted it! Ashley and me love each other, s-so can you just accept that, please? Things can just go back to normal between us. We won’t bother you, and you don’t need to bother us, okay?”

Mom studied me in silence for several long seconds, then grabbed another bottle. Cracking it open, she drained half its contents in one gulp. “Have another drink, Rhonda. I promise it’s better after the first taste.”

“I-I don’t want anymore, Mom. It’s gross.”

“Just do it, Rhonda. Have a drink with your mother and I’ll consider what you asked.”

I slowly raised the beer to my lips, tipping it back the slightest amount. Mom’s arm shot toward me and shoved the bottle forward, the rim clinking painfully against my front teeth.

She tilted the bottle until my mouth overflowed with the foul liquid, then spurted out of my nose as I began to choke. I wrenched myself out of her reach, coughing and sputtering as the bottle tumbled to the floor and shattered.

As I burst into tears, I realized the whole front of my shirt was soaked. “Why would you do that!?”

Mom’s face was hard as stone, eyeing me like a bug she was planning to squash. “Are you retarded? Why the hell would I ignore you two dykes fucking under my goddamned roof?”

“B-but you said!”

“’B-b-b-but you said!’” Her words turned to mockery once more as she began advancing toward me. “Get a grip, girl. I know Ashley turned you into a little lesbo, but I didn’t realize you’d caught her fucking insanity, too.”

The situation had already spiraled out of control. I needed Ashley! Turning tail, I raced toward the phone in the kitchen, Mom bellowing as she rushed after me. I’d barely taken hold of the receiver when I was roughly shoved to the ground.

Mom ripped the phone line out of the wall, then turned on me in fury. “Who the fuck are you gonna call, huh!? The cops? You think anyone’s gonna care what happens to a sick little freak like you!?”

I couldn’t stop sobbing as I looked up at her, terrified and miserable – but now furious, too. “I’ve had enough of this!” I screamed back. “You’re crazy! You’re the fucking lunatic!”

Pain exploded across the side of my face. I tried to shy away as Mom hovered over me, unleashing blow after blow. I curled up into a ball as she continued to hit me, begging her to stop, please stop!

The blows suddenly ceased as Mom roughly grabbed my wrist to pry my arm away from where it shielded my face. I cried out for her to stop, trying in vain to resist her pull.

A loud bang sounded from across the house, and Mom’s hold on me faltered. Suddenly she was roughly torn away from me. The kitchen seemed to shake as she was slammed against the wall. Confused, nearly delirious with terror, I peered up to see my sister bearing down on our mother.

Ashley looked angrier than I’d ever seen her, hands wrapped around Mom’s throat. “What the fuck did I tell you!?” she snarled. “Don’t you lay a hand on her, bitch! Fucking bitch!”

Mom’s panicked eyes flickered toward me, like she was expecting me to take her side, or tell Ashley there’d been a big misunderstanding and the two of us were just having a harmless little game of rough-and-tumble.

“Don’t look at Rhonda!” Ashley screamed. “Don’t you dare look at her! Look at me! I swear, I’ll choke the fucking life out of you, Kate.”

Mom’s hands scrabbled uselessly against Ashley’s as she tried to pry herself free, her eyes widening as she fought to breathe.

“Ashley, don’t! You’re killing her! Please stop!”

Ashley ignored my cries as she continued throttling Mom. I picked myself up and stumbled over to them, pulling helplessly at my sister’s arms.

Mom’s face was turning an alarming shade of purple, her struggles growing weaker by the second

“Ashley!” I begged. I don’t want you to do this! Stop! Please!”

Ashley seemed to notice me for the first time. She instantly released Mom’s throat as if it had burned her, then staggered away, pulling me with her.

Mom slid to the floor, taking in deep lungfuls of air. Her face had reverted to a deep flush, and I could see the imprint of Ashley’s fingers on her neck. I felt awful about what was happening, but Ashley showed not a hint of remorse.

Mom’s voice was raspy as she finally spoke. “A-Ashley. Y-you… you nearly killed me—”

“Shut up. You’re lucky I didn’t after what I just walked in on.”

Ashley’s grip was firm when she turned me around to face her. Her face softened as she examined me, looking for any serious injuries. “Are you okay?”

There was a dull ache throughout my whole body, the places my mother had struck feeling especially sore. My face hurt most of all, and it was all I could do to nod in reply.

Fresh tears swam at the thought of Ashley seeing me in such a sorry state. She reached up to touch my inflamed cheek, and I flinched away from the stinging pain.

I was so stupid to think I could help. All I wanted to do was work things out with Mom so Ashley didn’t have to worry about me all the time. Instead I just ended up making the situation worse, so my big sister had to rush to the rescue, just like always. Why couldn’t I do anything right?

Ashley held me as I broke down. “I’m sorry,” I kept mumbling over and over. “I’m so sorry.”

“Hey, come on, hon. None of that now, okay?” she told me, her voice sweet and soothing. “You did nothing wrong, this is all her fault.”

She kissed the top of my head, then gently pulled away. “Rhonda, can you do me a big favor and go rest in my room for a minute or two? I promise I’ll be right behind you; I’ve just got some things to sort out with Kate first.”

I began to panic all over again. “A-Ashley, please don’t get mad or, or hit her. I don’t want you getting in any more trouble ‘cause of me. I just want this day to b-be over!”

Ashley did her best to reassure me. “I swear to you, Rhonda. I’m not planning on starting things up again. I should,” she added, giving Mom a scathing look, “but for you, I won’t. I just need to speak to her for a moment. Please, just go lay down. I’ll be there soon.”

Part of me felt like I should be there to hear whatever it was Ashley had to say to Mom, but my need to be away from this whole screwed up situation won out, so I quietly headed towards my sister’s room.

I crawled under the covers and curled into a ball, trying to ignore my aching body and frayed nerves. I was completely burnt out after what seemed like the longest day of my life. After everything that happened that day – the confrontation with Mom at the mall, the sex with Ashley, the explosive violence of Mom’s return, my sister’s enraged response – I just wanted the world to stop for one minute.

I could hear the muffled sound of Ashley’s voice from the kitchen, but I couldn’t make out anything of Mom’s reply. The only word I could make out was morning. I tried to put it all out of my head as I melted into the sheets.

As I breathed in the familiar aroma of lavender and Ashley’s natural scent, the feeling that my brain was about to snap slowly began to recede. The smell always calmed me down when I grew anxious.

It would be only too easy to doze off and hope I’d wake to find that tonight had all been a bad dream, but what was the point in kidding myself? Besides, I wanted to wait for Ashley to make sure she was okay.

I didn’t have to wait too much longer before she opened the door and slipped inside. I heard her move closer until she stood by the side of the bed. I extracted myself from beneath the blanket, the dull throb in my body more acute now that I was no longer pumped with adrenaline.

Ashley sank to her knees in front of me, gently cradling my face in one hand while she pressed a washcloth filled with ice against my cheek. I flinched at both the cold and the sting, but Ashley held it there until it started to feel good against my heated skin.

She had me hold the ice pack while she climbed onto the bed, taking me in her arms.

We lay in silence for a while, until Ashley finally spoke, her voice low and strained. “I was so scared, Rhonda. When I saw the fucked-up way Kate parked the car, I knew she’d been boozing it up. Then when I opened the door, all I could hear was you screaming and crying. I-I couldn’t think, I could barely breathe. The next thing I know, I’m choking the life out of her, a-and you’re begging me to stop.”

Ashley leaned down to murmur in my ear. “I must’ve looked like a complete psycho, but what she was doing to you…” She gave her head a quick shake. “Guess I just lost it. Please don’t be scared of me, Rhonda. I-I don’t think I could take that.”

My nails scrunched into the back of her shirt for purchase as I whispered, “I’m not scared of you! Y-you saved me, Ashley. Mom was so angry. She just wouldn’t stop. I don’t know what would’ve happened if you hadn’t come.”

“I’m so sorry, Rhonda. I never should have left. It was stupid of me. I should have known she’d come back while I was gone.”

I realized Ashley was crying, and it was hard to maintain the tenuous control I had over my own emotions. The side of my face ached horribly as I tried to speak. “Ashley, it was my idea that you go to work, not yours. You didn’t know what was going to happen any more than I did.”

“I did, though! I know exactly what kind of fucking animal she is. She beat the shit out of you, for god’s sake! That’s on me for not thinking things through a little more.”

I tried to protest and tell her it wasn’t her fault but Ashley wasn’t done. “I can smell beer on you. Let me guess, she either dumped a bottle over you, or made you drink one? Or… fuck! She didn’t break it over your head, right? Right?”

Ashley’s voice was full of bile and vitriol, and I had to wonder if Mom had maybe done that very thing to her at some point in the past.

“N-no, she just made me drink some, then pushed the bottle into my mouth when I wouldn’t have any more.”

Ashley made a choked shrieking sound, her voice turning harsher than ever. “I’m going to kill her if it’s the last thing I do!” She made some effort to calm herself, then asked me, “How do you feel now?”

“I’m fine,” I mumbled. “Just sore and tired. Are you okay?”

Her weary laugh eased the tension somewhat. “I’m fine, too. Just angry, and concerned for you. I’m going to be having words with her in the morning, I promise. Whether it means you and me leaving, or her getting some fucking help, something’s got to give around here. We’re not doing this again.”

Ashley sighed, raising her head to peer into my eyes, “Do you think you might be able to get some sleep? I dunno about you but I’m ready for this day to end.”

I nodded in reply, and Ashley slowly got to her feet. “Need to use the bathroom?” she asked, and I shook my head.

Saying she’d be right back, Ashley left the room, leaving the door slightly ajar. I tentatively took the ice pack away from my face, reaching up to wipe moisture from my cheek. It was still sore, but not as bad as earlier.

Ashley’s face was bare of makeup when she returned, the dark circles under her eyes highlighting just how tired she looked. She pulled her shirt off and threw it into the corner of the room.

It was so not the time for these kinds of thoughts, but I couldn’t keep myself from staring at Ashley’s upper body. There was a layer of wiry muscle throughout her tall, lean frame that hinted at her being stronger than she looked. When she turned away to empty her pockets onto the end table, my eyes traced the curve of her back. She shimmied out of her pants, then balled them up, throwing them in the same direction as her shirt.

I followed the path of her legs all the way up to her butt, which was snugly encased in a pair of black panties. The sight had me tingling between my legs.

Ashley reached up to unclasp her matching bra, discarding it with the rest of her clothes. It left a series of faint lines on her skin, which somehow made her small breasts look even more erotic. I wondered how it would feel to trace my fingers along those small indents.

It was all I could do not to groan out loud. Why the hell was I thinking about all of that now? My skin felt hot, and I needed to shed some layers before I combusted. I awkwardly climbed off the bed and began to remove my pajamas.

Ashley sported a small smile as I undressed, but she visibly stiffened as my bare torso came into view. I glanced down at myself to see what she was looking at. There were several dark red marks where my mom had hit me.

Her voice was strained as she spoke. “Turn around, Rhonda.”

I slowly spun in place, and heard Ashley hiss when she saw my back and shoulders. “She’s fucking dead for this.”

Turning back to face her, I hesitantly asked, “I-is it really bad?”

Ashley ran a hand down her face, sighing deeply. “Well, it’s not good, that’s for sure. You’re gonna be sore all over, come the morning. And I guess you haven’t looked in the mirror yet, but you’ve got one hell of a bruise on the side of your face.”

I winced at her assessment. “It’ll heal. Just don’t get violent over this, please? It’s not worth it.”

Ashley’s expression hardened. “After what she did to you? She’s the one who took it this far; fair’s fair at this point, Rhonda.”

“Ashley, don’t!”

My sister fought to regain her composure, closing her eyes for a few heartbeats. “Fine, fine,” she finally muttered. “I’m just gonna talk to her, I promise.”

We climbed into bed together, Ashley spooning me from behind. I could feel her boobs pressing against my back as she wrapped both arms around me. It was comforting to feel her skin against mine as we lay there; I just wished this day had gone better so I could properly enjoy it.

“Do you think things are going to be okay, Ashley?”

Ashley buried her face in my hair, her breath tickling the back of my neck. “They will be, Rhonda. I’ll make sure of it.”

I tried to relax and go to sleep, but the day’s events played over and over in my mind. That and the feeling of Ashley’s bare breasts against my back.  It was a long time before I finally dozed off.

On to Chapter Six!

by Rachael Yukey

Tuesday, October 10th, 2006 

So far writing in my diary has been an evening thing, but today I’m up really early. I had a scary dream about Mom finding my diary… I don’t even want to THINK about that!

I have over an hour before Mom comes to wake me up, but I don’t think I’ll be able to sleep. Might as well get this thing caught up, cause there’s a whole lot to tell. I was writing last night about what happened Sunday. Here’s the rest of it.

Julie and I were on our own in her house, and we decided to check out the dirty novels Lisa had stashed in her and Jason’s bedroom.

I followed Julie up the stairs, tiptoeing even though there was nobody else in the house. It wasn’t just that we were going to look at somebody else’s stuff without asking. That was kind of bad, but the worst thing was us reading about people having sex. I knew EXACTLY what my parents would think of that.

The door to Jason and Lisa’s room was hanging open a little bit, and Julie pushed it the rest of the way. We slipped inside. It’s much smaller than Julie’s room. There’s a queen-sized bed with a nice green comforter that takes up almost half the space. There was also a closet and two dressers. The walls were light blue. Like Julie’s room, it all looked nice and new.

I was getting nervous.“How much trouble will we be in if we get caught in here?”

“None,” said Julie. “I’m allowed to be here. And Lisa never told me I couldn’t read her books. There’s no way anybody is getting up those stairs without making noise, so we won’t get caught. Even if we are, I’ll just say we didn’t know about the sex stuff and I thought it would be okay. I’m allowed to read any of Dad’s books.”

That made sense, so I felt a little less nervous. Lisa’s books were in a small shelf tucked inside the closet. Julie looked through them and brought one out.

“Let’s try this,” she said.

Holy crow, that book sure did have a lot of sex in it! We found the first sexy part before the end of the second page. It described a man and a woman getting naked and having sex in a lot of detail. I didn’t understand all of the words, but I caught the gist. Pretty soon I could feel that warm, tingly feeling creeping over my body. Julie must have felt it too. She was doing the reading and her voice was getting kind of unsteady towards the end. When the scene was over, her cheeks were flushed pink.

“Wow,” she said, slowly shaking her head, then looked up from the page. “Want to see if there’s more?”

I nodded. This was wrong, God was probably looking down at me and wagging his finger, but I didn’t care one little bit what God was thinking about anything right then. I wanted to hear more. Julie thumbed through the book, then flipped back a couple of pages.

“There we go!” she exclaimed. She shoved the book at me, with her thumb pointing to a place on the page. “Right there. It’s your turn.”

I read the first sentence… then stopped. My mouth felt dry and my heart was beating like crazy. It was describing two women kissing on the mouth, and using their tongues like married men and women do. Julie was watching me. I didn’t want her to think I was scared, so I made myself start reading again.

It went on for a long time, getting wilder and wilder. The women were kissing and touching one another all over, taking all their clothes off, and then using their fingers and even their MOUTHS on each other’s private parts. I found my mind drifting as I read, forming pictures like the story was a movie I was watching. First I was one of those ladies, and the other one was Jason’s girlfriend Lisa. That just popped into my head and it kinda freaked me out, but I kept reading. Then I saw myself doing sex with Officer Felter, and then… Lord God please help me…  I was picturing my new best friend Julie, who was sitting right next to me! I forced my mind back to where it was.

Julie was watching me, her mouth hanging open a bit. She was breathing all shuddery and weird, and I realized I was too. The room felt really warm, and I had that damp feeling in my underwear again. I should stop, I thought. I should stop right now. But I didn’t. I read all the way to the end of the chapter.

When I was done, me and Julie just sat there looking at each other. It was like time was frozen. Finally I had to break the silence. “Do you understand what all these words mean?” I asked her.

“Like what words?”

I thumbed back through the chapter. Those images of naked women wanted to pop right back up in my mind, but I forced them down.

“Like this one. Clitoris. Or here… orgasm.  Do you know what those are?”

“No, I don’t. But I know how we can find out.”

Julie stood up, grabbed my hand and pulled me to my feet. She put the book back on the shelf in the closet, then led me back downstairs, where she sat down at the computer in the living room.

“My computer doesn’t have the internet,” she said. “But Dad’s does!”

That surprised me. “Are… are you allowed to do that?”

“Use the internet? Sure! Dad says if he ever finds porn in the browsing history he’ll put a password on it, but that’s not what we’re looking for. If he asks, we’ll tell him we heard the words and just wanted to find out what they meant. Actually, that’s kind of true, huh?”

We both got giggling. Julie is pretty smart! She typed the word clitoris into the search bar and then we waited. Oh boy, was there lots of stuff! Definitions and pictures and whole websites. The pictures were fascinating. I mean, who knew our privates had this much stuff? Julie was reading aloud from one of the links we clicked.

“The clitoris is stimulated during sex and masturbation to provide pleasurable…”

I cut her off. “Hey! There’s that word you used when I was spending the night. Masturbation! Boy, was I wrong about how to spell it!”

That led to some more searches. What exactly was masturbation, and how did you do it? What about arousal, what’s that? We got a real education, and I was relieved to find out that the wet feeling in my panties (which was getting worse the longer we looked at this stuff) was a normal part of growing up and becoming sexual. Is that happening to me? I wondered. I don’t even have boobs yet!

It took a lot longer than I thought it would. Every search we did led to more questions and more searches. There was one website that suggested looking at your privates with a hand mirror to learn about them and I decided to do that as soon as I could. By then I was pretty sure that I knew what it meant to be aroused because it was happening to me, and I thought it was happening to Julie too.

I was really curious about orgasms. It sounded like the best thing in the world that a person can feel, and the websites we looked at said you could give yourself one by masturbating. I was struggling a little with that.  I was dying to try it but I’d just BET it was a sin.

Eventually, we saw it was getting late and closed the browser. Jason might be getting back any minute, and Julie had promised to start cooking the duck if he was on an ambulance call. We took Benjie for a walk, and when we got back Julie taught me how to prepare a duck for roasting. It’s not as easy as a chicken! But we had fun. We were just sliding it into the oven when Jason showed up.

He came into the kitchen, put an arm around Julie, and kissed the top of her head. He extended an arm to me, and tipped his head a little to the side. I hugged him, and he hugged me back.

“How’s the birdie?” he asked.

“Dead,” Julie replied. She put on a sad face. “We couldn’t save it, Daddy. We did everything we could. It’s resting in peace in the oven.” She cracked up, and I started laughing with her.

Jason snickered. “Do you want me to take over and do the side dishes?” He wanted to know.

Julie looked at me. “Whaddya think? You wanna cook the rest of supper with me, or should we let Old Guy do it and maybe end up with weird mystery food?”

I was getting over being shocked when she said stuff like that, and wanted to get in on the fun. “I think we’d better do it,” I said. “I like eating more when I know what I’m eating!”

“Jesus,” said Jason, rolling his eyes. “Queen Smart Ass, and Smart Ass in Training. Keep talking, you’ll both be cleaning the toilet with a toothbrush after dinner.” He left the kitchen.

Julie and I decided to do turnips and green beans to go with the duck, and after we put the turnips on to boil we wandered out into the living room with a little time to kill. Jason was in the new bathroom doing some kind of work. Julie grabbed an acoustic guitar off the wall and started strumming some chords. She’s not nearly as good as her dad but it was decent. I turned on the keyboard and just kind of made up a melody to go along with it.

After a minute or so Jason poked his head out of the bathroom and said, “Hey, look at that! Maybe monkeys can use tools after all.”

Julie stuck her tongue out at him and kept playing. We kept it up for a few minutes, then went back to check the food.

“How long have you been taking lessons?” she asked.

“Since I was six,” I said.

Julie looked impressed. “I’ve been playing guitar about a year,” she told me. “I’m not always the best about practicing, though. I like playing, and Dad says I have a good ear, but I’m not going to get where I want to be if I don’t work at it more.”

Julie and I finished preparing dinner, and the three of us sat down to eat. The Hansons don’t pray before meals, but it didn’t bother me. Food seems to work just fine whether God blesses it or not. And seriously, does he bless the food of every single Christian family that asks, all the time? How does he have time for anything else? And what’s wrong with me, that I’m having all these weird thoughts about God?

Never mind. The duck came out perfect, and everything was delicious. Jason complimented our cooking, then told us some funny stories about when he used to tour. He’s been to really cool places and seen some amazing stuff. But before he could finish eating, his pager sounded again. Seventy-three-year-old female, history of heart failure, having difficulty breathing. Jason got up, gave us a quick wave, and disappeared.

Julie and I cleared the table and put away the leftovers. We were just finishing that up when Lisa came home. She hugged and kissed both Julie and me, and her kiss was really close to my lips… any closer and it would have been right on my mouth.

I suddenly felt really warm and tingly. That image popped into my head again of Lisa kissing me with her tongue like those ladies in the book, as we took each other’s clothes off and touched each other all over. I pushed it away. What is WRONG with me?

My Dad called just after that to say he’d be picking me up in half an hour. It completely wrecked the good mood I was in… I didn’t want to go home. I flopped down on the couch and pressed my head back against the cushions.

Lisa sat on the arm of the couch and massaged the back of my neck with her fingers. It felt good, but I was still grumpy. Julie looked at me for a little bit without saying anything, then ran upstairs. She came back with the book we were on in our fantasy series, sat down next to me so our legs were touching, and started to read out loud. I closed my eyes and focused all of my attention on the fantasy in the book, so much better than the reality I had at home. Lisa took her hand away from my neck, then I heard her footsteps cross the room. The stairway door opened and closed, and I could hear her going up. I kept my eyes screwed shut as tight as I could.

I could hear Lisa moving around upstairs, right above where I was sitting, then she came back down. I opened my eyes as the stairway door opened, and then wished I’d left them closed. She was holding one of her books, and it was the same one Julie and I had looked at earlier in the day.

“Julie,” she asked, “were you reading this?”

Julie gave me a guilty look, and I shot a dirty one at her. She’d told me there was no WAY we were gonna get caught!

But when I looked back at Lisa, she was smiling. “That was a ‘yes’,” she said, “and you were both looking at it, weren’t you?”

Julie let out a long sigh, while I nodded my head helplessly. I was wondering how much trouble we were in, but Lisa didn’t look mad. Actually, she seemed kind of amused!

“Okay, girls,” she said. “Or maybe I should do like Jason does and call you ladies. You’re not really little girls anymore.”

Lisa crossed the room and sat down next to Julie, turned sideways a little so she was sort of facing us. The book was on her knee. I love the long skirts she wears, this one was powder blue and plaited. She also had a loose-fitting light green pullover shirt on.

“I don’t mind if you read my books,” she said. “You don’t need to be sneaky about it. All I ask is that they go back the same way I had them. This is part of a series, see?” She pointed to a small number on the binding. Julie looked a little sheepish; she was the one who had taken the book out and put it back.

“These books,” Lisa continued, “are… how shall I say it… kind of adult in nature. Sexual. Did that bother either of you? Or…” and she smiled again, “maybe that’s why you were interested in them in the first place.”

Julie blushed deep red, and I’m sure I looked about the same. Lisa’s smile got even bigger. “It’s okay,” she assured us. “There’s nothing wrong with being curious about sex. My aunt had books like this, and I started sneaking them out of her room when I was about your age. But I won’t make you do that. You can read my books anytime you want.” Her eyes met mine. “Both of you.”

“So it’s really okay?” said Julie.

“Sure,” said Lisa. “You don’t have to hide it. Mallory, you can even borrow one of them to take home, if you want. Would you like that?”

My voice was stuck in my throat, so I just nodded. Lisa rose from the couch and went back upstairs, returning a moment later with another book in her hand.

“Try this one,” she said. “It’s a stand-alone novel instead of a series. You can take it home and read it… just remember to bring it back when you’re finished.” She hesitated. “Or do you think your mom and dad will mind you reading books written for adults?”

I could tell by her face that she knew the answer to THAT question. In a sneaky kind of way she was telling me to make sure they didn’t see it. But I don’t think she has to worry, neither of my parents pays any attention at all to what I do anymore. I could probably read it right there in the living room and Mom wouldn’t even notice. Not that I’m dumb enough to do that!

I just gave her a sneaky sort of smile, took the book from her, then went over to the hook by the front door where my winter coat was hanging and stuffed it in a pocket. Mom just got that coat out of storage, and it’s a big bulky thing with huge pockets. My hat and mittens were in the other pocket, so now there was a bulge on both sides. Perfect! And wouldn’t you just know it, Dad picked that moment to pull up out front.

He never got out of the pickup, just honked the horn. Probably he was embarrassed by the whole ugly scene at the church and didn’t want to talk to anybody.

I got my coat on and hugged Lisa, then Julie. Julie and I hugged for a long, long time, holding onto each other really tight until Dad honked again. I let go of Julie and took hold of the doorknob, but before I could turn it Lisa covered my hand with hers and leaned in close.

“You know where we are if you need us,” she said softly. She kissed my cheek, then straightened up.

Feeling a little dazed, I got myself out the door. The wind had really picked up, and it was cold! I almost ran to the pickup.

Dad and I didn’t really talk on the way home. Just kinda said “Hi” to each other and left it at that. Lisa’s book felt really heavy in my coat pocket. Back at Julie’s house I’d felt sure I could get it home without anyone finding out, but now that Dad was just across the seat from me I felt like it could be seen right through my coat. But that was silly, he barely glanced at me the whole way home. I was more worried about Mom. Would she hug me and feel the lump in my pocket? Would she try to take my coat and hang it up for me?

But neither of those things happened. Mom was — you guessed it — watching TV when we got home. As I walked through the entryway and into the living room still wearing my coat she glanced up and said “Hi, sweetheart. I missed you. Don’t forget to hang up your coat.”

“Oh, I’m gonna leave it on till I warm up,” I told her. “It’s really cold out!”

“Okay, sweetie,” she said. Her attention had already gone back to the TV.

I went straight to my room, closed the door and pulled the book out of my pocket. There’s a little compartment up high in my closet that I found when I was five by climbing up onto the shelf… it goes back up into the ceiling and you can’t see it from the floor. Even standing on a chair I can’t actually see it, but I can reach into it. I’m pretty sure Mom doesn’t know it’s there. I’ve hidden all kinds of stuff in there since then and nobody has ever found any of it! Dad grew up in this house, but this wasn’t his room so I don’t think he knows about it either. There sure are advantages to living in a hundred-year-old farmhouse! I’ve been keeping this diary there. I got up on a chair and stuffed the book in there along with it, making sure to listen for footsteps on the stairs the whole time.

I went back downstairs and hung my coat up in the entryway. Mom’s program was ending, so she turned the TV off with the remote and got up as I came back into the living room. She gave me a hug that felt sad and stiff after the ones I’d had at Julie’s house.

“I’m going to bed,” she said in a flat voice. “Make sure you’re in bed on time, you have school tomorrow. I love you.” She turned, walked past Dad as if he wasn’t there and kept going down the hall towards their room. Dad sat down where she’d been and turned the TV back on, flipping through the channels till he found the news.

“I’m taking a bath,” I announced. He didn’t even look my way, just grunted.

I ran upstairs and got my pajamas, then came back down and locked myself in the bathroom. I got naked while my bath was running, then climbed in and lay back, closing my eyes.

Whenever I’m taking a bath and in no hurry to get out, I like to let my imagination wander, and right then, that’s exactly what I was in the mood for. First, I pictured myself in the fantasy universe Julie and I liked to read about, then imagined I was out on the road at some of the crazy gigs Jason had been telling us about. I saw myself as the star, with tens of thousands of people cheering for me. But really, I didn’t need anything that fancy. I just wanted to be anywhere but in this gloomy house.

So where, I wondered, is the best place I could be right now? That was easy, wherever Julie was. Getting hugged by her, and hugging her back. Then I imagined Lisa pulling us both into a giant group hug. Then it became more. We were touching each other all over, taking turns kissing one another on the mouth.

My eyes flew open. Stop it, I told myself. But I didn’t really want to — that tingly feeling was back.

Suddenly I had a thought. I got out of the tub, dripping water all over the floor. I dug around in the top drawer of the cabinet until I found the hand mirror Mom kept in there, then sat back down in the tub and pulled the plug. As the water ran out, I pulled my legs back so my knees were nearly touching my chest. Plucking the mirror from the edge of the tub, I slowly reached down with my free hand, feeling kind of jittery. The only time I ever touched myself there before was when I’m washing in the bath, or wiping after I pee.

I ran my hand across the outside of my – vulva. That’s the word all the websites use. When I did that, I shivered with excitement. I was feeling super-tingly! I worked my fingers down to where it opens, then brought the hand mirror down so I could see. Finally, using my thumb and a finger, I pulled the lips apart.

I took my time, putting my fingers on everything, thinking back to the words me and Julie saw online. The big lips on the outside are the labia majora, so these smaller ones must be the labia minora. Mine are hardly even there! The hole down at the bottom, that’s the vagina. It feels wetter than the rest of it… I don’t think that’s just damp from my bath! It’s more slippery than water. It feels especially good to run my fingers around the outside.

So if I go up a little more… where the heck is my urethra? I think that’s it. Forget about it. Moving along, a little bit higher… a strange fluttery feeling ran through me when I brushed a finger across my clitoris. I sucked in my breath. Once the tingling had stopped, I moved my fingers again, this time pushing down and drawing a little circle. That was nice, but when I touched my clitoris again this HUGE wave went through my body, starting down there and shooting up and out in every direction. I shuddered, and a little whimper escaped my lips.

I jerked my hand away. What on earth was that?!

I got out of there. I dried myself off, used the towel to mop up the water I’d dripped on the floor, then put on my PJs. Dad didn’t even look up from the TV as I passed him in the living room and got myself upstairs as fast as I could.

There was still time before I needed to go to bed, and the main thing I wanted to do was write in my diary about everything that happened that day. But when I got up on the chair and reached into my little hidey-hole, the first thing my hand found wasn’t my diary, but Lisa’s book.

I took them both down. I don’t worry about my parents coming upstairs after I’m in bed, they never do. There’s nothing up here except my bedroom and a storage room where Mom keeps seasonal stuff like winter coats and Christmas decorations.

I got onto my bed, propped a couple of pillows against the headboard and laid back against them. I’ll read a little of the book first, I decided. Just to see what it’s about.

It was a story about two ladies. One of them was in her thirties, made a lot of money, and liked women instead of men… a lesbian. The other was eighteen and really confused about everything. It wasn’t a very good book; I was thinking before the end of the first chapter that the fantasy novels Julie and I read were written a lot better. I started flipping ahead, just to see if anything exciting was going to happen.

It didn’t take long! I found a scene where the two women are alone together. For the younger lady it was her first time ever, and the older one was showing her what to do. My mind started forming pictures. I was the younger woman, and the older lady became Lisa. She was doing all the things the older woman in the story was doing, but in my mind she did them to me. I could almost feel her hands and her mouth caressing me, touching me, tasting me, loving me. My body felt like it was on fire, and my breath was coming in shuddery gasps. Almost by themselves, my hands were running up and down the inside of my thighs, coming almost all the way up to my privates… to my vulva. I’m not sure I like that word.

Thinking back to when I was in the bathtub, I pushed my pajama bottoms and my panties down and off, kicking them onto the carpet. With the book in my left hand, I reached down between my legs with the right. I started to read again, and began stroking my outer lips… my labia. I could feel a little bit of slippery moisture between the lips, especially down close to the bottom. Like before, I started pushing down harder and rubbing in a circle, and after a few seconds that wave hit me again. I gasped, pressed my head back against the pillow, and my butt lifted off the bed without me actually doing it.

This time I didn’t stop… I wanted more. Where has this been all my life? I slid the tip of my middle finger down into the slit. It was really wet and slippery there, and I liked the way it felt. Then I ran my finger around the outside edge of my vagina, and I liked that even better! I was tempted for a second to put my finger inside, but I wasn’t quite that brave. What if it hurt?

My finger was all gooey now, and I moved it up to the little bud of my clitoris. By now I was aching with need and didn’t want to wait — I started rubbing it right away, doing those slow little circles. A few seconds later one of those waves hit me again, stronger than before. I had to suck in my breath to keep from moaning out loud. I usually don’t worry too much about making noise in my room, cause the TV is usually on downstairs if someone’s up, and Mom and Dad’s bedroom is at the opposite end of the house. But this was something I did NOT want to get caught doing!

I kept going, the waves kept coming, and every one of them felt amazing. They were coming faster and harder… and I was rubbing pretty fast and hard, too! My breath was coming in short gasps. Something was rising inside of my body, something big and powerful and heavenly and…

All at once I stopped, horrified. What was I doing? Would God like it? I was pretty sure he wouldn’t.

Pulling the blanket up over my head, I scrunched myself into a ball. The hand I’d been using between my legs was near my face, and suddenly I was breathing in what I smelled like down there. It shocked me to realize that I liked it.

Nothing could keep me from doing what I did then. I brought those sticky, wet fingers right up to my nose and drew in a deep breath. I shivered, feeling a powerful urge to put my hand back down there and finish what I had started. Somehow I resisted. Instead, I prayed. Oh Heavenly Father, please forgive this sinner for what she has done tonight. Take these feelings and thoughts away, please, and I’ll try much harder from now on to obey your commandments and honor your word. In the name of your son, my Lord and Saviour Jesus Christ, Amen.

I was trembling all over, almost crying. I pulled my legs up to my chest and wrapped both arms around them. I was naked from the waist down and my light was still on, but I didn’t care. Curled up tight with my head under the blanket, I could smell the juices on my fingers and probably also between my legs, and I didn’t care about that either. I’m not sure how long I lay there like that, but eventually I drifted off to sleep.

On to Chapter Five!

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

by kinkychic and kinky’s_sis

Chapter Eight: Encounter In Gibraltar

Mister Walpole, the British Prime Minister, had asked me to attend on him one last time. Then we would be free to be on our way. Another gentleman was introduced to me as the Foreign Secretary.

“Good morning, Captain Dawlish, Sir.” That word sir still put a chill in my bones. “We have a request, one or two really, that we would like to put to you. I must stress that whatever you decide is entirely your right and choice. But your country would be grateful should you decide to assist us.”

He moved to a large map of the Mediterranean that was tacked upon the wall. “You will, I’m sure, be aware of our recent problems with the Spanish, although it was all supposed to have been resolved last year. Between you and me, I don’t trust them and I would very much like to know what they’re up to – are they strengthening their fleet and so on.”

He waited to see if I concurred. “Your status is somewhat unusual. You are not under our command, yet you are not a privateer as such. So, what exactly are you? In law, you are a private citizen free to do as you choose. In practice, you have a formidable fighting force. His Majesty would very much like you to be working with us, even if you’re not directly under our command. Do you follow me so far, Captain?”

I must confess, I rather liked the notion of where this might be going, but what had the Mediterranean to do with it?

“We, with some considerable opposition from certain quarters, would suggest that you carry the status of Royal Ranger,” Walpole said. “You would carry the appropriate documents to confirm your situation. Admiral Sir Fleming wants you back in the Caribbean, but we want you here, for now at least.”

He tapped the chart.

“The Navy is stretched far and wide,” he said. “We simply don’t have enough ships in any one place to make an effective force. You now have two of the fastest ships compared to any navy, and they should be put to good use. We have two objectives in mind. One is to find out what the Spanish are up to. Are their fleets truly at rest, or are they being refitted and readied for conflict?

“The second objective is rather different. Have you heard of the Barbary pirates?”

“To be honest, I thought them something of a joke,” I said.

“I can assure you, Captain, they are no joke. They attack merchant ships of all European nations sailing in the Mediterranean, as well as raiding the northern shores. They have taken somewhere around a million white slaves over the last fifty years or so. They use galleys with both sail and oars, and each ship has a huge, spiked ram. They can carry anything up to five hundred men, and they are quite formidable.

“The Spanish, French, and Italian states, as well as His Majesty’s government, will pay a bounty for any captured galley. They operate mainly from these ports on the Barbary Coast.” He indicated Salé, Rabat, Algiers, Tunis and Tripoli. “But if you get the opportunity, I want them sunk. The one problem with that is, many are rowed by slaves, but some by crack crews. Naturally, we don’t expect you to sink the prisoners.

“If you are agreed, I will have the documents and your orders drawn up at once. You would have your own colours to fly, and our ships would be advised accordingly. A warning though, Captain. do not get yourself captured by these pirates. We would never see you again.”

This seemed a rewarding endeavour, but it wasn’t a decision I could make on my own. I asked for two days before I would give my answer. I was wondering how many of my men I would lose. They were rich now, and some would want to enjoy their wealth rather than run about the globe in pursuit of the King’s enemies.

***

In the event, we only lost eleven of the crew, none of great importance. Davy and Taylor told me there were over sixty good men and plenty who were ready to join us, though many were inexperienced. We wouldn’t be short-handed. All of my officers were keen on the adventure. I also took on the services of a Naval captain’s clerk. He was an affable fellow who preferred to be at sea, though not in any fighting capacity. He would serve as a part-qualified accountant and a scribe. He would, of course, learn my identity in time. An extra bit of coin in his purse would keep him from divulging it, should he choose to return to England.

The only significant questions from the crew had to do with status and discipline. The men would not be Naval personnel, nor would they be treated as such. Our status would be ill-defined – something between a merchantman, a privateer, or a mercenary – but with the King’s authority behind us. Our code of discipline would remain as it always had been, so long as the men recognised the ships were mine and I could not be overthrown. I emphasised that any man was free to leave, at any time, should he so choose.

Three days later and we sailed into strong winds through the Thames Estuary, which meant a considerable number of tacks before we made the English Channel. Then the wind was with us and I had a chance to see how the Royal Siren flew before it. We achieved an astonishing fourteen knots. She was indeed fast.

I saw distinct pride in the faces of the sail handlers. They were clearly delighted with what their rejuvenated ship could do. “She flies, Captain,” the sail master said. “The best ship I ever handled. We will run circles ’round them dons and barbarians.”

The weather moderated for our crossing of the notorious Bay of Biscay, where some of the highest seas in the world may be encountered and many ships have been lost. I took the opportunity to roll out our new guns, and to see what our new crew were made of. Down past Portugal we continued, as the guns roared out again and again. We tacked many times. By the time we reached Gibraltar, I was content. We were a true fighting force.

Gibraltar was nothing more than a garrison town that housed a few thousand British soldiers and a newly constructed Naval base, as well as the wealth of drinking establishments and whorehouses that spring up wherever the British plant their flag. How they all got there was a puzzle to me, as Gibraltar was cut off from the mainland and constantly under threat from the Spanish.

“Have your fun, but there will be no fighting with the Army,” I told the men. “We sail in three days. Find yourself in a cell, and you’ll be left behind.”

I paid my respects to the Port Admiral’s office. It was imperative that he be made aware of our presence and our purpose. At first, he scoffed. “Royal Ranger, indeed, acting independently? And with a boy in command! Quite absurd, if I may say.”

“As you please,” I said. “But my successes speak for themselves, and the King evidently agrees. You may address me as Sir Bren.”

“Hmph!”

Holding my temper, I explained in detail what we were about, and the advantage to his operations of our freedom and speed of movement. He appeared somewhat mollified and grudgingly admitted that we might be of some use. He would reserve judgement. “But don’t go getting yourselves in trouble, I don’t have ships to spare to come looking for some young pirate – ” He stopped mid-sentence. “I beg your pardon, Sir Bren. A poor choice of words.”

He looked at me intently. Such moments had begun to make me anxious. What did he see? His Majesty had kept my secret, I supposed, because it amused him, and to reveal it would undermine the goodwill my presence had built up with his subjects. The popinjay before me would have no such qualms.

“Well,” he said at last, “the King and the Prime Minister seem to have placed a great deal of faith in you. I trust it’s warranted. I suggest it’s for you to get yourselves out there and convince me.”

He glanced at the orders I had delivered. “You have free access to the dockyard and for victualling. When do you plan on sailing?”

“Admiral, this situation is as new to me as it is to you,” I replied. “We are here to assist you and the rest of the Mediterranean fleet. We shall learn as we go. As to getting in trouble — it’s what I do best, but I always come out on top. The Royal Siren is the fastest ship you have ever seen. No Spaniard or Barbary pirate will catch me … unless I want him to.”

***

There was one more function to attend. I might have refused, but the admiral’s nose was already far enough out of joint, and I thought it best to be polite.

It was a pleasant enough affair. I would guess about a hundred sat for a superb dinner, though I have no idea who made the seating arrangements, which were not at all to my liking. Marianna, Jensen, and I were split quite far apart. I had the pompous admiral on one side and some general on the other, which brought home to me just how much my world had changed, and how much I had to lose.

Watching Marianna, I saw how at ease she was and how clearly she relished the attention she received. This had been her world and she knew how to deal with whatever came her way. Once again, her presence bolstered my reputation as a virile young man.

The general tried his best to put me at my ease, but he was quite uncertain of how I fit into his society. I was a Knight of the Realm and a captain of questionable status. Yet, to him, I was almost a child, and he found it difficult to believe the stories he’d heard of me.

The dinner was over, but not the proceedings.

“Your attention, please, for Captain Sir Thomas Jensen.”

Tom had, by now, polished the story of the Siren and the seventy-four into a smashing yarn. I was more than happy to give him the floor. Recounting the tale myself always made me feel I was boasting. The general glanced at me several times as Tom spoke. When he got to the end, the crowd rose, the ladies clapped, and the men mostly thumped the tables. It was a deafening sound.

After everyone was reseated, it was the general who rose to make the reply. For a moment he spluttered a little, as if at a loss for words. But he pulled himself together.

“I will begin with a confession,” he said. “When first I heard of our good captain’s exploits, I rather thought them hugely exaggerated. Then when I first met him this evening, I felt confirmed in my belief. How could such a young man, almost a boy, possibly have directed such naval actions? It’s quite beyond understanding.”

He paused to gather his thoughts. “Yet, now we are told the story. A story of daring, of bravery under fire, of decisions made faster than the blink of an eye. And, as I understand it, it’s only one of other such actions … one of which it would be indelicate to mention.”

This last caused a ripple of laughter, especially from among the officers of the Army.

“Now I must reappraise my thoughts,” the general continued. “They were clearly wrong. We have a gallant captain, and what’s more, he fights for us. He brings a force of his own to be thrown at the enemy. I ask you, ladies and gentlemen, raise a glass to both Captain Sir Bren Dawlish and Captain Sir Thomas Jenson.”

Shortly afterward, I somehow managed to sneak away, leaving both Jensen and Marianna surrounded by admirers. No doubt many were curious as to Marianna’s heritage. I took my glass of fine claret and wandered outside to a balcony, where I admired the view of the harbour.

A voice interrupted my reverie. “Captain, may I intrude?”

I turned to find an angel standing beside me. Her poise and confidence were obvious, yet she appeared to be no more than fifteen years of age.

Her beauty was quite startling, with a fragility one wanted to protect, yet with an unmistakable strength beneath. Too late, I realised I was staring at her. She laughed with a sweet tinkling sound.

“I am used to stares, Captain,” she said. “I usually don’t want them, but from you…” She allowed the sentence to go unfinished. “I hear things – of the beautiful Doña Marianna and you…” She held out a hand, “Will you walk with me, Captain? I would not be offended if you decline, but I would not forgive myself if I didn’t at least try.”

I didn’t mean to be rude, but nonetheless, I was.

“Girl, go away. You don’t know what you’re asking. Play your games with someone else.”

Her hand didn’t waver.

“Captain, it’s no game,” she said. “I will go if that’s what you want, but I ask – are you sure?”

I have no idea what possessed me, but I found myself taking her hand. We descended the steps into the garden. She seemed to know where she was going, so I let her lead the way. She suddenly held me back.

“Captain, don’t misunderstand,” she said. “I will not come between you and your woman, but if I may take a moment of your time, will you kiss me?”

I didn’t get much of a chance to decide. She went up on her toes and planted her lips on mine. I found myself kissing her back and drawing her up into my arms. There was need and urgency in her kiss, even though it seemed wholly inexperienced. Our embrace rapidly became more passionate, until she pulled back with a jerk. “Shall we go and sit? I know a place.”

I hesitated, and she noticed. “For just one moment of your life, Captain, you can make a lonely girl happy. That’s all I ask, nothing more.” She was gently tugging at my hand. “Please.”

I felt myself follow as she led me around several corners to a bench concealed in the shadows. It was an insane risk, but the prospect of taking her full young breasts in hand was proving difficult to resist. And if I kept my breeches on, this naive child would be none the wiser.

She leapt into my arms, her lips hard to mine, barely pausing for breath. “Will you…” Now her uncertainty showed, although I could barely see her face. Her poise was gone. It had got her this far, but now –

“I don’t even know your name,” I said.

She answered in a quiet, even timid, voice. “My name is Geraldine. My father is an Army major, my mother is dead. I’ve never done anything like this before, but I have thought about it. My feelings are so very real. Then this evening I saw you. I knew… it had to be you. It took every bit of my courage. I tried so hard to look experienced, to show you that I wasn’t just a child. I haven’t succeeded, have I?”

I kissed her forehead. “Perhaps you have, Geraldine. You are remarkably beautiful, I believe you are aware of that. I would guess Gibraltar is not the easiest of places in which to gain experience. Yet I assure you, it can be done. Now, shall we not kiss once more?”

She melted into my arms. She wasn’t trying to impress me, she merely wanted to be loved, if only for a moment. I eased open the fastenings of her bodice, and a breast came into my hand. For a moment I regretted that I could not see clearly, but in the darkness, with only my sense of touch to guide me, I savoured all the more the weight, the even texture, the perfection of form. Her nipples quickly stiffened beneath my fingers. Her sigh of pleasure was a delight to hear.

Soon her hands were fumbling along my chest, and further down. I pushed her back. “No,” I said. “It’s your pleasure that matters.”

“Please,” she said. “I want to learn. Allow me, and I swear to you – I won’t tell anyone you’re a woman.”

Astonishment froze me rigid.

“I knew the moment you entered the hall,” she went on.

“You’re not such a child, after all.”

“I saw myself in you. Dressed as a man, leading a man’s life – meeting them on their own terms and beating them. And the fools have no conception. It’s the most exciting thing I’ve ever heard of.”

“Yes,” I said. “Women love a woman in uniform.”

“Don’t make fun!” she laughed, with a playful smack to my hand. “Quickly, before they miss us.”

I removed the sash from my waist, the coat was tossed aside, and the buttons to my shirt were soon undone. I hesitated at the clips to my breeches, but she nodded once more. I went to pull her close again, but instead, she held me back. She spread my shirt wide, exposing my breasts. She felt them in the darkness, as I had done hers. “So firm,” she said. Her hands covered each one and she took my nipples between her fingers, rolling them softly. I could just see her expression as she marvelled at how they grew.

I pulled her closer. “Kiss them, suck on them.”

She glanced up at me with a look of surprise. “Really?” But she bent her head and surrounded one nipple with her lips. I felt the uncertain touch of her tongue caress the tip before she drew it into her mouth.

I lifted the girl’s skirt, feeling the smooth warmth of her thighs and the wetness between her legs. She jolted at the touch but then pressed forward as my fingers eased further into her depths. Her hand forced its way into the front of my breeches, and her fingers found my pussy. Now she seemed uncertain.

“Feel my fingers in you, Geraldine,” I said. “I’m going to play… oh, fuck it! I’m going to fuck your virgin cunt. Do as I do. Fuck me as well. You hear?”

She sighed as I felt the heat of her need. “Yes, Captain. I will … fuck your cunt.”

“No need to be formal. You may call me Bren.”

“I prefer Captain.”

“As you please.”

Her fingers went between my lips, sliding easily into me. My pussy was dripping by now. I needed this child – her admiration flattered and excited me. She copied my movements, fucking me as I fucked her.

I had forgotten her hand on my tit, but then it squeezed, more firmly and confidently. I pulled her nipple, twisting it between my fingers. Again, she did the same.

“Harder, girl,” I said. “As hard as you like.”

I moved to her clit and gave it a pinch. This time, she yelped, then: “Oh, do that again!”

She was a bright, eager student. Soon she was rolling my clit between two fingers. When I shivered, she rubbed it up and down, pressing as she stroked. I briefly thought she must be remembering what she does to herself. But was she? It was an intriguing game, guessing just how much this girl knew.

“Are you able to come?” I asked.

“What is that?”

“A peak of pleasure – ”

“Yes! Yes, I do!”

Then, suddenly, I was coming myself. I hadn’t expected to, not so quickly. But I was on the balls of my feet and shaking violently as my orgasm engulfed me.

I heard clapping, and then a gasp. The gasp was from Geraldine. The applause was Marianna’s.

“So beautiful to see!” she said. “You clever little girl, how you have made my Bren come! You will now come to me and I will take you there.”

She took hold of Geraldine’s shoulders and laid her gently on the bench, her skirts hiked above her waist. She straddled the girl, hiding her face within her skirts, and bent down towards the child’s exposed pussy. “Now do as I do.”

There was a muffled reply. Marianna licked the glistening lips from top to bottom, then dipped her tongue slowly between.

“I’m waiting, girl. If you want me to go on, then you must return the favour.” Suddenly she sighed. “Oh yes, that’s better!”

She dived back into Geraldine’s cunt. I listened to the sucking and slurping in the dim light. The girl raised her knees, then her hips as she begged for more. I knew Marianna would have her girl coming in no time, and so it was. Geraldine’s legs extended straight and stiff, but they were shaking.

Marianna raised her head to look at me, “Kiss me, my darling… ooh, dio mio, muy bueno.” I obliged, and felt her coming through the kiss. When we parted, she said, “Now help me off before I suffocate the girl.”

Geraldine lay with a look of bliss on her face, even as she gasped for air. When her breathing had eased, she said, “Help me up, please.”

We sat down on either side of her and she held both our hands. “You just made my dreams come true. Not just one, but two of you. And words that I had dared not speak, but you did, you spoke them freely. You fucked my cunt and, more importantly, I fucked yours, Captain, and I sucked yours, Marianna.”

We straightened our clothes. I suggested we stroll arm in arm, with Geraldine in between, around the front of the building. “Anyone seeing us will think we’ve just had a pleasant walk and not a glorious fuck,” I said. That had Geraldine giggling more like the girl she really was. Or had been.

We stopped by before the grand entrance. “I’m here for at least another eighteen months,” Geraldine said. “So anytime you are passing and would like to give a young girl a fuck, come find me.” She began to walk away, but turned back. “Now when I play with my pussy, I have two beautiful ladies to dream about.” She handed me a card and skipped up the steps.

***

It was a bad night to be sailing east in the Mediterranean. The waves were mountainous, crashing across the deck. We had barely any sail on, only sufficient to keep us pointing into the roiling seas.

Only hours after departing Gibraltar and the sweet Geraldine, the storm had struck, bringing the highest seas I had ever experienced. One swell after another towered above us. The ship would somehow fight its way to the top, then plunge into the depths below. At times it seemed we would not rise again as we disappeared beneath another mountain of water.

Somehow though, we would rise, and I would release my breath. And so it went, hour after hour. We had long since lost sight of the Royal Majestic. God knew where she would be in the morning if we or she survived.

A dismal light heralded the day. The sailing master yelled, “Wind be easing, Captain.” It had abated the smallest amount.

Another two hours and the wind had dropped considerably, though the sea still rolled like moving hills. As expected, there was no sign of the Majestic. Jensen and I had agreed that if we were to become separated, we would head for the Spanish coast and search for one another between Malaga and Cartagena. We were not to approach Cartagena too closely, however, as there could be any number of Spanish ships inside the bay that hid the anchorage.

But we found the Majestic easily enough. She had got through the storm with only superficial damage. Once reunited, we sailed from port to port without encountering any sign of unusual activity. Most of the Spanish ships that crossed our path were clearly not in any state of readiness for war. I saw little that should concern the admiral. The Spanish, in their turn, ignored us, all except for one place known as Roses.

This port had been raided often by the Barbary pirates. Several defensive fortifications had been built in response, but to no avail. The pirates still came.

We anchored in the bay to purchase fresh supplies. When the garrison learned of our intentions, their poorly hidden antagonism turned to offers of help. We were feted as friends. Services were provided to make good our storm damage. In fact, they couldn’t do enough for us.

Two senior Spanish naval officers asked permission to come aboard. They offered to sail with us, which I declined, though I was grateful for their intelligence as to the Barbary pirates’ methods. It seemed their galleys generally carried only one cannon of any significance, usually a twenty-four-pounder mounted at the bow, which meant it could be brought to bear only when the galley was pointed directly at its prey. They would try to ram with their huge spike and then board over their bow. On the other hand, they would run for cover at the sight of a warship.

It seemed everyone in the town wanted to meet us. Even a nunnery, one which had suffered at the pirates’ hands, wanted us to come and take prayers with them.

“What?” I exclaimed. “Me in a nunnery? Surely, you’re not serious, Marianna.”

“Oh, but I am. I’ve seen this order of nuns before. They have novitiates down to very tender ages – flat-chested things as young as nine or ten. Now, why do you suppose that is?”

“Well, they’re religious. They say prayers, they meditate, and whatever devout women do … don’t they?”

“The order was established a long time ago to help penitent women such as whores and fallen girls. I would guess at some naughty things in addition to their prayers. It might be worth our time to pay a visit. The one in Malta is quite famous. This one, I’ve not heard of.”

The church was dedicated to Saint Mary Magdalene, and its interior was stunningly beautiful. The order was obviously not poor. There was a building next door where the nuns spent most of their time, and another in which the “fallen” women were housed. We were shown into what was clearly the dining hall, although I would hardly call the simple meal of wine, bread, cheese, and olives “dining.”

First, we were greeted by each nun with a sort of virginal embrace. Marianna, to their delight, addressed them in Spanish. She asked them a question, so I gathered, as she held for their inspection a small vial she had drawn from her bosom. “Si! Si!” the nuns said, nodding vigorously.

Marianna took the younger girls aside for what looked to me like some solemn Popish ritual. They stepped up to her in turn, hands folded in prayer-like fashion, and Marianna anointed each one with a drop from the vial, making the sign of the cross first on the girl’s forehead, and then on her lips. My mischievous sweetheart had become the serpent in the garden.

As we took our seats at the table, I asked her, “What did you tell them it was?”

“Holy water, blessed by Saint Catherine herself.”

“You’re a superstitious lot,” I said.

“Do you mock our faith?”

The bread was scarcely broken before the girls began to grow restless, then visibly agitated. A few pairs held hands, while others seemed to be reaching beneath the table into their neighbour’s lap.

I wasn’t the only one who noticed. The Mother Superior, along with one or two of the other nuns, was looking askance at her charges. She turned to me, at a loss to explain this extraordinary behaviour. I smiled and shrugged. “We’re all sisters, are we not?” I said.

She wasn’t sure whether she should betray shock at my words — my admission. But then she smiled and said something in Spanish. “Muéstrales a estas chicas lo que haces.” I glanced at Marianna to be certain that I had correctly understood. “Show these girls what you do,” she had said.

A number of the nuns embraced each other swiftly. Soon they were kissing, with their hands clutching one another’s breasts through their heavy clothes. Habits were being pulled up. The Mother Superior looked at me expectantly, as if waiting for some kind of signal. I turned and gave Marianna a short but passionate kiss.

The Mother Superior smiled and spoke again.

There was a scraping of benches, and a crowd of nuns rushed around to us. In seconds we were both stripped naked. We were then lifted and carried to a long empty table, and there we were laid out whilst the nuns all tore off their habits. So many pairs of hands touched us that our entire bodies were caressed and teased. No one penetrated us in any way, yet still, my arousal soared at this public molestation.

I heard another command, and the nuns stepped away to make room for four young ones to climb onto the table – two for each of us.

Marianna’s head was almost touching mine, our bodies stretched in opposite directions. One girl lowered herself to Marianna’s face, her arsehole winking at me as her pussy descended. Then the same thing happened to me – a little slit pressed to my lips and wiggled, awaiting my tongue. I also felt the weight of a second girl on my tits and her warm breath between my spread legs.

I almost laughed as a thought crossed my mind: this made two religious orders Marianna and I had shared our bodies with. Perhaps there was more to a life of devotion than I had imagined.

I pressed my tongue into the eager young slit. The girl rocked herself, her pussy sliding back and forth as I licked. The young nun between my legs was obviously experienced and capable. Her tongue and fingers were everywhere, one sensation following another as they darted about. My legs were lifted, and something soft and creamy was rubbed on my arsehole. I immediately guessed what was to come – and where!

Something tapped at my expectant hole, then pressed. The lubrication allowed almost instant access. Its girth must have increased considerably as this mysterious thing went deeper. I felt a moment of panic, thinking, No, it’s too big! These girls, however, knew what they were doing; the thing rested a moment, allowing me to stretch. Then it pressed again. I felt naked thighs against mine and knew it was now all the way in. Another short rest, and then whoever wielded the weapon began to fuck me, slowly at first, but then continually faster, her thighs banging against the cheeks of my arse.

I was being gloriously assaulted by three of them. One fucked my arse, another attacked my clit, and the third smeared her cunt about my face. I was in heaven – an apt comparison, given our location.

Needing to breathe, I lifted the young nun from my face, which gave me a quick glimpse of the rear of the one on my tits. The girl I’d been licking had fingers in both her arse and her pussy. It seemed everyone was being attended to.

The nun plumped back down on my mouth, obviously frustrated that I had lifted her. Her dripping cunt landed hard, but she had stopped her gyrations. I knew she was on the verge. I went back to her clit, my tongue working speedily. Then her hips jerked, and she came. Little squirts bathed my face one after the other as her orgasm continued.

The tongue at my clit withdrew, replaced by what must have been another huge phallus. God, how they fucked me, driving me wild as I reached my peak. I lay there gasping with my eyes closed. Marianna’s voice broke through the mist of my dazed mind. She had slithered along the table until her head was beside mine.

“You see? I told you it was a good idea, our coming here,” she said. “Now, kiss me, my love.”

When we descended from the table, I saw other girls and women—not nuns, for they were dressed in more everyday clothes – those that were dressed, that is. They had come to watch the proceedings and naturally some had joined in. I guessed these were the penitent whores.

Six girls were standing in front of Marianna and me, gazing at us with the most otherworldly expressions. They appeared to range in age between twelve and about fourteen. These were the three who had climbed on the table or been fucking our arses. I gathered my three to me in a warm embrace, for they richly deserved it.

Most of the nuns had finished, but a few were still busy. I do confess to never having seen the like.

The Mother Superior, now naked herself, brought us fresh glasses of wine. She also held an alms box in her hand.

“I hope you have enjoyed your visit to our order,” she said. “Few are welcomed as you have been, but as you yourself said, we are all sisters. May I be so bold to ask if you would care to make a small contribution to our funds? We are in desperate need.”

I somehow found that hard to believe, but I’d had a fine time, and a donation was the least I could do. Her controlled demeanour slipped a little when she saw how many gold coins I dropped into the box.

It was the strangest sight you could ever have seen: a gaggle of nuns – all thoroughly naked – kneeling and praying for our safety in the fight against the barbarians. Surely, the Lord looked favourably on such a demonstration.

It was with shaky legs that we made our way back to the harbour. The following morning, we set a southerly course for Africa.

On to Chapter Nine!

by Rosey M

June 22, 2006 – Rhonda

Thank Jesus for that! 

I collapsed in a heap on the living room couch. If I never had to do math again, it’d be too soon. I didn’t think I did too badly on my finals, but who cared if I did!? Not this girl, no sirree! I just had to pick up my report card next week, then I was home free for the summer!

The last few weeks had been so weird. Mom was hovering around us like a hawk. True to her word, she cut back on her drinking, but she was cranky and hard to be around. That she kept forcing me along on her dumb ‘girls’ days’ was just the icing on a very sad, very soggy cake.

I used to love visits to the mall, but the only thing my mom wanted was to go to one clothing store after another. I’m not even that into clothes! And whenever I wanted to go into a bookstore, Mom got totally impatient and wanted to leave before five minutes had passed.

It was either that, or sit around with her at home watching dumb sitcoms on TV for hours on end with a tub of crappy microwave popcorn between us. It was nothing like being around Ashley, even without factoring in our new relationship.

And that was another thing! Since Mom was hanging around me so much, it was really cutting into my alone time with my girlfriend. My girlfriend! It still made me giddy to think of Ashley that way! My relationship with her was amazing, like I always knew it would be. We spent as much time together as we could, but our pace had become practically glacial compared to what it had been when we first became a couple. All I wanted was to jump into bed with her at every opportunity,  but we were reduced to sneaking kisses and cuddles when Mom wasn’t at home.

When Mom was around, Ashley usually made herself scarce because things were still awkward between them. Ashley said she constantly felt like she was being watched, but that was ridiculous. Mom didn’t care what Ashley did, so why would she bother to spy on her?

Ashley said we had to take things slowly. She didn’t want me sneaking into her room at night ‘cause she said she wouldn’t be able to control herself. Like that was a problem!? We spent most of our time in the living room, bunched together on the couch, the TV running in the background while we shared passionate kisses.

Yet any time we got excited and started touching each other more intimately, Ashley would stop and just freeze, like she was scared of something. Getting caught, probably. It was really hard for things to progress like I wanted them to. Much as I loved the kisses and caresses, I was eager to go further. I wanted my sister to get naked with me, then we could do all the things girls do when they’re in love.

Mom started coming home earlier from work, and she’d always glare at us suspiciously for a moment after she got in. Then she’d go about her business, leaving Ashley to untangle herself from me and get ready for her own job.

Luckily, everything was about to change now that school was almost out. Mom worked during the day, and Ashley usually worked in the evening, so we’d have more time to be alone together. I’d finally be able to really take our relationship to the next level!

I felt bad for Ashley, though. I was lucky enough that I got to go home around noon when my math final was finished. But she had to sit through one exam in the morning, and then another that same afternoon. It was the last exam she’d ever have to take for high school, but that was probably small comfort. She’d been so stressed lately. I was looking forward to helping her relax when she got home, especially now that things seemed to have gone back to normal with Mom.

Earlier in the week, I’d been kissing Ashley on the couch, and I wanted to try out something she occasionally did to me. I usually let her take the lead on when we started using tongues when we kissed, but we were being slow and gentle, and I just wanted more.

After we let up for a moment so I could catch my breath, I kissed her again, letting my tongue slide along her lips until she let me in. As I practiced caressing the inside of her mouth, she let out a low moan, closing her eyes in bliss. I could physically feel a shift in her, and when she opened her eyes again she had that look, the one that makes me feel warm and tingly all over.

The next thing I knew, Ashley was on top of me, and we were kissing just as passionately as we did on the night she caught me touching myself. Her kisses were rough, her tongue overpowering and forcing mine to yield. She ran her hand through my hair, then bunched it up in her fist.

I jumped a little when her other hand snaked beneath me to cup my butt, gathering me tightly against her. I worked the fabric of the couch between my hands as she began grinding herself back and forth, murmuring proclamations of love with each breath.

I’d missed this so much! This was how we’d been before Mom got all weird. I barely had time to register the thought before Ashley let go of my hair, then grabbed one of my hands, guiding it under her shirt until my fingers were brushing against her breasts. Oh my God!

Her eyes had a glazed cast to them, and she seemed to be approaching her zenith. But it all shattered in an instant as we heard the clink of keys against the front door. Ashley broke from her trance, muttering a curse, then launched herself to the other end of the couch, hastily rearranging her clothes.

I reacted almost as quickly, pulling myself into a sitting position as I tried to breathe normally and pretend my heart wasn’t about to burst out of my chest. My body thrummed with arousal, my lips tingling with a pleasant ache.

The front door opened and closed, and we could hear Mom kick off her shoes. She appeared in the doorway and studied us for a long, uncomfortable moment, taking in our disheveled appearance. The tension between us was palpable and, quailing under her glare, I found myself close to tears.

Finally, I broached the silence. “Hi, Mommy. Is everything okay?”

Mom closed her eyes tightly, then shook her head, like she was trying to will some thought away, A moment later she disappeared from sight. Thankfully, she sequestered herself in her room for the remainder of the evening, and Ashley eventually calmed down enough to help me fix dinner.

Our mom woke up the next day with a massive hangover. It was the beginning of a return to her old ways. She started going out drinking again, and I was back to being barely acknowledged. In many ways, I considered it a blessing – No more ‘girls days’, no more awkward silences while we sat in the living room watching TV.

On the other hand, Ashley had been acting oddly, her paranoia worse than ever. Between her work, and cramming for exams, I’d barely gotten a peck on the lips from her in what felt like weeks. She kept insisting that we needed to be more careful; that we couldn’t risk getting caught.

Ugh! I couldn’t see what the problem was. Mom was back to normal (well, normal for her), and me and Ashley had more time to be together at last. Hopefully, I could get her to relax a bit before she went back to work later.

***

“Hey, Ashley? What ever happened with that graphic design thing? You never brought it up again after you applied for it.”

Ashley squirmed uncomfortably beside me on her bed. She was exhausted after getting back from her last exam, but seemed to be in good spirits. There was more tension when our mom got home from work, but I considered it a small victory when Ashley didn’t fight me too hard after I suggested we hang out in her room.

“Well, I was accepted, actually,” Ashley replied. “But I think I might want a bit more time before I go throwing myself into more schooling. I’m gonna apply again next year, but for now I’m just gonna focus on working and saving up some money. I’m looking for another job, and I’ve opened up my availability at work so I can get more hours in the meantime.”

I was a little sad at the thought of her working more often, but I could understand her wanting to earn as much as she could. “Oh? Where do you think you’d want to work?”

Ashley hummed in contemplation. “Well, maybe a job at a craft store, or anything related to art would be nice. I’m not too picky, as long as it isn’t fast food or something.”

“You’ll be amazing at anything you do, Ashley! Do you think I could get a job, too?”

Ashley rolled her eyes. “Rhonda. You’re like, ten. I don’t think they send kids down the mine shafts anymore. Just spend the summer having fun.” Her voice dropped to a whisper. “And maybe spare a minute or two for your girlfriend if you can, huh?”

It was so nice to see Ashley acting normal again. Maybe it was just the stress of school causing her to act so distant. “I’ll always have time for you, Ashley. I love you so much. Um… is everything okay now? We haven’t been doing much lately.”

A sigh escaped Ashley’s lips as she pressed her forehead to mine. “I’m sorry, Rhonda. With everything going on, I’ve just been so stressed and worried about things going badly. Mom was hanging out with you so much, and it seemed like she was doing everything she could to keep us apart. I hated not being able to spend more time with you, but it seems like it’s going to be okay now.”

I also got the feeling that Mom was trying to stop us from being alone together, but for whatever reason, she’d given up. “So… does that mean we can start doing things again?”

Ashley pulled her face away, nibbling at her lower lip. I saw her eyes dart to the door, then back to me again. She took a deep breath to steady herself. “Go lock the door, Rhonda.”

I didn’t have to be told twice! I bounced off the bed and turned the latch before returning to Ashley’s side.

She buried her hands in my hair and pulled me close, her lips seeking mine. It felt so good to kiss my sister like this again without worrying about Mom barging in and interrupting us. I loved how it felt to have her body against me; especially her soft breasts.

Eventually I broke free. “Um, Ashley?”

“Hmm?”

“Can I… you know… touch your boobs?”

Ashley snorted laughter, leaving me flushing in embarrassment. But even as I hastily backpedaled, stammering out an apology for my strange request, she was giving her assent. “Sure. Finally taking me up on my offer after all this time, huh?”

I watched in amazement as Ashley pulled up her shirt to expose her breasts, which were partially concealed by a well-worn bra. She guided my hand towards them until I was cupping one. I couldn’t get over how nice it felt.

Ashley sighed in pleasure as I used both hands to fondle her, then tilted her head to whisper in my ear, her breath warm and husky. “It’ll feel nicer if you lift up my bra.”

By then, I was feeling so horny I had to rub my thighs together, but I did as Ashley directed, tugging the cups of her bra up until her breasts spilled free.

She was right, of course – they did feel better without the fabric in the way. I wrapped my fingers around the soft warm flesh, groping and squeezing. Ashley grasped handfuls of my hair, moaning as my touches grew bolder.

Her rapidly hardening nipples piqued my interest, so I brushed my thumb along one of them. Ashley gasped in pleasure, a hand over her mouth to muffle any noise she might make.

Spurred on by how good I was making her feel, I tried rolling her nipples between my fingers, prompting a delighted groan from Ashley. On pure instinct, I leaned across and took one between my lips.

The fingers in my hair tightened. “Fuck, Rhonda!”

Something slamming against the door made us jump, and Ashley hastily pulled her bra and shirt back down. We stared at one another in wide-eyed fear as we listened to pounding footsteps move down the hallway. A moment later the front door slammed loudly.

The moment was gone. We continued to huddle together on Ashley’s bed, but didn’t do anything beyond a parting kiss before I went back to my own room.

***

July 1, 2006 – Rhonda

Mom was awful that whole week. Every time I was around her, she took the opportunity to knock me down a peg. I was ‘sloppy and lazy’, I ‘burned the food’, I ‘can’t clean worth a damn’, I’m ‘an idiot’. You name it; I wasn’t good enough at it.

I gave her my report card, and even though I did well in most of my subjects, all she cared about was how my social studies grade was below average. Not enough to fail, but enough to be an outlier in comparison. I couldn’t help it – that class was so, so boring! But, oh! To her, I was dumb as a rock because of that one crappy grade.

I got so frustrated at her dressing me down that I quizzed her to name five bodies of water nearby, something I could do. She smacked me upside the head for talking back.

I didn’t tell Ashley what happened, because I knew how angry she’d get. Mom always gave me the worst of it when my sister wasn’t around.

On one particular day she made a loud remark about how I was never going to get a boyfriend when I get older if I didn’t ‘smarten up’. She was looking at Ashley instead of me when she said it, and Ashley looked positively murderous until I was able to steer her onto a different subject.

This only started a week before, but they’d already gotten into three huge arguments over how Mom was acting. I was thankful to have Ashley sticking up for me, but I hated that she had to in the first place. I just wanted my mom to stop being cruel. The moments afterward when I could cuddle up and swap kisses with Ashley were just about all that kept me from breaking down completely.

***

Ashley took me to the library, and they finally had a copy of Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince on the shelf. Needless to say, I grabbed it right away! I’d read it the previous fall, but I was making my way through the books again while waiting for the next movie to come out. I started the book that evening, and seeing as I had nothing planned the next day, I figured I’d mostly spend it reading.

One of Ashley’s online friends was actually paying her to draw them something, so she was up late the night before finishing it. When I went to go pee she was still fast asleep.

My friend Susie always spent the first weeks of summer at her grandparents, and Maria’s parents made her help out at their store when school was on break. I had other friends, but those two were always my closest, and playing outside wasn’t much fun without them.

I was in my room reading, up to the part where the potions class was competing for the bottle of liquid luck, when my door was thrown open. Mom stood in the doorway, looking disgusted.

“It’s almost noon, and you haven’t even gotten dressed yet? How lazy can you be, Rhonda?”

I tried to stammer out something in protest; that I was on summer break, and it was Saturday! But she cut me off with a scathing look. “Get up. I’m tired of looking at that mess you call a haircut. You’re not gonna spend the whole goddamn day laying around.”

She stormed off, leaving me to fight back tears. I wasn’t being lazy, I was reading! I put my bookmark in, and got ready to go out. I grabbed a pen to write a note for Ashley explaining that Mom was probably taking me to the usual place for a haircut, then slipped it under her door.

Mom shouted for me to get my ass in gear, so I hurried to the front door where she stood impatiently jingling her keys.

***

The fifteen-minute car ride felt like an eternity. Mom sat fuming in the driver’s seat, and when we stopped at a red light, I barely managed to muster up enough courage to speak. “Why are you so mad at me?”

Mom craned her neck to stare me down for several seconds; her gaze only returning to the road when the light turned green. “Because you’re turning out just like your sister,” she snapped. “Do you really want to be another Ashley when you grow up? Some freakish loner who has to hang around with her little sister because no one else wants her?”

My heart clenched. How could she say such cruel things about her own daughter? Ashley could hang out with anyone she wanted. She was amazing! I thought myself lucky that she chose to be with me over anyone else.

I glared at Mom, my outrage lending me a rare streak of defiance. “Don’t talk about Ashley like that! I hope I am like her when I grow up! You don’t know anything about her! You’re not even around her enough to know anything!”

She took one hand off the steering wheel to smack me round the head, jostling hair into my face as I shied away from the blow. “Don’t you dare speak to me like that! I know enough. Ashley’s sick in the head, Rhonda, and if you have any sense you’ll knock this shit off and tell her to leave you alone.”

I was speechless. My head stung from where she’d slapped me, and I couldn’t believe she’d hit me again. It’s not that I’d never caught a blow or two from her if I did something wrong, but it was the second time this week. I wondered whether I should tell Ashley about this, or hide it from her.

As we turned a corner, the mall came into sight. Once we were parked, I was all but dragged inside by my mom. Instead of going directly to the salon like I thought we would, she made me wait while she looked through the clothing stores.

I tried to wander off to look at the kids section, but she snapped at me not to touch anything and keep close to her. Eventually, she picked out a couple of blouses for herself and took them up to the counter.

I grew increasingly nervous as time dragged on. There were times when it almost seemed like Mom was enjoying my discomfort. Finally, we moved on to the original reason for this trip.

When we entered the salon, I relaxed a little to see that Michelle, the lady who usually cut my hair, had her chair open. She was chatting with a coworker and another customer, but her eyes lit up when she saw us, her smile only faltering a little when she picked up on our mood.

“Hey there, Kate! Hi, Rhonda! How are we doing today?”

Mom was usually pretty friendly with Michelle, but she was all ice that day. “Fine, Michelle. We’re just here to deal with the mop on my daughter’s head.”

Being used to more pleasant interactions, Michelle looked a little stunned by Mom’s briskness, but she recovered quickly. “Sure thing! Step on over here, Rhonda, and I’ll get you set up!”

I took a seat as directed. Michelle covered my shoulders with a hairdressing cape, then used her fingers to lightly comb through my hair. “Your hair’s gotten so long and beautiful, hon!” she told my reflection in the mirror. “What are we thinking of doing today? Just trimming the split ends, or maybe trying something new?”

“Shave it off.”

Our heads jerked toward my mom, shock on both of our faces.

“W-what are you talking about, Mom?”

“Uh… Are you sure about that, Kate?”

Stony faced, Mom wasn’t swayed by our reactions. “You heard me. Shave it off. She hasn’t been taking care of her hair; just look at how messy it is! There’s no saving it.”

An awkward silence fell over the salon. Even the other stylist and her customer ceased their chatter to observe the unfolding drama.

“There’s nothing wrong with my hair, Mom! I don’t want my head shaved; I’ll look like a weirdo!”

Michelle did her best to intervene. “I don’t think it’s as bad as all that, Kate. Trust me, a trim will fix her up just fine. Her hair’s started curling a little, and she’s going to have to adopt a proper care routine, but that’s all.”

Mom refused to back down. “And I’m saying as her mother – Shave. It. Off.”

Tears began rolling down my cheeks. Why would she do this? I loved my hair! Ashley loved my hair, too! She was always playing with it when we were together. What was she going to think when I came home bald!?

“I don’t want it shaved! Michelle, please don’t! Mom’s only doing this because she’s mad at me!”

Michelle stood her ground. “Kate, Rhonda doesn’t want this. I think you should listen to what she’s saying.”

Mom’s face hardened. “Look, are you going to cut my daughter’s hair the way I tell you to or not? I’m a paying customer.”

“No, I can’t in good conscience do that, Kate. I wouldn’t be comfortable doing something your daughter doesn’t want done, and I don’t believe my coworkers would, either.”

With a huff of annoyance, Mom stepped forward and all but yanked me out of the chair, the cape sliding to the floor. “Fine, then! I’ll take my business elsewhere. I’m sure the barber across the street would appreciate a new customer.”

I sent a pleading look toward Michelle as I was dragged from the store, my mind threatening to shut down from the stress, a strange buzzing noise filling my ears.

I was being pulled through the mall, cowering from the curious gazes of the other mall goers. We were nearing the exit doors when I finally came back to myself. I ripped myself free from my mom’s grasp. “Why are you doing this!?”

Mom spun around to glare at me. “You embarrassed me in front of that whole salon! Why do you think I’m doing this? I can never go in there again because of you!”

I embarrassed her!? How could she say that after being so rude to poor Michelle? “You’re acting crazy, Mom! I don’t need my head shaved!”

Her face was a mask of ice-cold rage. ”I’ve been too damn easy on you, and this is what I get for it. Maybe losing your precious hair will do something about that bad attitude, young lady!”

She didn’t care about my hair, though. It was just a way to squash me down. I began backing away, doing my best to choke back my tears. Ashley wouldn’t cry, so neither would I! “I’m not getting my head shaved!”

I barely avoided Mom’s hand as she tried to grab me again. “Don’t you back away from me! You know what? Fuck it. We’re going to grab some clippers, and I’ll deal with you when we get home.”

All I wanted to do was scream. Why was she being like this? What did I ever do to her? Despite my best efforts to remain calm, I could feel an overwhelming urge to break down. “Mom, I’m not going home until you say you’ll stop.”

“We’ll go home when I say! Get over here! Now!”

“Stay away from me!”

“Don’t you dare yell at me!”

“Stop acting like this!”

“Quit the attitude, Rhonda!” She slowly drew closer. “Discipline. That’s what you need, you fucking brat.”

She snatched at me again, but this time I turned and bolted. I could hear her yelling as I ran through the mall, the pounding blood in my ears making her words impossible to understand.

ignoring the cries of startled onlookers, I chanced a look toward the salon as I passed by. My heart soared with relief when I saw Ashley speaking with Michelle. She looked down at me in shock as I barrelled toward her, my tear-stricken face crashing into her chest.

“Rhonda!? Oh my God, are you okay? Michelle said Mom was acting like a fucking lunatic. What the hell is going on?”

I tried to explain everything that happened in between sobs. I don’t think Ashley understood all of it, but I could feel her whole body tense when I got to the bit about Mom hitting me.

Mom had nearly caught up to me. She was still ranting as she rounded the corner. “Rhonda! Stop acting like such a child! You’re embarrassing yourself—”

She froze when she saw Ashley. I huddled against my sister for protection, but she gently extracted herself from my hold, then moved in front of me. Maybe it was the look in Ashley’s eyes, but Mom looked… unsure of herself, even frightened.

“What the fuck are you trying to pull?” Ashley demanded. “Hitting Rhonda’s not enough, so you have to publicly humiliate her by shaving off her hair? You get a kick out of treating your kids like shit, or what?”

With each word, Ashley moved closer and closer until they were mere inches apart. Mom stood at around five foot nine, while Ashley had hit six feet before she stopped growing. Every extra inch was in effect as she loomed over our mother, who looked cowed in spite of her efforts to stand tall.

Nonetheless, she held her ground. “Mind your own goddamn business, Ashley. I’m the parent, not you. Rhonda’s been acting up all day, and she needs to be taught a lesson. You have no idea what I have to deal with, and I don’t need any of your shit, either. You can’t…”

Mom’s voice quavered a little under Ashley’s glare, trailing off as my sister closed the distance, leaving them face to face.

Ashley was calm when she replied, but there was an undercurrent of menace that I wasn’t used to hearing from my sweet older sister. “Can’t what? What can’t I do? You want to hit one of your daughters? Fine. Hit me.” Ashley spread her arms, inviting Mom to take a shot.

Mom backed up a step. The scene had drawn a bunch of onlookers. Michelle and her coworker had stepped forward, trying to defuse the situation, but a fierce look from Mom had them backing away.

“No? Don’t wanna take a swing?” Ashley continued. “You can hit a ten-year-old kid when no one’s looking, but you’re too scared to hit her big sister in public? Huh, maybe you need a few drinks first. You’re fucking pathetic, Kate.”

Once again, Mom tried to regain control of the situation. “Don’t call me ‘Kate’, damn it. I’m your mother! Y-you can’t talk to me like this, Ashley! You’re making a scene in front of all of these people.”

Ashley’s gaze flicked to the people watching, then back to Mom. “I don’t care who’s watching. What I care about is the way you treat Rhonda. She deserves better. I’m taking her home, and you’re never gonna pull this kinda shit again. Understand?”

The two of them stared at one another for a few more seconds before Mom turned and walked away. She didn’t say anything until she was at a safe distance.

“Fine, then! I don’t know why I even bother; you’re not worth it. Have fun with your perverted sister, Rhonda.”

We watched Mom leave in a cold fury. Ashley let her breath out, then turned to regard me carefully. I felt so numb after what had just happened. I was scared, too. Not of Ashley, though. Never of Ashley. I was scared of the storm that was brewing between her and Mom, and how it might end.

There was so much love and pain in my sister’s eyes that all I could do was fall into her arms with a sob, the full weight of the last few hours crashing over me. Ashley was apologizing to Michelle as she held me, and she waited until I tapered off into sniffles before ushering me out of the mall.

In spite of myself, I found myself smiling as we approached Ashley’s car. I always imagined her driving a Lamborghini or something, but this was an old piece of junk she bought for cheap, and did her best to keep running. It didn’t even have a CD player!

It was quiet as we drove home. Ashley offered a few words of comfort, but seemed to understand that I just needed some time to process everything. When we pulled to a stop outside the house, I unbuckled myself to get out. I tried to will strength into my legs to move, but couldn’t.

“I-I’m sorry, Ashley. My legs feel so weak; I need a bit more time before I can go inside.”

Ashley got out of the car and walked around to my side. She opened the door, then reached in to lift me out. I clung to her as she locked up her car and carried me into the house. She took me all the way to her room, where she put me down onto her bed with a grunt.

“Jesus, Rhonda! I think you’re getting too old for me to be hoisting you around!”

I gave a watery smile before burying my face in her chest. I was still reeling from all the things Mom had said, and her demented plan to shave my head.

“Will you tell me what happened again?” Ashley asked tentatively. “I only caught a bit of it earlier.”

I sniffled and rolled away from her, wiping my eyes. I was frustrated by how much I’d cried that day. It was so immature of me!

I tried my best to explain everything that happened since Mom entered my room earlier. Ashley was practically shaking in anger by the end of it all. She got up and started pacing when I mentioned that Mom told me I shouldn’t have anything to do with my sister. “That fucking bitch! I swear to God I’m gonna break her nose, Rhonda.”

My eyes widened in alarm. “I don’t want you getting in trouble over me, Ashley. I hope she’s calmed down by the time she gets back. I promise I’ll talk to her tonight. Just don’t do anything crazy, please.”

Ashley ran a hand down her face as she tried to calm herself. “There’s no fucking way I’m letting you talk to her by yourself after all of this. I’m calling into work, then we’re going to deal with this together.”

I murmured my thanks, relieved that she’d be by my side.

I shifted upward on the bed to face Ashley more fully, then pressed my lips to hers. She softly reciprocated, her hand rubbing comforting circles on my back. I leaned into her touch. Today had been horrible, but it was going to be okay now that Ashley was with me.

My mind was still all out of sorts; the colors of the world faded beyond the girl lying next to me. I needed something to ground me. I needed her. “Ashley?” I whispered.

Her voice dropped to match mine. “What is it, Rhonda?”

“I’ve been thinking about everything Mom said earlier, and,” I had to stop to steady myself, “I-I need to feel something real.”

I could practically see the gears turning in Ashley’s head as she pondered my words. “What is it you need me to do?”

“I need you to touch me.”

Her hands stilled for a moment before recommencing her gentle caresses. She gave me a hesitant smile. “Touch you how? Like, ‘touch you’, touch you?”

I shyly nodded my head. “Can you make me feel good? I want to forget about earlier.”

She released a shuddering breath as she let go of me. “Are you sure? I – of course I want to, but I don’t want you to regret anything that happens.”

“Ashley, I already regret everything that’s happened with Mom. This is probably the only thing that could make it better.”

She ran a hand down her face, regarding me carefully. “All right,” she said after a long pause. “Not the way I envisioned any of this going, but if you’re sure…”

Ashley’s kisses were gentle and reassuring. Directing me to raise both arms above my head, she pulled my shirt up and off. I started to grow a little self-conscious as she took in the sight of my boyish chest. Why did I have to be so young and undeveloped? Ashley would surely prefer me if I was a little more mature, wouldn’t she?

My worries evaporated when she pressed her lips to my forehead, then my eyelids; my cheeks, my nose, my chin. Finally, she lowered her face until her lips were lightly brushing my neck. “You’re so beautiful, Rhonda,” I heard her whisper.

Ashley settled one of her hands on my hip, while the other curled behind my nape and guided me to her waiting mouth. I let out a soft moan that turned into a breathless whimper as her tongue snaked across my throat. My eyes fluttered open to look down at her bowed head.

She chuckled softly at my reaction, then continued her ministrations, alternating kisses and licks across my flesh. When she nibbled on the sensitive area of my neck where I felt my pulse quicken, my hands shot out and gripped her shoulders. “Ashley…”

“Is that too much, Rhonda?”

I shook my head. “No, it feels good. Keep going.”

As her mouth continued its work along my neck, her hand left my hip and began trailing across my torso. I never expected how amazing it would feel to have her touch me like that. I didn’t realize her every touch would make my body thrum with such pleasure.

Ashley started nuzzling her way downwards. Releasing my neck, she let her hand glide to the center of my back. She gently grazed my nipple with the other hand, the motion making me twitch in surprise.

She raised her head to meet my gaze, and I was taken aback by the look of worship on her face. “Can I?” she asked.

I nodded, so Ashley lowered her mouth until it was poised near my chest. “You have the cutest little tits, did you know that?”

It was a hell of a stretch to call them ‘tits’, but I didn’t see the point in telling her that. I was sure she was just being nice.

These thoughts faded into the background as Ashley’s lips enveloped my nipple. I cried out loud, burying one of my hands in her hair while she sucked, occasionally teasing the tip with flicks of the tongue. She withdrew with a wet pop, then moved across to the other nipple.

She used her fingers to make circling motions around the wet skin of my areola, then lightly thumbed and pinched it, making me squeak in surprise. I’d never felt this good before. All those nights spent exploring my body were nothing compared to this.

I could feel the damp cotton of my panties clinging to my pussy, and knew I had to touch myself before I went crazy. I reached down to slide my fingers into my shorts, but Ashley’s hand lightly closed around my wrist. “Don’t, Rhonda. Let me.”

She drew back to take a good look, scanning me from head to toe. My eyes must have looked like saucers as I stared up at her, my chest filled with warmth at the love written on her face.

Her hands gently moved down until her fingers curled under the waistband of my shorts. “Lift your butt up, Rhonda.”

I raised my hips to let her slide the shorts down my legs. She threw them to one corner of the room as I lay beneath her, clad only in my damp underwear.

Ashley seemed overwhelmed with emotion as she regarded my near-naked form. “You have no idea what you do to me, Rhonda. You’re the most gorgeous thing I’ve ever seen.”

But she’s seen other girls, that niggling voice in my head chimed. I didn’t want to think about her having been with anyone else. She was going to be my first, and my only. I should’ve been hers, too!

My eyes swam with tears. The last thing I wanted to do was ruin the moment, but the words were out of my mouth before I could stop them. “Y-you’ve done this before, right, Ashley? With other girls, I mean?”

Her expression briefly flickered to anguish, but just as quickly turned to one of determination. “Yes. I wish I hadn’t, but only because I never thought you’d want me that way. Those other girls were nothing, just ways to distract myself from thinking about being with you. Can you believe me, Rhonda?”

I slowly nodded, even as a single tear trailed down my face and fell to the bedding. I wanted to banish these feelings of jealousy, but I didn’t know how. Ashley was mine, and nobody else’s. Even as every sane part of me screamed that I was being crazy, all I wanted was for her to touch me and make it all better.

I grabbed one of her hands, closing my eyes as I guided it toward my pussy. Ashley allowed it to drift lower, but then stopped before it reached the front of my panties. Her voice quavered slightly when she spoke. “Will you look at me, Rhonda?”

I’ve always been helpless before my sister, and it was no different now. I opened my eyes to meet her gaze as her hand closed the last couple of inches to rest against my vulva. I drew in a sharp intake of breath. Having Ashley touch me there felt so right. Like all those bad feelings were being soothed away by my sister’s caress.

Ashley’s voice wavered, but she kept my gaze on hers as she spoke. “I want to show you how I feel, Rhonda,” Ashley murmured. “I promise – no, I vow, that you’re the only person I’m going to touch like this for the rest of my life. How could I ever want someone else when I’m with the most beautiful girl in the world? I love you, Rhonda. I worship the ground you walk on. Just… just let me love you like this.”

Her grandiose declaration made me smile. “I’m sorry, Ashley. I’m just being silly. I love you, too. You’re the only person I’ll ever love. Will you please keep going?”

The radiant smile on her face banished all of my lingering insecurities, and I moved to kiss her even as her fingers began rubbing me through my panties. Then she began sliding them down my legs. I helped her by lifting my butt and then kicking them onto the floor.

Sitting back against the headboard, Ashley guided my head into her lap. She gave me a wink, then wiggled her fingers, slipping two of them into her mouth, tongue twirling around each digit until they were coated in saliva. Realizing her intention, I blushed madly, even as my body tensed in anticipation.

Ashley’s hand returned to my crotch, now completely bare, and let her fingers glide across my pussy.

My mind shut everything out but the pleasure coursing through me. I buried my face into the softness of Ashley’s thigh, mewling softly.

“Does that feel good, Rhonda?”

I was barely able to nod. Ashley continued her gentle exploration of my folds, the other hand teasing my nipples to an aching stiffness. She began tracing circles around my clit, which set my body pulsing with an intensity I’d never experienced before.

Her fingers moved with the assured grace of someone who’d done this before, but this time I refused to let those intrusive thoughts take root.

A sudden twinge of ecstasy shook me, and I stammered, “A-Ashley…”

My sister spun her fingers faster. “Are you getting close? Come for me, Rhonda. Don’t hold anything back.”

As my body arched, Ashley braced my chest with her free arm to stop me jerking out of her grasp. I released a long, tremulous moan as she brought me to an orgasm a million times better than anything I’d ever known.

Finally, I lay slumped in my big sister’s lap, panting as I tried to bring the world back into focus. My body felt like it was made of jelly; I didn’t know anything could feel that amazing. “That… that was the best thing ever, Ashley! Is it always like this?”

Ashley planted a kiss on my head “You’re so cute when you come, Rhonda. And I wouldn’t know if it’s always that good. Even when I slept with other girls, I liked touching more than being touched. I’ve never had someone make me come before.”

It was hard to believe she’d never experienced an orgasm outside masturbation before, but I was so glad I’d get to be the first to make her come. It was only right that it should be me. I wanted her so much in that moment; I wanted to make her feel as good as she’d made me.

“Can I touch you now?” I asked.

Ashley smiled and shook her head. “There’ll be time later, but right now, it’s all about you.” She playfully tweaked my nose. “You didn’t think I was done with you, did you?”

It must have been my wide-eyed stare that made her laugh. Did she mean to make me come again? Was that even possible so soon after my last one?

Sure enough, her fingers returned to my wet pussy. She wasn’t being as gentle this time, and I loved how it felt to have her press so needily into my folds. The hand playing with my nipples was more insistent as well, pinching them between her fingers in a way that sent shocks through my system.

“You’re mine, Rhonda,” Ashley proclaimed. “All mine.”

I always loved when she got possessive like that. It made me feel better about my own need to have her all to myself.

Ashley’s fingers began rubbing more intensely. She was gently slipping them into the folds of my pussy, never fully penetrating, but enough to satisfy. The finger rubbing my clit was relentless, strumming and spinning. My second orgasm came crashing down on me.

Crying out, I squirmed away from Ashley. I almost felt too good. Any more stimulus would drive me insane.

We were both breathing hard as I came down from that peak again. I was filled with a pleasant numbness that made me realize how exhausted I was. As Ashley’s hair brushed against my thighs, I could feel my eyes getting heavy.

“This feels even more amazing than being touched, Rhonda, I promise,” I heard Ashley say from some faraway place.

How is that even possible? Even as the thought drifted through my mind, I could feel myself slipping into sleep. I felt Ashley press a kiss against my pussy. It sent a pleasant tingle through my whole body, and I drifted off to the sound of her voice.

“Oh, shit. I really wore you out, huh? Get some sleep, my love. I’ll be here when you wake up…”

On to Chapter Five!

by Rachael Yukey

Wednesday, October 4th, 2006

Wednesday is my favorite school day, because A.L. is way more fun than regular school. And now it’s even better, because Julie and I get to spend so much time together on the bus. I wish I didn’t live out of town. Town kids get to walk or ride their bikes to each other’s houses, but no way are my folks going to let me ride my bike on the highway.

I know I haven’t made an entry in over a week, but I don’t think I’m going to write every day unless something big is going on. Besides, I’ve been pretty busy. Mom spent three nights at Grandma’s which is the longest ever, and guess who got to keep the house clean? Here’s a hint: it wasn’t Dad! They told me it was just a visit but I’m not dumb. I can tell they’re still pretty mad at each other. I don’t get it. My parents are the most Christian people I know, so how come they have such a hard time forgiving?

I talked to Julie about it on the bus today, which is the first time I ever told anybody. Usually when I talk about Mom’s visits to Grandma I just repeat whatever lies my parents tell me, but having a best friend means you can be honest about stuff like that, right? So I told her everything. About halfway through she took my hand, squeezed it, and didn’t let go. She was still holding it when I ran out of stuff to say.

“Do you think they’re going to get divorced?” she asked.

That was something I’d just plain never thought about, so I had to kick it around in my head before I answered. “I don’t think so. The Bible says divorce is a sin, and they won’t go against the Bible on anything. But you know something? I think a lot of people do it anyway. Tons of people at my church have been divorced. And you know what else? I think my parents might even be happier if they got divorced! All they do anymore is fight.”

I was close to crying. Julie squeezed my hand tighter.

“My parents got divorced,” she said. “I was really sad when it happened, but it really did make things way better. I didn’t understand how messed up my mom is till we weren’t living together anymore.”

“What’s wrong with your mom?”

“Lots of stuff,” she said. “She has depression, and it made it really hard for her to take care of me. It got really bad when Dad went back out on tour after I was born, and she started taking stuff to make it easier. Now she’s a drug addict, so she goes to a bunch of rehabs and treatments and stuff.”

“Do you get to see her a lot?”

“Not right now,” said Julie. She sounded sad for the first time since I’ve known her. “She lives in Minneapolis. When she was doing good, she got visitation and Dad would drive me down there to stay with her every other weekend. But then she started doing drugs again and the judge says she can only see me supervised. And it’s not all weekend, just for a few hours every other Saturday. Dad is driving me down this weekend for it.”

Now there were tears in Julie’s eyes. I squeezed her hand. She took off her glasses, wiped her face, and gave me a sad smile.

“It’s okay,” she said. “I miss her, but she’s really better to visit than to live with. I just wish it could be more often.”

We were pulling up to the school by then, so that ended the conversation.

I don’t know why the idea of Mom and Dad getting divorced never occurred to me. Lots of married couples break up nowadays, and my folks sure do act like they’re fed up with each other. I wonder if they’ve ever thought about divorce? I’m not sure how I’d feel. At least they wouldn’t be fighting all the time, but who would I live with? And where would Mom go? She’s never, ever had a job or lived alone. The more I think about it, the scarier it sounds. But I don’t think they will. The Bible says being married is forever.

On the ride back, me and Julie talked about how we can get together more often outside of school. She thinks that her dad would be happy to drive her to my house whenever she wants to go, and my mom drives into town to do stuff at the church almost every day, so I could probably hitch a ride with her.

“You’re gonna be gone on Saturday, is that right?” I asked.

“Yeah, I’ve got my time with Mom. Dad is gonna drop me off at the visitation center, then go rehearse with a band he’s filling in for next month till it’s time to pick me up. The visit is four hours and it’s like over two hours to drive there, so we’ll be gone all day.”

“Well…” I hesitated. I knew she didn’t want to talk about religion, but this wasn’t really the same thing. “There’s a pizza party for kids at my church Sunday at 12:30. We don’t do religious stuff; we just eat pizza and hang out. There’s pool tables and games and a CD player in the church basement. Wanna come?”

“Am I allowed to, even though I don’t go to church there?”

“Yeah! They want you to. They’re always telling us to invite our friends to stuff like this. The idea is that if you have fun it’ll make you want to come to church. I don’t think it works, though. I really like the pizza parties and ice cream socials, but I hate church.”

Julie seemed surprised to hear me say that. Actually, so was I. I’d never told ANYONE how I really felt about going to church.  “Really?”

“Yeah, it’s pretty boring. But the pizza party will be fun. Want to come?”

“Sure! I’ll ask my dad,” she said. “I bet he’ll let me.”

“Cool! Just don’t eat any lunch before you come. There’ll be tons of pizza, and some of the church ladies will probably bake cookies or something for later.”

That settled that, but there’s one more thing on my mind. I haven’t even talked to Julie about it. I can’t stop thinking about what we heard the night I stayed at her house, and how it made me feel. I’m not exactly sure what Lisa was doing, but just thinking about what I THINK was happening makes me feel that way all over again. Every night when I lie down, I close my eyes and have visions of Lisa putting her hands all over herself, even on her private parts, and making herself feel so good that she made all that noise. It makes me feel tingly, it makes me breathe funny, and it makes me all warm down between my legs. I feel like I really need something but I don’t know what it is.

I want to find out more about master baiting, but who would I ask? I bet I could find out on the internet, but I never get to be on it except at school where they’re watching everything we look up.

Ugh! I wish I could figure out what to do. I hate not knowing stuff!

Saturday, October 7th, 2006

Mom and Dad are fighting again. This is the worst I’ve ever heard. They’re downstairs absolutely howling at each other. Dad changed our TV package to basic cable, and Mom is just flipping her lid. Dad is telling her that we can’t afford all these extras we don’t need.

That’s always how it starts, something about money… but then it goes all over the place. Dad complains about her making microwave food instead of really cooking, so Mom screams about Dad never fixing anything around the house. Dad says she could fix it herself and I’ll believe THAT when I see it. The last time Mom got hold of a screwdriver, she almost put it through her hand!

Tonight it’s even worse. Dad just called Mom a fake Christian who puts on a good show at church but is slothful and unloving at home, then she told him off for ignoring his family and hiding out in his workshop even when he’s not doing any work. Every word both of them are saying is true.

Wow… they’re having a real screamfest. Do they really think I can’t hear it?

Okay, Dad just called mom a REALLY nasty word. I’ve never heard him use that kind of language before, not ever. I should be freaking out about this but I just feel, I don’t know, sort of numb.

I wish I was at Julie’s house right now! Or anywhere else. But it’s okay, I’ll get to see her tomorrow after church. It’ll make the pizza party way more fun!

Monday, October 9th, 2006

Holy crow, did things ever go crazy yesterday after church! Mom and Dad were already pretty grumpy in the morning but they weren’t noisy about it. They just sort of avoided talking to each other. We had breakfast and got dressed, then I practiced piano for a little while before we left.

I wonder when I’m going to get cut off from piano lessons because it’s too much money? I hope not soon, I like playing piano. But stopping my lessons wouldn’t be the end of the world. I can sit and play stuff I hear on TV commercials or the radio. Mom hates it when I do that… says it’s not proper. Whatever. It’s getting hard to practice anymore anyway, because the piano is in the living room and she always wants the TV on.

Sunday School and church were the same old boring stuff, but after the service I put on my jacket and waited outside for Julie. It’s getting really cold now, and windy too.

Julie showed up on foot. She probably figured it was too windy for biking to be any good. She waved and yelled “Hey!” when she saw me waiting at the top of the church steps.

“Hi, Julie!” I yelled, waving back. She ran up the steps, and we hugged. I led her into the building, and boy was it nice to get out of that wind. Right away she was chattering about the ride to Minneapolis and the visit with her mom. Apparently it’s going to be awhile before she sees her again because she’s going to be doing rehab in another state, but at least they had a fun visit.

We hung up our coats while she talked, and then I led her downstairs. The church basement is a huge open space with a big kitchen at the far end from the stairs. It’s always kind of musty and damp smelling down there, but it’s a cool place. The littler kids get to run around just about as much as they want, and for those of us that are a bit older there are games, puzzles, books to read, two pool tables, a foosball table, a couple of old pinball machines that only work about half the time, and a small stereo with a CD player. The CDs they have are mostly Christian rock, which I don’t like very much, but there are also a few regular rock discs too. Some of those are pretty good. A bunch of long tables are set up down by the kitchen end.

“Wow!” Julie exclaimed. “This is wicked!”

I giggled. “Don’t let any of the adults hear you calling it that. It’s supposed to be like a holy sacred place.”

Julie grinned. “Whoops, sorry!”

I introduced Julie around as we ran into other people. The kids in our grade she already knew, but not so much some of the others. The pizza showed up a few minutes later, and we all clustered around the tables. I grabbed a couple slices of supreme and Julie went for one pepperoni and one sausage. We sat together and talked about this and that. I wanted to talk about the fight my parents had the night before, but I wasn’t going to get into that in the church basement with lots of kids I knew hanging around.

After we were so stuffed we couldn’t eat another bite, Julie challenged me to a game of foosball. As it turned out she’s just about as bad at the game as I am, and I’m pretty bad… but it was fun. After that we went through the stacks of games and decided to go for Mousetrap. We were still getting it set up when everything went bananas.

Jared Torgleson, who’s a grade ahead of us in school, came charging down the stairs. “Hey, Mallory,” he called out. “You gotta come see! Your mom and dad are going ballistic on each other right out in the parking lot!”

I forgot all about the game. I went running pell-mell up the stairs, with Julie right behind me. When I got to the parking lot my parents were standing almost nose to nose, screaming at each other at the top of their lungs while everybody just stood off to the side and stared. Before I even got close enough to hear what they were saying over the wind, Mom smacked Dad across the face.

He drew himself all the way up and stepped towards her, and she took a step backwards. She couldn’t go any farther because she was backed up against our Explorer. I was standing frozen at the edge of the lot. I’m not sure what would have happened, but just a second later it was over. Somebody had called the cops.

We only have three police officers in our town, and only the chief is full time. None of them is actually on duty Sundays; they just take turns being on call. Officer Felter must have been the on-call cop yesterday, because she came barreling into the parking lot in her own pickup. When she got out I saw she was wearing regular clothes, but she had her gun strapped on.

Officer Felter is one of the part-timers, and she also runs a dog grooming business. The adults all just call her Abby. She’s, I think, around Jason’s age, she’s divorced, and has a daughter a couple of years older than me and Julie. She’s very muscular… I think she must work out, but she always dresses really feminine when she’s not wearing her uniform. She has dark brown hair and huge boobs. Today she was wearing stylish black slacks and a pretty purple blouse. I think the only reason I noticed right away is cause her gunbelt looked really funny with her clothes.

She pulled in right behind the Explorer, and when she got out of the truck Dad whirled around and snapped, “Stay out of this, Abby. It’s none of your business!”

“You’re causing a ruckus in a public place, Dan,” she told him, her arms folded. “That makes it my business. Talk like that to me again and I’ll cite you for public disturbance. Now what exactly is going on?”

I’m not going to go into the whole thing. Officer Felter had to tell Mom and Dad both to shut up a couple of times. She didn’t care what the argument was about, or who was right or wrong. Chief Moen showed up a few minutes into it, also driving his own vehicle and wearing street clothes. He’s a short, roundish guy with a big bushy mustache. He’s usually totally cheerful and always has candy or something for the kids, but he wasn’t looking very cheerful then.

That’s what really made it all real for me, the look on the police chief’s face. I started breaking down. Julie had been standing next to me the whole time, and she put her arm around me and pulled me close. That’s all it took… I started sobbing.

Chief Moen heard, and turned his head towards me. “Somebody get her out of here,” he said. A couple of older ladies who were standing together got themselves moving, and started guiding me back towards the church. I didn’t mind, I wanted to go inside. I’d left my coat in the building, and I was freezing.

Julie was shivering, too. She came with us, her arm still around me. One of the ladies tried to separate us.“Maybe it’s better if you stay here, sweetheart,” she told Julie.

“NO!” I almost yelled. “I want her to stay with me.”

By the time we got inside I was already not really crying anymore, just sniffling. The sad was going away and I was starting to get mad. This is so stupid, I was thinking. I’m so sick of it. What’s the matter with them?

The ladies brought us into one of the little rooms upstairs. I think sometimes the church people do counseling and stuff like that in them. All it had was a worn-out office chair, a love seat, and a small table. We both sat down on the love seat, and Julie put her arms around me. We’ve only been friends for a few weeks, and I think she already loves me better than my parents do.

“Do you need us to stay with you?” one of the ladies asked in a kind voice. Now that my brain was working, I saw it was Ellen Fitzgerald, who runs the nursery that looks after little kids during the church service

“I’ll be okay with my friend here,” I said.

“Okay, honey.” They left.

Julie and I didn’t talk right away. She just held me, and I held her back. After a few minutes, Mrs. Fitzgerald brought us a plate of cookies, ruffled my hair, and left again.

We munched cookies for a couple of minutes, still not talking. I didn’t want to discuss this just yet, and I was glad Julie understood that. There was a tap at the door, it opened, and Jason Hanson stepped in. He was wearing a hoodie that said EMS in big letters.

“Daddy,” said Julie, sounding surprised. “What are you doing here?”

He patted the radio clipped to his belt. “I’m on call for the ambulance today, remember? I heard them dispatch law enforcement to the church for a domestic, and I figured I’d better come see if I needed to get you out of here.” His eyes shifted to me. “I’m sorry it’s your parents, Mallory. You okay, kiddo?”

“I think so,” I said. “Are my parents going to get arrested?”

I realized the idea of them going to jail didn’t even bother me that much; it would probably serve them both right! But where would I go?

Jason was shaking his head. “I don’t think so,” he said. “The chief’s writing your dad a citation for disturbing the peace, and that’s mostly because he keeps getting lippy with the cops. You know Jeff Moen. It takes a lot to make him mad, but when he does get pissed off you sure don’t want to be the one who caused it.”

I didn’t know that about Chief Moen… I’ve never seen him mad. I was a little surprised to hear somebody use the words “pissed off” inside the church.

“Listen, Mallory,” Jason said, “If ever you need to escape for awhile, our door is open. That includes overnight, even on school days if your parents will let you. If you need a ride, either myself or Lisa could pick you up.”

I gave him a grateful smile.“That’d be great,” I said, “But I don’t know if my folks will let it happen.”

There was another knock, and this time it was Officer Felter.

“I need a couple of minutes alone with Mallory,” she said. She must have seen something in my face, because she smiled at me. “Don’t worry, hon,” she said. “It’s no big deal, just a couple of easy questions. You’re not in any trouble.”

Jason reached down, took Julie’s hand, and pulled her to her feet. With his other hand he patted my shoulder.

“We’ll be right outside,” he told me. Julie squeezed my hand one more time, then they left the room.

“That looks like a pretty good friend you’ve got there,” Officer Felter said with a smile. She pulled the old office chair up close to the love seat and sat in it, facing me. I could smell her perfume, and it was really nice.

“She’s the best,” I told her.

“Good,” said Officer Felter. She looked straight into my eyes. She’s really pretty… how come I never noticed that before?

“I need to ask you a question, Mallory. It’s something the law says I have to ask when things like this happen, and it’s very important that you tell me the truth. Do you feel safe at home?”

“Yes,” I told her, and that was true. Sometimes I feel like my parents wouldn’t care if I fell off the face of the earth, but I don’t think either of them would ever hurt me.

“You never feel threatened in any way?”

“No.”

“Okay,” she said. “Do they fight a lot in front of you?”

“Not exactly,” I said. “They yell at each other a lot after I go to bed. I don’t see it, but I sure can hear it.”

“Thanks, Mallory,” she said. “Is there anything else you’d like to tell me?”

I thought about it a moment, then shook my head.

“Okay,” she said. “You know where to find me if there ever is.” She put her hand on my leg, squeezed, and gave me that nice smile again. It made my heart a little fluttery. Her eyes hadn’t left mine the whole time. Then she got up and opened the door.

Jason and Julie were waiting outside. As Officer Felter stepped out of the room, Jason put a hand on her arm and leaned close to her ear. I couldn’t understand what he was saying. She nodded to him, murmured something back, and left.

“I’m going to stick around for awhile,” said Jason. “You girls need me to sit in here with you, or would you rather talk alone without a nosy adult?”

Julie and I both giggled. “Get lost, nosy adult,” said Julie. “I got this, huh?”

They both laughed, while I tried not to die of shock. I could NEVER joke with my parents like that, they’d skin me alive. Jason leaned over, kissed her forehead, and closed the door behind him.

Julie sat back down, and I just started letting it all out, all about the fight last night and how tired of it I was and how I wished I could just be in a normal family that didn’t hate each other. She didn’t say much, just mostly sat there and held my hand while I talked.

A few minutes later the door opened again, and this time it was my father.

Julie stood up. “I’ll be in the hallway.” She scooted out of the room.

Dad sat down in the chair. “Listen, Mallory,” he said. “You know your mother and I love each other very much.”

I felt a crazy urge to shout Liar! You don’t even LIKE each other anymore! But there was no way I’d ever talk that way to my father, so instead I just nodded.

He didn’t even really look at me, just kept talking. “We’re committed to a… a Godly marriage, and to being Godly parents to you. We just have a few things to work out. It won’t take long. You understand that, right?”

I didn’t believe a word of it, but I nodded again.

“It was suggested… I mean… your mother and I think that maybe it would be a good idea for us to be alone this afternoon to talk. Officer Felter seemed to think Jason Hanson would be willing to let you stay at their house today, and that it would be good for you to be with your friend. I spoke to Jason, and he said that would be fine. Would you mind spending the rest of the day with the Hansons?”

I thought that sounded like the best idea ever, but I wasn’t dumb enough to let him know it. “That would be all right,” I said.

“Okay,” he said. “Why don’t you get your things, and you can go back with them. We’ll make sure to get you home before bedtime.”

You can leave me there forever, I thought… but I just nodded again. It was like I was one of those bobble head things that don’t do anything else.

“Okay, we’ll see you this evening,” he said. And just like that, Dad got up and left, leaving the door standing open. I realized the whole time he was there he never once even touched me. He never said he was sorry, either.

I followed him out. Julie was waiting there for me. “Let’s get our stuff,” I told her. “Sounds like I’m going to your house for the rest of the day, and I want to get out of here right now.”

“Yay!” said Julie.

We went down to the lobby and got our coats. As I was shrugging mine on, Jason came inside. “You ladies ready to amscray?” He asked.

“Like, yesterday!” I said.

“Riding with me or walking?”

We took the ride. It was cold out.

***

The clock on the wall said it was a little after two o’clock when we got to Julie’s house. I couldn’t believe that much time had gone by. Since I was last there Jason had put a door up for the new bathroom, and it was drywalled on the inside. The side facing us was still just framework with wire running through it. He must have done the electrical, too.

“Can I look in?” I asked.

“Sure,” Jason said, so I opened the door. The bathroom wasn’t big enough for a tub, so he’d put in a shower. The drywall was all up but he hadn’t done the finish yet. I tried the light switch, it worked. There was no sink or toilet yet but I could tell from the holes in the floor where they were going to go.

“Nice!” I said. “It’s gonna be great when you’re done.”

Jason chuckled. “It’ll be a bathroom, anyway,” he said. “Now look, ladies… Lisa is having dinner with her sisters and her mom and won’t be back until later this evening, and I’m on call. I’m planning on putting a duck in the oven around four, but you might have to do dinner if the ambulance rolls. Just the usual duck recipe, Julie, no surprises. Can you handle it?”

“No sweat, Dad,” she told him. “If I have to make dinner, do you care what I do for sides?”

“Whatever you like, kiddo.”

“Cool!”

I noticed in the living room a red keyboard on a stand with a piano stool in front of it, a big one with 88 keys. I was pretty sure it hadn’t been there last time I was over.

“Whose keyboard?” I asked.

“Oh, that’s Dad’s,” said Julie. “He had it boxed up out in the garage, but we brought it in because I like to play around on it sometimes. I’m not very good, but I like to try and play music I hear on the radio and stuff. It’s easier to do that with the piano than the guitar.”

“I like to do that, too,” I said. “But it really bugs my mom. She says if I don’t learn properly by reading the sheet music, it’s cheating.”

Jason snorted. “You just tell her you got it from a pro guitar player that if you can’t learn by ear, you’ll never do any real work in popular music,” he said. “Or maybe on second thought you’d better not tell her that. But it’s true. I think Julie mentioned that you take piano lessons. Wanna play something for us?”

I sat down on the stool and tried to think of what to play. Then my mind fixed on Life is a Highway, which kids at school had been listening to a lot. I hummed a bit to make sure I had the melody straight, sketched out the first chord with my left hand, and did an off-the-cuff instrumental version of that. It’s weird on a keyboard when you’re used to a piano, but it went okay.

Julie clapped when I was done, and Jason nodded his approval. “I’m guessing that’s not from your piano lessons,” he said.

“Nope,” I told him.

“Well, you’re a better keyboardist than I am, that’s for…”

His radio crackled and he stopped talking and held up his hand. We listened. It was a message for the police, not him, but it was something about a heroin overdose at a certain address. Before it was over, Jason was already going for his coat.

“That’s our service area,” he said. “Pager to go off in 5… 4…”

His pager blared. This time it WAS for him, with directions to respond to a possible overdose victim and an address to go to. He scribbled down the address, said “Bye, ladies,” and was gone.

“Holy cow,” I said. Julie shrugged.

“It’s scary the first few times, but you get used to it,” she said. “I’m hungry. Want a snack?”

While we were rooting around in the fridge we heard the ambulance siren start up, then fade out as it got further away from us. We found a fruit salad… one that somebody had made by cutting up real fruit instead of out of a can. We put some of it in bowls and went to the living room to eat.

“How long is he gonna be gone, do you think?” I asked.

“At least an hour and a half,” said Julie. “They have to drive to the scene, do whatever needs doing before they load the patient, and then the nearest emergency room is like a half hour away even if they’re going fast. If they have to do a lot of stuff at the scene or it’s a long drive to get to the patient, it might be more like two hours.”

“So what do you wanna do?”

Julie giggled. “You mean like, what rules should we break while there are no adults around?”

I laughed too. “That’s not what I meant, but okay!”

We both just sat there giggling for a few minutes.

“We could read to each other,” Julie suggested.

I snorted. “So much for rule-breaking,” I said. For some reason that struck us as funny, and we both got a fit of the giggles again.

“I didn’t say OUR books, silly,” said Julie through her laughter.

I was about to ask her what she meant, then realized that I already knew. “You mean… the books you were telling me about last time I was here?”

“Yeah! Lisa’s books. Want to?”

I caught my breath. Did I want to read the books with all the sex in them? I only had a pretty vague idea of how sex was even done, it’s not like something my parents are open about! Of course I was curious… and something else. The idea was exciting. Yes, I wanted to see what was in those books. I nodded my head.

Holy crow, it’s almost midnight! I REALLY want to write about what happened after Julie and I went upstairs to check out those books, but I’m gonna have to finish this tomorrow.

Soon to come: Chapter Four!

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

by kinkychic and kinky’s_sis

Chapter Seven: The King’s Court

I was taking the air on deck, smiling to myself over the previous evening’s dalliance with Lady Fleming’s daughters, when Kira approached, a knowing gleam in her eye. I still found it hard not to think of her as Anne.

She was blunt as ever. “So, did you enjoy fuckin’ them two girlies? Mind, I’m not bein’ critical. Time was, I would’ve joined you, but I’ve got one now who keeps me content. Daphne an’ I wants no other.”

“They were a delight – and quite wanton,” I said. “The mother wishes to arrange a picnic, which I’m sure will entail more than just a lunch. The girls would like you and Daphne to accompany us.”

Kira gave one of her scowls of old. “Not to my taste. I doesn’t mix too well with the gent’ree. But I’ll leave it to Daphne.”

Matters advanced rapidly within the week, however, making such an outing far less likely. The admiral informed me that the York, a sixty-gun fourth-rater, would be returning to Blighty in a few weeks. He had given the Peregrina a minor refit, and she was ready to sail, though she had not yet been renamed. She would be at our disposal to collect our hidden gold – a small percentage, naturally enough, to be paid, in gold, upon our return.

It would be almost impossible to return to Aruba by retracing the route we had taken to Bermuda. Both the winds and the Florida current were against us. Rather, we would head southeast into the open Atlantic where, in a week or so, the wind and current would carry us nor’westerly. It was a considerably longer distance, but with the elements working in our favour, we would save time in the long run.

The new Naval crew of the Peregrina seemed happy enough with their assignment, which would at least provide a respite from the routine patrols that were their usual lot. The fact that all of the crew, from first officer to powder boy, had been promised a gold doubloon, was an added incentive. The captain would receive two. The admiral had said it was quite unheard of, but he would turn a blind eye — as long as he received his share for having made the arrangements.

We encountered no one and caught only glimpses of distant sails during the voyage which, despite one quite nasty storm, went smoothly enough. The sea was still running high when we arrived off Aruba, the last remnant of the storm. The next day, however, I deemed it safe enough to approach the cave. We found everything as we had left it. At the end of a day of strenuous labour, all the gold and silver was safely stowed on our two ships, and we beat a hasty retreat, lest anyone come snooping.

As we had done following our previous visit, we headed north towards the western tip of Cuba, setting our speed such that we arrived at dawn. From there we had an easy run through the straits of Florida and out to Bermuda. It was a relief to again be within the safety of Castle Harbour, especially in light of our cargo.

A note from the admiral informed me that my new uniform awaited at his residence, and I could try it on at my convenience. I was provided with a horse in the dockyard without question or hesitation. Everyone, it seemed, knew my name, and they were most eager to assist me.

Upon arrival at the admiral’s residence, a stable boy took my mount, and a footman requested that I follow him. I was asked to wait in the great hall while he announced me. I expected the admiral himself to welcome me, but instead was greeted by Lady Sarah. She appeared quite overjoyed to see me. One might have said she was breathless.

“Our gallant Captain, how wonderful to see you safely returned! Shall you join me in a glass of sherry? Or whatever you fancy?” Her words and intonation dripped with meaning.

“A cool, dry sherry would be fine, my lady, thank you.”

She rested her hand on my arm. “Oh, let us not be so formal. After all, we are friends now. So please, it’s Sarah, and if I may, I shall call you Bren.”

She rang a small glass bell, which brought a pretty young maid scurrying in.

“I and my Captain will take a dry sherry, Rosie.”

She guided me to a chaise longue and, most presumptuously, sat next to me, and very close indeed! I understood her game and what she expected from me. I was not quite so taken with her charms, but I felt it would be wise to keep this woman on my side.

“My daughters tell me that they had a splendid time on your ship, my dear Bren. Samantha has not stopped talking about you, and she’s been quite explicit. It brought quite a blush to my face, I might add that it made me feel somewhat envious. Do you mind?”

She touched a finger to my lips. “There’s no need to answer my silly question, but…” Instantly, form the taste,  I knew I had been snared. I stood up in front of her, desperately looking for an avenue of escape, knowing it was useless.

“Yes, Captain?” she asked. She feigned innocence, but the lust in her eyes was plain.

“Here, or somewhere a little more discreet?” I said. “You want to be fucked by your pirate captain. Well, here I am. Tell me quickly, before I rip your G–ddamn’d clothes off!”

Her hand flew to her mouth in mock horror. “Why, Captain! How bold you are! What is a well-bred woman to do? My heart is all a-flutter.”

To give Sarah her due, she summoned a profuse blush before rising to her feet. She stood close to me, her breath on my face, her bosom grazing my chest. ”I do believe it is dangerous to resist a pirate. Therefore, I shall not. You may have your way with me, Captain. Do as you will.”

I took hold of her shoulders and pulled her to me, not too roughly, but certainly not gently. I crushed my lips to hers. Her shoulders lifted and her arms flapped in a mock show of resistance. Then she groaned and flung herself upon me.

Other than this irresistible desire, I felt little effect from the potion. Either she had used only the tiniest dab, or else I was becoming accustomed to it. But for her it was different. She set upon me like a wild beast, tearing at my clothes and uttering such obscenities as would have had her exiled from all respectable society.

Then we were rolling naked on the rich carpet as our mouths devoured each other. Her body forced my legs wide, and then her mouth was at my pussy lips. Her tongue slithered about, lapping up my nectar.

I was propped on my elbow, watching her. She saw my look and paused. “A beautiful cunt, and for the moment it’s mine,” she said. “Such a heady odour!” Then she dived back in.

I had thought she wanted fucking, but I wasn’t complaining. She was quite satisfactory with her sucks and licks and little bites.

Of a sudden, she withdrew and crawled up my body. I tasted my juices when she brought her lips to mine. Her hips pressed down, grinding our pussies hard together. My breasts were crushed in her grip. She began to swivel and grind, and my clit responded as she ground away at it.

Sarah knew I was close to climaxing, yet she herself was holding back. I didn’t care, not for the moment. I raised my hips beneath her, urging on the sensations that fired my clit.

“Stop, Bren… stop!”

I almost rolled her over so as to keep stimulating my clit. Again, she called. “Trust me, stop now!”

Puzzled and not a little put out, I yet did as she commanded. She reached beneath a cushion of the chaise and withdrew the oddest contraption. I recognised the protuberances as being the same as Daphne’s wooden phalluses, but this thing had three of them fastened in some sort of harness affair.

“Kneel,” she commanded, then proceeded to fasten the harness around my waist. The phalluses were of different sizes and shapes. One was curved, and it was this she pushed into my cunt. She gathered moisture from between her legs and thus coated the smallest of the phalluses. Then she leaned over the chaise, with her copious arse towards me.

“Would the Captain like to guess where the other two go, or do I need to show you?”

This was new to me, and yet exciting. It seemed I could really fuck her, back and front at once. I tickled the smaller phallus at her winking rose. The larger of the two seemed to get sucked into her pussy. I pressed harder at her rear and watched as it opened her arsehole, disappearing inside.

She gave a sort of strangled squawk. “Now my pirate really fucks me! Fuck me hard, Bren.”

I hadn’t expected the phallus inside of me to have so much movement. But I was wrong. It fucked my cunt beautifully as I drove in and out of Sarah. Very quickly, I found myself returning to the point I had reached when she had called for me to stop.

I thought my shocks were over for the day, but I was wrong once again. Even through my exertions, I heard a giggle. There, beside the chaise sofa, stood Jane, Samantha, and the maid, Rosie, all with skirts held high as they diddled their clits. Never had I seen such a gleefully randy sight.

“Now, my love, fuck your bitch harder and faster,” Sarah said. “Look at my little girls playing with their divine cunts while they watch us fuck. Have you ever imagined the like?”

I needed no urging. My climax was about to explode. Sarah arched her back, then began to shake as my two spears thrust into her. “Fuck, fuck, fuck. Harder! Fucking harder, Bren! Oh, damn me, I’m coming!”

I was still aware of the girls, especially Samantha. Her hand was a blur, her eyes fastened on her mother being fucked. Then she squirted between her fast-moving fingers, spraying in all directions.

Finally, my cunt let rip. A massive fist seemed to grip my body. I urged the wooden phallus deeper inside. Sarah was well accustomed to this thing. She gyrated her hips, causing the object to fuck me hard as I came.

At last we collapsed to the side, both still impaled as I held her to me. Through the mists of my addled brain, I heard the girls clapping. Then the three of them piled on top of us, and despite our full bellies, as it were, we couldn’t refuse such a delectable array of sweets.

Afterwards, as we sat, once again dressed, I looked from one to the other in disbelief. “There seems to be an interesting understanding amongst you lot. And Rosie, I’ve tasted your pussy, but we haven’t been introduced.”

Sarah laughed. “Oh my, is the captain ready for more, and with little Rosie?” She beckoned to the maid, “Give the captain a nice kiss, then I think you should fetch her – his – new uniform.”

Rosie was as forward as the others. Her knee pressed between my legs as we kissed. Then she whispered in my ear, “We could have a nice time together. You could fuck me with the ding-dong.” She pulled back to grin slyly at me.

Sarah clapped her hands.

“Enough, Rosie! Stop seducing the captain.” But she was laughing merrily.

I had one question. “How did you get the potion? The girls, I assume.”

“I wondered if you had noticed. But yes, Jane asked Marianna for some. Don’t worry though, we are very careful. I wondered whether I might try it on the admiral to see if it wakes his rod up. It doesn’t work too well these days. That’s why he allowed me to invite you here.”

“What! The admiral knows? Surely not!”

“He likes having a young wife at his side. He knows he doesn’t satisfy me, so I am free to dally, though only with ladies. Other men are forbidden. You, I must say, are the closest to one I’ve had.”

***

I wasn’t sure what to make of the uniform. It was a bit grand and made me look too much like a Naval officer. Of course, I would only have to wear it once or twice. So, I supposed it would do.

Sarah, though, thought it perfect. It disguised my sex well, she said. If anything might give me away at court, it would be my beardless face.

“I would be quite happy to walk out on your arm, Captain,” Sarah said. “Should you ask.”

Noting my surprised look, she added, “Oh poof, I know it would be too scandalous, but what fun!”

She saw my glance at the clock. “Yes, it is time for our handsome captain to be away. You will give us all one last kiss and then you must go.”

Each, in turn, tried their damnedest to arouse me again, but I had to be getting back to the ship.

“Promise me, Bren, we will meet again,” Sarah said. “Perhaps you might bring Marianna next time?”

***

Conditions for our crossing of the Atlantic couldn’t have been better. The wind never faltered, nor did it strain our rigging. In barely six weeks we were beating up the channel. It had been agreed we would dock at the Naval yard at Chatham, this being the best suited for the repairs to our ships and for access to London. I could not allow any yard workers onto the ship before the gold had been moved.

The Siren was due for an overhaul. Her hull had taken a beating in recent months, and she was leaking badly. The crew were fed up with having to man the pumps at least once a day.

An unoccupied barracks block was made available to the men. It had all the provisions they could desire, and they could come and go as they pleased – at least when I had no work for them. I quickly made arrangements at a local bank so as to allow each man to draw on his funds. Everyone seemed happy enough.

I received a letter from the Prime Minister, one Robert Walpole, inviting me to London for discussions relating to my meeting with King George. His Royal Highness, so I was informed, was keen to make my acquaintance as soon as possible.

A particular dockyard officer had attached himself to me. He was quite helpful, even friendly. He advised that I might consider the purchase of a second uniform for everyday wear, one less grand than the one I had. Not that anyone would recognise what the uniform signified. But, he said, as I was to be in and out of the dockyard on a regular basis, it would not do to look like a pirate or privateer. He said the officials had been advised to treat me with the courtesy of an honorary officer, so he thought it best I rather looked like one.

I hired a large coach to convey  Halcombe, Jensen, Kira, Daphne, Marianna, and me into the city. We had the address of a well-regarded outfitter from whom we could obtain whatever clothing or uniforms we needed. After all, money was the least of our concerns.

I found the city daunting. The narrow, foul-smelling streets. The continuous smoke. The crowds of people rushing about, God knows where. Kira however, was clearly quite at home. She had seen it all before. Marianna, likewise, was none too bothered. But the rest of us wanted out, and as soon as possible.

All of the officers took lodgings close enough to the dockyard. Naturally, they went looking for cheap places. They were rich, I reminded them. They could afford the grandest accommodations they desired.

A major banking establishment had sent a bullion wagon, together with ten bank officials. They counted and weighed every scrap of gold and silver. The jewellery was itemised and locked into sealed containers. The bank would advise me of the total value, they said, once it was established.

One, who looked to be the most senior of the lot, said, “Do you realise, Captain, you have an immense fortune here? This little lot added to the amount your current bankers already have on deposit makes you quite possibly the wealthiest man in the realm. I strongly urge you to keep the fact a secret, lest you have every street beggar in London seeking your indulgence.”

I had never in my life read a newspaper. The dockyard officer – Lieutenant Graham Mellows was his name – waved one in my face. “Captain, have you seen this? You’re really awfully famous.”

It was headed thus –

Arrival in London
Privateer Captain Bren Dawlish
A True British Hero

The article in the Chronicle spoke of injustice being put to rights by His Royal Highness and  went on to tell of a Caribbean governor who, exceeding his authority and acting on wholly inaccurate information, had branded me and my men as pirates and criminals to be hunted down and hanged.

An unnamed admiral had taken our side, searched out the truth and laid it before the King, who had consequently issued, with the agreement of the Privy Council, a proclamation declaring us innocent of all charges.

It went on to detail some of our exploits, rather breathlessly, ending with the frigates we had captured and gifted to the King’s Navy. Most of the account was either highly inaccurate or much exaggerated.

In conclusion, it stated the King had commanded my presence at Kensington. There was much speculation as to the reason.

I was astonished. Me, in the Chronicle. It was beyond belief, yet there it was. And still, no one had an inkling as to my true nature.

Mellows then warned, “I’m afraid you are going to have a problem, Captain. You will have the whole of society wanting you to attend grand functions and balls. Everyone will be wanting you to give talks. You will have every newspaper hounding you. Need I go on?”

It all came as quite a shock. I didn’t want any of it. I wanted only to be left in peace.

“Perhaps we should hide away somewhere while we wait upon completion of the ships. But where? How could we go unnoticed?”

The lieutenant shrugged. “It’s beyond me, I’m afraid. Oh, and another thing you should consider. Neither you nor the Doña should be out and about without having one or two bodyguards in attendance.”

I went in search of Davy. He took some finding but, eventually, there he was, holding up the bar in the Pig and Whistle public house.

“It be’in’ good to sees yer, Bren. Can I says it straight? I’ll be glad when we gets away from this place. Don’t rightly knows what to be doin’ with myself.”

I had to agree, but then I told him of the rest of my troubles.

Davy shook his grizzled head. “These paper people, they’s a’ready pesterin’ the men. Be trouble soon, methinks.”

I didn’t want any of the men ending up in jail, nor did I want them confined to barracks. “First of all, I want you and Taylor to be at my or Marianna’s call as bodyguards. I can have rooms in lodgings next door to ours made available for you both. Find Taylor and see if he’s agreeable. If not, then Spencer. As for the rest, I believe I need to speak to someone in authority.”

It was easier than I expected. Someone from the Privy Council arranged what he called a “conference of the press.” All the newspapers were invited. There would be a prepared speech for me to make, and then I would take questions. This was all dependent on the papers instructing all of their staff that they were to leave us be in the future.

Then a bloody playwright turned up, who wanted to put on a spectacle about us in London. He was told, none too politely, where to go and what to do with his pencil.

Of course, I was apprehensive going in, but afterward, I was cheered and somewhat giddy at how successfully my little masquerade went over. Standing, in my new blue coat and white breeches, between Jensen and Halcombe, I appeared but one in a line of dashing young men who had made their fortune at sea – thinner, perhaps, and not quite so tall, but no less manly for all that. The Fleet Street scribblers saw what they expected to see.

But it was Marianna, the Lord bless her, who completed the illusion. She was at her most ravishing, in a shimmering lavender gown and a tight-laced bodice that put a swell into her matchless bosom. From the moment of her entrance, murmurs flew about the room that this dark-eyed beauty was indeed the captain’s woman. All attention turned to her, to the point where I and my officers were scarcely noticed at all. No one cared to look at me too closely, and no one would think to question the virility – or the sex – of a sailor who possessed such a creature.

Thus, the gathering went much better than I had expected, and it produced the desired result. We were indeed left alone from that point forward. The constant stream of letters kept on, though, and I was obliged to hire a secretary to open them all. He was to ignore anything that was not of a personal nature or of some importance.

Naturally enough, word of the young captain and his beautiful consort spread throughout society. We were suddenly the talk of London. It made us smile to think that two women were now the city’s most celebrated couple, but it did add another type of letter to those the secretary had to deal with.

It also caused the landlady’s daughter to begin openly flirting with me. She was a pretty enough girl of fifteen or sixteen, but I found her attentions rather taxing, and was growing weary of my masculine pretence. When Marianna teased me about her, I snapped, “Why don’t you just fuck the girl, and get her off my back?”

I saw Marianna’s hurt look and instantly regretted my ill-chosen words. “I’m so sorry, my love. I’m letting things irritate me too much. It was wrong of me, I know.”

She took my hand. “I know how much you are having to deal with, Bren. I can see the strain. Of all of us, you’re the only one who can’t be seen for what you truly are. Perhaps I should fuck the little pest, just to introduce her to womanly love. If you think it would help, then why not?”

The following day brought two gentlemen to the door. One carried a letter from the King. A summons, really. His Majesty had set aside time to see Captain Bren Dawlish, Captain Thomas Jensen, and the Doña Marianna of Tortola in two days’ time.

***

I was surprised to find that King George spoke very poor English. His native language was German. I had been warned that he was of a saturnine disposition and lacked all humour. What I hadn’t been told was that he loved all things military. His greatest pleasure was to listen to tales of English victories, especially over the French or the Spanish. Mister Walpole gave a distinct cough when the King mentioned those countries by name. The King frowned in response, but then to the surprise of most, he laughed.

His Majesty took a good look at us. He seemed to approve, and to suspect nothing in regard to me. First, he bowed towards Marianna. “You Spanish, ja? I like Spanish who is work for me and England. Is good. Danke, Frȁulein.”

He turned back to me. “You tell me … Wie sagt man, die Geschichte?”

“Story, Your Majesty,” Walpole said.

“Story of … ach! Die Seeschlacht.”

“Your battles at sea.”

“Battle,” the King repeated. “Speak slow. Admiral, ship. Meine Fregatten you bring.”

After a moment of panic, I realised he was referring to the frigates.

He clapped often and insisted that I repeat parts of my story, exclaiming “Gut!” or “Ja!” each time. That he was delighted was beyond doubt, though I was unsure just how much he understood. In truth, beneath his grand trappings, he was but an old man with rouged cheeks. Puffs of white powder fell continually from his wig. His sleeves were flaked with the stuff.

When I came to the end of my tales, he held up a thickly veined hand. “Is good, yes.” He seemed to like that little phrase. Then he waved to two men in livery, one bearing a cushion, the other a sword.

Mister Walpole, who had grasped the situation, pointed to the cushion, which had been placed on the floor before the King, and beckoned me to step forward. I was at a loss as to what was happening. The Prime Minister gestured for me to kneel.

The King raised the sword, then touched it to each of my shoulders, “Captain Sir Dowlitch.” He struggled with my name, and still I was in the dark.

Mister Walpole escorted me back to my seat. Jensen saw my puzzled look. “You have just been knighted,” he informed me. “You are now Sir Bren Dawlish.”

“Jesus!” I whispered. “It can’t be. If they knew—”

“Shush,” Jensen said. “After today, they’ll never see you again.”

“Gentlemen!” Walpole interrupted us. “Attend to the King, if you please. Mister Jensen, if you would step forward.”

To Tom’s utter amazement, he was now Captain Sir Thomas Jensen.

With the ceremony at an end, the King beamed at us. ”Is gut… good? You serve me now … venn you permit.”

“Yes, Your Majesty,” I said, stunned.

He narrowed his eyes at us, looking from one to the other. I wondered, were we expected to say something? Then he looked about the lofty chamber and began to applaud us. Everyone was expected to join in. It had been a capital audience, but it was clear now that it was at an end. The King gave a slight bow, which we returned, and took his leave. Just as he reached the side door, however, he turned and made a beckoning gesture.

We stood dumbfounded, not knowing which of us he meant.

“You!” he said. I placed an inquisitive finger to my chest. “Ja, you!” he repeated.

“His Majesty desires a word with you in private,” Walpole said. “Don’t keep him waiting.”

I hurried across the room with as much confidence as I could muster, but with a rising fear in my heart.

“At your service, Your Majesty,” I said, making yet another bow.

He stepped close to me, but before he spoke, he scowled over my shoulder. That was the signal for everyone else to step back and direct their attention elsewhere.

“Your Spanish,” said the King in a low voice. “She is beautiful.”

“Yes, Your Majesty. Quite.”

“And you luff her?”

“With all my heart, Your Majesty.”

“Is good, yes,” he said. “But you – how do you say…?”

I waited while he pondered his next question. His English seemed to have improved rather rapidly, but either he could not find the proper words, or he believed no words would do, for his question, when it came, took the form of a simple test: his hand shot forward and seized my crotch. A true man would have yelped in pain. I did not, and I was much too taken aback to dissemble.

Not another word passed between us. His Majesty merely gave my privates an affectionate jiggle and upon winking at me, I am sure, went about his royal business. It took all my strength not to laugh out loud.

Jensen gave me a quizzical look as I rejoined the group, but I waved it off. Walpole took no notice. “Well done, Captains,” he was saying. “This has been a success. I didn’t know His Highness intended to knight you both. Quite a pleasant surprise. My congratulations. I have never seen him so jolly.”

“And I’ll wager you never will again,” I said.

“Indeed. You may know that our good King George has never been very popular with the people. They regard him as too Deutsch. Some even think him an idiot because he does not speak English well.”

“He is no fool,” I said.

“Le mot juste. In any case, he is immensely pleased with what you have done, and he wants it known that you have done it for him. His standing has taken quite an upturn since your arrival. I would imagine your knighthoods are his attempt at playing to the people.

“By the by,” Walpole added, “there’s a solicitor coming to see you. It’s all perfectly above board. I think what he has to say will interest you.”

***

The solicitor fellow looked just as I imagined he might – tiny, with ink-stained fingers and odd-looking spectacles that sat crookedly upon his nose. His appearance, though, quite belied his mind. He was as sharp as a blade, though perhaps a tad excitable. It seems that Mister Walpole’s office had thought I might like to know where my parents came from. It seemed it hadn’t been difficult for them to find that I had an extensive family on my father’s side, at not too great a distance, in Surrey. He advised me that most were not of the gentry, but rather farm labourers and such. In particular, he had found an uncle who was the proprietor of a public house.

He had not yet found my mother’s family, but would make further enquiries if I wished. The little man left me with a dossier of names and addresses. Most had some reference to their relationship with me.

“I have kept my fees to a minimum,” he concluded. “The Prime Minister’s office said you are quite capable of paying.”

It had occurred to me of late that everyone was keen to spend my money for me.

I travelled with Marianna to a place called Guildford, where we took rooms in a pleasant country inn. Over the next two weeks, we visited a number of families. Most had heard of me but had not realised I was their kin. I had thought to present myself in the country as I truly am, but Marianna had dissuaded me. Sir Bren I was, and Sir Bren I would remain for the duration.

With the assistance of a local solicitor, I purchased five farms and one public house. The farms had been split into smaller parcels. My family were tenant farmers. It did not take long to see how they struggled to pay extortionate rents and still make a living.

At our final meeting, some wept with joy when they heard of my intentions. From then on, they would pay only sixpence a year in rent – a mere trifle, but enough to satisfy the law. In return, they would keep the fences and walls of the properties in good repair.

I was astonished that the public house was named The Foxy Lady. How appropriate, I thought. The landlord, one John Dawlish, had not known of my existence, despite he was my father’s brother. Once more, I asked for only a token rent. More importantly, his was now a “free house.” He could sell any beer he wished and was no longer tied to a single brewery.

***

It transpired that Marianna and I weren’t quite the richest couple in Britain, but we were amongst the top five, with approximately two and half million pounds.* The question remained, what on earth should we do with it? Of course, it wasn’t all mine. It had to be divvied up between us and the crew. Exactly how and when was not something I had given much thought to.

We had been gone several weeks. It had been a refreshing change to just travel about the countryside meeting far more family than the solicitor had discovered, all of them surprised at the existence of a long lost male relative, and a famous one at that. Having settled the legal details with the solicitor, I felt it was time to be back to London, to see how my ships were progressing.

The dockyard chief walked with me to the Siren. There had been some major changes, he explained, as well as many fittings that had needed replacement. I stopped in my tracks. “She’s longer than before – good Lord, much longer! How on earth have you managed that?”

“You didn’t know? How very odd, but those were my instructions. I have the drawings here, Sir. I intended to show you what we’ve done. But, yes, she’s twenty feet longer than before. She was always too stubby for those two large masts. You said she sailed well. Now you will find her even better. And she can carry more sail. We know for certain she has sister ships, and we have already done the same to a couple of them.

“As for how, it’s quite easy… merely expensive. We remove approximately twenty feet from the front of her – the curved part of the bow. Then, to put it in simple terms, we add new oak frame timbers and lengthen the keel, before she’s replanked.”

I understood what he meant, although it wasn’t something I had known was possible.

The cannon were an even bigger surprise. Siren now carried two eighteen-pounders, two of twelve and twenty of nine, besides the two swivel guns. By my estimation, she was now, in effect, a frigate and no longer a brig. Majestic had also been fitted with eighteens and twelves.

My cabin was also more spacious, and there were now two more proper, though smaller, cabins. And there was something I knew would delight Marianna – our cot was considerably wider than before.

Throughout the ship, there were many more changes, both large and small. I’d take them all in later, but I wasn’t sure whether I should be delighted or enraged. No one had thought to consult me before making such dramatic changes to my own ship. I queried the dockyard chief again. Who, exactly, had given the instructions?

“The orders came directly from the palace and were approved by the Admiralty Board,” he replied. “As I heard it, the King insisted you have a ship worthy of your status and abilities. I have held off on one change though, because it’s very much a captain’s decision. He wants ‘Royal’ added to both your ships’ names.”

So my flagship was to be the Royal Siren.

“I rather like that,” I said. “Just so long as the bugger doesn’t think he owns me. Yes, you may go ahead with that.”

I thought he would have a fit when I referred to His Majesty as a bugger. I laughed. “Oh, don’t you worry. Old Georgie and I are great friends, don’t you know?”

It was that last sentence that brought it home to me. It really was time to be away from here. I was beginning to speak like a toff!

I would call a meeting of all hands, and we would decide our future as a team.

* Approximately two and a half billion pounds in today’s money.

On to Chapter Eight!

by Rosey M

May 30, 2006 – Rhonda

The next morning I slid into my pajama pants and made my way toward the bathroom. As I crossed the hallway, the strong scent of coffee wafted over from the kitchen.

After a quick pee, I brushed my teeth and studied myself in the mirror. The person staring back was the kind of ordinary girl you’d see anywhere. Other than my hair color, I’ve never had much of a resemblance to my mom or sister. I don’t have the pale, sharp features they do. Ashley says I have a “healthy glow” to my skin, and my face has always been a little more rounded compared to theirs. My sister insists that just adds to my cuteness.

I guess I was a little short for my age (my head just barely made it into the reflection), and my mid-length black hair definitely needed a good brush after all that tossing and turning in the night. My light hazel eyes looked blearily back at me. They were so unlike the dark blue ones that Mom and Ashley shared, but I’d inherited more of my father’s looks than my mother’s.

After I’d finished cleaning up, I left the bathroom and went into the kitchen. My mom sat at the small table, head in her hands, a steaming mug of coffee set before her. She always seemed so exhausted. Her hair was mussed and she looked like she’d barely made it out of bed. I went over to give her a peck on the cheek. “Morning, Mommy.”

She winced at the sound of my voice. “Hey, baby. Not so loud, okay?”

It was easy to see where Ashley got her looks from. Mom was tall and lean, her hair the same jet-black as mine and my sister’s, only shorter. I remember wishing I’d be as pretty as her when I grew up.

“Sorry, Mommy,” I almost whispered. After fixing a bowl of cereal as quietly as I could, I sat across from her and ate in silence. Finally, I tentatively asked, “Where’s Ashley? She’s normally up by now.”

“She left before you got up,” Mom told me while she rubbed at her temples. “Seemed like she was in one of her moods. Said she had some kind of art project she was working on at school.”

I was careful not to show the hurt and worry I felt at Ashley leaving without saying anything to me, especially after what had happened the night before. Mom couldn’t know anything about that, though. “Oh, yeah. I think she said something about it yesterday, but I didn’t really understand what it was about.”

She left so she wouldn’t have to see you, I told myself, wanting to cry but knowing I couldn’t.

Mom shook her head. “You and me both, Ronnie. I don’t understand half of what you kids learn in school these days.”

While I got up to wash out my bowl, Mom drained her cup of coffee and stood up, groaning as she stretched. “Go grab the brush so I can tidy your hair. It’s looking like a bird’s nest up there.”

I tried not to smile at the irony of Mom commenting on my hair when hers didn’t look much better. It was normally Ashley who helped me get ready for school in the mornings; I couldn’t remember the last time Mom had done anything like that for me. But I did as she said and went to fetch the brush.

She fixed my hair in silence, then gave me a quick kiss on the brow. “Hmm, that’s a little better, I guess. Now get dressed and scoot before you wind up being late.” She shooed me away with a little wave. “And don’t forget your keys.”

After getting ready and grabbing my backpack, I returned to the kitchen to say goodbye. Mom had already slipped into her room and shut the door. With a shrug, I quietly left for school.

***

I barely remembered what we learned in our morning classes that day, my mind on autopilot as it swirled with thoughts of my sister and what had recently transpired between us.

A hand waving in front of my face was what finally brought me out of my daze, accompanied by an insistent voice.

“Jeez, space cadet! What’s with you today?”

Sitting across from me at the lunch table were my friends Susie and Maria. Susie was the one who’d spoken, and she now sat looking at me expectantly, her blonde braid swaying from side to side as she shook her head in exasperation. “You’ve been out of it all day, girl. Heck, you barely looked at Miss McFadden when she called on you in math. And we all know how much of a crush you have on her!”

I flushed in embarrassment. Miss McFadden was definitely pretty, but I never liked her the way I liked Ashley.

Maria reached over and swatted Susie on the arm. “Jeez, you can talk!.  We can all see you make heart eyes whenever Joshua Patrick walks by!”

Susie was left sputtering in indignation as Maria turned towards me. “Is everything okay, Rhonda? Suze is right, you have been pretty distracted today.”

Her face was so full of concern, I couldn’t help feeling guilty for making them worry about me like this. I gave them a sheepish grin. “Sorry. I don’t know what’s with me today. Just have my head in the clouds, I guess.” They seemed to accept my words at face value, and we dropped the subject.

I did know what was wrong with me, though – Ashley.  I couldn’t stop thinking about what had happened the night before. I wondered what she was doing right then. Was she thinking about me the way I was thinking about her? Did she want to kiss me again?

That last thought made me giddy with excitement. I couldn’t help the wistful smile that teased the corners of my mouth, lost in thoughts of my sister’s soft lips pressed against mine.

Susie leaned toward Maria and stage-whispered, “Do you think she got hit on the head earlier? I’ve heard people with brain damage are like this sometimes.” I scowled and made as if to lunge at her. Susie took the bait and leapt out of her seat, moving behind Maria to use her as a shield.

I tried to hold my resolve, but couldn’t pretend to be angry for long. The three of us burst into giggles.

It seemed a stupid thing to worry about Ashley when I couldn’t do anything about it right then. I knew I’d be seeing her later that day, so we could figure things out together. For the moment, I just wanted to enjoy spending time with my friends.

I tried to participate in the rest of our conversation during lunch, and I was even able to pay attention during afternoon classes. I probably remembered next to nothing of what we learned, but it was better than nothing!

***

After school, I was so excited to see Ashley that I had to stop myself from skipping all the way home. We had a few hours before Mom got back and Ashley had to leave for work, so we could do whatever we wanted until then.

But when I got home, the house stood silent.

I called Ashley’s name, but got no reply. My face fell, and I tried to tamp down my disappointment. Sometimes she had to stay late after school, that was all. I’d just wait in her room and surprise her!

I dropped my backpack off by the sofa, then made my way to Ashley’s room. Force of habit had me knocking, but as expected, there was no response.

Opening her door, I peered inside. I’d never spent much time in my sister’s room – she always liked having a place to hide away for a bit, same as me. And whenever anything bad was happening in our house, she’d always be the one to leave her safe space to find and comfort me.

I felt a little bad about entering without permission, but curiosity got the better of me. Ashley had been a total mystery to me of late, and I found myself wondering if the answer to her behavior was within reach.

Shutting her door behind me, I flicked on the light switch and looked around. Her walls were adorned with all kinds of pictures she had drawn, as well as a variety of posters she’d either purchased or been given. My favorite was the album cover where the bat-winged skeleton is riding a horse and pointing a sword toward the viewer. So cool!

Ashley had always enjoyed that kind of imagery, so half the pictures she drew had skulls and demons and all manner of spooky things. The other drawings of hers were all from TV shows she watched. I only recognized a couple of the people in them, but there was no denying my sister was really good at this stuff. It was no wonder she wanted to display them.

Spying her closet, I flung the doors back to look at all the clothes she’d organized neatly on hangers. Almost all of them were black, a variety of button-up shirts, tight pants, and skirts making up the bulk of it. In one corner, there was a couple of long black dresses she only wore on special occasions.

I opened the chest of drawers underneath and found her underwear and socks. A flush of warmth reached my cheeks as I carefully closed everything up, and I couldn’t help tittering to myself. It was so much fun searching my sister’s room like this. I felt just like a detective!

My eyes locked onto Ashley’s nightstand where her laptop sat. It was a really fast model; way better than the old PC we kept in the living room. I remember Ashley having to save up for months to pay for it… which is why I didn’t want to touch it without her permission; I don’t know what I would’ve done if I somehow screwed it up.

Curious about what she had in the drawers underneath, I opened one and saw a bunch of neatly bundled cords and one of those new tablet devices, along with a Gameboy. I checked the drawer underneath it, only to find—

Huh?

My Hello Kitty shirt was in that drawer. What the heck!?

I brought it to my nose out of curiosity; it smelled a little like me, like it hadn’t even been washed. I was utterly confused. Was this where my shirts ended up when they went missing every other week? I always found them eventually, but still…

I put the shirt back in the drawer, knowing I’d have to ask her about it later.

Moving round the bed, I checked the top drawer in the other nightstand, gasping at what I found.

There were a bunch of knick-knacks I’d made for Ashley over the years: macaroni pictures, pipe cleaner projects; drawings I kind of wanted to tear up now that I was old enough to recognize their awfulness.

Separate from this mishmash of gifts was a neat pile of assorted black and orange construction paper that I immediately recognized as my Valentine’s Day cards. I couldn’t believe she actually kept them. She was so happy the first time I made one for her that I gave her a card every year until I’d grown out of such things. I always assumed she threw them out after a few days.

I picked up the one on top of the stack and opened it out. A bunch of small cut-out orange hearts were glued all along the page, along with the message, Happy Valentine’s Day, Ashley! Love, Rhonda. In between the hearts were doodles I’d made with different colored markers.

Ashley was always encouraging me to practice my drawing, since she thought I’d surpass her one day. Looking back on my rough lines and the misshapen blobs that were supposed to be animals made it clearer than ever that my big sister was definitely the artist of the family.

I opened the next couple of cards to see variations of that same scrawled message, and more rough sketches. The one I made the year prior was orange with black hearts, and the year before that had the same design as my most recent one.

The last card in the drawer was visibly frayed along the edges, easily the most worn of the lot. My heart ached when I realized just how many times Ashley must have taken it out to read, holding it in her hands as she lay in bed.

Inside the orange paper, there was a single black heart glued to the left side with A+R written in white pencil crayon. Underneath it were two scribbles that took me a moment to place. I think the left one was supposed to be a wolf, since Ashley has always liked wolves. Judging from the long ears on top of its head, the right one kind of looked like a bunny. On the top right side, crudely cut out black letters spelled, Happy Valentine’s Day! And below in my loopy, too-large writing, it read: I love you, Ashley! Let’s stay together forever! Love, Rhonda.

The fact that Ashley kept these had my mind spinning. I had to sit down on her bed to think about what it all meant. I’d poured my love into those cards, my feelings for Ashley so strong I thought I might burst. Only now did it feel like those feelings might have a chance of being returned. Ashley wouldn’t have kept my gifts if she didn’t love me the way I loved her, right?

Glancing down at my closed fist, I discovered with some alarm that I’d crushed the card. I dropped the crinkled piece of paper onto Ashley’s nightstand with a startled gasp, then burrowed under my sister’s blanket to hide. I was worried she’d never forgive me for ruining something she treasured so much.

I remembered how much she loved that card, the way she’d jumped up excitedly to read it. Only… that wasn’t the way it happened at all, was it? Hadn’t I wanted to surprise her, only to hear her call out my name before I’d even opened the bedroom door? Then when I ran in, it’d startled her, and she’d pulled her hand out from under her skirt.

My mind finally connected the dots as I realized what my sister must have been doing that day. But why had she been calling my name? Ashley said she liked to think about me while touching herself. Was she really thinking about me that way, even back then?

I poked my head out from underneath the blanket, but Ashley’s room held no answers, so I disappeared again. My body was starting to get hot from thinking about Ashley masturbating. Her scent seemed to surround me. I melted into the sheets, breathing it in.

I shimmied my pants and underwear down until they were bunched around my feet, then used my fingers to explore myself. My vagina felt warm and damp as I began to trace a path through the folds. My thumb brushed against the little nub near the top, causing a bolt of pleasure to shoot through me.

This is it! I knew immediately that it was what made me feel so good that night! I curled my toes into the sheets and began to move my fingers more vigorously through the wetness, making sure I paid special attention to my budding clitoris.

I thought about Ashley kissing and hugging me. I thought about the way she always stared at me like I was the only person who mattered to her. The way her body felt when she lowered it onto mine, and how her eager tongue had explored my mouth. Most of all, I thought about how she’d always been the most important person in the world to me, and how I didn’t want anyone else to have her.

The feeling between my legs was getting better and better. I clutched at Ashley’s blanket with my free hand as I drew her scent deep into my lungs. I heard my voice cry out, “Ashley!” and then, finally, it happened.

My lower half lifted itself up from the bed and thrust into my waiting fingers, intense pleasure flooding my core. With a panting gasp, my body went limp and I could do nothing but lie there, dazed and exhausted.

For all I knew, I could have been lying there for seconds, minutes, or even hours. When my mind finally switched back on, it struck me that being discovered in my sister’s room with my pants bunched around my ankles probably wasn’t ideal.

I quickly got myself dressed, then jumped out of Ashley’s bed. I put the Valentine’s Day cards back in her drawer, hoping she wouldn’t notice the one I’d crushed.

I did my best to smooth out the mess I’d made of her bed, then went to clean myself up. I took my time in the shower, making sure to keep the bathroom door open so the steam could escape. Mom always got mad if we shut the door and trapped the moisture inside.

After I got out, I busied myself with making a snack, then put the TV on in the living room. I always did my homework there so I could hear when Ashley got home. Splayed out on the couch, I waited for what seemed like hours, wondering if my sister would ever return. I hadn’t got much sleep of late, and unable to hold back a big yawn, I felt my eyes getting heavy, finally dozing off.

***

I couldn’t have been sleeping for much longer than half an hour when I felt a hand lightly nudge my arm. I found myself staring up at my mom, who was looking down at me in puzzlement. “Why are you sleeping out here? And where’s Ashley?”

I quickly sat up as her words registered. She still wasn’t here? “I’m not sure. She wasn’t home when I got back from school.”

The scowl on Mom’s face was a more practiced and expert version of the one I’d given Suzie at school. Mom had turned scowling into an art form. I immediately knew I’d said the wrong thing. “So you’ve been home all by yourself? That girl! When I see her…” Walking off angrily, she added, “Go sleep in your room if you’re that tired.”

I gathered up all of my school stuff to put in my backpack, then took my dishes to the sink to clean. When I was done with that, I did as Mom said and went to lie down in my room.

Why hadn’t Ashley come home? Did I really mess things up that badly when I pushed her away? In spite of these worried thoughts, sleep eventually took me once again.

***

I woke up fully alert, my mind barely registering that my bedside clock said it was almost midnight. I could hear raised voices coming from the hallway.

“What the hell were you thinking? She’s ten years old! You can’t just leave her alone like that.”

“I didn’t mean to! Time just got away from me and I had to head right to work, all right? Besides, how many times did you leave me alone here when I was her age? Or even younger? She was fine on her own.”

“That’s not the point! You’ll be turning eighteen in a few months, Ashley. You need to start acting like an adult. You can’t just leave Rhonda like that whenever you’re in a bad mood. You have a responsibility.”

“I have a responsibility? That’s rich coming from you. When was the last time you spent more than a few minutes of your time with Rhonda? I’ve been the one looking after her for who knows how long; we barely see you since Dad left! You go to work, come home, make dinner or tidy up around the house once in a while. But otherwise you just leave it to us.

“You spend your evenings drinking, then you wake up hungover and mad as shit – rinse, repeat. You want me to be responsible? Why don’t you try acting like a responsible moth—“

Ashley’s voice was cut off by the sound of a hard slap. I scrambled out of bed and opened my door to see them glaring at each other. Mom looked furious, and Ashley looked just about ready to strike her dead. Her cheek was red from where she’d been hit, both hands balled into fists. She looked to my doorway where I stood silently, and muttered, “Go back to bed, Rhonda.”

Mom’s eyes flashed to me for the briefest of moments before fixing back on Ashley. Her icy voice rang out into the night. “I am your mother, you ungrateful little bitch! I bust my ass around here to take care of you two, and you’re going to accuse me of being a bad mom? Don’t you ever speak to me like that again, Ashley. Go to bed. Now.”

Mom stormed off to her room, the sound of the slamming door echoing off the walls. Ashley and I stood where we were like sentinels until she mumbled, “Sorry, Rhonda. Didn’t mean to wake you.” Then she turned off the hallway light and went into her own room.

The silence engulfed me, my mind swimming with thoughts of what had just happened. I hated when they argued like that.

Dad had walked out on us almost four years earlier, and I knew it was still a sore spot for Mom. I can’t remember much about him. In most of my memories, he was yelling; especially when he’d been drinking. I was secretly a little happy when he left, even though I knew it made things harder on Mom and Ashley.

But I thought things were getting better. Ashley got herself a job to help with the bills, and she and Mom didn’t fight as often as they used to. When they did, it rarely escalated to hitting, especially now that Ashley was big enough to fight back.

I know Mom had been drinking a lot lately, but she did that when Dad was still with us. But what did Ashley mean about having to be the one to look after me? Sure, we spent a lot of time together, but didn’t she want to be with me? Did she hate having to be around me so much?

The thought made my eyes well up. I tiptoed over to Ashley’s room, quietly opened the door and slipped inside. In the darkness, I could barely make out her form curled up on top of the blankets. She lifted her head to look at me. “Rhonda?”

I padded over and climbed on the bed next to her. She still hadn’t changed out of her work clothes. “I’m sorry, Ashley.”

Her arms pulled me closer until I was lying by her side. “What are you apologizing for? You didn’t do anything wrong. I’m angry at Mom, not you. I could never be angry at you.”

I wrapped my arms around my sister. “I’m sorry you always have to take care of me, Ashley. I never wanted to be a bother.”

I tried to pull away, but Ashley’s arms tightened around me, pressing me back against her. Her voice was thin and reedy as she choked out, “W-what are you talking about, Rhonda? You’re never a bother to me. Or Mom. We both love you to hell and back. And I… You know how much I love you. Don’t ever think I don’t want to be around you.

“Sometimes I have to leave you alone because I feel like I’m smothering you. I’d spend every waking moment with you in my arms if I could. I could say it a million different ways, and it wouldn’t be enough. I love you, Rhonda.” Her voice broke into a small sob as she rested her chin on my head.

Even now, I shiver when I remember the raw emotion in my sister’s voice as she poured her heart out to me. She loves me. She. Loves. Me.

Before I knew it, I was baring my soul to Ashley, revealing the secrets I’d kept from her for what seemed like an eternity. “I love you, too, Ashley. I think I love you more than a sister. Y-you know how in the movies, they always talk about true love, and the boy and girl get married at the end? It’s more like that. You’re all I can think about sometimes.”

Ashley’s murmuring voice stirred a gentle breeze through my hair. “Just sometimes? Then I win, Rhonda. Because I think about you all the time.”

I playfully made to swat at her, but she held me so firmly I could barely move my arms. “Don’t be a dork, Ashley! You know what I meant…”

Ashley rolled  onto her back so I was on top of her. “Of course I know what you meant, and I’m so happy to hear you say it.”

We lay in comfortable silence, my sister’s arms wrapped around me as I nestled against her chest. Eventually, I lifted my head to look into her eyes. Even in the dim light, I could see how red her cheek was from Mom’s slap. I gently pressed my hand against the mark, amazed by how hot her skin was. Ashley winced at the touch, but rested one of her hands on mine.

“Is Mom still gonna be mad in the morning?” I asked.

Ashley sighed and dropped her head against the pillow. “She’ll have sobered up by then. She’ll probably feel like shit and want to apologize. I know I went too far with what I said, but I had a lot on my mind after… well, y’know. Still, she didn’t have to fucking hit me.”

The way she described what happened between us, it was like something that was never to be spoken of again. I wasn’t happy about that, but at least things would probably be back to normal between her and Mom come tomorrow.

Throwing caution to the wind, I said, “Um, about what happened last night. Can we talk about it?”

Ashley stiffened against me and grabbed onto my arms as if to thrust me away, but I twisted my hands into her shirt and hissed out, “Don’t do that, Ashley! I’m not mad or upset about it. I actually really liked it when we kissed.”

Her grip on me loosened, her hands trailing back and forth across my arms instead. I could see a small smirk teasing the corners of her mouth. “Getting bossy, aren’t we, little girl? I’m happy you liked it as much as I did, though. You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to kiss you like that. I felt so shitty about how it ended, but at the same time, it felt so nice to finally do something about my feelings. I… I’m sorry about scaring you like that. Did I go too far?”

My face started getting hot. I definitely wanted to talk about it, but were we supposed to just come out and say everything we were feeling? It was so embarrassing! I tried to put my face back against her chest, but Ashley reached out to cup my chin. “Hey, don’t go all shy on me; you’re the one who brought it up! Tell me what you’re thinking, okay?”

I needed to take a deep breath before I could even begin. “I’m sorry about pushing you away like I did. I wasn’t really upset or anything, I was just surprised. You kinda walked in on me, uh, touching myself, and you told me you knew I did it even though I tried to hide it, and then I cried, and we cuddled, and then I confessed, and then you confessed, and suddenly we were kissing, and it was getting all kinda crazy, and… and we…“

I trailed off as Ashley raised a hand to slow me down. “I guess when you put it like that, a lot did happen last night, huh? Too much, too fast, maybe. I get it, Rhonda. But you’re okay with what happened before it got to that point?”

“Yes! I liked it when we kissed. It made me feel all tingly inside. Did you really want to kiss me that way?”

Ashley peered up at me wistfully, her voice a breathy whisper. “More than wanted, Rhonda. I needed to. Do you, uh… do you want to kiss again?”

I answered by pressing my lips to hers. She reached out to clutch my hips while I held onto her shoulders for support. And then we were kissing.

I had no idea what I was doing, but tried my best to mimic Ashley – the way her mouth pressed softly against mine, how she gently nibbled on my lower lip, her tongue teasing and probing.

I don’t know how long we kissed before she finally pulled away and whispered, “I need to stop now, Rhonda, or I’m going to lose control. I love you. I love you so much.”

I smiled at my sister, wondering if it would be such a bad thing if she did lose control. “I love you too, Ashley. Can we do this every day? I don’t want it to be the only time we kiss.”

Ashley chuckled at my obvious enthusiasm. “Of course we’re going to do this every day, silly. Especially since I know you like it, too.”

I was over the moon to hear her say that. “Like it? I love it! Um, does this mean we’re dating now? Like when Mom and Dad first met?”

Ashley’s radiant smile sent a shiver of pleasure through me. “We’re not gonna be like how Mom and Dad were. We’re going to be so much better. Do you want me to be your girlfriend, Rhonda?”

I hugged my sister for all I was worth. “Yes! Oh, yes!” With everything out in the open, I figured now was as good a time as any for confessions. “Um, Ashley?”

My sister’s fingers stroked through my hair. “Hmm?”

“I was in your room earlier, and—“

“Oh! So I wasn’t just imagining things, then? I thought someone had been in here.”

I winced a little, pressing my body against Ashley’s so I didn’t have to make eye contact. “I missed you last night, so I came in here to just… I dunno. Don’t be mad, okay?”

Ashley reached up to cup my face. “Be mad because you missed me? Now who’s being a dork?”

“No, not that. I was snooping. I found the drawer where you keep all my old gifts. It kinda got me, um, y’know, thinking about stuff, and I accidentally crumpled one of the cards up. I’m really sorry, Ashley! I didn’t mean to.”

“It’s fine, Rhonda. Stop worrying, geez. As long as I can still read it, that’s what matters. I love that card. It always gave me a little bit of hope that maybe one day you’d feel the same way I do. I guess I don’t need to keep looking at it now that I actually have you. I do, right? Have you?”

I planted a quick kiss on her lips. “Of course you have me, Ashley! Like I said in that card – we’re gonna be together forever. But you’re really not mad?”

Her fingers trailed along my body, from my shoulders all the way down my back, pausing briefly to caress my hips before coming to rest on my butt. I thrust instinctively against her hands where they cupped and squeezed, causing a pleasant tingle between my legs.

“There. You’re forgiven,” Ashley said, then shifted uncomfortably beneath me. “Dang, you’re getting heavy.” I scowled at her, and she added, “Kidding, kidding!”

With a quick peck to my brow, she gently pushed me off her, the two of us now lying side by side. I helped Ashley shimmy the blanket out from underneath our bodies and pull it over us.

“We’ll take things as slow as you want, Rhonda. Even if you only ever wanted to kiss, I wouldn’t mind. As long as we’re together. If anyone asks you out, I want you to tell them no. You don’t need to explain why; just say you don’t want to. I promise I’ll do the same. But… you know we can’t tell anyone about us being girlfriends, right?”

“I know, Ashley. I love you, but it’ll be our special secret.”

“Yeah. Our special secret. ‘Night, Rhonda.”

I lay my head against my sister’s breast, and as my body melted into her embrace I could feel myself beginning to drift off. “G’night, Ashley…” I heard myself mumble from some distant place.

***

When I woke up the next morning, I could only imagine what kind of dopey grin I had on my face. But can you blame me? I’d had the most amazing dream, one that ended with Ashley kissing me, and the two of us becoming girlfriends!

As I sat up, feeling a little groggy, I quickly realized I wasn’t in my own bed. So it wasn’t a dream! But Ashley wasn’t next to me anymore. I got up and padded out of the room to find her.

I could hear the sound of the shower running, the bathroom door partially open to let the moisture escape. I sidled inside, then closed it without thinking. “Ashley?” I called. “I need to pee.”

I heard Ashley reply, “Okay, go ahead. I’ll just flush the toilet after I’m done in here.”

One of the unspoken rules in our house was never flush the toilet when someone’s in the shower. As I sat there peeing, I could feel my cheeks getting warm watching Ashley’s silhouette through the shower curtain. I found myself yearning to get a better look, and wondered what she’d do if I climbed in there with her. My mind buzzing with possibilities, I wiped; pulled my panties up. And then I flushed the toilet…

Ashley yelped in surprise. “What the hell, Rhonda!” Shying away from the cold water, she pulled back the shower curtain to glare at me. I was prepared to apologize profusely, but words failed me as my sister’s naked body came into view.

Her long black hair was plastered to her pale skin, still flushed from the hot shower, but it was her boobs my eyes were drawn to. Firm and petite, the nipples stood proudly from goosebump flesh. I’d seen my sister naked many times, of course, but only now did I truly appreciate what I was seeing, and compared to my barely-there bee stings, Ashley’s breasts were positively magnificent.

There was a little patch of dark hair just above her privates in the shape of a small line. Ashley seemed to understand what I needed, slowly opening her legs to reveal more of herself. Her vagina looked so much more mature than mine, so many folds and creases; such pretty colors. The rosy lips of her sex glistened with moisture. Water? Or something else?

My searching gaze traveled back up Ashley’s body to meet her eyes. Suddenly I felt so immature, standing there in her old hand-me-down pajamas, cheeks flushing with embarrassment. I hadn’t even pretended not to look.

Abruptly turning away, I mumbled, “Um… I’m gonna go start on breakfast, okay?”

As I quickly washed my hands and made to leave, Ashley called out my name. I slowly turned back to face her.

“Fair’s fair,” she said, her voice taking on a husky timbre. “Lift up your shirt for me.”

I blushed so hard my ears probably turned crimson, but I took hold of my shirt and lifted it up so Ashley could see me. It didn’t seem like a fair trade – I got to see Ashley’s beautiful grown up body, and all she got was a glimpse of my flat chest. But who was I to complain?

Ashley gave a low groan, her eyes heavy with longing as she stood gazing at me. Finally she stepped back behind the shower curtain, and I pulled my shirt back down. “Thanks, Rhonda. Could you shut the door when you go out, please?”

Closing the bathroom door behind me, I couldn’t help but let out a little giggle as I passed through the hallway. I don’t know what Ashley could possibly like about what she saw, but she clearly did!

***

Down in the kitchen I busied myself making bacon and eggs for the three of us. Happily humming away to myself, and with breakfast well underway, I could suddenly detect the familiar fruity scent of our soap.

Arms encircled me from behind and a warm body pressed against mine. “That was a great way to start the day,” Ashley murmured. “I still can’t believe you want me the same way I want you.” She plucked the spatula out of my hand and leaned around to kiss me on the lips. “Here, I’ll finish up with this if you want to make us some toast.”

Once everything was cooked and Ashley had brewed a pot of coffee (and stolen a few more kisses), we sat down to breakfast. I had barely eaten anything in the past day, so I was ravenous.

I was halfway through my plate when we heard Mom cursing in her bedroom. Not long after that she opened her door and crossed the hall to the bathroom. “Goddammit, Ashley!” she yelled. “What have I said about shutting this door when you shower? Are you trying to grow mold in here?”

Me and Ashley kept quiet while we waited for Mom to enter the kitchen. She was limping slightly when she eventually came in. She glared at us for a moment before turning away, heading straight for the coffee maker.

“Mom, are you okay?” I asked tentatively.

She stiffened defensively, before gradually letting some of the tension out of her shoulders. “I’m all right, baby. I hit my leg on my bed when I got up, but I’ll be fine.”

When she sat down across from us, I couldn’t help but notice how red her eyes were. She regarded us both with a forlorn look. “Listen, Ashley. I know I fucked up—” Mom gave me a brief glance, “I mean messed up, last night. I was angry, but I had no right to hit you like that. I’m sorry.”

Ashley’s hand found mine under the table, and I squeezed. “It’s okay. I’m sorry too, Mom. I shouldn’t have said all that stuff. You know I didn’t mean it.”

Mom’s tired smile said she wasn’t fooled. “No, you were right. I’ve put too much responsibility on you, and I know my drinking is getting out of hand. I’m going to try and cut back.”

Turning to me, she continued, “And I’m sorry to you, too, Rhonda. I haven’t been there for you the way I should have lately. You need a mom, and I haven’t been living up to that. It’s gonna be different from now on, okay? How ’bout I call into school, and the three of us have ourselves a girl’s day at the mall?”

Without waiting for a response, Mom grabbed a few pieces of bacon and folded a piece of toast around them. Grabbing her mug of coffee, she turned to go back to her room. “I’ll leave you girls to finish up, then we’ll head out in an hour or two.”

When Mom had gone, Ashley and I exchanged bemused looks. “What the heck was that?” I whispered

“I don’t know. I figured I’d get some half-assed apology this morning; I wasn’t expecting her to go that far.”

As we finished breakfast, my mind began to wander. I wasn’t sure how I felt about this new development. On the one hand, I was happy that Mom was paying more attention to me, but I didn’t know when I’d get to be alone with Ashley next.

As my mood began to darken, Ashley took my chin and gently turned me towards her. “Rhonda?” When a tear trickled down my face, Ashley looked at me in alarm. “Hey, what’s wrong?”

“Do you think Mom meant it when she said she was going to spend more time with me?”

Ashley swiped her thumb across my cheek to catch the stray tear, then smiled. “I think she did. That’s a good thing, isn’t it? She hasn’t been around enough.”

I felt a flash of anger. “But that means you and me won’t get to spend as much time together!”

With trembling lips, Ashley shushed me with a kiss, the tenderness of our exchange helping my own nerves to settle. “Take it easy, Rhonda. Even if she’s around more often, it doesn’t mean we’re going to stop spending time together. I won’t let that happen.”

She kissed me again, but this time I felt the gentle nudge of her tongue against my lips. I parted them, allowing her to caress and explore the rest of my mouth.

It dawned on me that I wanted to kiss Ashley like that, but just as I resolved to do so, she pulled away.

Her eyes had that glazed quality to them, but they quickly sharpened. “She can spend as much time as she wants with you,” she whispered angrily, “but I’ll never let her take you away from me. You’re mine, Rhonda. Mine!”

I wasn’t sure how to respond to that proclamation, but couldn’t hide my pleased smile. After all, Ashley was mine, too!

She stood up and went to rinse her plate. “Besides, who knows if she even meant half of what she said? I think she meant it, but I don’t know if she’ll stick to it. We’ll just see how that goes.”

Craning her neck to look back at me, she added, “Finish what’s left on Mom’s plate, if you want. She won’t eat it.”

I was still a little worried about how things would turn out, but I tucked into Mom’s leftovers anyway. I was a growing girl, after all!

On to Chapter Four!