Message-ID: <23722asstr$956023826@assm.asstr-mirror.org> X-Original-Message-ID: <20000417134853.13894.qmail@web4005.mail.yahoo.com> From: Kelvar Varkel Subject: {ASSM} Jake and the Castaway Daughters (Mf M+f MF mg hist oral rape) {Varkel} [5/12] Date: Mon, 17 Apr 2000 22:10:26 -0400 Path: assm.asstr-mirror.org!not-for-mail Approved: Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories.moderated,alt.sex.stories Followup-To: alt.sex.stories.d X-Archived-At: X-Moderator-Contact: ASSTR ASSM moderation X-Story-Submission: X-Moderator-ID: dennyw, apuleius Chapter 5: Cross-currents __________________________________________________ Do You Yahoo!? Send online invitations with Yahoo! Invites. http://invites.yahoo.com <1st attachment, "2jnar05.txt" begin> Jake and the Castaway Daughters a Novelette by Varkel Spring, 2000 CHAPTER 5: Cross-currents A week passed and then another. Belle came to dread the morning, the return from slumber, because the day promised nothing. Each was like the one before, equal in the squalidness that she had to endure. She had no chair to sit on, no books to read, no one even to talk with whose ideas had not already been expressed many times, except perhaps the man, and Belle was queasy of ideas. As for music the girls had begun to sing naughty ditties taught by Higgins, who seemed ominously to be always near them. "The Boston lass has learned the knack "Of catching doodles in her crack. "Though easy to flee from her hot pen, "It has to be hard to first get in." Jill's piping voice: "Is that a riddle, Jake?" She was weary, very weary of her life, and she despaired of ever leaving the island. She worried about the girls, about Higgins, who though tame at the moment had proven himself capable of excess, but mostly about Higgins and the girls. She awakened each morning with hope, only to find that it was reality which had become the horrible nightmare. The girls seemed happy enough, however, playing all day at the beach and in the trees, fully tanned now and bare breasted as savages, with Higgins always about, playing with them, often caressing their arms, shoulders and buttocks in a presumably fatherly manner, to the neglect of his work on their camp. To her the odious man seemed a wild cat stalking small game; he was deciding which of her sisters was more vulnerable to his lust. She had not bathed in days. Her garment was soiled with the stain of her curse, and her hair was a tangle. At least Higgins had cut short the hair of the girls, using his huge knife. They were children and trusted the hand that fed them not to harm them, reminding her of the puppies she had fed tenderly in Hanchow. But she knew better. She had vehemently refused Higgins' gesture toward her own head. * * * "Higgins," Belle called to the man one morning as he played with Jill and Marie next to the hut on the ledge. "Higgins, when are you going to fix the roof so that it doesn't leak? When will we have benches to sit upon and perhaps a table?" "I'll get to it soon enough, Belle," he replied flippantly, deliberately using her first name without invitation. "Man, are you expecting a rescue?" she shrieked suddenly, causing the two girls to look up in concern at their elder sister. "Should we pile our meager goods on the beach to await the coming of a ship?" Jake sniffed disdainfully, shrugged and turned away from the distraught young woman, but Marie rose to her feet, went over and embraced her sister lovingly. She looked back and admonished in a voice no longer shy, "Yes, Jake, we must assume that we'll be here for a long while. We have to make this place decent to live in." "I'll help," Jill offered in her little girl voice. "Let's do it then," Marie responded, incongruously a leader, if only for an instant. "Belle, go bathe and wash your petticoat while we fix up our house." Belle felt a spark of hope. At least it was not Higgins giving the orders. She rose from the ground where she had leaned against a rock and went down the path to the beach. She removed her petticoat before plunging into the sea, almost calm this morning. She would soon be sixteen years old -- in the same week that Jill would turn eleven, a date that she had misplaced in their troubles and which was possibly already gone. She splashed knee high in the sea and rubbed her maturing body clean. The water was refreshing, rejuvenating and she felt again gay as a teenager should be. She stooped and submerged her head in the cool water, staying under until she needed to breath. She moved deeper into the ocean until gentle swells struck her neck and bounced her feet from the sandy bottom. Looking back at the ledge above the cove she could make out Higgins -- Jake -- working on the roof of her shack at last. The sight pleased her and she grasped her breasts, a generous handful each, and squeezed them, causing a tingle between her legs. It was the perfect time to do it, she said to herself, the most perfect time. Belle allowed herself to cry aloud without inhibition as her finger brought forth a tremendous pleasure. Only the gulls in the sky above could hear her, and they didn't care. It was sufficient, that orgasm, to bring the young woman back to her senses. She stooped again under the water and then jumped up high with her lovely arms above her head. She was almost young once more -- except for what that had done to her! Well, if she had to be so adult ... In a fit of naughtiness, driven by curiosity, she inserted first two fingers, then three into her vagina, accommodating them with ease and more importantly without pain. She would like to feel something more interesting there, but Jake was the only man about. Belle scrubbed her petticoat near the sea shore and then sauntered confidently up the beach to the small fall of fresh water that emptied onto the sand. Above her the man paused in his frond tying. She knew that he was looking down at her nakedness, and her reaction to that knowledge surprised herself. She walked slower and thrust out her chest. She rinsed the salt off body and garment in the chill spray of the fall, then stepped back almost out of breath from the shock of it. But the petticoat did not conceal her as she meant. It was wet and clung to her breasts, her stomach, hips and upper thighs. The shape of her was obvious. She set her chin and ascended the path to the ledge nevertheless. "Higgins," she called out to the man on the roof, who gaped down at her with a slack mouth, "how's it going with the thatch?" He mumbled something which she did not bother to hear. What she wanted from him was the unconcealed longing on his face as his eyes raked her figure. Carefully she avoided naming what she felt in response as she turned away to pull down a banana. * * * The four of them worked together on the small structure until it was decent, given the circumstances. Belle continued to flaunt her body, letting him see her naked from a distance or "forgetting" to lace closed the upper part of her petticoat, tormenting the man she despised but the only man available. He was three times her age, hardly taller than she, with a body scrawny although wiry and tough. His face was worn by time and excess. But when she thought of his penis, of which she knew the gauge, her body trembled. She gave her head a sharp jerk to remind herself that she was still a civilized, proper young woman. Belle recovered from her depression once the hut was finished. Jill and Marie came back to her, somehow knowing how she needed them as they had once depended upon her. For a few days Higgins was left out of their doings, and they began again to speak Chinese among themselves in his presence. No one mentioned Father's prohibition. One afternoon a blood-curdling scream rang through the clearing. Belle, dozing in the shade of the hut, sprang wide-eyed out the opening. She heard pounding footsteps as Higgins raced up the path to the ledge. Behind him came Jill. Where was Marie? The scream sounded again, from the trees off to the right. "Marie's in trouble," she called to the approaching man, and dashed through the underbrush toward the cry. She pulled up short in the little clearing containing the trench Jake had dug for the girls to relieve themselves. Marie stood backed against the boulder behind the hole, on the lip of which lay coiled a black snake, its fat body circled with thin yellow bands, the inflated head weaving before the girl in an S-curve. Marie, flattened against the rock, threw back her head and screamed again. The man arrived, puffing for breath, and briefly examined the scene. He grinned at Belle. "They've trapped each other." "Well, something!" He nodded, leaned across the narrow trench and caught the reptile's neck just behind the head with one accurate swipe of his hand. When he raised the hand, curiously the animal seemed to relax so that its body hung straight down into the hole. Belle dashed around him and caught her sister up in her arms. Marie hugged the elder and burst into sobs against her shoulder. Belle turned to regard Jake. "Kill it!" she ordered, eyes glinting. His eyebrows rose. "But it's only a mangrove snake, hardly even venomous, and it eats scorpions, which can kill ." "Then what will you do with it? Turn it loose to bite one of us later -- as I did with you?" The young woman's expression was fierce, her tone contemptuous. The man shrugged. "Have it your way." He drew the long knife from his belt, decapitated the snake against the boulder, and threw the now writhing body into the underbrush. Marie freed herself from Belle's embrace and snuggled against the man instead. "Thank you, Jake, thank you," she murmured. "You saved my life." "Hardly that," he replied reassuringly, his arm stealing around her. He looked inquiringly at Belle, who turned away. Jill regarded her from the path. "Did Jake really catch the snake with his bare hand?" Her voice was expressive of purest awe. Belle bit back the retort that formed on her lips, to the effect that one snake might readily catch another, and pushed past the youngest. Behind her she heard Jill declare breathlessly, "Jake, you must be the bravest man in the world!" Belle awoke late on the next morning and found the girls gone. A quick survey disclosed them down on the beach playing with Higgins. Both were naked. Even the leaf skirts were becoming too much trouble. She sighed, thinking she really must take them to task about that. At least the man wore his tattered uniform britches, though he had long since left off his shirt. The hair on his chest was beginning to gray in the manner of his beard and was nearly as thick. Even at this distance she could see Marie flaunt her immature body at the old man, sidling up to him in the shallow water near the shore, rubbing her hand, then her chest, across his bare back. Belle watched for a long while but she never saw Jake respond to the obvious invitations. He seemed to be more inclined to favor little Jill, whose golden head did not reach his shoulders, who was too innocent to know about flaunting one's body, or so Belle thought -- though one could never be sure about Jill. Perhaps she should join their games herself and deflect Jake's attention from her younger sisters. But what if he overreacted? Now was a good time to do something she had been planning. In the hut, under her mattress that was a litter of leaves covered by abandoned clothing, she had hidden the pistol box. It had been saved along with most of the other articles Higgins had left on the beach when his mind had turned to rape. By now all the rest had been shared with the man. She thought it was curious that he had never asked about the pistol. A last look down to the beach revealed the others carousing in the relatively quiet waters of the cove. Jill was perched on the man's shoulders while Marie seemed intent on pulling her off. Belle resolutely put from her mind the thought of so much naked flesh in contact, went into the hut and retrieved the box from her bedding. When she pried it open with her too-long fingernails, the well-oiled pistol gleamed evilly at her. A year ago, with his wife dead, her father in sudden resolution had shown her how to load the pistol he kept in his bedside drawer, a breech-loader with ball, paper cartridge and percussion cap, and even allowed her to fire it a few times for familiarization. This one was different, larger and heavier, a revolving repeater made by the Colts Firearms Company, but it operated on principles identical with her father's single-shot. It was loaded. She proceeded to unload it, noting the location of the parts of each load removed. Its hammer had to be manually cocked, just like Father's, except that the action of cocking it rotated the revolving cylinder to place another ball-cartridge-cap combination in line with the barrel. How marvelous! It would shoot five times without reloading. Carefully she restored the five loads to the weapon, noting that the box contained spares adequate for three full reloads. She knew how to use it and felt confident of defending herself and her sisters against an animal, though from the wild results of her previous shooting she doubted that she could save Marie from a snake without harming the child. But to use it was not the question. Could she deliberately harm a man? More to the point, could she shoot Jacob Higgins even to save one of her sisters? * * * The rising sun usually woke Jake from the hammock he had woven of screw-pine runners and slung between two palms on the edge of the beach. But not today. He opened his eyes to the gray light of a solidly overcast sky. Everything was motionless. The palm fronds hung listlessly above him in the still air. Only the relentless surf moved, thudding and splashing on the strand. He had no way of knowing how much farther past dawn he had slept than usual, except that the pressure in his bladder could not be ignored. He got down and strolled out on the beach to survey his world. Though naked, he had not wandered far from the spear and long knife still in the hammock. All colors were muted. The clouds were an even dark gray, not a storm portent, just bad sailing weather. He smiled grimly as he lifted penis to make water well away from his feet. At least he had no sailing to do. The other problem with windless days was the biting flies, but they had yet to realize their opportunity. "Let me guide it," suggested a girlish voice. "I know how." He turned quickly to see Marie nearly upon him, also naked. Her tanned skin was dark as a wahine's in this light. "What do you mean?" he asked her. She slipped behind him and pressed against his left hip. Her hand covered his own on the flaccid manhood. "Let me do it," she said again. With a shrug Jake left her a clear field. She grasped the organ behind the glans, withdrawing the foreskin and directed the stream up and down. As is common in men who have just held their water for many hours, his flow was thin but enduring. She described rounded block letters, joined together at the bases, before the stream became a useless dribble. "C M M," he read. "What does it mean?" "Clister Marie Meron, my initials," she responded in her clear soprano, grinning up at him. Her fingers gripped him and began to slide the skin back and forth. He caught her wrist in his hand. "Your sister would slip her hawser if she saw us." "What does that mean?" asked the girl, flexing her wrist to manipulate him despite his hold. He could feel tendons working in the small arm -- and a tightening in his groin. "If a ship slips its hawser -- in a storm, say -- it's out of control. Better quit that, honey." "I can feel it growing," she noted. "Belle's still asleep." It required an act of will to pull her hand away from him, but at last he managed it. He took a shaky breath. His organ stood straight out. "Ooo, it's so big!" the girl breathed with wide eyes. He grunted. "As if you never saw it hard before!" "Only the time you put it into Belle. It was her first time, you know. No wonder it hurt her!" He sighed and shook his head. "I'd give anything if I hadn't done that." "Why did you?" He threw out his hands. "Because I was drunk. I didn't really know what I was doing." Marie cocked her head at him thoughtfully. She stood with one hand on a hip. In the windless air he could smell her: a tantalizing hint of spice. This was very nearly a woman, he realized: respectable tits even if the nipples were yet tiny, along with a small tuft of pubic hair. She had already bled at least once to his certain knowledge. "Is that what it takes?" she asked. "For what?" "Do you have to be drunk to put your thing into one of us?" "Wh-what?" Her lip curled. "Wu Fong didn't need any rum. Why do you?" "I don't ... You girls are ..." His voice died in confusion. Did she truly want fucking? "Huh!" she sneered, pivoting on her heel and running lightly out of sight toward the cove. * * * Jake used a large slab of slate discovered earlier to construct an impromptu griddle over the fire. He patiently dribbled sea water over the hot slab while the fire raged under it. This was new and Jill was curious. She cocked her head at the hissing dribbles, each of which dried quickly, leaving a white ring, and asked, "Why are you trying to cool it and heat it at the same time?" "I'm not. This sea water leaves salt on the slate. Eggs are no good without salt." "Eggs! Do we have eggs?" "Yes, my poodle. I found a cache of turtle eggs laid just last night." "Turtle eggs? Are they any good?" "The best eggs in the world. You'll find out." "Did you see the mother turtle lay them?" "No. She covered them up but she was careless even so. She didn't hide her tracks up from the water, which were new since yesterday." "Did you find enough for everybody?" "Oh, yes: nearly two dozen. Damn!" The fire spat an ember onto his thigh. He brushed it quickly off his britches but the spot was smoking. He unfastened the waistband and nearly ripped the garment from his body, cursing the while. He bent and threw water onto the source of the smoke, then inspected his leg. The girl bent also. "Did it burn you?" "No. But it would have." He put his hand into the britches leg and pushed a finger through the new hole. "If this keeps on," he groused, "pretty soon I'll be naked as you." "You naked as me!" He shook his head, turning his genitals away from her. "I'm sorry, poodle. I don't mean to worry you." "Worry me? I don't mind it. Why do you have to wear britches all the time anyway?" "It's ... just better if I do," he answered after a moment's pause, spreading the garment's waist before stepping into it. "I don't know why you think so. I like to see your jiggle." "You shouldn't notice such things. Especially you shouldn't talk about them." He refastened the waistband. "I don't mention how your crack ripples." "Ripples? It ripples like water?" "No, not like water. I guess a better word is 'flexes.' Like a sail when the ship comes about." "Like what?" "When you walk, the sides stretch different. It's easy to see from behind. Can't you feel it?" Both the child's hands darted between her legs. She looked up into the man's eyes. "Show me what it does." He grinned and shook his head. "All you have to do is walk." She turned away and stumbled across the clearing, hands pressed to her labia. At that moment Belle emerged, stretching, from the hut, wearing her customary tattered petticoat. Her eyes widened at sight of Jill. "What's wrong, honey? Are you hurt?" She swung glinting eyes toward the man. The girl answered in Chinese without swerving from her path. The eldest responded in the same language. They conducted a short dialog consisting of obvious demands from Belle and ever shorter answers from the child, who turned suddenly and slunk past her sister into the hut. Belle approached the man. "Higgins, did you tell my sister that her vaginal lips ?" He stared at her, his mouth working. At last he admitted, "When she walks. It's only the truth." The young woman took a deep breath. Her eyes flashed. "Can't you discuss something else with her?" He drew breath also. "We did: turtle eggs." "Turtle ... eggs?" "I found some. That's what I'm doing: getting ready to fry them. We'll have a feast for supper." Belle stared at him and visibly swallowed. When she spoke, her voice was less harsh. "I'm so tired of coconut and bananas!" He dropped his eyes. "I've not had much luck with fish lately. But I think you'll like these eggs. The Hawaiians taught me how to cook them... And I'm about ready to start. Why don't you call your sisters, Miss Meron?" The feast was a culinary success. Jake also grilled sliced breadfruit for them to use as edible plates. All the eggs were eaten, washed down with coconut milk and fresh water from the cut in the rocks. Distant clouds were crimson from the sun setting behind the hill when Jake leaned his elbows upon the unfinished storm wall beside Belle, who was staring out to the sea's knife-edged horizon. "Any ships?" he asked jocularly. "No, more's the pity." "Are you so anxious to leave our little paradise, Miss Meron?" "Oh, god, if we could only leave!" He sighed and mumbled glumly, "I'm sorry, ma'am." She turned to regard him. "Please don't think me ungrateful for all you have done, Mr. Higgins. I'm aware that you have saved our lives many times over. We couldn't live here without you. This delicious meal was a strong reminder. I'm grateful also to the Hawaiians who taught you." "They are friendly people," he noted, smiling in pleasure at her words, the warmest she had ever directed to him. "They must have been, to teach you so well." "I owe most of it to their women." "Their women?" "They were the friendly ones. They cotton to a stranger right off." "I see." Her face hardened. "Did they teach you to expect that from all women?" "Well, no. I know better than that." "Is that why you expected me to enjoy your attentions, Mr. Higgins?" He sighed. "Miss Meron, I am very sorry about that. I've told your sisters how I wished many times it never happened." "Especially since you can't remember it anyway!" A red spot appeared suddenly on both her cheeks. He dropped his eyes and suggested softly, "I think it would be worse if I could remember it." "Oh, no!" She laughed bitterly. "Then you could compare me to your friendly Hawaiian women." He gaped at her. "Would you like ?" She turned her gaze back to the ocean, her lips forming a thin line. "Miss Meron, I ... uh ..." "You have already apologized. What more is there to say?" He took a breath. "A lot, actually. May I understand that you enjoyed the eggs?" "Yes, thank you." "I'm glad you did. Eating is a simple pleasure, isn't it? But all we have now are simple pleasures. Would you ..." "Would I what?" "We could give each other a great deal of pleasure, Miss Meron." She did not look at him. "What are you suggesting, Mr. Higgins?" "You ..." His voice softened almost to inaudibility. "You are a very desirable woman." She kept her eyes turned away. Her voice was bitter. "And you might as well be the only man in the world." He grunted. "A poor choice, is it?" " choice!" "There's always the choice between 'yes' and 'no.'" Her lip curled. "Haven't you already denied me that one?" "Perhaps I did once, Miss Meron." He shook his head. "But you must have noticed: now I can deny you nothing." She turned at last to study his face. He cleared his throat and took a deep breath. "I've been thinking. I've stuck close to camp because ... you ladies might need protection, but we need to find out where we are and what's here with us. I want to explore this island but I want to take all of you with me. If it doesn't rain tomorrow, I propose to climb our hill to the top and look around. Will you come with me?" The young woman nodded slowly. "Yes, Mr. Higgins. We'll come." * * * The girls each wore a petticoat. The hill presented few challenges to climb, but the often steep slope was heavily wooded, reducing the reliable breeze to an occasional flutter. Soon the two youngest were naked, their petticoats left to adorn bushes for retrieval on the return path. Belle pressed doggedly on, using the hem of hers to wipe perspiration from her brow whenever she thought the man's attention was otherwise engaged. "Why don't you just take it off?" Jill asked. "Jake won't mind, would you, Jake?" Smiling, the man looked away. Jill added, "She would if you would, too, Jake." He was even wearing his armless shirt. "That's enough!" barked Belle. Jake suggested deferentially, "There's no reason for you to be uncomfortable, Miss Meron." Belle's retort was acid. "Isn't there, Mr. Higgins?" Eventually the trees died away to low brush. The two youngest pushed through the tangle and arrived first at the crest. The other two were right behind them. It was apparent that they occupied the north-eastern half of a pair of islands with a narrow channel between them. From the pinnacle they could see the strip of white sand that encircled their own islet except directly behind them, where oddly the slope was steepest. Jill asked, "Is that really another island?" "Yes, my poodle. About the same size as this one." "What's wrong with its beaches?" "She's right!" exclaimed Belle. "They're black! How can that be, Mr. Higgins?" "Not really black. Seen close to your eyes, the sand's a mixture. It's caused by the kind of rock in that hill. I've seen the same in Hawaii." "The devil's work!" Belle declared. "Perhaps you would know." Something in his voice caused her to regard him suspiciously. He was grinning at her. She smiled also. "Do you think I have his acquaintance, Mr. Higgins?" "No, but I wish I did. If so I would offer him a bargain." "Is your soul so unusual?" He shook his head. "Whatever it's worth in exchange for wafting you wherever you want to go." "Mr. Higgins!" Marie pointed. "Look! A ship!" Everyone spun about to gaze as she had directed. The sails in the north appeared similar to the last they had seen: only the topmost. The ship's hull and mains were well down below the curve of the Earth. "Is it coming toward us?" Belle asked anxiously. "No. She's moving to the east," the man stated. "How can you be sure?" "Because of the spread between the masts. If her path was in line with us, the masts would be together." "You have good eyes," Belle admitted. "A sailor needs good eyes." They watched it for a long while. Jake proved correct. "What's wrong with that cloud?" asked Marie. Now she was looking south. When the others turned, she pointed to a small cloud low on the horizon. "All the others are moving except that one." "That's not just a cloud," answered Jake. "See the dark smudge underneath it? That's the next island of the Marquesas." "How far away is it?" He shrugged. "That's probably a hilltop like this one. It could be as much as 30 miles." "What's the name of our island?" asked Jill. "I think this is the northern-most one. I'm sure I've seen its name on charts but I don't remember it. The Pacific has too many islands." Belle sighed. "Now we know." "Know what?" asked Jill. "That we're stuck here. These islands are too small. People will never come." Tears welled in her eyes, overflowed her eyelashes and ran down her cheeks. Marie came to her and incongruously gathered the larger girl into her arms. "Remember, Belle, at least we're alive. Out of all the people on the ship, we and Jake are still alive. We can still laugh and cry. They can't. That ought to tell you something. As long as you're still alive, you should never give up hope." <1st attachment end> ----- ASSM Moderation System Notice------ Notice: This post has been modified from its original format. The post was sent as an email attachment and has been converted by ASSTR ASSM moderation software. ----- ASSM Moderation System Notice------ -- Pursuant to the Berne Convention, this work is copyright with all rights reserved by its author unless explicitly indicated. +---------------------------------------------------------------------------+ | alt.sex.stories.moderated ----- send stories to: | | FAQ: Moderator: | +---------------------------------------------------------------------------+ |Archive: Hosted by Alt.Sex.Stories Text Repository | |, an entity supported entirely by donations. | +---------------------------------------------------------------------------+