Marri's Approach (Brackish Bay)

by Cerise Noble

  I continued to sob while the bartender patted my head awkwardly.

  “All right, all right, don't carry on,” he said. “I'm sure your cousin would like to see you.”

  “No, no, she wouldn't. I'd just be a bad influence. I couldn't wear these clothes to see her. I'd just shame her. I have nothing left. I'm all alone in the world.”

  Tony patted my shoulder. “Ours is a large tribe. We have some whores. As long as you know your place, you can come with us.”

  I sniffled as I looked up at him. “You mean it? I can—can come with you? To see Katherine? To live with my people? With the tribe?”

  “You will need to wear proper clothing. And you damn well better not corrupt Katherine. Of course you must service the men as they request, and take your beatings with gratitude.”

  Take beatings with gratitude? Service men as they request? Fortuna, this might not be so bad. I sniffled some more and scrubbed at my eyes with the shoulder knot of the dress.

  “Really? Of course, of course, I will be so good! I will do whatever you say. I won't corrupt her, I swear!” Then my face fell. “I don't have proper clothing!” I buried my face in my arms and began to sob again.

  The man at the table stood up. “I'll get you some. Come along upstairs with me.”

  We brushed past Tony as I followed him, still whimpering.

  Once in the room he pointed at the bed, and I sat primly, hoping it was close enough to correct. He removed a pile of clothes from a trunk while I sniffled and wiped my eyes.

  “Here. You'll need to wash, of course, and then put these on.”

  “Yes, sir. Where should I wash?” He pointed to the corner. I swallowed hard. “Will you watch?”

  “Yes, of course, you little whore. You gave up your right to privacy, to autonomy, when you gave away your virginity.”

  Fortuna, I'm not even sure I can remember the boy I gave it to, that's how little it mattered to me. It certainly held no such magical powers as giving up my rights to privacy and autonomy.

  “Get started,” he said.

  I flinched, and meekly scurried to the washtub, then stripped, shyly covering myself.

  “Show me your body,” he said. I let my hands fall and stood still, facing him, my nipples tight and hard, and my eyes fixed on the floor. “Turn around.” I obeyed. “Bend over.”

  “Sir, please!”

  “Now,” he told me. I obeyed, my nether lips thickening and pulsing with desire. “You are a dirty little whore.” He walked up close to me and ran a finger up my slit. I shivered. “You're wet.” Yes, thanks to Lajos, and now you. “I bet you need a hard dick in your dirty little cunt.”

  “No, sir, please. I'm trying to be good.”

  “Part of being good is doing what I tell you, whore.” He unfastened his pants and pulled them down, then his underwear. I shivered. “Tell me you want my dick.”

  “I—I want your dick, sir.”

  “Good, whore.”

  He rammed into me. It would have hurt if I weren’t so swollen with need that everything was slick. I groaned. He tightened his fingers on my hips and then he was fucking me hard, while I struggled to keep my balance. My fingers tightened on the edge of the wooden tub, and the stretch made my cunt tighter. I moaned. Too quickly, he was finished. I protested, an inarticulate sound in my throat, and he slapped my hip hard.

  “You don't deserve any more than that,” he said.

  I swallowed my frustration, stood up, and stepped into the bath. I washed thoroughly, conscious always of his gaze on my flushed skin. When I was finished, he threw a towel to me. I dried, the rough material scratchy. He indicated the clothing on the bed, and I came to him, then clasped my hands in front of me.

  “Please forgive me, sir. I don't know how to wear them. My mother never taught me.”

  He snorted with derision. “The bloomers are first.”

  I took them from his hand. They were strange, like short pants with drawstrings at the waist and thighs. I tied them.

  He handed me a sort of sleeveless tunic. “The chemise.”

  I put it on.

  “Underskirt.”

  Underskirt? It was heavy and thick enough to be a skirt in its own right, full of gathers and flounces.

  “Blouse.”

  I put on the embroidered blouse, careful not to snag the beautiful threads.

  “Skirt.”

  I huffed just a little, already feeling the heat and weight of all the clothes, and he slapped me across the face. I gasped, my face burning.

  “Don't you dare complain,” he said.

  “No, sir, of course not, sir, please forgive me.”

  I pulled it down over my head and tied the waistband. It was heavy on my hips, stifling and confining. I felt sweat break out on my forehead, and I wiped it away. He handed me another cloth.

  “Kerchief.”

  I frowned at it.

  “Tie it around your hair.”

  I did, folding it clumsily.

  He stood back and examined me. “Much better.” He gave me a pair of sandals. “Put them on.”

  I obeyed, disgruntled at the lack of boots.

  “Thank you so much, sir.”

  He nodded. Together we descended the stairs, and I approached Tony demurely.

  “I'm ready, sir.”

  He cupped my face, and I let myself look up at him through my lashes.

  “You clean up well. Now you look no worse than any of our tribe's other whores.”

  Fortuna, that's a backhanded compliment if I ever heard one.

  I smiled anyway. “Thank you, sir.”

  I followed the man who had given me the clothes outside, where he untied a horse and mounted it in one swift motion. I stood still, unsure what to do.

  “Come here,” he said.

  I shifted closer to the horse, and then he jerked me up in front of him. Tony mounted another horse, and then we set off.

  Chapter 10

  The ride was by turns boring and fascinating. I watched the forest that we passed through, determined to know the way back if it came to it. The man I rode with seemed to like that his erection was pressed tight against my ass, so I shifted, only a little, every once in a while. He didn't want the grinding of a wanton whore, he wanted the unintentional immodesty of a reluctant whore. I leaned back against his shoulder, wondering why neither of the men had noticed the collar, or if they simply didn't care that, technically, I belonged to another man. I also wondered what Roy would do when he saw me next.

  I contemplated dropping Katherine off at his gate and vanishing into the woods, but remembered his silent watchers. They'd never revealed themselves to me before, and maybe they never would. But then again, maybe I would die before I saw them up close.

  The first sign that we had arrived at the horseman's camp was the music. I could hear it for a long time before I could see them, dancing by the firelight. Even in the darkness, I could feel the vast numbers of people. This was not a small, transient camp; this was a large gathering. How would I find Katherine if they didn't lead me to her? They stopped their horses, and I dismounted.

  A woman called out to us. “What do you have there, Bernard?”

  “I picked up a stray whore by the dock. She needs a tribe to live with.”

  “Which tribe does she come from, and why was she shunned?”

  “She doesn't know. Her mother was shunned, like Jacqueline was from her tribe, when Ramon sent her back.”

  Ramon? Ramon, as in Katherine's father, Ramon? Is this his tribe, Fortuna?

  “He's not likely to want to keep her, then.”

  “He wanted Jacqueline's daughter to stay. Maybe he'll keep this one, too, if the girl doesn't throw her out immediately.”

  “We'll see, we'll see.”

  I could smell wood burning and the delicious aroma of stews cooking in cauldrons on the open fire. I could smell horseflesh and leather, the underlying scents in this place, and I could smell sweat, the odor of unwashed bodies in far too many clo
thes for this climate. I watched the woman who'd spoken go back to her fire, and then looked up at Bernard.

  “Where do you wish me to go, sir?”

  “You should go to the whores’ tent. Make yourself useful.”

  “Of course, sir. Which is theirs?”

  He pointed out a luridly decorated, red colored tent. I bit my tongue and nodded, then walked to it. There were three women lounging around the fire, their tiny waists and ripe breasts on display through their tight belts and low-draped necklines.

  I curtseyed. “May I come to your fire?”

  The black-haired one looked at me, makeup further darkening her already dark eyes. “What do you want with us?”

  “Bernard brought me here. He told me to go to you, to make myself useful until Ramon and Jacqueline's daughter decide if I should be allowed to stay or not.”

  “Stir the stew.”

  I obeyed, eying them as subtly as I could. There was a blonde, her eyes still puffy from too many tears, the black-eyed one who'd spoken, and a brunette who was by far the eldest. Despite the lines on her face and throat, she still managed to exude raw sexuality. Their tent was brash, a sort of beacon for those who wanted someone to use and abuse. Who would care if a whore was mistreated?

  After a time my cramping empty stomach got the best of me. I hadn't eaten for a day and a half.

  “Please, may I take a taste?” My stomach chimed in with a ferocious growl, and then the elder was beside me, bowl in hand, ladling it up for me and handing it over with a smile and a spoon.

  “Here, eat up, poor thing. Didn't he feed you at all?”

  “No, madam.”

  She tsked. “That's the bargain. They provide for us if we serve them. Did you serve Bernard?”

  “Yes.” She shook her head. “He gave me these clothes, though.”

  She raised an eyebrow. “Were you naked, child?”

  I thought about the slave dress I'd been wearing. “Practically.”

  She tsked again. “Well, then, I see why he didn't feed you, also.”

  I nodded, slurping up the stew as genteelly as I could. The black-haired one accepted a bowl from the brunette and eyed me while she ate.

  “What tribe are you from? You don't look like one of ours.”

  I shrugged. “I don't know. My mother never told me.”

  “What's her name?”

  “Veronica.”

  The women shrugged. “We don't know her.”

  “I didn't think you would. We lived far to the east of here.”

  The blonde looked up finally from her tears. “Why do you wear that collar?”

  I stuck a finger in it, twisted it tight, wondering what I should tell her. Fortuna? Any suggestions? Fortuna intervened another way.

  “So this is the new whore?”

  I turned around to see a gorgeous man a little older than myself, his eyebrows swept back from his hawkish nose, and long dark hair caught up in a braid. He had a cruel edge to his mouth that both excited and warned me.

  “Yes, sir.” I arched my back, thrusting my breasts towards him, and let a sensual smile touch my lips. “How may I serve you?”

  “You may not.” He sneered at me. “Who knows what filth you carry?”

  Humiliation shot through me, turning my cheeks red and starting a tremble in my lower lip. “My apologies, sir.”

  Bernard was with him, and he indicated me. “She's Katherine's cousin. I told her if the girl rejects her, she'll be left in the woods when we move on. Should we just send her away now?”

  “Katherine's cousin?” He snorted. “Either you're lying, or the whore that bore Katherine is. Jacqueline didn't have any siblings, and none of mine would have fathered you.”

  I bit back bile. So this was Katherine's father. How poorly he valued her mother. I attempted to look properly shamed.

  “I apologize, sir, for claiming kinship when I had no right to. I thought Bernard would believe me more if I did.”

  Bernard's face was stormy. He reached for me, jerking me to my feet as my bowl fell from my lap, spilling the rest of the stew.

  “You lying little whore.”

  Ramon snorted as Bernard shoved me over a low branch on a nearby tree, and for the first time I was grateful for the excess of clothing, since it protected my hips and belly from the rough bark. He reached up and cut a switch from the tree, only bothering to remove the smaller branches, but leaving it rough surfaced. I took a deep breath, girding myself for pain.

  He didn't keep me waiting. The skirt he flipped up, then the underskirt, and then he ripped the bloomers open. Somehow the violence of it sent a cold fear through my heart, and then he was whipping me with the switch. I cried out, my toes drumming the ground. I was sore from the long ride and from the captain's attentions, and my buttocks hadn't quite healed from the last time I'd been seriously spanked when Roy had taken a belt to my ass. As it was, the switch was vicious in its own right, drawing stinging, burning lines of fire across my bottom and thighs. I could feel the white-hot burn with each strike. I wailed, then it warmed to an itchy pain that I knew rubbing would only make worse. He whipped me continuously, allowing no respite. Despite it all, I felt my nether lips thicken and swell, a drip of lubrication slipping down my slit. The rough edges and bark on the switch cut little scratches across my skin.

  When I couldn't bear it any more, I tried to kick him. That was, Fortuna, obviously the wrong move. I found myself shoved so far forward that I lost my balance and had to place my hands on the muddy root below my face to support my weight, and then he whipped the switch down the back of my thighs.

  I hated it when my thighs were spanked. I hated it even more that Bernard was doing it, hypocritical Bernard who liked to use whores and give nothing of value in return. Every line of fire was excruciating, scratching and snapping until I could feel a trickle here and there. I gave in. Unable to resist any longer, I began to cry in earnest, my legs hanging limp and still while the switch continued to fall.

  When my whole backside blazed, from the top of my hips to the backs of my knees—and the few lashes that had landed there jerked screams from me—Bernard broke the switch across the backs of my thighs. I sagged, relief at the absence of new strikes. He walked away, leaving me there, incapable of returning to standing on my own.

  Ramon walked to me and grabbed a handful of my swollen welted flesh in each hand. “So who are you?”

  “I'm just a friend. Someone who met Katherine in passing.”

  “She doesn't need any friends like you, stupid whores who lie and cheat and steal from good women and men.”

  “I didn't steal anything!”

  “You're wearing clothes that aren't yours, aren't you?” he said.

  “I served Bernard! I did what he told me to do!”

  “I doubt whatever you did was worth those clothes.”

  He squeezed harder, and I cried out.

  “Please! I'm so sorry!” He pulled me back off the branch, and I stumbled, falling into the mud. I curled in a heap by his boots, weeping. “Please forgive me. I'm so sorry.”

  He walked away. I heard Katherine's voice in the distance. It was strained, higher than I remembered it being.

  “Who's that, Papa?”

  “No one, just some stray whore that Bernard picked up.”

  “She doesn't look like one of ours.”

  “No, she claimed to be your cousin, so Bernard whipped her.”

  “Oh.” I could see her pause, her form beautiful but constrained in the heavy clothing. “May I speak to her?”

  “No. Don't bother. She'll just lie.”

  “Yes, Papa.”

  She continued to follow him as he walked away, and my heart broke. Why was she calling that brute Papa, as if it were proper? Especially when he didn't seem to acknowledge her as his own? Fortuna, where are William and Amadeus?

  The brunette brought a water skin. “Here. Drink. You'll need it.”

  My voice was broken and hoarse. “Thank you.”

&
nbsp; I drank as much as I could, and then she patted her lap.

  “Come, lay your head down.”

  I did, and before I realized it, I was asleep, worn out from the beating. It was night when I woke, and the brunette was shifting me over.

  “Come into my tent, sir,” she said.

  I watched hazily as a man followed her inside, and not long after, there were rhythmic grunts. I stared at the fire. What a horrid life, Fortuna. The other women were dancing around the fire, sashaying, singing, calling to the men in lewd voices. Men came and went while the women took turns using the tent, or disappearing into the woods. I lay where I was, too tired to do anything else.

  A man in a cloak kicked me, and I turned towards him. I couldn't see his face, but he seemed familiar somehow. I waited, unsure what I should do.

  “Are you the new whore?” The voice was gravelly and deep. I nodded. “My turn.”

  He pulled me to my feet and then shoved me into the tent. I cried out when I landed on my ass. He closed the flap carefully, and then landed over me, his hands braced on either side of my body and holding his weight up. I flinched away from him, but spread my legs obediently.

  He lowered his face until I could feel the heat of his breath on my ear. “Don't say a word, Marri.”

  William! I bit my lip to keep from exclaiming with joy. He began to do pushups, his body brushing mine as it lowered, and I stifled a giggle at the pretense.

  “Not long after you left, Katherine snuck off the boat when she realized how many horsemen were around this dock. Amadeus and I followed. She found her father.”

  My whisper was little more than breath. “I met him.”

  “He doesn't claim her as his daughter, but he values that she's a virgin, and that she could be a bargaining chip.”

  “Bastard.”

  “Quite so,” he said. “Somehow he's gone from being an unclaimed son, himself, to leader of his tribe, not a position he got to by being tolerant. So he'll use her, but that is all.”