BootyARe05202014 Read online

  By Laura Cooper

  Published by:

  Booty

  Copyright © 2014 by Laura Cooper

  Cover Art: Copyright © 2014 by Christopher Cooper

  * Warning *

  All rights reserved under the international and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from another publisher.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, places, characters and incidents are either the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously, and resemblance to any actual persons, living or dead, organizations, events or locales is entirely coincidental. All sexually active characters in this work are 18 years of age or older.

  This book is for sale to ADULT AUDIENCES ONLY. It contains substantial sexually explicit scenes and graphic language which may be considered offensive by some readers. Please store your files where they cannot be accessed by minors.

  License Notes

  This eBook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This eBook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each person you share it with. If you're reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then you should return and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the author's work.

  Table of Contents

  Booty

  About the Author

  Other Books

  Booty

  I was three when she attacked my mother outside of my father’s law practice. Her blond curls glowed like Medusa in the afternoon sun as she condemned my mother a whore and me a bastard. Her fury was unmatched in my three years of limited experience, but still I believe her to be the most exciting woman I’ve seen. Her strike, hard and stinging across my cheek caused considerably less damage than her screams of ‘Bastard! Bastard child!’ Those words have haunted me forever. And because it was a defining moment in my life I’ve remembered her face all these many years and have even used the memory of her to spur me in battle. I shan’t tell ye how many men have lost their heads to my saber while I envisioned her face on their bodies. Quite a few. Yet I digress.

  Beautiful women distract me and it’s been so always. I was near puberty before I discovered the truth behind my parent’s -and my- hasty relocation from bonny Ireland to the colonies. They were in disgustingly in love. The fact that Daddy was married to the beautiful blond woman outside his office didn’t seem to hinder their intense romance, until she found out about us of course. To avoid disgrace we abandoned our country and settled on a worn down plantation just outside the new colony of Charles Towne, America. To signal our arrival we were welcomed by the most destructive hurricane of all time. In a new country with a river drenched rice plantation to tend my parents did the only thing they could think of to keep me occupied; they bought me a person.

  “Hettie, hand me the pink broach will ye?” I said.

  “Tch, tch, I was just thinkin’ how pretty that broach would be on your dress tonight,” Hettie smiled across the room at me. Something told me that she hadn’t been thinking about my dress tonight at all. Her eyes were glued to the low cleavage line that revealed my bursting bosom. She moved across the room with the stealth of an egret and within a moment her lips fell to my chest in an outburst of emotion. “Oh Annie, please say ye won’t go tonight? I can tell ’em that you’re sick with womanly matters,” she pleaded in a whisper as she nuzzled me, whisking her tongue ever so delicately towards my nipples and causing me to shiver.

  “I’ve tried, believe me I’ve tried my dear. Yet,” I lifted her narrow chin with my fingers until her face met mine, “Ye know ye have nothing to concern over. I love ye, Hettie, I always have and always will.”

  Her deep pink lips trembled with fear, “I love ye Annie, and since we was youngins all I wanted was to touch you, to taste you.” Tears began to stream down her cheeks leaving a tiny sparkling river on her freckled rosy skin. Usually her overdramatic efforts to please me were met with sudden heavy wetness between my thighs, but today I didn’t have time to coddle her fatalistic melodrama.

  “We’ve always known that things couldn’t stay this way forever,” I sighed and wiped the tears from her cheeks with my thumb. As always, the feel of her warmed me deep in my belly and I felt my irritation ebbing away as her tongue met mine in a crush of salt and saliva. She was too perfect to resist, with a thin waist and breasts that had outgrown mine twofold and skin the color of pure ivory. She was a luscious treat to be sure. I hungered for her constantly and truth be told, I didn’t like the idea of being flaunted in front of Charles Towne’s most eligible bachelors anymore than she did. Daddy was right, of course, he’d given up his country, his home, and his profession to be able to present me in public as his daughter. And tonight was his crowning glory. I couldn’t deny him that. Hettie was just going to have to get over this.

  “Ye promise ye won’t go finding a man and leavin’ me here on this plantation all alone?” she whispered as she unbuttoned my cotton shift and licked her way down my pale stomach.

  My fingers trailed inside her sturdy servants dress and toyed with her loose nipples as I stood before her. “I promise that wherever I go I shall take ye with me.” It was a promise I’d made a thousand times before and I intended to keep, but it always turned into a game of sorts between us.

  I heard her faint giggle just before she heaved me backwards onto my bed and leapt like a panther on top of me, “Even if it’s to a remote paradise?” She toyed, “Or maybe to London? Paris?” She nibbled at my nipples more playfully, “I know Versailles!” With that decision made her white teeth flashed and her face buried beneath my thighs. I let out a squeal of laughter and rolled her over onto her back.

  “Oh no ye don’t, ye vixen! I want to do that too!” And our tongues and fingers reached into one another with years of practice as a prelude.

  *-*-*-*-*

  As with most newly constructed ports in the colonies, very little consideration was given to organization. A palace could just as likely sit next to a grimy pub as a brothel or a picturesque park. Anything was possible in America. As was the case with Mary Calhoun’s house on East Bay Street, and pulling myself away from the throngs of painted faces and daring cleavages at her party I found myself lounging on the uppermost railing of her piazza airing my sweat stained dress. It wasn’t much into the night, but already the seaman’s pub far below was crawling with drunken vermin.

  “I’d just as sure kill ye as look at ye, man.” The thick warning voice raised my attention and I leaned further over the railing to listen.

  “I’d bet my balls ye would, ye rangy bastard,” said the smaller man two stories below.

  The tall man was looming over him like a vulture, brown hair plaited down the back of his neck without the use of powder or ribbon as would befit a gentleman. I peered down, struggling to get a better look at him. After all, one didn’t often see a giant in these modern times. Upon further inspection I noted that his hair was bound by a leather strap adorned at each end by the feathers of an eagle. His clothing suggested that he was a wanderer of some kind, perhaps an explorer! I gasped at the fanciful image of him battling a lion in hand to hand combat deep in the wilderness of the upcountry. The small noise I made was enough to distract the men, but before the small man could return his attention, the giant was already in mid-swing. The crunch of the man’s nose frightened me to awareness and I leapt from the railing and crouched low on the wooden porch floor. I gazed down through the banisters, just in time to see the giant wiping blood from his knife with a white handkerchief. His opponent lay sprawled on the dirt below him, neck
slit in half. I screamed just before I lost consciousness.

  *-*-*-*-*

  It felt as though acid pierced my nose before my eyes fluttered open to the assault. “Oh darling, you’ve had a terrible shock!” A gaggle of women clustered over me, one holding a tiny amber colored bottle of ammonia; she sniffed it lightly before putting the cork back in it.

  “Where am I?” I startled and sat upright.

  “The ladies retiring room of course, dear,” She paused for effect and shook her head pitifully towards the other ladies. “What a shock you’ve had. Ladies shouldn’t be exposed to such, and imagine it right next to poor Mary’s house like that. All it does is give the English reason to think us barbarians.” The prim woman sniffed as though she’d suddenly caught whiff of a dead rat.

  Another woman, clad in mourning apparel nodded, “Something truly should be done to regulate where sin houses can operate. You can’t even feel comfortable allowing the babes to toddle in your own yard without worrying that some heathen will molest them.”

  I shook my head in an attempt to revive my brain which was sluggish to work through the details, “Did they catch the giant?” I said vaguely.

  A tall woman who had introduced herself to me earlier in the evening took my hand and smiled genuinely down at me, “A giant? Oh my, the faint must be fogging her. Here child, drink this.” She handed me a glass of brandy and watched as I downed it and choked as the flame scorched my esophagus. I knew what I’d seen.

  Beyond reason from the unexpected trauma I had been a witness to my father insisted that we remain in rented rooms for the duration of our stay in town instead of accepting Mary’s invitation as guests at her East Bay mansion. Albeit embarrassed that we did not own our own residence in the city, he was nonetheless resilient with his efforts to find me a suitable husband regardless of the fact that I’d only turned sixteen last month. Through the week I endured countless meetings with young men, and some much older, arranged via their calling cards left in the small brass bowl in the center hall of Mrs. Cox’s Boarding House. Few of them were not completely disgusting, yet by the end of our stay in town I was far from enamored with any of them, much to Daddy’s chagrin. I knew finances were tight at the plantation; the rice wasn’t flourishing as it had after the last storm, and a wealthy match for me could ease his troubles considerably. It was this and other pressing matters that drew me to stroll down Adger’s Wharf towards the water in search of a few silent moments. It was not a suitable location for an afternoon walk, this much was true, yet my drifting mind led me there.

  I wandered aimlessly among the streets of small businesses near the wharf where it seemed as though there was a space issue, and stores of every kind pinched between each other to ensure capital placement to catch the business of the sailors that came from the sea. Still it gave a rather haphazard if not dangerous appearance to the wharf, and yet it occurred to me only vaguely that this may not be a choice path for an afternoon stroll.

  “I will not speak of such again; do ye understand that lad?”

  I stopped dead in my tracks at the sound of the voice near me. It was agitated again, the same as it had been at Miss Mary Calhoun’s party, only this time it held a tinge of amusement. The same as if you were talking to a beloved child. I spun around, skirts flying against the coastal breeze with my mouth held open and saw him, plain as day, standing along the crowded storefronts as if he cared not that he was wanted for murder. It’s not as if he didn’t stand out in a crowd either, a small store sign swung dangerously as he turned towards me and it banged sharply across his head. “Ach!” he boomed and clutched a reddening spot on his forehead.

  Despite myself, I laughed. The whisk of a gray uniform attracted my attention and snapped me back to my mission, and I raised my hand and yelled, “Constable! Constable!”

  With my scream two soldiers alerted to my side. “That man is a murderer!” I screamed breathlessly now and pointed with jerking movements of my hands. “I saw him kill a man in the alleyway betwixt Mary Calhoun’s house and the pub!”

  “Is that so, ma’am? Can I have your name?” He pulled out a small swatch of paper and a piece of slivered coal from his pocket then awaited my answer.

  “Anne,” I breathed deeply, “Anne Cormac.”

  “And you were witness to this crime personally, ma’am?” The other officer steadied me with his arm beneath my elbow until it occurred to me that he was being presumptuous as the clutch continued far past my safety. I yanked my elbow away from him brusquely.

  “Yes!” my pointed stare was meant to show fury, “why aren’t you going after him?”

  “Who?”

  “The murderer, ye fool! The giant!” I stuck my forefinger in front of his face and aimed at the huge goliath standing across the street staring at us wearing a broad white smile. His face followed my finger and landed on the criminal. I smirked at the arrogant man with the Dentist’s sign of announcement dangling at an odd angle against the side of his head.

  To my dismay the police man smiled broadly and waved to the giant.

  “What are ye playin’ at, man? He’s a criminal I tell ye!” I screamed too close to the soldier’s ear which unfortunately startled him so that he grabbed my forearm and shook me violently. His fingers dug sharply into the skin beneath my summer blouse.

  I screamed again, this time with the anguish of pain when suddenly I became aware that the soldier was falling to the street below me; his grip on my arm fell away but continued to grasp in midair as he tumbled to the cobblestones. Astonished, my eyes followed him and saw the expression of pure terror in his eyes when he glanced up at the giant behind him. Then I stiffened. He was standing in front of me, less than an arm’s length away and I should have been horrified, but up close he somehow lost his menace. If I’d not been completely stunned by his nearness I was even more shocked when he bent down and offered his hand to the officer on the ground. The constable had been clutching his shins with a grimace, but to his credit he didn’t call out. He took the offered hand and stood shakily, muttering his apology to the giant. Wasn’t I the one who’d been offended here?

  The giant dusted him off, “Aye man, can’t say as I’ve never felt like shakin’ one of them before myself.”

  I glared upwards and my eyes fell upon the face of the murderer. It was then I realized this was no ordinary man. Hair bronzed from the sun fell in loose strands from its braid in the back of his head, scruffy curls poked through the collar of his buttoned and pressed white shirt. His blouson pants were gathered by a thickly leathered belt at his waist. It was clearly custom made, as small cut outs around its circumference held each of his immediate needs, as well as his pearl encased sword. His appearance in no way resembled the vagabond I’d seen last week from the piazza; today he was a gentleman, albeit a rakishly dangerous looking one. It was a moment before I realized he was speaking to me.

  “Milady! Milady! Are ye quite alright?”

  I struggled to overcome the steam rising in my breasts at the nearness of him. Heat spread through my body beginning in my lady regions and ending with my cheeks blaring red under his shadow. Flustered by my own reaction I stumbled backwards and fell haphazardly on the cobblestones of the street, my ankle twisting harshly in the crag between two stones. My behind hit the stones with unprecedented sharpness, the shot of pain dizzied me and my world went black.

  *-*-*-*-*

  “It’s a terrible banging of the spine I’m afraid. She’ll need weeks of rest before trying to walk again, and it’ll hurt. Keep the leeches on the bruises…” That’s when I opened my eyes and raised my head towards the voices.

  I was on my stomach, my skirts pulled high above my waist and my pantaloons missing completely. Something bound my arms to the slight bed I faced, and the linen sheet smelled rankly of sweat and dirty man. “No leeches!” What I planned as a scream in my head barely made audible, but both men turned at the weak sound.

  “There, there my pitiful one,” a mammoth hand patted my should
er. “I ain’t gonna put no bugs on you.” I saw him brusquely push the other man out the room and he handed him a gold coin before shutting the heavy wood door.

  “Where am I?” I whispered as the pain awoke from its slumber and began rolling up my spine.

  “Here, sip this,” and a warm cup pressed against my mouth. The aroma awoke the denseness of my throat; it felt like I’d swallowed sand, and the fruity mixture smelled like ambrosia. Reluctantly I opened my mouth and took the heated liquid trying hard to dismiss the idea that it contained poison. I’d heard of men like him: Kidnapping, drugging then raping ladies, sometimes even carrying them off to far off countries to be sold as slaves. But at the moment I needed liquid so took my chances.

  A knock on the door caused me to take an extra long swallow and I coughed miserably unable to move my hands to clutch the shooting fire that ran down my spine as I jerked anxious to cover myself from the new intrusion.

  “What is it man?” he bellowed from above me as he deftly grabbed a cloth and dabbed it against my drooling chin.

  “Captain, can we get goin’ now? The men gettin’ kinda anxious ‘bout havin’ a woman aboard.” It was a question.

  “Tell’em it ain’t bad luck unless ye’re goin’ out to sea. We’re just goin’ up the coast a wee bit to take this lady to Ermaline. If’n we don’t she won’t walk agin’ I don’t think. Tell them to send me their name if they don’t think a little good deed wouldna help them pause their sins.”

  “Aye Captain, we’re heavin’.” His footsteps retreated quickly on wooden floors.

  A fuzziness came over me like a slow fog and I rested my head against the odorous sheets and closed my eyes, only hazily grasping that I’d been drugged. That night I dreamed I was floating across a sea of diamonds on a pillow of cloud. When I landed and opened my eyes it was into the curious stare of a tiny pair of beady eyes. Not comprehending, I stared back at the creature standing so eerily close to my face until it struck me what it was. Then I screamed. That’s what I’d planned to do at least yet all that sounded was an unusual squeal. Odd sounding enough to startle me but not the mouse so much; his miniscule ears perked and his head turned in a quizzical nature as though my squeal meant something spectacular in mouse language. When the door flew open across the dreary room the mouse ran as though threatened with lightening.