by Selena Kitt
Jack grew closer to the bin and saw Ben standing next in line to empty his beans. Ben cried out, as though in pain, and stumbled into another man, Tyler, who was also approaching. Both of them went down, spilling beans and distracting everyone.
Jack grinned and acted. He bolted, running so fast he nearly tripped over his own feet until he adjusted for a strength in his legs he didn’t know he had. He felt free, for that heartbeat of time. Free from the giants, free from slavery, free to do anything.
The fire erupted in him, stealing his breath and sending him flying through the air a few short feet until he collapsed on the ground. He saw his bucket land nearby, spilling some of the dirt he had collected in it. He remembered the pain. He remembered well what it would do to him if he gave it a chance. He fought his way up against it, stamping down on it as it made the flesh on his heels sear in agony. He grabbed the bucket, forcing fingers that were cramped in agony to bend and contract. Then he was moving again. Ten feet away, then five.
The fire bit deeply into him, sending spasms of agony through his very bones and making him jerk about. He staggered closer, feeling it spread into his torso. This, he realized, was the final stage. When the fire reached his heart, he was done for.
His lungs refused to obey him. They were paralyzed with agony. He flared his nostrils, trying to pull in air, but found himself dropping to his knees instead. He was there, at the base of the power station. With the bucket in both hands, he twisted and flung his arms, letting go in time to see the dirt-filled bucket sail up into the air and bounce against the side of the structure. It tipped, spilling dirt as it did, and fell into the unknown beam.
The beam sputtered, not entirely, but in part. It was partially blocked by the debris and that weakened it. Far above, the lights on the giants’ cloud city dimmed, then flickered. A moment later they went out and the world was plunged into shadow.
Jack lay on the ground, staring up and smiling, though his grin was twisted with agony. He sucked in a deep breath and coughed, then just lay there watching as the massive disc so far above them shifted faster and faster to the side. The beam of energy erupted skyward again, having burned away the offending bucket and dirt, but its receiving end was no longer in position.
It took several minutes for the giant’s floating city to come down completely, but gravity would not be denied its prize. The flat bottom caused it to float with the strong winds of the upper atmosphere many kilometers away from the fields below. When at last it smashed into the ground, it did so with enough force to send tremors through the ground for hundreds of kilometers.
“Jack! Jack! Are you all right? Jack, you did it!” Patrick was shouting.
Jack saw his friend emerge from the shadows and stand over him. The man was grinning wildly as he leaned down and picked the abused Englishman up. “Jack, you did it! You killed the giants!”
Jack was not sure which hurt worse, the hug Patrick gave him or the giants’ strange torture device. Patrick let him go at last, and the two of them walked back to the transport plane where the others, who had been watching, rushed to overpower the giant who had piloted it. Ben was standing as well, though he looked a little bit the worse for wear.
“They zapped me too—good thing you stopped them!” he said, clapping Jack on the shoulder and pulling him in for a hug.
“What about everyone else?” Jack asked, though he could hear the cheering going on all around him. “And the...where are the maids kept?”
Patrick laughed. “Never figured you English boys cared so much for the ladies.”
Ben laughed and Jack could only shrug. “We’re not all poofters,” he said, prompting more laughter.
They ran off, heading towards their communal cells. Normally everyone went to their designated area—failure to comply meant punishment. Now, with no overseers to stop them, they explored and found other areas. One large building stood out from the others, and no one claimed it as their dormitory. Tools were improvised, from rocks to buckets to broken pieces secured from the shuttle. It took a lot of brute force, but eventually even the strange alien material succumbed to the violence and yielded an entry. Inside, dozens of terrified women were huddled, staring out at the men forcing their way through.
It took several minutes for the ensuing chaos to clear. The woman fought the men off, terrified, while many of the men fought their fellows to have a go at them. Finally Jack managed to get in front of them, along with Patrick and Ben, and they turned to face the huddled and equally nude women.
“The giants are dead,” Jack announced loudly, which brought about a fresh wave of cheering from the gathered men both within and without.
When it finally died, an older woman stepped forward, her body slender and fit in spite of her years. “How is this possible?” she asked.
“We blocked the energy that powered their city. It crashed. You can go and see for yourself if you like,” he added.
“Wasn’t ‘we’ who did it,” Patrick interrupted. “It was all Jack here.”
“Hey, I helped,” Ben said indignantly.
Ben’s addition was ignored though, for another timid voice from the back spoke up, “Jack? Jack from unit twenty-seven?”
Jack peered through the women, trying to see the source of the voice. It sounded like the maid, but he couldn’t be sure. “I don’t know what my unit number is. I’m just Jack.”
She forced her way through the crowd then and stared at him. Jack stared back, seeing a curly haired woman, slim and beautiful. Her eyes were a grayish green and filled with moisture, her face that of an angel who was not sure if she should laugh or cry.
“Turn around,” she said softly.
Jack did so without question. He supposed he would have even crawled up on a table in front of everyone gathered had she asked him to do so.
He felt her hand a moment later, brushing against his hip and over his buttock, raising goose bumps in its passing. Then she put her hand to his shoulder and pulled him back around to face her.
“You have a birthmark,” she said, tears running down her face.
Jack wrapped his arms around her and pulled her to him, crushing her in his embrace and feeling her sobs. She held on tightly, more tightly than he would have thought possible, but he didn’t mind. He had no intention of putting her down anytime soon.
Patrick and Ben took up another cheer and soon it was echoed by everyone as they prepared to face their newfound freedom.
About Phineas Magnus
When a rather plain and average person steps into the shadows unobserved and reaches deep within to wrestle with their inner demons, a being such as Phineas Magnus emerges from those same shadows. Equally at home at a tennis club or speaking Swahili amongst African mercenaries, Phineas allows no boundaries to interfere with his exploration of the great wonders that perplex mankind. How else would such a man have been able to determine the proper width and depth necessary to build a pit in his basement—purely for educational purposes, of course? Likewise, many a flock of penguins in Antarctica may have never laid witness to a world record setting 6 meter naked dash across the frozen tundra. At the end of the day, the only thing that Phineas will truly be concerned with is whether he managed to provoke some sort of open, controversial, or disturbing reaction deep within the minds of those he was lucky enough to supply a fresh bit of prose to.
ANNIE AND THE YOUNG MASTER
By Bekki Lynn
Chapter One
Devastated, Lillian Basford stared at the whitewashed door. She tried the knob, but the door wouldn’t open. She banged on it. “Father, let me in! Tell me how I wronged!” No one came to let her inside.
Saddened, she walked down the path and a ways from the house. Veering off, she went into the garden her mother had loved so much. Lillian sat on a bench for what seemed like hours, wondering why her words angered her father. Didn’t he understand her love was the highest of all his daughters?
She looked around, but no one came for her. The sun was going d
own and the early summer evening air started to cool. Surely, she wouldn’t be left out in the night. Gazing upward, stars appeared one-by-one in the darkening sky and tears streamed down her cheeks. “Mama, help me see my wrong,” she prayed.
Uncontrolled sobs burst from her as she lie with her arms wrapped around her. Soon the night closed in around her and closed her eyes with hopes of hearing footsteps approach. Maybe one of her sisters would sneak from the house and bring her in.
“Miss Lillian, Miss Lillian,” a lilting voice came to her.
Opening her eyes, she saw Celia, a servant, standing over her. She must have fallen asleep for she did not hear the woman approach. Lillian sat up asking, “My father wishes to see me?”
“No, miss. He wishes me to show you to the gate before it’s bolted.”
“But…Ceila, what have I done?”
“I don’t know. Those were his orders.”
Lillian nodded then followed the woman to the gate. With a glance back at the house, she asked, “What am I supposed to do? Where am I to go?”
“I do not know. Get on now.”
She walked through the entrance to the house, fear welling up in her when she heard the bolt of the gate behind her. Daring one more question, she asked, “May I have a cloak, something to keep me warm?”
“I’m to give you nothing,” she replied then headed back to the house.
Trudging along the dirt road, her eyes darted around with every rustling sound of the forest. The wild beat of her heart, the soft pad of her shoes on the dirt road, all seemed louder in the dark. She feared she’d drown out the sounds of danger approaching.
A growl pierced the silence nearby in the trees. She screamed and turned tail, running back to the bolted gate. Breathing hard, she rattled it and tried to reach through the slates to move the bolt. “Help! Help me, please!”
Lillian slunk down near the stone pillar holding the gate upright, distraught and frightened. She huddled against the stone, taking little comfort in the sun’s warmth it held. Watching the space around her, she hoped nothing dared come near.
* * * *
At first light, Lillian awakened, surprised she’d slept. Letting her eyes focus as she took in her surroundings, she pulled herself up. The gate remained bolted and the property off limits due to the ferocious wire with barbed knots strung around it.
Hard reality set in. She’d been barred from her home–dead to them. Lillian turned away and walked along at a slow pace, trying to think. She could work, but who would hire the daughter of a prominent barrister to serve and clean for them. Some would think it a joke, others wouldn’t dare go against her father. Her belly grumbled, coupling her worry about finding a place who’d take her on.
Weary and sure she’d walked miles, she found a stump to rest on. Wiping moisture from her brow, she studied the rushes off in the nearby ren. She wondered if they hid a stream. The land was somewhat barren and seemed safe enough. She walked with purpose and did find water.
Cupping her hands, Lillian tasted the water. It was good. She drank until thirst left hunger then stood and saw the hem of her dress muddied. This gave her an idea. Reaching down in the muck, she grabbed a handful and splattered the dress. When she finished, she worried the style of the dress, maybe the fabric would still give away her stand. Sighing, she set her mind to think how to get around it.
Lillian studied the rushes with her mind working fast. She could weave a covering, but she needed something with a sharp edge and looked along the water’s edge. A ways along the water, she found a flat, sharp-edged stone to cut the stems of the tall weeds. She set to work until the pile seemed large enough.
Once she’d made herself a resemblance of a cloak with a hood to cover her light disheveled hair, she went along the road until it split. She took to her left, a route she’d never been as it went away from the town of Milltown where her father worked.
The sun came higher and warmed her through the cloak, but she daren’t stop to remove it and risk no work. On she went, even when hunger pained her belly and her feet begged for rest.
Past a grouping of trees a field of black currents beckoned her. Unable to resist, she dared to do the punishable. She left the road, making her way through the brush grown up along the road.
With her stomach grumbling at the sight of the plump dark fruit, Lillian plucked one and tasted. “Mmmm.” Sweetness filled her mouth. Taking the bunch, she walked back toward the road and sat among the tall grasses. She savored each morsel until the sound of horses hooves pounding the packed dirt road came near. She stilled, certain her cloak would keep her hidden if one should look her direction. The carriage passed her by.
“Whoa,” a male voice said.
Closing her eyes, she feared he owned the field and would have her jailed. Careful not to move, she listened. From the single sound of boots slapping the hardened dirt, she he’d jumped down. She held her breath as he came closer.
“Pilfering fruit from the vine, are we?”
His voice startled her, but she didn’t turn.
“Come up here,” he said, grabbing her by the shoulders.
She rose, facing him as his hands insisted. Before her stood the man who spent a fortnight in her dreams. Lowering her head from his view, she remained silent.
“Why are you wearing such a garment?” His hands came up and moved the hood from her head, revealing what must look a tangled mass of haze.
Lillian swallowed the embarrassment of being less than presentable. “I’ve no other,” she said with a meekness his presence caused.
She let her eyes meet his when silence seemed to linger from him. Samuel Wadkins studied her face with his deep gray eyes. Shivers swept through her as snippets of her dreams swam before her: his hands were gentle on her, making her feel warm, special—like a woman; his words were soft and loving as his face closed the distance between them. She always woke before the touch of his lips.
Samuel wiped his finger along her bottom lip then licked the juice from it, his tongue moving slow up to the tip. Tingles twirled in her belly.
“Mmm, I wonder…”
His young, smooth face became taut and strained…she wasn’t sure why, because she sensed no fear for herself.
Fingers grazed her cheeks. “Your skin is soft like silkweed,” he murmured.
“It is your touch that is smooth and tender.” Lillian’s heart drummed within her. How he could not hear, she did not know.
He reached for her hands and turned her palms up, caressing them with his. She wavered on her feet as fire seared through her veins.
“Tender flesh. I think you’re not a homeless waif, nor a worker.”
She yanked her hands back, wishing she’d considered her under-worked flesh. “Please, sir. You’re being too familiar.”
“Not yet, but I feel…”
Before he finished, his arms were about her and his mouth was on hers, moving, tasting her lips and left while shock held her still. Fingers kneaded through the cloak, relaxing her. She dared to rest her hands on his waist while her mouth succumbed to his, even opening to him when he attempted to slip his tongue between her lips.
He teased her into playing and she became the lover she wanted to be for him. Letting her hands move up and wind around his neck, she slipped her fingers into his dark hair, enjoying the flavor of coffee and cinnamon as she mirrored his movements, kissing him with equal need, hunger.
Her knees bent as he lowered her, coming down to lay over her as she opened to see him. He watched her with eyes darkened by his need, his face drawn with what she also wanted. Waiting for him to guide her into what was new to her, a niggling voice said she was behaving unladylike. It didn’t override what the unfinished dreams left her wanting. She wanted to know him as her heart ached for him to know her. She felt her dress rise and her pantaloon pushed down. She searched his eyes, willing to give him what she’d been told was sacred to the man she’d marry.
“I feel as I know you and don’t. Please, tell me yo
ur name,” he requested, his voice more gravelly than before.
Lillian caught herself before she told him her given name. He might associate it with the name of the attorney. Rather, she told him her second name. “Ann.”
Chapter Two
Samuel caressed her most intimate place and she arched into him, enjoying the feel of his fingers against sensitive flesh. “Touch me, Ann. Know my cock wants you,” he whispered and placed her hand on the flap of his trousers.
Despite the crude reference, she found him harder than a cob of corn and her mother’s words came back to her. Men want with ease, but we must be the bearer of wit and hold them off. Reaching up, she caressed the side of his face. “We should not be doing this. Someone could come along.” His fingers plunged inside her. “Oh,” she moaned. “Such wonder, pleasure.”
“Your pussy wants me as I want…”
“Deeply.”
He moved in and out of her…pussy…with a steady rhythm, controlling her body as it moved with him. Her eyes fluttered closed as she gripped his upper arms, somehow wanting it more for the hearing of the words she’d only heard from the men who worked for her father. “I should…shall not stop you.”
Lips brushed her brow and his breath lingered over her mouth. “I’ve never felt such a burden of need. I cannot prolong.”
He withdrew his fingers and she watched him undo his belt and lower his trousers. His length protruded, large and purple. Excitement beneath hesitation had her searching his eyes. She needed to see caring in his eyes. Samuel moved to kneel between her thighs, and it was there with intense passion. He grasped his shaft, moved it over her folds and pushed into her. “Oh, God! Stop!” she cried, as it seemed part of her ripped and his body set against her.
“I’m sorry,” he croaked.
“Mama didn’t tell me it’d hurt so,” she said, feeling foolish.
He covered her face with kisses, wiping the tears with his lips. “I didn’t mean to cause you pain, but it will go and pleasure will revive.”
