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The Three Graces

By: Nicola_Italia1



The three sisters –Margarita "Rita", Magdalena "Maggie" and Maria were known together as the Three Graces in their small town of San Fernando.

In Greek mythology, the three goddesses/graces represented joy, charm, and beauty. The Graces were rarely treated as individuals in Mythology and were the triple embodiment of grace and beauty. 

Thus the Mexican sisters were nicknamed. They lived in California in the time when the great state of California did not exist but was wholly and largely presided over upon by Mexico. It was a beautiful land of Ranchos and culture and the year was 1830.


Rita was the eldest at 21 with long flowing black hair and a curvy body. Her breasts were large and proud with jutting hips. The men flocked from nearby Ranchos to stare at her great beauty. She had a temper and intelligence to match and she was her father's favorite. She had fallen in love with Mauricio – but her father had forbidden the match. He was a poor farmer in the next village over and not worthy of his jewel Rita.

Next was Maggie. Maggie had the dark looks of her sister but was slimmer, taller and younger at 20 years old. She had exotic eyes that pulled up at the corners and her mouth was generous and pouty. She was the flirt among the three sisters and had dared her father's wrath by seeing a vaquero (cowboy) named Alberto in the village.

The baby, Maria, was shorter than her two sisters with heavy breasts and hips but had inherited her great grandmother's extraordinary silver eyes. Maria was lovely because she was so sweet and kind. She loved to help the nearby peasants and stray animals and because of this – Barbaro Villareal had fallen in love with her and was determined to have her. He was a ruthless tyrant who had control of the great Rancho de Encino, which bordered theirs. She loathed his very existence.

The three graces' father was the well-known and respected Sebastian Juan de la Tierra. He was a kind and generous landlord and a doting father. He had denied the match of Rita's lover and also Maria's. It was rumored that he meant the sisters for himself but such was not the case. He would not part with them because he loved them greatly and surmised that no one would love them as much.

Their mother had long since passed away after Maria's birth so the women grew wild and learned none of the arts that were respected amongst women. Rita's beauty, Maggie's taunting ways and Maria's sweetness made them the envy of all the women in Rancho San Fernando. Thus they were alone amongst themselves and the Indian servants.

Barbaro Villareal grew increasingly difficult in his desire to have Maria de la Tierra. He had offered her father an absurd amount of gold and made it known that she could even have her wedding dress tailor-made in Espana if it pleased her. Maggie had laughed at this.

Maggie twirled in front of the mirror and admired herself.

"He is a strutting peacock. Unworthy." She smoothed the dress over her hips and enjoyed the feel of it and sighed. She would have to see Alberto this evening. She enjoyed so much the feel of his cock inside her. She knew her father would kill her if he found out. As a respected young girl and daughter of such a landlord as Sebastian – her virgin's blood must stain the marital bed. She was too tempestuous to think of such things now.

"I do not love him. I cannot marry such a boorish, loud man." Maria whispered softly to her sisters.

"Nor shall you! It's a ridiculous match even to consider. Magdalena is right, he's unworthy." Rita's temper flared and her cheeks flushed red. Her dark eyes flashed as she thought of her sweet sister having to spread her legs for the pompous prick.

Maggie chewed on her fingernail thinking of some way to get back at the little peacock. She thought and thought and suddenly had it.

"Hermanas!! (sisters) I have it!" Maggie was so pleased with herself she danced in a circle with Maria leaving the younger one breathless.

"Maggie, que paso?" (what is it) Rita asked her genuinely confused.

"Well," Maggie began. "The peacock has one son whom he adores and five daughters that he could care less about." She smiled brightly and stared at her sisters.

"I suggest we go into the night – kidnap the son – and bring him here. Father leaves to Rancho Santa Barbara this Friday and will not be back until Monday. That will give us enough time to ransom the peacock's son and bring him down a notch or two in his arrogance. He will never want our Maria after that."

Rita stared at her sister. "Loca. (crazy) I knew one day you would become loca." She touched her own temple as she said it.

Maria spoke quietly. "I cannot marry such a man. I agree with Maggie. Let us embarrass him and then he will never want me. Please Margarita."

Rita sighed loudly. "This is crazy! Absolutely crazy!!!"

Maria and Maggie looked silently at Rita until she agreed. Though Maggie often came up with various ideas for their little schemes, Rita was always the ringleader.

"Esta bien. (okay) I cannot fight you both. But esta loca!!" Rita said as they made their plans to kidnap the peacock's son. They knew nothing about the son except that he was 25 and had just returned from Espana from school.

They knew from village and servants gossip that his name was Cruz Rafael Villareal. He had lived the life of the firstborn son of a great Californio hacienda. He was pampered, spoiled and rich. His father denied him nothing and when he came of an age, he was sent to Espana to be educated and returned wiser and more cosmopolitan to run his father's great estate.

The three graces decided they would use a large cart tied to donkey and dress, as peasant's to creep into the hacienda. Once there they would bash him over the head with a large object, tie him up and take him to San Fernando. They bribed a young Indian girl to show them which was his bedroom. Rita and Maggie crept in, bashed the young man over the head while Maria waited with the reins. They carried his long body to the cart and vanished into the night.

The night was dark and once they returned to their own hacienda they thought it best to leave him in Margarita's room. They tied his legs and hands to the four posts of the bed and Maggie left to go meet Alberto. Maria went to go get food and drink while Rita watched over him.

She lit a candle and gasped at the young man. He was very lovely. Tall and lithe his chest was muscular and his legs long. His black hair was shaggy and his chin bore a few days growth, which only added to his allure. His face was sculpted and strong as were his lips, which were sensuous. She wondered if his voice would be cultured or rough and uneducated.

She picked up her small book and began reading. He shook his head and his eyes focused on a woman reading. He was dead and this was an angel. Her face so lovely and perfect.

"O dios mio, my head." (oh my god) His voice was low and husky.

Rita came over to sit beside him and touched his dark head. "I'm sorry, senor. (mister) We didn't mean to hit you so hard."

"Release me, bruja! (witch) Ahora!" (now) He spoke like a man used to getting his ways.

"Behave senor. Or I will gag you." Rita spoke to him like a child.

"Little witch! What game do you play?" He eyed her generous breasts inches from his gaze and she saw him.

"No games, senor." As she said this, her small fingers unbuttoned her peasant's blouse. His mouth watered as her brown skin was exposed and her nipples reminded him of chocolate-dipped fruit. Oh god, he shuddered as his cock hardened.

"No games." She murmured as she pressed her nipple into his mouth. He sucked it greedily and bit it lightly. Her hand moved lower and his hard cock was rigid and waiting.

"Release me, whore. I'll give you what you want." He murmured to her.

Rita laughed. "A whore? No, I'm not that. And there's nothing that I want from you."

"Really? I bet your little cunt is ready and wet to take me right now." Cruz told her crudely.

"Well, you won't find out tonight." She told him as he struggled against the ropes.

She remained naked at the waist and was about to dress when Maria walked in.

"Rita!!!!" Maria exclaimed.

"It's nothing, Maria. I was only teasing the boy." She buttoned up her blouse and gazed at him.

"Boy! I'll show you boy, little whore," as he struggled against the ropes again.

"Oh for godsakes feed him Maria. And beware his speech. He sounds like a cheap sailor." Rita left swaying her hips and Cruz vowed to grind his cock into her before long.

Maria sat beside him and feed him soup and drink. "You should be kind to us, Senor Villareal. We only do this so your father will leave me alone."

Cruz humphed. "Why would my father want anything to do with two whores?"

Maria slapped the spoon down onto the table. She was not used to such talk and would not accept it now. "We are not whores! My name is Maria de la Tierra and that was my sister, Margarita de la Tierra."

"Oh jesus. The three graces! I've heard about you. Your sister is very beautiful." He groaned. This didn't bode well for him. He knew very well the lengths his father had gone to – to have this girl in front of him. He knew he wanted her badly. He also knew the gossip that she avoided him like the plague. He watched her spoon the food into his mouth and hardened as he watched her eyes look at him. The eyes were so lovely. Like silver coins. He wondered idly what she would be like on her back?

Maggie swung her hips as she made her way back home. She was livid! She and Alberto had quarreled and so nothing had happened. She had wanted to just fuck and enjoy herself, he had wanted to discuss marriage and approach her father with the idea. She was so horny she wanted to grind her pussy into a tree limb.

She entered the hacienda and met Maria.

"Please go and watch over Senor Villareal. Rita is tired and I'm not happy with him right now. He has a foul mouth and I must go say some Hail Mary's for him." Maggie laughed and almost told her sister to say some Hail Mary's for herself but stopped short.

She opened the door to Rita's bedroom and shrugged off her shawl.

"Ah, the second of the three graces." Cruz spoke lowly and coldly.

"I would be Magdalena." She told him as she walked forward.

Oh no, he thought. If a man was to mold and create a sensuous woman who would embody sensuality, womanliness and just pure sex – this was it.

"I assume you are taking over Maria's shift."

Maggie licked her lips and smiled at the man. "I am."

Cruz followed her with his eyes as she walked around the bed.

"You should not be so harsh with Maria. She's sweetness and kindness in human form."

"Yes, well I didn't ask to be kidnapped by you de la Tierra whores."

"Tsk tsk tsk," Maggie said, her pouty lips puckered as she told him, "I won't be called a whore unless I'm earned it."

She moved onto the bed and sat on him – her lean legs on the outside of his hips. His hips were slim also but masculine.

She arched her back as he watched her little titties thrust forward into his view. These sisters were a man's dream come true. All beautiful and sexual.

"Untie me." His hips jutted into hers.

Maggie laughed and hiked her skirt up above her waist. He saw her brown legs taunt and healthy from walking and riding.

"Make me." Those pouty lips he loved watching as she spoke. She moved away from him and began to undo his belt and pants.

Maggie was so hot and ready she wanted to slid down onto his cock already. But she wanted to give him something too.

His cock sprang forward and the small helmet head was pink and bulbous. Her pouty little mouth took him inside her mouth that was so wet and tight and Cruz's hips bucked.

"Oh fuck." He spoke aloud as she bobbed her head up and down along his shaft. He was large, almost 8 inches and she almost gagged as she tried to go all the way down his shaft.

"Little whore, release me." Cruz told her as he tried desperately to evade the tight ropes that held him to the bed. His fists curled in anger as he lay helpless to her attentions. He wanted to throw her down onto the bed and fuck her. He wanted to flip her around and shove his cock into her ass. He grew harder and thicker and moaned. 

"Not yet, Cruz."

Maggie laughed again. Her tongue lapped along his shaft and down to his balls. She cupped them and her spit stuck to his shaft again and again.

She moved again and this time she hiked up her skirt giving him view to see her long brown legs and hairy little snatch.

She moved onto the bed and his cock slid into her tight little pussy lips. His cock filled her to the hilt.

"Oh god!" Cruz moaned. He wanted so badly to pull her hips onto him harder and to force her to move quicker but he could do nothing.

"Now you can call me a little whore, Cruz." Maggie spoke as she moved her peasant blouse down below her breasts and they jutted and bounced with her movements.

"Oh little puta, harder. Ride me." He spoke to her.

Maggie bounced up and down. "Tell me when you are coming." Her words echoed in the room as he grunted and jerked his hips into her.

"Harder, puta." He told her and Maggie relished the words. She loved dirty sex and being called names. She loved the power of controlling him and his actions.

"I'm cumming." She pulled out as she too climaxed and his white milky cum arced into the air and on his stomach before she filled her mouth with it.

She licked him clean and washed his belly.

She buttoned him up and was about to leave the room.

"Who are you women?"

"You know. The three graces." She left him alone.

He looked up into the ceiling and his thoughts were evil. He wanted the three sisters by themselves. That was the only possible outcome for this kidnapping. He would take the little Rita on her back, the whore Maggie in a doggy style position, and Maria would do fine sucking his cock or eating her sisters out. Yes, he thought.

That would be the outcome for these little bitches.

The Three Graces



© DAR 2000/2006 All rights reserved. Not to be reproduced in any form without prior written permission from the author.

I can't actually remember what started the row. David was being pushy about something I expect. I mean, he was always being pushy, and it pissed me off because I didn't need all that. Looking back I didn't love him, I can't have done, or it wouldn't have been over so completely and so fast. But at the time I thought I did.

It was lust, I suppose. I mean, once he stopped messing me about and got to it I thought he was pretty good. He was certainly hung well, and a girl needs to feel something going on down there, you know? And I thought that meant someone, well, big.

So anyway, we were at the flat, and we started this row. I said something awful - don't know what it was, can't remember a word, but I can still remember the look on his face. Horror. Disgust. Hatred, or a fair approximation of it anyway.

He hit me. Hard, with the flat of his hand on the side of my face, sent me spinning. I was up in no time, started screaming at him and going for him, clawing at his face, drawing blood, I think, because my fingernails are quite long, and yelling like a banshee.

He was out of the flat and down the stairs like the devils of hell were after him.  I suppose one of them was, happening to be disguised as me. I slammed the outside door shut behind him, and he went to his car, looked back, and saw me still inside the door. He came back then, and tried to talk to me. There was some blood on his face. There was this big red mark under his eye, too, and I thought "Bastard, serves you right."

I went back up to my flat, which was how I discovered the problem. The door had swung shut behind me, so it had locked. I hadn't taken the key from the hook on the burglar alarm control box; I'd been a bit distracted what with screaming at David and trying to catch up with him so I could claw his other eye and stuff.

I was locked out of my own flat, and David was downstairs outside the front door bleeding, and my face hurt. I stayed in the little lobby on our landing for a while, wishing one of the other residents was in so I could maybe phone somebody to get a key. But one of the flats was empty and Mary who lived on the ground floor was at the hospital working. 

Tessa and David, who lived opposite me, were on honeymoon, though why David had married Tessa when she spent several hours a week screaming abuse at him and telling him how pathetic he was I could never understand. Perhaps he liked it.

Jimmy, on the top floor, I hadn't seen for days, so he must be away again, and the two new girls in the flat above me had gone out for the evening. I'd seen them leave when David arrived, so they wouldn't be back for a while.

David seemed to have gone, at least he'd stopped banging on the door downstairs, so I slipped out of the lobby and sat down on the stairs - the ones going up, where he couldn't see me if he came back - and I had a bit of a cry, which I needed.

The bastard. Three months of going out, and putting up with him pushing me into doing this and that and the other - mostly the other, though I didn't need much pushing for that of course. Three months, and then the bastard has to hit me. Well, that's it. Nobody gets the chance to hit me twice. Bastard.

I was crying again when they found me, the girls from the top floor flat. I felt a complete prawn, with my make-up streaked, my hair all over the place, bawling like a five-year-old who'd lost her dolly and my cheek still red from where bloody David had hit me.

But they were really cool, like it was normal after you'd been out for a drink to find a girl you hardly knew weeping on the stairs. So they helped me up, and I sobbed something about being locked out. I was still crying when they took me up to their flat.

The big dark-haired girl, Megan, said she'd put on the kettle for some tea. The smaller blonde one, Becky, said "Don't be daft, she needs something stronger than that."

So we went in the bathroom where I had a wash and sorted myself out a bit while Megan opened a bottle of something cold. I could still see the mark on my face. So could Becky.

"Look, what's this about? You haven't been crying because you got locked out - and that mark?"

So I told her, and that started me crying again, and she put her arms round me and held me close, and that felt better. Once I stopped crying she took me into the front room. I drank the glass of wine Megan handed me in one gulp. I couldn't have told you if it was Chardonnay, shandy or shampoo. 

Becky explained why I needed a drink while Megan poured me another one, and Megan called David something very unpleasant, and sat me down on the sofa with her, and we talked.

I felt better after a while. The wine helped, of course, but it was all so calm and unthreatening. The flat was rented, they told me after a bit, but it was nice. The walls were cream, and the carpet a sort of pinky colour, and the furniture matched the carpet. That sounds very girly, I know, but it wasn't.

Thinking back, the only way you could tell the place was rented was the pictures; they were so varied you knew nobody had really chosen them, they'd just been hung there to fill up the walls.

After a bit the conversation got back to this evening, and Megan said something nasty about men. I started to say David wasn't like that before I remembered that actually he was, and I started crying again. Megan was really upset, and kept apologising, and I was sobbing that it was OK, but of course it wasn't. 

So she held me close, and she was all warm and gentle, and I could feel the softness of her breasts against my arm, and I relaxed, and stopped crying. Then she looked at me, holding me at arms length, and really looking at me, you know?

"You need a shower," she said, "You'll feel a lot better." So she led me down the little hall to their bathroom, where they had a shower mounted over the bath. "You get undressed," she said over her shoulder, taking the shower head out of its holder, "And I'll sort this out."

So I did, while she turned the shower on and adjusted the temperature. I was in my bra and briefs waiting for her to finish when she looked over her shoulder and said "Oh, not ready yet?" and I realised she wasn't going to go, so I went a bit pink and took my underwear off as well, while she put the shower head in the holder again and pulled the curtain across to stop water going all over the carpet.

When she turned round she had a shower cap for me, and put it on me. It was really nice the way she did it, standing close, stroking my hair up off my neck under the cap, and those dark eyes focussed totally on mine. I couldn't look anywhere else, couldn't be embarrassed about standing in front of her stark naked, couldn't worry about the way her big breasts, soft under the thin wool of her jumper, pressed against mine for a moment as she moved forward and tucked the last few strands of hair away.

"OK, now, in the shower with you," she smiled, and it was like being a little girl again, almost. She helped me into the bath, holding my hand with one of hers, the other gently in the small of my back.. It was sweet ... loving, almost.

A couple of moments later, as I stood with my back to the stream of warm water, soaping my front, and beginning to relax properly for the first time, there was a little cough and Megan poked her head round the curtain.

"Sorry," she said, looking at me with a curious intensity, "I thought you might want this." She handed me a sponge, as her eyes flicked up and down my body almost, I thought, checking me out. "He's mad, of course." She was smiling now.

"Who is?"

"That boyfriend of yours. Taking a chance on losing you. I mean, you have a simply gorgeous body. He's mad." I blushed in more places than I had thought possible as she vanished again.

When I'd finished, I turned the shower off and pulled back the curtain. To my surprise she was still there, standing quietly, holding out a huge pink bath towel for me to step into.

So I stepped into it. Was it my imagination, or did she check me out again? No, I didn't imagine it, and I was rather flattered to see her taking so much notice. "She must think I'm potential competition," I thought. And as Megan was a beauty, with her large dark eyes, pale soft skin, softly waved black hair and lush curves, I was flattered. I was also much less embarrassed at being naked in front of her.

She wrapped the towel round me, squeezed my shoulders and, to my surprise, kissed me on the forehead. It was the kind of kiss I used to get from my brother's rugby playing friends, and when they did it, it meant "I do fancy you, but you're my friend's baby sister so I'm not going to do anything about it. Not now, anyway." Odd. Megan being a girl, she obviously didn't mean "I fancy you but I'm not going to do anything about it". What was I thinking of? 

She lifted off my shower cap and went out.

As I finished drying myself she came back, and by now I was so relaxed, what with the shower and the wine and the casual atmosphere, that I didn't cover myself at all.

"I've brought you this," she smiled, and held up a long, thick towelling bathrobe. I slipped it on.

"Let me dry your hair," she said, and for the next few minutes I sat on the edge of the bath while she combed it, and ran the hair dryer up and down, and I felt pampered. Her hands felt cool on my neck when she lifted my hair for the dryer, softer than I expected, firmly decisive, like she knew what she was doing.

Which she did, I found out later.

Back in the sitting room Becky looked smaller and blonder somehow, as she poured us some more wine. Her eyes hesitated for a fraction on my front. I realised I hadn't pulled the robe across me as well as I should have, and adjusted things. The eyes moved deliberately to Megan. I totally failed to read the significance of this, putting down Megan's pink cheeks to the warmth of the small bathroom, to the steam from the shower.

I sat sipping my wine, cool and creamy and self-indulgent as it was, not like the thin stuff I bought in the supermarket, and thought how nice this was, how the evening had turned out nice after all. Megan leant across me to grab the bottle. "She's drinking faster than before," I thought, with the lack of curiosity of the truly innocent.

The sofa, like the flat, was a small one, and Megan's thigh moving to press against mine was curiously comforting. Becky smiled her quiet smile, looked hard at Megan, and said coolly how glad she was to see her taking good care of me. I should have thought that odd, too, I suppose.

But I just sipped some more Chardonnay - I'd calmed down enough now that I could tell that was what it was, mostly from it being written on the label - and took my first good look at her. She was pretty, no question. A little shorter than me, slim, her dusky blonde hair as short as Megan's dark hair was long. "Is she a natural blonde?" I thought, the question just arriving in my head out of nowhere.

I found myself looking at her breasts, small, soft and liquid as she moved, realising there was no bra under the silk blouse. Had her nipples showed like that before? Surely not. Yet it was warm in here - well, I felt warm, anyway.

Fortunately I had torn my eyes away when she looked back at me to ask me something about the clubs I went to. I answered without thinking because I had realised from the way that her eyes went to my legs that I was being altogether too careless with my robe, and was showing a lot more than I intended.

"I'm pissed," I thought, uncaring, not bothering to pull the robe down my leg. "Not very pissed, not 'this is a problem' pissed, but nicely, comfortably, relax and enjoy it pissed."

She got up, and walked over to the door, slim, deliciously curved hips undulating prettily in the tight trousers, as I noted the absence of a panty line and wondered what that meant. Wondered, too, at myself thinking about such things. The drink, I concluded, had much to answer for.

"I'll get us a coffee when I've made up your bed." She was smiling at me as I tore my eyes from her luscious bottom, thinking to my surprise that I suddenly knew why men looked so hard at such things.

"What? Oh no, I couldn't turn you out of your room - I'll sleep on the sofa."

"Oh. Oh my." She looked suddenly stunned, silenced, dumbstruck. I couldn't think why, and looked at Megan, who also looked amazed, but had not lost the power of speech.

"Ah, I see." She looked worried, but in control. Just. "You don't have to sleep on the sofa - you won't be taking Becky's bed. Or mine come to that. The second bedroom is our guest room, you see. We sleep in the big one. Ummm. Together."

"You didn't realise, then?" Becky was joining in again, flushed but functioning. "You hadn't worked out that we're a couple - lesbians, that is. Oh damn."

I said nothing, remembering how Megan had looked at me naked, how she had checked me out, how Becky had been looking at me just now. I remembered the feel of Megan's soft breasts against my own, her firm, knowing hands. I understood the kiss at last, and wondered if "Not now" lasted as long from her as it had from my brother's mates, none of whom had ever tried to bed me.

"I'll make the coffee," Becky muttered, and shot out.

"Shan't be a moment - got to pee - embarrassment, I suppose." Megan hurried after her, pink, blushing beautifully.

I finished my wine, and thought a lot.

We drank the coffee, and gradually the tension subsided. We chatted about how they'd met, how long they'd been together - a couple of years, apparently - and compared experiences. They'd met a bit like David and I had; mutual friends, that sort of thing. But where David and I had been sleeping together almost from day one - well, second date, to be honest, which was a mistake, because it made him think he owned me - they'd taken a week or so to be sure.

"Was it good?" I said before I had thought about what I was saying.

"Oh," said Megan, looking at her shoes.

"Absolutely mind-bendingly wonderful," said Becky with a smile. "She is just the best lover I've ever ... well, she's just the best, that's all."

"Oh Becky, you mustn't ..." Megan was very embarrassed.

"Well you are, so there." Becky got up, walked over to Megan, and sat in her lap, putting her arms round her neck, kissing her very softly full on the lips.

It was suddenly very quiet. I could hear a bus passing 200 yards away on the main road, in spite of the double glazing. It was just the softest, most loving kiss I'd seen in months. It was like a big close-up in the cinema; I could see every detail. Their lips relaxed, their mouths partly open, Megan's teeth grazing Becky's bottom lip, pulling at it.

I mean, they just kissed, that was all, but it was like Becky was giving herself to Megan right there in front of me, and Megan was taking her, possessing her. And it was only a kiss.

"Wow!" I thought. "Wow."

"I'm sorry." Becky had turned towards me, her hand still on the back of Megan's neck. "I'm sorry, I hope we don't embarrass you, it's just ... well, I fancy her so much." Megan didn't know where to look, she was bright pink. But I noticed, surprised that I noticed, that her nipples were very hard now, standing out through bra and jumper, very obvious, very big.

"It was beautiful," I said without thinking. "Love is always beautiful, and you two are so obviously in love."

"Thank you," said Becky seriously. "Yes, we are. I just thought, with us being girls, some people have a problem, that's all."

"Oh no," I said, rather too quickly, "No, I don't have a problem. None of my business." I was floundering, because I was thinking of how they'd look making love, Megan naked, plump, luscious, writhing as Becky knelt beside her.

"Did you ever ..." Becky's half formed question hung in the air, startling me.

"What? Oh, no, never." I'd never even thought of making love to another girl, or letting another girl touch me like that. Never.

They got up, Becky settling back into her chair as Megan picked up the wine, refilled my glass.

Never even thought about it. 

Till now.

Megan was standing behind the smaller girl, stroking her hair, one hand resting on Becky's shoulder, possessive. Megan was the one who took charge, who made the decisions. She was looking at me again like she had in the bathroom. Assessing.

"You're very pretty," she said quietly, a simple statement dripping with possibilities.

"We talked about what an attractive girl you were the first time we saw you," murmured Becky. She was looking at me too. The bathrobe had slipped off one of my legs, and her eyes traced the line of my thigh. Upwards, slowly.

"Oh," I said, wondering how Becky would look when she was coming, wondering again if she was a natural blond as my eyes were drawn to the soft shape of her breasts before I forced myself to meet her gaze.

She smiled. "You have lovely skin." My stomach clenched, and I gulped nervously, resisting the need to lick my lips. She leant back against Megan's stomach, looked up, and the plump brunette's hands cupped her face, then, fingers extended, slid down her neck till her fingertips were pressing on the tops of the small soft breasts.

"Time for bed," said Megan, her eyes on mine, her fingertips moving half an inch lower.

"Yes," said Becky, her voice suddenly husky.

Megan ushered me out into the small hall. At the far end, there were two doors to the bedrooms. The flat was like mine, I knew which was which. Megan reached past me to open the door to the smaller one, her perfume filling my nostrils.

"Here you are," she said, smiling, "Hope you sleep well."

"No," I said suddenly. They both froze. Time seemed to hang suspended. I couldn't believe I was saying this. "No. I don't want to sleep alone."

Megan's hands were on my shoulders, she was looking down at me, face serious, eyes dark pools, wide, sincere. She was much taller than me, strong looking.

"Are you sure? Really sure?" Not grabbing the chance, like most guys would. How soft her eyes were.

"Yes."

"Really sure?" But her hand was against my cheek now, the fingertips cool and soft.

"Really sure." I opened the door, noticing that my hand was shaking as I did it, realising that I was a virgin again, wondering about the tension in my stomach, the heat in my belly, the fear. Wondering what would happen, what they would do, what we would do.

She followed me in, then turned and kissed me very softly, her hands on my shoulders, not pulling me in, not gripping me, just resting there. And as she kissed me I felt Becky move close behind me, and her hands were on my shoulders too.

Then I felt Megan's hands move, start to undo the tie of my bathrobe, and my stomach clenched. I knew this was the moment - from here there could be no going back. Her hands slipped inside the robe and around my waist - soft and cool. And as she gently held me, Becky's hands slipped the robe off my shoulders.

It whispered to the floor, and I stood, naked and nervous, between the two of them as Megan kissed me again. I closed my eyes, shivering at the strangeness of it, the softness of them. Megan's lips left mine, moved to my cheek, the lobe of my ear, that amazingly sensitive spot on my neck just below and behind my ear, travelling slowly as she turned me round to face Becky.

Becky's kiss was harder, her lips firm, her tongue aggressive, sliding between my own lips to explore my mouth greedily as her hands moved down my arms, then round behind me till her hands cupped my hips and held us belly to belly. I could feel her nipples, small and hard, through the silk as her soft breasts flattened themselves against my own.

What was I doing? How had I got into this? Why was I enjoying it? As Becky finally broke the kiss I heard a sound behind me, could no longer feel Megan's warmth against my back, and looked round.




The Three Graces



She was in her underwear, folding her trousers on a chair, pale skinned, her big breasts moving gently inside the soft lace as she bent forwards. She reached behind her back to unhook her bra, and as her shoulders came forwards her breasts seemed to fill.

My eyes followed a blue vein, pale under the translucent skin, tracing an irregular course downwards, disappearing under the fine lace. Her breasts dropped fractionally as she undid the hooks, and then her bra fell away slowly.

The vein tracked to the edge of her areola, a large, dark, almost brown circle, slightly swollen, crowned by a bright pink nipple, long and erect. I had almost forgotten Becky for that moment, as my eyes drank in Megan's body.

But a slim hand was stroking my stomach, the fingertips of another moving delicately over the side of my breast. The heat in my belly was growing, I could feel myself swelling, growing hot and wet. Megan walked over to the bed, her breasts moving softly, liquid, sensual, tempting me who had never looked at another woman's body this way before. She smiled at me, her dark eyes crinkling, held out a hand as she lay on the bed.

The weight of her breasts pulled them sideways. Her briefs clung to her, a faint dark shadow spreading up from the junction of her thighs. Her skin glowed, aching to be touched. Her lips were slightly parted in that smile, her eyes fixed on mine, softly hungry. The very perversity of what she wanted, of what I wanted, pulled me to her.

Only Becky's hand held me back. And then Becky's lips caressed my shoulder, the back of my neck as her hand slid lower, moved in the fine hair on my mons for a moment before both hands slipped to the side of my hips and she propelled me towards the bed, towards Megan, towards ... I wasn't sure what. But whatever it was, I wanted it, ached for it.

Megan rolled onto her back, still smiling, took both my hands in hers, and for a moment just lay there, looking up at me. I looked over my shoulder. Becky's silk blouse was unbuttoned, hanging open, one small, pink-tipped breast showing as she pulled off her trousers.

Now I could see why there was no panty line; she wore only a g-string, a small triangle of black silk that clung to the swelling at the base of her stomach. 

Megan pulled me down, and I moved onto the bed, bent over her. I gasped as my nipples, hot and hard, suddenly felt the cool smoothness of her skin, my breasts pressing into the softness of hers as she brought me closer, into a long slow kiss.

Her body was so soft, so smooth, so ... feminine against my own. This was so different from David and his demanding, dominating hardness.

Megan's hands, gentle on my back. Lying half on top of her, breasts crushed against the soft smoothness of her flesh, fingertips light as a butterfly on my back, my hips, the soft curve where hip meets thigh.

"Aaaaahhh-mmm-nnnngh!." That was me, that soft, inarticulate noise, emitted in spite of myself as fingertips moved between my legs, stroked, delicately explored, touched me like nobody had touched me in aeons, then moved back to my thigh so I could feel their moistness against my skin. My moistness.

The bed dipped, Becky's knees against my calf, Becky's hands spreading my legs, Becky's nipples brushing my shoulder blades as her lips whispered against my neck.

Megan's full lips were so soft against my own, her mouth open, inviting my tongue to explore its heat, its moistness. The tip of my tongue struck sparks from hers as Becky moved to one side, her small hands sliding over my parted legs.

Suddenly I was on my back, Becky's hands gripping my thighs, Becky's cheek pressing on my mons, Megan's hands fondling my swelling breasts, Megan's mouth covering mine, Megan's tongue, hot and hard, thrusting between my lips.

Almost as suddenly I was in ecstasy as Becky's fingers opened me, Becky's tongue slid between my lower lips, Becky's mouth consumed my hot, wet flesh, caressing my sex so gently, so insistently that my thighs jerked convulsively and I whimpered into Megan's half open mouth.

I can never be sure exactly what happened then, precisely what was going on as I had my first orgasm with another woman. I think they were sharing me, I think both had fingers in me. I know Megan was chewing on one of my nipples, I think Becky may actually have gently bitten my clitoris.

But the orgasm was so huge, so all-consuming that I hardly knew who I was, a wailing, writhing naked creature who neither knew nor cared who was doing what, who knew only that if they stopped she would die, who gave herself utterly to the sensations they produced, whose vulva clutched desperately at the fingers that moved and stroked and stretched it, that possessed her body and her soul.

It seemed a long time later that we lay together, covered in sweat, Megan's arms round me, Megan whispering "That was lovely, you were lovely," in my ear, and Becky's lips nuzzling my neck, Becky's slim hand stroking my stomach. Really it can only have been a few moments since I had come, but so much had changed, everything seemed so different. I felt at peace, and for the first time that night I relaxed.

And so we just lay there for a little while, getting our breath back. At least I was getting my breath back, and thinking how good I felt. But I suppose the girls were thinking different thoughts, because after a bit Megan hitched herself up, grabbed Becky's shoulders, and kind of hauled her over me. That felt good, because those small, soft breasts of Becky's dragged across mine, and rather to my surprise I wondered what it would be like to kiss them, or maybe squeeze her little pink nipples between my fingers. 

Megan pushed her on to her back on the other side of the bed, knelt over her and began to kiss her, hard. I watched the way Megan's big breasts moved, then spread softly over Becky's, almost flat the way she was lying. I thought about how that would feel, too, and about touching Megan's soft, almost translucent skin.

My fingertips moving so lightly over it, just barely touching. The feel of her pubic hair, soft over the swell of her mons. Suddenly she was looking across at me, smiling, dark eyes warm, and I was actually doing it, was caressing the curve of her stomach with my left hand as she knelt astride Becky's slim thigh. I was touching her sexually, and she was enjoying it.

This was different. Before, I just lay there and let them pleasure me. Now I was joining in. I wanted to join in. I wanted to do things, to please Megan, to see if I could make Megan come. I knelt up, my left hand still under her, my fingertips still almost painfully aware of the bulge of her mons, and what was so close to them.

My right hand moved slowly over the curves of her hips. I couldn't be doing this, couldn't be enjoying this. But I was. 

My fingertips slid into the cleft of her bottom, moved down. That tiny depression with the little peak of skin at the bottom, that was her anus.

Oh my God, I was touching Megan there, in a place so secret, so private ... This lovely, feminine, female creature was allowing this. A little gasp as my fingers moved said more, said enjoyment, pleasure. And only an inch or so away ... oh, Megan, Megan.

She was open, wet with arousal, swollen and welcoming and soft and hot. It was so natural to slide my fingers there, to push, to feel them penetrate her body, to see her head lift, hear her moan and then, as my fingertips explored, discovered, pressed down, to hear her gasp with pleasure, back arching.

My left hand moved, fingers pulling back, busy exploring too, squeezing the raised flesh they found, making it swell, harden, making her cry out.

"Ohh. Oh yes, yes." My turn to possess her, to make this luscious, voluptuous, gorgeous woman do what I wanted. And what I wanted was for her to come, hard. And she did, pushing back against my hand, moist flesh gripping my fingers, crying out, hips jerking, gasping for breath and out of control.

Becky just lay there smiling up at me as Megan rolled to one side in slow motion, those gorgeously big breasts quivering. Becky, slim and soft and, as I looked down her body, open and wet. Becky, reaching up, her small hands on my shoulders, then her body against mine, her nipples so hard, her stomach so flat under my hand, her mons a swelling under my fingers.

I'm going to have her too. I'm going to do this properly. I wonder what would happen if I kissed her ... where she kissed me? If I slid down her body and took her sex in my mouth. Could I do that?

Her nipple, so prettily pink, the teat red with arousal, swollen. The feel of it in my mouth, firm, resilient as my tongue pushed at it, the flesh of her breast softer than I expected. The contrast between the smoothness of her breast and the texture of her nipple against my lips.

My fingertips wet, her flesh warm and welcoming as she moaned and twisted. Megan was up on one elbow now, watching, her fingertips caressing Becky's breasts as I moved down the slim body. 

She was so ready, so swollen, pink and open, wet. She was so beautiful. Tentatively, I kissed the very top of her thigh, on the front, then further down, inside. My nostrils were full of the smell of her, musky, female, the smell of arousal, the smell of sex.

My head swimming, I couldn't believe I was doing this. Slowly, oh so slowly I moved closer, then, tongue relazed and soft, I licked the open vulva in front of me, as my own fingers moved down from her mons, pulling, searching for ...aaah yes.

Becky cried out as my fingers stroked her, hips lifting against my hand, the taste of her tangy, slightly sweet, not what I expected. I slid my other hand, or most of it, into her tightness as my mouth moved up to steal her clit from my fingertips. Her cry of pleasure was muffled by Megan's mouth closing on hers.

Megan's breast, soft against Becky, the weight of it sliding over the smaller girl's sweat-soaked skin. Becky is coming now, I who have never fucked another girl till tonight can tell from the way her vagina is spasming on my fingers, from the muffled noises she is making as Megan's generous mouth covers hers.

Without exchanging a word, a look, we decide not to stop. Megan's hand strokes Becky's stomach for a minute, then moves to caress my cheek. I'd be purring if I didn't have my mouth full. Her hand moves again, and as the long fingers join mine inside Becky the small girl squeals, twists out from under Megan, and is soon lying with her head and shoulders draped over the edge of the bed, her head hanging towards the floor.

She had been so tight a moment before, yet how she has, I think, six fingers inside her, and she is sodden, almost dripping. I suck hard on her clit as I watch Megan's fingers stretching a hard nipple, pulling the soft breast up from her chest.

There is actually a squelching noise as she starts to come again, her thighs jerking convulsively, liquid pooling round our hands, a long cry echoing off the white walls, sweat pouring from the slim, writhing body. Megan, mouth half open, eyes wide, is smiling down at me.

Later, it must be hours later, we sleep.

It's still dark when I wake, fingers, tongue, lips taking me, caressing me, gripping me, stretching my sheath, stroking my clit. I'm not sure whose, I don't care whose. Maybe both of them. Almost before I am awake I am coming, hard.

Later I worship Megan's wondrous lushness, lick her till she whimpers. Soon she is kneeling over me, holding my head tight against her, rutting into my open mouth. As she comes she gushes, and I have to swallow. Oh God.

Then she takes me gently, tenderly, just her fingers. It is bliss. 

We sleep with her hand covering my crotch, her fingers still inside me, my head on her shoulder and my mouth against the top of her breast.

Somewhere around 6 a.m. I come again, mewing my arousal as the milkman clatters past outside, Becky's teeth pulling at my nipple as Megan's hands open me to the cool morning air.

Saturday morning - no work, no rush. We lie there half uncovered but warm now the central heating has kicked in. I'm in the middle. The sheet is round my waist. It's covering one of Becky's small breasts, but tangled half way down Megan's thigh. The matted, woman-smelling smear of dark hair between her wide-spread thighs calls softly to my mouth.

What must we look like, I think idly, knowing that one answer is "Like David's erotic dreams."

David. How long ago that seems, he seems.

I can see the three of us in the dressing table mirror if I crane up a little. The picture of three nude girls, hair a mess, tangled sheet emphasising our nakedness, reminds me of something.

That's it - a picture, maybe a statue. One of those Victorian soft porn things. The Three Graces. That's it. The Three Graces. Us.

Megan stirs, her eyes opening slowly. She smiles at me softly, her hand reaching out. As she lifts herself onto one elbow to look at me their weight pulls her luscious breasts towards me. 

"Sod David," I think, as I tug on the sheet.



The Three Graces Ch. 02



He slept fitfully and when he awoke he remembered the night's events and grimaced. The three little putas! They had kidnapped him from his home in exchange for the freedom of the youngest one -Maria. She was so determined to stay away from his father that she had kidnapped him in order to ransom him and ultimately embarrass him into stopping his pursuit of her.

Cruz thought it would work. After this public humiliation, his father would never touch the little Maria.

Just as he thought of the silver eyed beauty she walked into the room closing the door softly behind her.

"Buenos dias, Senor." She moved gracefully into the room. Though she wasn't as pretty as her older sisters, she moved her hips in a purely feminine way and he knew she would accept a man into her body and bear many children just like any other mujer. Her hips were broad and a man could hold onto her perfectly as he thrust inside her small cunt. Those thoughts caused his cock to harden more than it had already been.

"Breakfast, little puta?" He asked her softly.

Maria's eyes flashed angrily and he regretted it. The other two putas had taunted him with their luscious bodies while the middle one had actually lowered her tight warm pussy onto his cock and pleasured him greatly. This little one had done nothing to him and he regretted his words.

She instantly lowered herself on her knees before him and crossed herself. "Forgive him, Senor. He speaks crudely and does not know his sins." She stood up again and Cruz was angry.

The little slut would serve in better ways on her knees than crossing herself.

He was so angry he told her so. "Get back down on your knees if you really want to help and suck my cock."

Maria slapped him so hard across his face that he was stunned. No woman had ever slapped him. They usually took one look at his dark good looks, tall frame and fell on their backs -legs open wide.

She stalked out of the room furious slamming the door behind her. Margarita was just getting up when she heard the commotion and watched her little sister run down the hall crying.

Not realizing she was only wearing her long white nightgown she walked into Cruz's room and closed the door behind her.

Cruz had regretted his words to the little Maria. He knew of her reputation in town. She dedicated much time at the Mission with the sick Indios and poor people. She was always kind and good to everyone she spoke with – and her reputation was sparkling.

Cruz groaned as the eldest grace walked into the room. She was too lovely. Her hair – unlike the night before – was falling around her face and down her back like a shimmering black waterfall. Her white night gown was cool linen that had small flowers embroidered on it.

She faced him and behind her the morning sun began its climb outlining her long legs, small waist and breasts. He remembered her nipple taunt and hard like a pebble inside his mouth the night before and his mouth watered.

"I'm sure your filthy sailor's mouth has said something to upset Maria." Rita accused him correctly.

He looked over to the small table. His breakfast lay their waiting to be eaten. He felt remorse for abusing Maria – but angry again at the situation. The little putas had no right.

"Claro que si, querida." (Of course, my dear) His voice like honey settling over her.

Rita, unaware that his gaze wandered hungrily over her body, stood staring out over the Rancho. Cruz wondered if she too would lift her nightgown up over her long legs and let him see her hairy snatch before his cock claimed it as his.

She walked toward him determined to make him understand.

"Senor, this was our only choice. Maria did not want your father and he would not see reason."

Cruz knew his father to be a vicious man. He was cold and calculating and had put two women in the grave with his harsh manner, heavy hand, and brutal sex. One of those women had been his beloved mother Teresa. She had been promised to him at birth and had done her father's duty by marrying him. But the sweet natured Teresa was no match for Barbaro's insatiable sexual desire, his abusive nature and she had died when Cruz was 3 years old.

In fact, the more he thought about it, the more little Maria reminded him of his mother and the stories the servants told about her.

She sat next to him on the bed and her breasts pushed through the fabric. The room was cool and her nipples hardened. Cruz swallowed.

"Do you not see, this was our only choice?" She asked him quietly laying a small cool hand on his chest.

Cruz's eyes narrowed at the little witch as she gazed at him.

"So you would demean and embarrass a good man of the community?" He watched as her hair sprayed all around them. A few strands were close to his hand curled up and tied at the bedpost.

"A good man? Bah! Even I have heard the rumors. He is a most disgusting man. He abuses women for pleasure. I have even heard it said your mother died to be free of his perversion and abuse!"

Cruz hated that the whole village knew his father to be a pervert and that his mother had been unprotected and hurt.

He watched as she leaned in closer to get her point across and suddenly he grabbed a handful of her long hair and jerked on it.

His movement caused her head to jerk up and he watched the perfect line of her throat as she swallowed and constricted.

"Release me now, Cruz." She spoke as a royal princess even though he had the upper hand.

"Ven aqui, bruja." (Come here, witch) He spoke lowly and pulled her hair and head to him.

Margarita had no choice but to agree or else he would rip her hair out leaving her bald, she was sure.

As soon as her throat was close to his mouth he yanked further on her hair and forced her head all the way back then his mouth touched her throat.

"Stop." She breathed as his mouth bit and sucked on her throat again and again causing goose pimples to break out on her arms and her nipples pressed harder against the fabric.

"No." His mouth touched her throat again and he kissed her neck causing her to melt into him.

His mouth touched hers and his tongue forced its way into her mouth.

Her mouth was soft and inviting as if it had never been plundered or taken.

"Take off your nightgown. I want you to take my cock into your body." His words – seductive and honey dipped.

Rita gasped. Finally he had shocked her. "I cannot." She whispered against his mouth.

"Why not?" He said lowly.

"My virginity will be given to my husband. Not you."

Cruz chuckled. "A virgin?"

He had been so preoccupied with her mouth that he had released her hair and she moved quickly away from him.

She left the room and he chuckled softly. A small wet spot where she had been sitting remained behind. Her tight pussy had been preparing the way for him already.

A squat Indio girl 6 months pregnant came and fed him his breakfast and left.

Rita wore a high-necked blouse and skirt as Cruz had left numerous love marks on her neck. Was he branding her? Or just bitter that he couldn't rape her as his father did to all the women he had been with?

Rita and Maria went into town for food, materials and other necessities for the Rancho taking with them their chaperon and vaquero Benito.

Maggie swung her hips in invitation as she walked around Cruz's room.

"Do you want me to read to you, Senor Cruz?"

Even despite himself, and the fact that he had been thinking more and more about Rita – he hardened at Maggie's walk.

This was a woman who enjoyed sex and felt free to give it. A man would be a fool not to take it.

She locked the door as she sauntered toward him.

"Poor Maria. You frighten her with your coarse, common words and she spends all day in prayer for you."

"Hmm." He replied.

"And Margarita? She's unsure of you. Always in love with the poor farmer Mauricio – now she creams for you, verdad?" (right)

"A farmer? Your father would allow this?" Cruz asked.

"No. Of course not. So Rita obeys our father and I enjoy as much of my Alberto as I can without anyone knowing. But now I get to enjoy my own little toy at home." She smiled and watched his eyes. She stripped off her small sandals, long flowing skirt and peasant blouse.

Her slim brown body was magnificent. Her legs were trim and healthy, her hips rounded and her breasts small and high with dark nipples. Her pussy was covered with brown hair – hairy and natural and her long hair fell all around her body.

"Te gusta?" (you like) She asked smiling.

"Si, puta. Mi gusta." His cock hardened - already wanting the little bitch.

She climbed on top of him and took his large cock in her hands.

"You are much bigger than Alberto." She guided his cock into her entrance and circled it around the hot hole that dripped her juices.

"Ah." He gasped as she continued the torment his hips bucking against her trying to force his cock into her wet walls.

"Slower, senor. Enjoy it."

"Bastante, puta." (enough) He sighed as she leaned over him and her breasts dangled into his face and he sucked her nipples biting them as he had before. Maggie creamed more as he bit them and could stand it no longer.

She eased herself slowly onto his cock and closed her eyes tightly as he filled her small little cunt to the brim.

"Mas." (more) He cried wanting desperately to slap her brown ass hard and make him ride her harder. "Mas."

Maggie ground her hips into his and rode him harder and harder. She arched her back and he watched as her brown little snatch dripped with juices.

She withdrew herself from him and he almost cried with frustration.

Her small little hand rubbed her pussy juices around and then began to stroke herself not only on her pussy but her small little asshole.

Cruz's mouth had become dry. Would she dare? It was almost a sin!

He had only been allowed it one time. His father had allowed him to take a business trip with him. He had only just turned 18 and it was a gift from his father.

They had traveled to the old country Mexico. In the state of Chihuahua they had stopped for the night. She was a dark skinned girl no more than 25 looking about 45. She had been paid for by Barbaro as a present to his son.

She had bent over a chair and asked him to take her up the ass. She enjoyed it the most and Cruz had obliged. She had been tight but not that tight and he had spilled his cream outside onto her ass. Cruz had always wanted it again, but it was considered sodomy and almost evil.

Maggie rubbed her juices around herself and into her small anus.

"Have you ever?" She asked him.

He nodded. "You?"

"Only once. But as I told you Alberto is small. I could barely feel him. You are so big – you are likely to tear my ass apart."

Maggie opened her small little ass hole and inserted one finger then two into herself. She gasped in pleasure and Cruz watched her -amazed.

She sat again on his chest and then slowly lowered herself onto his cock through her small back button. She threw her head back and cried out once, then twice.

"Oh god, tu chorizo, mi gusta." (your sausage, I like it)

Cruz shuddered as the tightness enveloped his cock. It was the most delicious thing he had ever felt. Her tits bounced forward as she threw her head back and he filled her ass up.

"I would love to release you. I want you behind me pounding away."

"Believe me, little puta. I will get you back for this torment." Cruz gritted his teeth as his cream built up.

"Tell me again. What am I?"

"My little puta."

"Again."

"Fuck," he cried out. "Puta, harder." She rode him as he exploded inside her ass filling her with cum. Her small brown fingers manipulated her hairy snatch and she came a moment after.

She cleaned him with a small towel.

"I have to meet Alberto tonight. Dios! (God) He'll wonder why I won't want to fuck. I always do!" She smiled as she dressed and left him alone. 

Cruz narrowed his eyes. After he was ransomed, he was going to come back with a vengeance against these little putas who enjoyed tormenting him. He was already thinking of the ways he would torment them.

Maria would do well on her knees filling her sweet mouth with his cock. He was going to force the little slut Maggie onto all fours like the little bitch in heat she was and grab her hips and pound into her like the lowest whore in Tijuana.

And the beautiful Rita? He would take her virginity and watch the sheets and his cock become stained with her blood.

He grinned. Soon.



The Three Graces Ch. 03



Barbaro roared with indignation. His beloved son, Cruz, had been kidnapped by those witches – the de la Tierra sisters. In return for his son – Barbaro was to drop all matrimony designs he had towards Maria and nothing would be said about the kidnapping. He was had. If he mentioned the kidnapping to the authorities he would look like a simpering fool being had by three girls – and if he continued his marriage designs on the young Maria – the kidnapping would be known.

He dropped the suit for her hand and Cruz returned home. But Cruz returned home in a quiet rage. The whores would pay for everything they had done. He felt kindness towards Maria – she had never been cruel or unkind and had only wanted to be free of his father.

The little slut Magdalena had given herself to him in more ways than one. She had taken his cock into her soft mouth – her tight pussy and he had even fucked her ass. But Margarita? She was the little cocktease. She was the one who would get all of his pent up anger, desire and revenge. She was the beauty who had flaunted her breasts in his face and pretended concern. Her sweet taste still lingered on his tongue and he wanted more. Much more.

****

"Do you think he will seek revenge?" Maria asked her sisters.

Maggie snorted. "Who?"

"Yes, who? Barbaro or Cruz?" Rita pointed out. The girls had been walking along the edge of their property which bordered the Gonzales'. It was a property rich in green grass and steer.

"Oh I don't think Cruz will bother us." Maria said generously.

"Don't bet on it." Maggie scoffed. Though secretly she wouldn't mind Cruz visiting her bedroom at night.

Margarita shuddered remembering Cruz's dark looks. His words echoed in her head many a cold night - ‘I want you to take my cock into your body.'

Margarita knew her sister Maggie had been sexual for many years. She and Alberto played around and she didn't judge her sister. But she wanted to wait for marriage and gift her husband her virginity if she ever married. But Cruz had been sinfully good-looking and it was no wonder he was considered a catch.

"Barbaro would not dare approach us now. As for Cruz – I would avoid him – and if we must go into town – go in pairs." Margarita counseled her sisters wisely.

The next week the head cook needed to go into town for supplies and Margarita accompanied her. The hitched the wagon and rode into town with the driver. The Cook went across the muddy street to look at new fabrics at the dress shop while Rita entered the general store. It was so poorly lit and no one seemed to be manning the counter. 

"Flour, rice, beans – " she said aloud as she scanned her list of goods that were needed.

She heard voices outside the store and assumed correctly that the owner must have stepped outside. She began collecting her necessary goods.

She made her way into the back where the rice was kept in large sacks. It was too heavy to lift. She must wait for the owner to return inside.

"You look almost good enough to eat." The voice behind her spoke.

Margarita whirled around. Before her in the darkened store stood Cruz Villareal. He wore his clothes cut in lines that showed off his broad shoulders, slim hips and height.

Margarita had chosen her wine colored gown that was cut low in the front. Her breasts were pushed up as fashion dictated but even more so as she inhaled sharply. She wished now she had worn a simple cotton gown buttoned up to the neck.

In her surprise she had dropped her shopping list. He bent to retrieve it holding it in one brown gloved hand.

"Senor Villareal." She addressed him.

"Senorita." He spoke lowly put his voice was almost a purr.

Her hair was pulled up and pinned at the nape of her neck. She tried to keep it simple and matronly. All it did was make Cruz want to pull it down. It showed off her slender neck and made the male eye wander down to the tops of her breasts.

She watched as he pulled off his one glove.

"Aqui, senorita." (here) He spoke quietly handing her the list. Just as she accepted the list his fingers brushed over the tops of her exposed breasts. The warmth of him shocked her. It was outrageous, unthinkable and unacceptable. No man would ever do such a thing to a lady – only a whore.

"Senor!" She gasped – stepping back.

He advanced upon her. "Many nights I have lain awake thinking of you."

"For revenge – no doubt." She told him frightened of his touches and her response.

"Perhaps." He agreed as he backed her up against the wall.

"We only wanted Maria's freedom." She tried to explain. Her breath was coming short. Oh, how she hated corsets, she thought.

"At my expense." He brushed against her and she had no choice but to accept the contact– the wall was behind her.

His hands settled on her hips. Through the silken fabric she could feel him - so strong and dangerous. His body pressed her into the wall and him. His hands moved up – relishing the feel of satin and her soft body. His hands moved up her bodice and then over her breasts.

"Please don't." She breathed out.

"What? Don't what? Make you as hot as you had me all those nights?"

"I never meant to –"

"Don't lie, senorita."

She stopped short. She had taunted him that one night. Why had she? Had she used him to feel physical pleasure – since she had never experienced it before?

"You weren't without pleasure. I know Maggie gave -"

"Si, she did." He admitted readily. His warm hands felt into her bodice – teasing the nipples.

Margarita turned her head away. He pushed his lower body into her. She could feel his arousal – his cock pressing into her almost arrogantly. Margarita realized almost shockingly that she wanted to spread her legs and let him take her here. She was a common trollop!

"Then?" Margarita managed to ask. A blush spread across her cheekbones at the intimate intrusions.

"Then what?" He asked before his mouth lowered to her sensitive neck.

"Why are you doing this, revenge?" She kept her head turned and struggled as his mouth touched her neck. She knew he wanted them all to pay. She was simply the first lone de la Tierra female that he had come upon.

Cruz struggled with his cold emotions that always held him tightly. He wanted this little witch. The witch with the long hair and beauty that held him enraptured every night.

Perhaps because he had already tasted Maggie's charms she did not come to him in his dreams and Maria was too sweet and kind to give him thought. But this Grace – this beauty – this witch – haunted his dreams. He wanted to lift up her skirts – take her by force and fuck her. Let her cry – she would beg him to continue once she tasted his thick cock inside her. He wanted this little slut on her knees taking his cock in her sweet mouth. He wanted her in every way. He moved his head to stare at her.

"No. Because I want you." His mouth took hers. It was forceful and brutal leaving her lips bruised. His hands came up to her neck and then cupped her face.

"Stop this." Her voice shook as she tried to dislodge herself from his possessive grip. Her hands came up to his chest to try and push him away. This had gone on long enough. Where was the shop keeper – the Cook? Why was she letting him take these disgusting liberties? What was wrong with her?

"Your choice – Margarita – you decide. Do you want me to take you by force? Fuck you hard and long until you are no good to any other man? Or do you want me to woo you and take you to bed with kisses and promises that neither of us cares about? The next time we are alone - I will ask. Either way – I will have you." He left her in the darkened shop slamming his way out. Rita clasped her hands over her breasts trying to calm her heavy breathing.

The drive home was long, hot and dusty and the wagon creaked with every step. His words rang in her ears so that she couldn't even hear her own thoughts: because I want you, because I want you. She had to get a hold of herself. Her father had never discovered their kidnapping plot and Barbaro had simply gone away leaving Maria alone. Now Cruz must be dealt with. 

****

Maggie ran with Alberto hand in hand through the lemon trees. The scent was intoxicating as they stumbled along. Alberto new that Maggie was the daughter of Sebastian de la Tierra the landlord, but sometimes she behaved like a whore. He loved her and wanted to marry her but she was only interested in one thing.

Just as he though it – Maggie was before him stripping. "Come on – I need your cock, Alberto. I'm so lonely." She knelt before him on the hard ground taking him out of his pants.

"Dios!" (god) Cried Alberto as her greedy little mouth devoured his cock.

Maggie smiled even though she thought of Cruz's much bigger one.

Alberto knew she liked to be called names and treated roughly. "Get on your back, whore. It's time you paid up." Maggie laughed at his forcefulness and scrambled to do his bidding. She settled herself on his coat and spread her legs. She looked lovely in the low light all curves with her thighs spread for him. He swallowed. He loved her and wanted her as his wife. Why would she not agree?

It was as he was pounding into her small body that Sebastian and his men came upon the two lovers. All he could see was the young man's ass and the girl's spread legs. When he found out it was his daughter Maggie they were ordered to marry within a week's time. Sebastian would not even speak to Maggie and she was confined to her room while Alberto went out to drink and celebrate.

****

No amount of crying, swearing or threatening would soften Sebastian's heart. The priest had been called – a small fiesta for the neighbors and renters had been arranged and the day was upon them.

Maria and Margarita watched as their sister spoke her vows and Alberto Lopez strutted about like a proud rooster and new husband. The fiesta was filled with Mariachi music, dancing, singing, food and much tequila and sangria – a fruit and alcohol-filled drink. Rita didn't partake in any of the festivities and sadly watched her younger sister leave the party to be "bedded."

The party had been going on for a few hours as Rita watched the men and women become more amorous. She had not been sleeping well. She kept seeing Cruz's dark eyes in the shop that day and his filthy words: Do you want me to take you by force? Fuck you hard and long until you are no good to any other man?

She sighed as she watched the young people dance and enjoy the food. Tables were laden with spicy beef tamales, rice, beans and spongy wedding cake. She had eaten little. She wandered behind the large house and into the stables. The two horses were quiet and the light was almost too low to see. She petted the nose of her favorite mare and turned to leave.

"Senorita." 

Rita's heart pounded suddenly. She knew he might come to the wedding festivities but never dreamed she would be alone with him. She knew she must look like a peasant. Her skirt was yellow and full, her white blouse off the shoulders with her hair flowing free. She was in her own home and saw no reason to dress with the hated corsets and stiff petticoats.

Cruz thought she looked half gypsy – half witch. The skirt only emphasized her hips and their sway and the blouse barely covered her full breasts. How hard would it be to pull her blouse down and take her nipples in his teeth? How hard would it be to pull her down into the sweet smelling hay and bury his cock between her legs?

He pushed the wood across the door effectively bolting it.

"No." Rita shook her head. "I have guests to see to. I'm the hostess."

"I only want one thing." He said as he advanced toward her. The stable was the smallest of all the ones on de la Tierra land. It housed only two horses and was used for births. It was small with only four small stalls and a large one at the end.

Cruz walked toward her as she backed away. He wore brown breeches, a dark shirt and jacket with high black boots.

"I'm sure you do." Rita made a dash for the back stall but didn't know why. The only way out was the one Cruz had locked.

He grabbed her about the waist throwing her into the hay. He held her still as his thighs gripped the outside of her hips. He sat back and watched her face. She was a lovely woman. He was surprised she had never been courted but knew her father was protective of his graces. Had not the little slut Maggie gotten herself caught – she too would not have married. They lived a free and independent life on their father's hacienda and had no reason to leave but for love.

"I want an answer." He watched her blush. She knew the question. Her full lips beckoned him and he couldn't stop. His fingers itched to touch her and give some truth to his dreams at night.

He pulled slowly on her blouse as the fabric slid down her breasts and freed them.

"Please." She gasped as the cold air touched them but he didn't care.

He leaned forward. "Querida." (dear) He spoke as his mouth covered one brown nipple and caught it between his teeth. She shuddered and arched into him.

His legs pushed between her slim thighs and parted them.

He touched her other nipple causing it to pucker. He slid his hand down her thighs and pulled up the fabric as his hand touched her bare flesh.

Her pussy was guarded well by small tight brown curls and his fingers pressed into her virgin cunt.

"No, please." Her fingers dug into his shoulders. She didn't want to stop – she wanted him. But she wanted to keep her virginity for her husband. It was what a proper lady did. But even as she thought it – she arched into him.

"Querida – shhh. I won't take anything this night." His mouth nuzzled her neck as his fingers pressed into her tight cunt. It was so small and tight Cruz knew she was a virgin. She hadn't been lying that night.

His leg was between her thighs and he moved his thigh into direct contact with her hot pussy. He stopped touching her as his thigh rubbed into her cunt causing her to gasp. Instinctively she moved into his thigh and began to ride him.

"That's it." He breathed into her ear as she rode his thigh. Her juices drenched his hard thigh as she continued to find release for her own body.

His hands moved underneath her and pulled her ass harder into his thigh causing her to cry out. Suddenly his hands dug into her silken tresses. She needed the release her body craved and she could feel it building.

"Oh god, Cruz." She cried out once as she felt the wave over her. Then it crashed.

"Cruz, Cruz." She whimpered as the orgasm shook her and she trembled in his arms. Her fingers entwined in his dark hair as he let her experience her first orgasm.

Her cream covered his thigh - wet and slightly sticky and when he sat back he touched his fingers to his lips tasting her.

"Mmmm." He sighed.

Margarita was furious and she blushed in the dark. Cruz had never seen her look more beautiful. She sat in the hay looking completely wanton. Her breasts had tumbled free of her blouse, her hair fell wildly around her, and her skirt was pushed up about her thighs. His cock was hard and begging to be released to taste the girl's cunt.

"You are a bastard, Cruz Villareal!" She slapped him hard across the face and in an instant she was flat on her back with his body pressing into hers.

"This was a taste. For me – for you. What can be between us. Now choose."

"I won't choose! I don't want anything to do with you! I want you to leave me alone! I don't want to be your revenge! You've tasted enough of me – now leave me alone!" Rita heaved as his body pressed into hers. Rita was frightened and scared. She wanted to be alone. To live her life in peace away from the chaos of sex and relationships and intimacy. Cruz held her wrists above her head. God! It would be so goddamn easy to free himself and press into her tightness. He almost groaned. He throbbed to be inside her.

Cruz looked down at her. Their eyes were locked in a battle of wills but then he released her. "So be it."

She looked at him and then awkwardly adjusted her clothing and left the stable.

Cruz ground his teeth and watched her leave. He hadn't tasted nearly enough of her. And though she didn't know it yet she would. She had made her choice.

****

That night he went to visit Madame Fifi's. It was run by an older woman in her fifties who had never set foot in France nor was she named Fifi. But native born Texan Susie Lynn ran a clean brothel with girls that were willing to do most anything for a price.

"Hello, Cruz! Haven't seen you here in sometime!" Susie Lynn commented as she greeted him at the front door wearing her usual red corset and purple skirt. Her brown hair curled and flowed down her back.

Cruz nodded. "Yes, I know."

"Do you want me to let Greta know you're here?" Greta was Cruz's regular girl. She was a small blonde with blue eyes. She had sailed from Sweden to America hoping to become a teacher. Instead she had ending up working on her back making twice that of a teacher.

"No, that's alright. I'd actually like Carmen." Carmen stood lounging in the foyer watching the tall, handsome man. She had seen him many times but he had always gone to Greta. Today he wanted her. She was a Spanish beauty with long brown hair, liquid brown eyes, and a curvaceous body.

"Sure." Carmen smiled and he followed her upstairs.

Cruz cringed. What was wrong with him? He had always enjoyed Greta's fragile beauty and blue eyes. Today he wanted anything but. He watched Carmen walk ahead of him. Her hips swayed and her brown hair fell in waves down her back. God! He thought almost alarmed. He had picked her because of her resemblance to Margarita.

She opened the door to her room and they stepped inside. Immediately inside he spun her around slamming her back into the door. His mouth touched her throat and his hands fumbled underneath her robe to get to her pussy.

"Cruz!" She breathed hotly wanting to slow him down.

"Tell me you want me." He breathed into her ear.

Carmen had heard it all but Cruz seemed almost desperate to hear the words. Though she obviously guessed he wanted to hear them from someone else. What woman wouldn't want Cruz Villareal? 

She tried to sound sincere. She took a breath. "I want you." It wasn't hard to say. He was attractive, handsome and a good lover so Greta said.

His fingers found her wet and he sighed. She was unbuttoning his pants and knew he would take her right there.

His hand caressed her throat as he spoke, "Tell me again."

"I want you, Cruz."

He plunged hard and thick into her and Carmen gasped. She moved her legs to wrap around him as he anchored them both to the door.

"Oh god." He grunted into her as he tried to make it last but all he could think of was Margarita's small virgin pussy surrounded his cock and he began to climax.

Carmen let him pull out of her and then he released her.

"I'm sorry Carmen." He told her as he left - buttoning himself up.

****

Margarita flopped onto her back. The hacienda was almost deathly quiet now that Maggie was gone and Maria was considering a suitor from the Gonzales household – their neighbors. He was a shy quiet man but taken with Maria. Their father was thinking of the match and was constantly asking after Margarita.

She wondered when she should tell him that she had no desire for marriage. She wanted to live alone – at home – with her father and their people. Her friendship with Mauricio the farmer had never been anything real and no other man enticed her. Liar! A small voice said.

She had tossed so much her long nightgown had become twisted. It had bunched around her upper thighs leaving them naked. A few inches higher and one would be able to see what only Cruz Villareal had touched. She was about to smooth down her gown when a movement outside her window caught her attention. Had someone been watching her? She went to the window opening it – no. No one was there. She was being irrational. She went back to bed.




The Three Graces Ch. 03



Cruz slowed his walk through the lemon groves. He had been watching her for some time. It had been dangerous because her hacienda was covered with men who owed her father loyalty and would shoot him on the spot. But he had wanted to see her. And he had seen her. She had been tossing more than sleeping and her gown had caught about her thighs. It had taken everything in him not to push open her window – fall upon her and press those thighs apart.

His cock throbbed again. He wanted the little witch. Now it was not a question of having her – only a question of when.



The Three Graces Ch. 1



Chapter 1: Tattoo

The hostages were free from Tehran. The rescue attempt FUBAR, the politicians stepped in and made their greasy deals. Pillars of smoke rose into the desert sky in his dreams. He accelerated through the humid night air, down the dark stretch of road. The roar of the bike's exhaust echoed off the still, dark trees, moss hanging off their branches.

The lights of his destination appeared ahead on his left. He swung the bike into the gravel parking lot and rolled to a stop among several other machines. Loud country rock music spilled out into the parking lot. He kicked the kickstand, switched off the engine, lit a cigarette, and sat, listening to the music and the ticking of the engine as it cooled. Two buildings sat off the highway, the run down bar and a small tattoo parlor, its red neon sign blinking in the night.

Resigned, he flicked the butt, swung his leg over the machine, and headed for the light pouring from the door. Several drunk soldiers barged through the door as he climbed the steps and he stopped at the rail to let them pass as they staggered off to their cars.

The place was packed, as usual, several hundred soldiers and ten or fifteen local women, dancing or standing around. He was amazed at his luck when he wedged his way through the crowd, grabbed a vacated stool at the bar and ordered a PBR. By the third, he knew he should have gone to Houston.

"Sweet Home Alabama" blared from the speakers, accompanied by a chorus of drunken soldiers as he headed for the door. The night air was much better than the close confines of the bar. He was thinking he'd ride awhile when, abruptly, he headed for the tattoo parlor.

A wind chime jingled as he opened the screen door and he heard the buzzing of a tattoo in progress. A young woman, oriental, looked up from where she was working on a soldier's shoulder and regarded him quietly. He stopped in his tracks as the brown eyes held him, knowing he'd seen that look somewhere before.

"Are you OK?" she asked in a soft voice.

"I'm fine," He replied, and went to look at the designs covering the walls of the waiting area. She went back to her work.

The usual designs were there, eagles, panthers, bulldogs, roses, skulls and daggers, Pink Panthers, Tasmanian devils. He grabbed a book off the table and sat on the couch. A second book though, smaller than the others, had pictures of tattoos rather than the designs. Flowing dragons, intricate in their detail, coiled around arms and flowed across shoulders. Armored warriors struck menacing poses from bare skin, most men, some women. He turned the pages, stopping to study each picture carefully, until he turned a page and was hit by a bolt of lightning. There, done in black on a woman's back was the figure of a warrior in armor, holding a drawn sword, with the head of a wolf. Long black hair had been tied into a ponytail and ran down the center of her back to show off the tattoo for the photograph.

"Can I help you?" jarred him back to reality. The young woman stood looking down at him. They were alone in the shop, the soldier had left without him noticing. She had a ring through her lower lip and the ends of tattoos could be seen on her forearms, crawling out of the brown sweatsuit she wore. She was darkly tanned and light brown hair braided in pigtails hung shoulder length, strands escaping to frame her face.

"I think I know what you want," She said, as she took him by the hand and led him through the shop to a door in the back. The door opened into a small room. Tatami covered the floor with a mat in the corner. A small shrine was the only other furnishing in the room.

"Take off your shirt while I get ready." She motioned to the sleeping mat.

As he complied, she went to the shrine and pulled her sweatshirt over her head, revealing her body, covered in tattoos. A grinning dragon came over her shoulder to loll over upthrust breasts. She pulled off the bottoms and the rest of her was similarly clad. She knelt and struck a small bell. The tone reverberated through the room. Picking up a small ladle she poured water over her head and then slipped into a silk robe. Grabbing some small trays, she came over to the mat and knelt beside him, water dripping from her hair and beads standing on her partially exposed breasts.

She made ink by grinding a black stone in a small tray, mixing it with water. There was no tattoo machine, only slivers of bamboo with needles set in their ends. When the ink was ready, she began. First, she carefully shaved an area of his left breast with a straight razor, then, sitting astride him, she started pressing the needles painstakingly into his chest, forming the design. Sweat, forming on her brow, occassionally dripped into his face as she concentrated.

He lost all thought of pain as he watched her work,consciouss of her thinly covered, decorated body and the heat he felt between her legs. He shifted , embarrassed, as his cock betrayed him and began to engorge. Noticing the bulge forming, she smiled down at him and rubbed herself several times along its length.

"Hold still," she said, "You're breaking my concentration."

"You're not doing much for mine," he quipped in reply and relaxed, content with the movements she made as she dipped the pens in the inkwell. So distracted, the time passed quickly and the pain became almost pleasurable.

Finally, she paused above him, nodded, and set the implements in their stand. She cleaned off the tattoo and taped a square of gauze over it. He expected her to break their intimate connection but she remained sitting astride him. She met his questioning eyes and smiled. Bracing her arms on his chest, she resumed rubbing herself along the bulge in his jeans, watching his face. 

Sitting up, she allowed her fingers to trail down across his abdomen to the button of his pants. Her fingers went inside his waistband, where they immediately contacted the head of his cock. She took her weight off him and undid the buttons, pulling him out and stroking the shaft with both hands.

He was ready. His cock jerked at her touch. She moved back to him, fitting the head to her hairless pussy. He groaned as he slid into her. She settled onto his pelvis and rocked back and forth, letting her head roll back when he arched his back and ground his hips into hers. She squeezed her muscles on his quivering cock and the torture was exquisite. He bucked on the mat, trying to get deeper inside her though that was not possible.

His hands found her breasts as she squatted above him and began to go up and down on his cock, meeting his pelvis and then sliding to where the head almost came out of her before dropping back down again. She increased the pace until they were both yelling and covered in sweat. Her pigtails flopped up and down as she grasped his hands to her breasts. She knew he was going to cum, his cock swelled in her pussy so she squeezed it as he shouted and shot inside her. Exhausted, she fell atop him laying her head on his shoulder. They remained like that for some time.

He woke up dazed, that strange feeling of not knowing where he was. Memory came back and he grinned. Looking around, he was alone in the small room. She must have gone back out front. He fastened his pants, reclaimed his shirt and went to the door to the front.

A middle aged man was in the front room, black leather vest, long black hair, covered in tattoos. He looked up in surprise as the door opened. The girl was nowhere to be seen.

"Ummm," he managed, "Where is.....?" The man gave him a blank look.

He left the question hanging in the air and left the shop. His bike waited in the gravel parking lot. The new tattoo throbbed as he rode home.

To Be Continued...



The Three Graces Ch. 2



Brazil 7

He lined up the crosshair on the red blur in the sea of green and yellow with the joystick.

"Just like a video game." He muttered, his finger on the trigger button.

There had been more than a few incidences of team members vaporizing overly curious local inhabitants. Lance Johnson, in Africa, had been sacked because it happened much too frequently. What the hell, disintegrate a few monkeys, a few natives, what's the difference? It got world press coverage though, when he bagged himself an anthropologist trying to score some medicine for a measles outbreak.

He switched from thermal to night vision but the foliage was too thick to see the figure. He'd just have to wait and see if it came closer. It appeared to be heading towards one of the audio stations and would soon trigger the standard warning in all of the languages common to the area.

George Watanabe wasn't especially worried. The force dome enclosing the hover where he sat and the small encampment surrounding it, was proof against anything they'd meet in the Brazilian rainforest. The remote controlled beam weapon, mounted atop the generator mast, made the odds extremely one-sided.

He was one of the expedition samplers. Each member of the team had multiple duties, including this security watch. The Analyst/Communicator performed the watch during the day while they went about their routine tasks. The rest of the team took turns pulling the duty during the night. His sampling team partner, Sid Croft, was sleeping. The other sampling team, Herve and Bella Swanson, was probably going at it in their tent right now. Scanning the remotes, he saw lights in the common tent. Cezary Tchornov, the Team Leader and Jose Bonilla, the Analyst, were watching satellite feeds or playing Go.

It was a good entry-level position for a Geologist, just graduated from University of Hawaii. The periods away from the island were amply rewarded, giving him the credit for his condo in Waipahu and the upkeep on the young dancer he was living with. He would have made more money if he had gone to one of the colonies, but his susceptibility to low-gravity sickness had prevented that. It also would have meant no more surfing at Sunset, though he heard the big waves on Oceana would make suitable substitutes.

They expected to be here for two weeks, barring unforeseen circumstances, collecting samples, doing preliminary analysis, and sending the results back to the corporation Geologists for further compiling. He liked the work. Wandering around remote places, armed, equipped with navigation and sampling gear, made him feel like an explorer.

A console alarmed flashed, indicating the audio warning had been tripped. He located the remote and increased the gain on that pickup. At first he heard nothing, then there was a rustling and he heard sobbing.

"Who's there?" Pause. "Is anyone there?" a woman's voice said in English. "Somebody help me." Then nothing.

He switched back to thermal and panned towards the audio remote. There was the figure, unmoving, near the remote. He tried hailing from the remote but got no response so he decided to beep Cezary to let him decide what to do.

"What's up?" the Pole asked, after George had let him into the hover.

"There's somebody out by remote 3. It's a woman, speaking English. Sounds like she's in trouble." George pointed out the figure on the console screen. "She didn't respond when I tried to talk to her." He replayed the audio feed.

"She's lying down." Cezary said, looking at the screen. "I guess I'll take Jose and go have a look." He went over to the equipment rack and pulled out two sidearms, comms gear, night vision, and rummaged around for the medical bag. 

"Keep in touch and track us on thermal." George let him out and resealed the hover.

A few minutes later his voice came over the speakers, "We're at the shield. Let us out." He heard Jose testing his throat mike, "Check…Check."

"Roger, dropping the shield." When he saw them safely outside he re-energized the field.

"Jeez, its dark out here."

"Turn on your illuminator bonehead, the cover doesn't let any moonlight in. George, direct us."

"To your right a little, about 70 meters." George plotted an intersection of the three red blobs on his screen.

"Got her." Cezary said, a short time later. "George, you won't believe this. She's out of it. We're bringing her back…Put her other arm over your shoulder …Bring us in George."

The Hover

George opened the door to the hover. Cezary and Jose came up the ramp and into the main compartment carrying a small figure between them. They were an incongruous sight, the two men in rumpled khakis, Jose with his thick, black beard. The girl, long black hair hanging down and covering her face, in an expensive evening dress. Cezary carried a pair of impossible platform dress shoes.

"Its like she dropped out of the fucking sky, man." Jose voiced what they all felt.

"Let's put her on the sample table." Jose cleared a spot of an assortment of the surprising ore samples George's team had found today and Cezary laid her on the table.

"I'm going to have to run her an IV." Cezary made his preparations. "Other than general exposure and a few scratches, I think she'll be fine." He moved the IV rack next to the table and started her on a bag of saline. He took some swabs and antiseptic from the medical bag and treated some lacerations she'd acquired moving through the thick undergrowth. Infection was a serious problem under these conditions.

"Now, we just let her rest. Maybe tomorrow when she feels better we can find out what the hell she's doing here. I'm going to bed, George, keep an eye on her and call me if anything happens."

George let them out of the hover and resealed it. With the two gone, he was finally able to get a good look at the girl himself. He was surprised to see that she was Japanese. And exquisite. Long, jet-black hair now lay splayed out over the table. When standing it would probably fall, straight and thick, past her tiny waist. The thin black evening dress contrasted sharply to her smooth white skin, and did very little to conceal her firm, upturned breasts.

"Jeez, she's not wearing any panties." He muttered to himself. "Where the hell did you come from. Beam me up Scottie." He noted the smooth flow of the dress, from the neckline, to the hem, with no impressions of undergarments. At her crotch, a slight mound in the smooth fabric was formed by her bush. In spite of himself, George found himself getting hard.

"Shit, just what I need. Two more weeks in this hole." He went back to the console chair and plopped down wearily, trying to will his insistent cock back under control.

He brought up the initial data from the day's samples and went through it again. It was all but confirmed. There was a source of high grade Belium, right here on this planet, probably from an ancient asteroid strike. Some samples had appeared, last year, from an independent sampler. The man had disappeared under mysterious circumstances. Under an incredible shroud of secrecy a small team of corporate researchers went to work finding the source. A small, carefully selected team conducted all satellite imagery, spectrum analysis, and finally, field research. George felt extremely proud that he had been chosen. Today's samples were the proof. A Top Secret satellite burst had, only hours before, been fired back to the project head.

This had tremendous implications. Belium was the source for the newly developed interstellar drives. It was extremely scarce and until now was found only on Belias. Wars had been fought over this stuff; hundreds of thousands of colonists had been exterminated in the revolution.

It was no use. His eyes kept wandering back to the girl on the table and his cock tented the front of his coveralls. He made sure that she was lying still on the table and saying, "What the hell." he undid the Velcro and started stroking himself. He recalled the old gamblers adage, "If you've got a good hand, you don't need a partner." He thought of his girlfriend in Hawaii, but his gaze kept returning to the mass of black hair and the breasts he could make out from his chair.

"This could be the greatest day of my life, and here I am, jacking off." He said aloud.

"Come here then." George started in surprise. He swiveled the chair to see the girl sitting up on the table, watching him. Her gaze moved from his eyes, to his cock, and returned to look at him inquisitively.

"I thought you were unconscious." George managed to stammer, his hand frozen on his cock.

She stood up, removed the IV from her arm and walked sensuously to the front of the cabin. She swiveled his chair to directly face her and knelt between his legs. Pausing, she raised her lowered eyes and looked him full in the face. She reached out and gently removed his hand from his cock and replaced it with her own, stroking slowly.

"Why don't you let me take care of this."

Fish Market

Thousands, no, millions of lifeless eyes regarded him sightlessly.

He walked through the crowded, bustling Osaka fish market contemplating his dinner and his glowing future. The sampling teams had made a find today, vindicating two years of intensive research. His position in the company was assured. This find would be historic. He smiled, thinking of the journal submissions he could now make, to the envy of his competitors, after all this secrecy.

He felt a sharp pain in his side as one of the tightly packed shoppers bumped into him. When he turned, a young woman bowed slightly and continued on her way. He watch her trim, tan, legs stride purposefully and the sway of her hips, that always made him think of well lubricated parts, sliding together, as she walked. He noted the string of white coral beads around her tan ankle and thought, probably some bar girl, getting dinner before going to work in one of the cities many clubs. She pulled out a phone as she walked and started talking, oblivious to the many stares following her.

He turned back to the fish, feeling an odd heaviness come over him. The small pain in his back still bothered him. He'd should go get a checkup.

As he started to examine the fish he stumbled and surprised, found himself kneeling next to the table, a roaring in his ears.

"Oh no, not now, I'm having another heart attack." He thought, thinking of the medication he now left at home, thinking himself recovered.

People around him began to press in. He saw a face above him, asking if he was alright. How did he get on his back? He tried to answer but black spots were forming in his eyes. Then there was nothing.

A small crowd formed around him and one of them called for an ambulance. 

She walked to the edge of the market. Stopping near a trash can she pulled the sharpened bicycle spoke out of her skirt, wiped the thin streaks of red on a piece of paper and deposited both in the can.

The paramedics never noticed the small dot of blood on the back of his shirt where the spoke had entered and pricked his heart. Just another old guy having a heart attack and bowing out.



The Three Graces Ch. 3



On Site

The nightmares had receded. Time had helped to dim some of the memories. As soon as he had used the remote to deactivate the protective system and stepped into the camp, they flooded back full force. He was taken to another time, another world. He almost expected GMG1 Yoshita's voice over his shoulder saying, "Holy shit, Lieutenant." Yoshita was dead now, fused with the rusted vehicles and the other colonists that had manned a barricade, thinking themselves protected by the steel barrier.

He and Yoshita had been the only survivors of the Special Reconnaissance Team on That Night. They had returned to the base camp from a patrol, to find a scene similar to what lay before him now. 

Walter Crane was no stranger to war. He'd seen his share of death. Bodies of women and children burned by indiscriminate weapons fire from outer space, bodies of soldiers and civilians, slashed, punctured, blown apart in actions on this planet and many others. That was the mechanics of war. This was different. This was rage. This was primal force unleashed.

A cloud of flies rose from the site as they entered. The smell told Walter what to expect. From somewhere, music from some Southern Hemisphere radio station tried to enliven the atmosphere. His Yanomamo guide looked around, open mouthed, at the destruction. The four inflatable two-person tents, fragile, since they were protected by the dome, were torn to ribbons. They could see, even from where they stood, the remnants were spattered with blood. Bodies, and pieces of bodies, were strewn about the camp, wrenched into grotesque, almost comical, postures. In the center, appearing inviolate, sat the hover, door sealed and silent. Walking to one of the tents, Walter found the remains of a blond couple, both nude, both literally ripped apart. A quick inspection accounted for all the members of the team, except one. He carefully recorded their identification codes with his scanner, as this particular team had been clouded in bureaucratic secrecy and its members might provide some motive. Finished with this grisly business, Walter focused on the hover. Still no evidence of life from behind the closed door and tinted windshields. The flies returned to their work.

Again using the remote, he accessed the hover's computer and opened the main door. He removed some latex surgical gloves from his pocket and put them on. Pistol at the ready, he moved slowly up the ramp, stopping to listen at the door. All was quiet. He moved warily into the cabin, sweeping his weapon over its contents. The last man sat at the console. The computer provided him data he was oblivious to, warning him that his protective shield was down. His throat gaped open from an extremely clean wound, soaking the front of his coveralls. Walter noted the erection, still rampant in death, coated with dried secretions, projecting incongruously from the open fly. He went to the keyboard. Accessing the security log, the computer calmly said, "NO DATA AVAILABLE, CHECK DRIVE." Looking for expedition data he got the same response. Same with the communications log. Checking the drive for the data disc he found it to be empty. From there, he moved to a sweep of the cabin. Everything seemed to be in its place. In this small place they had to be organized. Equipment was stowed in its racks, the sampling table was bare. That was odd. They'd been here for three days and should have had some samples. He checked the sample bins but they too were empty.

He sat on the table to puzzle this out. Someone had gotten inside the force field, torn apart five people outside, and yet cleanly killed this one man and carefully covered their trail. There had to be something here out of place, something left behind. Inside the closed hover, the smell of the carnage outside was shut out. Walter detected a faint smell of something else. Antiseptic and…perfume! Taking the medical bag from the rack, he took out the small plastic bottle of antiseptic. The seal was broken. Checking the trash receptacle he found only an empty trash bag. Looking back at the table, he noticed something hanging from the corner. On closer inspection, he found a single, meter long, black hair wedged in the crack in the corner. He pulled a zip-lock bag from his pocket and carefully sealed the hair inside.

He went back outside and resealed the hover. Other teams would take care of the remains and he didn't want to be here when they arrived. Soon this site would be a bustle of activity he couldn't afford. One more thing. He went to the tent of the blonde couple and looked around for their belongings. A small bag yielded some feminine articles, but, as he expected, no perfume. Women, on crews such as this, seldom had much use for those vanities.

The Yanomamo guide had had too much of the scene outside and retreated into the forest to loose his Whopper Value Meal. He stood up when Walter exited the hover and waited expectantly, wanting to leave this evil place. Walter waved to him and said, "Let's go. Take me to them." He turned and reactivated the dome.

The Shaman

They reached the barrier entrance to the village at dusk. The guide went ahead to pave the way. It was some time before he returned, motioning Walter to come ahead. Passing through the barrier of brush and dry palm leaves he was met by about a dozen burly native men, arrows fixed in drawn bows. Underfed dogs snarled at him and snapped at his trousers. He stood his ground. After animated conversation between the guide and the men, they finally lowered their bows. The village was obviously on edge and this was culturally a warlike people. The hallucinogenic drug ebene was in evidence by the green snot drizzling from the nostrils of the men.

He was then subjected to a dozen examinations, as each the men had to satisfy himself, before being led to the lean-to where the headman and the shaman waited.

The shaman was using ebene. The headman administered it by blowing the snuff through a long pipe into the shaman's nostril, one in each. The shaman grimaced and slapped the sides of his head before the drug took effect and his eyes glazed over. Long strands of green mucus began to drip from his nostrils. The headman motioned the guests to sit. Walter assumed the posture he had been told was correct, sitting elbow on knee, hand at mouth, staring reflectively at the thatched ceiling. 

Walter had carefully briefed the guide on the questions he wanted asked. An animated discussion began between the guide and the headman. Walter and the shaman stared at the palms and listened. At one point, the shaman broke in and a brief exchange followed between him and the headman. Listening intently, Walter heard several words repeated, no badabo and Jaguar. Finally they came to a consensus. The guide turned to Walter and began his summary. 

"They say there is much confusion and fighting. Much raiding between the tribes. The shaman says the no badabo are amongst us and jaguar is playing his tricks. These are all foolish legend, no badabo are the original people, Jaguar is a deceitful spirit. They say many people have disappeared, taken by the Jaguar. This caused the raiding. There have been several club fights and it almost came to war between the neighboring village to the north."

Knowing that all spiritual contexts were based on actual events, Walter asked the guide to ask them if anyone had seen anything, with their own eyes. The guide translated and a period of silence followed. Eventually the headman began a discourse with much pantomime and gesturing at the end of which he resumed his reflective study of the ceiling.

"He says yesterday, at dusk, he himself was hunting monkeys. He had shot a monkey and he was waiting for the poison to kill it when he felt the spirits moving. He says he didn't have his club so he hid. He says he heard the spirits pass overhead. That is all. He hurried home before Jaguar could find him."

Walter told the guide to thank them and moved to stand. The guide looked at him in amazement. "You're want to go now? It's dark."

Walter smiled and thought maybe those myths and legends weren't so foolish after all and the guide's veneer of civilization was not so thick as he thought. "Yes, I can't afford to spend the night here. If you like you can stay, I can make my way to the hover."

Ashamed of his fears the guide said, "No I will go with you." With thanks they took their leave.

Both men moved warily down the jungle trails. Walter, accustomed to moving at night in such situations, paused occasionally to listen to the night sounds and scan his surroundings using his peripheral vision, where night vision is strongest. The guide stayed close, looking about anxiously. Only once, they heard a far off coughing sound. "Jaguar", the guide said in response to Walter's look and laughed nervously.



The Three Graces Ch. 4



The young men waited expectantly. Many of them had done this before and lounged about the room, clad only in towels wrapped around their waists, drinking liquor from foam cups and smoking. Some wore hats, sunglasses, or masks, as was their personal style. Several were newcomers and talked nervously amongst themselves. The room was beginning to fill with smoke from cigarettes and cigars.

The room had been carefully prepared. There was no furniture except a vinyl sofa along the wall, a small table, a large color LCD monitor, a rack of electronic gear, and a large inflatable mattress placed in the center of the floor. Plastic sheeting had been laid on the floor and hung from the walls. The lone window was electronically tinted the color of the Osaka night outside, splayed with neon. Three digital cameras, mounted on tripods had been strategically placed, one to cover the bathroom door, one aimed at the center of the room, and one focused on the mattress. Their fiber optic leads ran to the switching equipment and the CPUs in the rack. Ancillary lighting was mounted high on the walls and the room was brightly lit. Several handheld camcorders were on the table along with an assortment of cups, ashtrays, cabling, tapes, a variety of dildos in various shapes, sizes, and colors, and other video equipment.

They waited for the girl in the bathroom. As planned, she was putting on her "Bunny Fetish" costume and preparing for the evenings activities. Tonight she had 15 mid and low-level executives from the XXX Corporation. This was one of the benefits the young executives enjoyed, planned and paid for by the corporation, as a tension release. The girl was from one of Osaka's Soapland clubs and was skilled in the use of costume play to excite her customers as well as all the other arts necessary to please them. The room was in one of Osaka's Love Hotels and had been used for this purpose many times.

"I'm ready." A soft voice in Japanese, from the bathroom. All attention focused on the door.

Most of the younger men stood up. One went over and manned the camera pointed towards the bathroom door. The door opened and she stepped into the room, dressed in bunny ears, collar, cuffs, a lavender corselet and panties, and gartered white hosiery. She walked quietly to the center of the room, her feet leaving noiseless imprints in the poly tarp, bowed, knelt to seiza, bowed again, and introduced herself to the group of men surrounding her.

Even the most experienced among the group were amazed by the beauty and grace of this woman. She had long, light brown hair, cut even with bangs, as was fashionable in Tokyo at the time, her skin tanned golden brown, speaking of summers on a tropical island or daytime hours spent sleeping nude in a tanning salon. Her figure was superb, the bustline holding in check large, firm breasts. The corselet concealed and revealed a very narrow waistline above long, athletic, legs augmented by the strand of coral beads around her ankle. Dark oriental eyes with a small mouth done in glistening pink lipstick complemented her tanned, heart-shaped face. 

The senior man rose from the sofa and went to stand directly in front of her. On cue, the others formed a line behind him by seniority. He dropped his towel, bringing blue jockey shorts, with an expectant bulge in the front, to her eye level. She reached up, and with two hands, pulled the briefs down until his augmented cock wagged into the air in front of her face.

"It's large." She said, allowing it to lie in her upturned palms. 

He turned, grinning to his companions. He'd paid many months of salary to have it elongated and thickened, along with the bio-mechanics necessary to engorge its increased volume with blood. She pointed it to the ceiling, allowing her to lick the shaft with the tip of her tongue, nuzzle the heavy sack, before returning it to horizontal and taking the head into her mouth. He reached down , pulled her breasts out and massaged the nipples to erectness. In the line behind, the men were stroking the front of their briefs or already had their cocks out, stroking leisurely. When the senior man had reached his full state he moved to kneel by her side, working his cock and playing with her tits, allowing the next access to her mouth.

She proceeded in this fashion until she had a circle of men around her, stroking their dicks. The senior man went to the table and selected a large purple vibrator. He broke the circle around her and pushed her to all fours. Maintaining contact with the next in line, who was forced to kneel, she reached back and pulled the purple panties down to mid thigh. He took the position behind her and played the vibrator over her until she was ready for insertion. When he inserted his cock it was the signal for them to come at her from all directions, him stroking from behind, one in her mouth, a dick in each hand, and others playing with her tits or removing her clothing. The young man in her mouth, overcome by the situation, came prematurely. He pulled out, allowing his cum to hang in strings down her chin, to be replaced by the next in line.

The senior man pulled out squatted, lubed her, and proceeded to force the head of his cock past her sphincter. This allowed another to crawl beneath her and, lying on his back, enter her now vacant omeko. She groaned and bucked, moved her mouth from one dick to the next, sucking, pulling with her hands, and aiming a load onto her tits or taking it in her mouth.

The man behind her lifted her by her hips and walked her, cock still buried in her ass, over to the mattress. The attention of the cameras was redirected. He reclined on the mattress and she squatted astride his hips. Another man took this opportunity to stand above them both, squeezing her tits together around his cock and pumping vigorously until he shot on her throat and chin. She leaned back, bracing herself with her arms and took another in her mouth.

Those who had already cum, and were waiting for a second erection, and those awaiting a turn, sat around, drinking, watching, and masturbating. The senior man pushed her off his cock and joined them, chatting, while others took their turn on the mattress. After a while he rejoined the action. Lying the girl on her back, he pinned her legs over her shoulders and entered her. She took the whole length of his cock and groaned rhythmically as he stroked her hard, approaching climax. 

"Now." The senior man grunted.

He pulled out and she quickly returned to the center of the room and resumed seiza. They hurried to form a circle around her, stroking vigorously, as she knelt on the plastic, her clothing now completely removed. She jacked his cock, licking the head and moving it over her lips and face until, with a groan, he shot a long stream of cum over her head and into her hair. As he continued to spasm, sending stream after stream into her face, several others moved in and let fly from different directions, crisscrossing her face with strands of cum.

"Do you like that?" The senior man asked, his still dripping cock jerking as it lost its fullness. She looked up and smiled mischievously.

Tommy

He sat in the dark room and idly scratched himself where his leathers were chaffing. He didn't really have to be here, the motion detectors and switching devices he had painstakingly set up would do the work automatically. But, he had checked the schedule and there was a big event on for tonight. He would make a lot of money, further his plans, and make Mariko happy. Everyone would be happy.

He took another swig of beer and glanced at the LCD, yep she was getting fucked good. The LCD provided the only lighting in the little room, apart from the glow of LEDs on the other equipment. He could hear the grunting and groaning through speakers attached to the laptop. Surround Sound too, nothing but the best. Fiber optic leads entered the room, originating in all parts of the hotel, and found their path to his switches. Occasionally, he would switch through the other rooms. There was some 3P SM action going on in one. He should have brought a second laptop. Overall though, he was pleased with himself, this one party, properly edited, would supply his distributors for months. They'd been going at it for some time and it should last most of the night.

He'd brought beer and smokes, his greasy old sleeping bag, and a disc player. Remnants of donuts, half eaten bags of chips, manga magazines, were strewn about the room. The equipment did the work here, he was management. He switched back to the party room. Satisfied, he ruffled his raggedly cut hair, switched on a flashlight, and went back to his comic.

Awakening from a doze, he checked the screen. Angrily, he realized he had almost missed a good "money shot". The men were all gathered around the girl. She was kneeling on the plastic, the horse-dicked puke jerking his pole in front of her face. He grabbed the joystick and zoomed in.

"Got it!" he said triumphantly, as cum splashed on the girl's face from all directions.

The guy then said something inane and the girl looked up at him and smiled, beautiful shot, cum running down her face, hanging in her hair, bunny ears still in place. He started to back out to get a wider view of the action as the girl raised her hands to grab the guy's dong again. Instead, she flexed her wrists and little blades appeared from under her fingernails. Still smiling, she reached out and then was splattered with red. The speakers were filled with a shrill shriek.

Hurriedly he zoomed out. The room was a blur of action. The speakers filled the little room with howling and screaming. The naked girl was leaping about like a crazed kitten. Men were falling down, screaming or gurgling, and others were running up to figure out what was happening. She went through them like a scythe until only the man at the main camera was left. He backed stupidly away and finally, recovered enough to try a half-hearted karate kick as she moved in on him. Almost casually she moved aside, avoiding the kick entirely, slipped in, and with a slight motion of her wrist, cut his throat wide open. The whole thing had taken mere seconds.

He watched, stunned, as she swiveled to survey the room. She moved first to the cameras, seeing they were digicams, she went over to the equipment rack and removed the disks. Appalled, he watched as she inspected the fiber connections to the equipment. He was already moving when she spun and began an intense scan of the room. He'd grabbed the laptop and was on the way to his bike when she found the first camera. He stuffed the computer into the saddlebags and began to roll the bike toward the main road, not daring to start the machine in the parking lot. Out of the corner of his eye he caught movement. To his amazement, the girl, still nude, was running toward him at full speed from another entrance. Hastily, he turned the ignition on, jumped astride the rolling bike and let out the clutch, praying the seventy-five year old Harley would start. The well maintained engine caught with a roar that echoed off the surrounding walls. He goosed the throttle and the big bike leapt ahead. With a squeal of rubber he fishtailed the bike from the parking lot onto the main road, causing a blare of horns from oncoming traffic. Only then did he curse himself and reach back and release the catch to flip up his license plate. Looking back, he saw the girl, standing at the entranceway, shielded from the view of traffic by the gate. Tommy Ishida, 20 year old entrepreneur, wasn't stupid. He knew he was in a world of shit.



The Three Graces Ch. 5



Mariko

The Mercedes was parked at the end of the alley. The driver made no move to open the rear door for her but she knew her business was concluded. The staid salaryman next to her in the back seat rearranged himself and zipped his trousers, a satisfied look on his face. She let herself out and the big hover lifted off with a welltuned hum. She twisted her skirt around and retied the neckerchief of the sailor uniform her customers preferred her to wear. She was supposed to be at the Clubhouse an hour ago but, this had been one of her repeat customers and well, money was money. She’d made much more from this encounter than she would have lap dancing and vacuum sucking at the Bunny Girl Club where she normally worked.

She started back down the alley towards the main road. The stairwell to the train platform was right there on the corner.

Suddenly, she had that feeling again. She’d had it several times today. Somebody was watching her. She looked around. The alley was empty. She wasn’t really afraid, just uneasy. She could deal with most any man, except the real pychos. After all, roleplaying was what she did. She had been paid many times to play rapes and if somebody threatened her she could just give him a blowjob and go on her way. Still, she gave the dumpster a wide berth and was happy to reach the lights of the main street.

She turned down the stairs to the platform, bought her ticket and went through the ticket gate. At this hour the platform was not crowded but there were enough people to make her feel comfortable. She caught her train and chose a seat across from a harried businessman in a nice suit, making his way home. She made sure to sit casually and, when she was sure he was looking, she allowed her legs to fall apart, exposing her panties. She knew there was still a wet smear from her omeko. The man’s eyes focused then shifted up to look at her. She winked. He flushed and raised his newspaper in front of his face. She laughed and noticed several young guys watching the scene. She turned and looked out the window.

The train was making its way out of the city into the surrounding farmland. She got up as they approached her stop, surrendering her seat to an old woman and hanging onto a stirrup. The businessman continued to ignore her but the group of perverts moved in as if on signal. She felt one move in close behind her, pressing himself into her behind, feeling the bulge in his pants. The others moved around her, blocking the view of the other passengers. Saying nothing, the guy behind her hiked up the back of her skirt and started fiddling around at her crotch. She wasn’t in the mood for this now. She looked over her shoulder at the guy breathing into her ear, smiled, reached back, grabbed a nut through his thin slacks, and squeezed hard. He yelped and she forced her way through the other guys as the train came to her station.

She got off and started the walk to the clubhouse, which was near the edge of the town. One of the brothers had inherited the old style farmhouse and it suited their needs perfectly. She reached the edge of town and took the dirt farm road, built on a dyke between the flooded paddies. The moon was out and put a silver light on everything. Ahead, she could see the farmhouse, ablaze with lights, motorcycles parked all around. As she got closer, she looked for Tommy’s Harley. She wanted to go for a ride and do some partying. He wasn’t there. The assholes had been brawling again too, some of the shoji were ripped out. She almost decided to turn around because she didn’t feel like dealing with them tonight but she wanted to know where Tommy was so she went on. She climbed the old stairs, quietly pushed aside the shoji to the entryway, and stopped in her tracks.

One of the brothers was sprawled out in the entranceway. At first she thought he was just some drunk who had passed out there amongst the boots. Then she recognized him from his size and build as Ejo, the enforcer. Ejo would never allow himself to get this bad off. Something about the way he lay there was wrong too. Even a drunk couldn’t get himself into that position. She reached out to shake him then realized what it was. He was lying on his stomach and looking back over his left shoulder at an impossible angle.

She turned and ran. As she clambered down the stairs she heard a roar of rage from the house behind her. She didn’t look back but ran for the dyke, almost slipping off into the paddy as she made the corner. As she recovered, she glanced back and saw the light of the entrance completely blocked for an instant by a huge form. The light returned and a black shadow leapt off the veranda and headed towards her at incredible speed. Spurred to new efforts, she regained the solid track. She knew she wasn’t going to make it. Even if she made the road, there was no one there to help her at this hour. All the houses were dark. Then a single headlight turned onto the street and she heard the motorcycle.

"Tommy!" She screamed, and concentrated on reaching the roadway.

He stopped the bike where the trail met the road and waited, looking into the darkness, trying to make out her pursuit. He raised his hand, aiming, caused the shadow to slow and when she had climbed on behind him, he fired. A flash of light broke through the night for a split second, causing the shadow to stop. Tommy gunned the engine and headed back into town. Mariko sobbed on his shoulder.

They rode back into the city wanting to be around people. Tommy found a coffee shop, far from any place he was known and they went in and just sat. Finally, he told her everything, the hotel, what he’d seen, the chase, how he’d rode out to the farm house but had decided to stake it out from the hill nearby. He told her how he’d seen a hover come in and land nearby. Dark shapes had dropped out onto the paddy dykes and converged on the farmhouse. At a prearranged time they had broken in. A short while later they had emerged, returned to the hover, and departed. He had thought she was inside until he saw her walking down the dyke in her white uniform.

“Where did you get the weapon?"

He reached into his jacket, still flying the colors of a club that no longer existed, and placed the object on the table. It was a camera flash.

"It’s all I had."

Tommy was at a loss. It was inconceivable, the speed with which he had been hunted. Someone had known, within hours, who he was, who his friends were, and where he would go. The players in this had to be very large, which meant the disc he carried was very important to someone. He had only one place left to turn.

“What the hell was that thing?”