Siren Song Ch. 01

"Barb — careful — y'need — air!" he stammered and took her head in his hands, gently pushing her away. "Just licking the tip is mighty fine enough, dear."

"Mm—mmmh," she protested, dug her fingers into his hips and rammed the swollen, hard rod all the way down her throat. Dave involuntarily arched upward, and her lips reached the root of his cock. She sucked, greedier than before.

"Gooaaahhhdds," he moaned, and her neck throbbed and milked around the length of his manhood as he swelled the last few fractions of an inch that he could. And still she kept on swallowing, trying to suck him in deeper. The skin around his root was drawn tight. Heat wormed up from his balls through his crotch. It burst forward, pulsed through the length and squirted out, almost straight down into her belly. Her hands grabbed his nuts and kneaded them, squeezing every last drop from them that wasn't yet being drawn out by her forceful sucking.

~

"Barbara! Gods, Barb!" The last couple of inches of his deflating rod slipped from her lips. She raised her eyes.

"Mmmh," she purred and licked her lips. "That was delicious."

"You — you — how?!" he gesticulated in confusion. "Barbara, did you even breathe? I feared you'd choke to death!"

She grinned and played with the soft flesh before her face.

"Could've gone on quite a bit longer, darling," she whispered. "I'm not even out of breath. So, you're going to repay my favor?"

~

"Out and about!"

The trader's cheerful voice easily drowned out the clatter of his wagon. He brought his horse to a standstill in front of the humble hut and climbed from the box.

"Dave! Barb! Where are you? Where's my favorite couple?"

~

"Oh shit oh shit oh shit! I told you! Not during the daytime!"

Dave grabbed for his clothes. Barbara struggled to throw her skirt over her sweat-covered nakedness. She frantically straightened the wrinkles and combed through her disheveled hair.

"I didn't think he'd show up so soon," she whispered. "It's alright, you're looking fine. Go out and greet him, I'll be right after you with the fishes."

Dave was halfway to the door when he stopped, turned and waved at her neck.

"Your pendant!" he hissed. "Take it off! Hide it! Y'know us peasants aren't allowed such jewelry! Barry sees it, we're in trouble! Sure he's a nice guy but he just can't keep his mouth shut!"

~

The trader glanced at David's catch and shook his head.

"Sorry, Dave, I'm not paying for that. They'd nail me to the nearest wall, and rightly so. You stored them until I got around, didn't you? Doesn't make them good. Best I can do is to take the one basket with the fresh ones."

Dave raised his hands in despair.

"Barry, d'you think I'm daft? I know it's not the best I can offer, but what am I to do? I can't catch enough just by sailing out the day before you come by, and I can't keep them in the net in the water either, them dumb beasts just start devourin' each other, and you're not paying either if they got bleedin' bite marks. Can't kipper them around here."

The trader threw the blanket back over the buckets. Flies buzzed away angrily. He scratched his head and shook it.

"Even if all were fresh, my journey lasts almost a week before I reach a place where I can try to sell fishes with a profit. By then, they're not food, but poison. It's not working out for me, Dave. Sorry. The town's market is about the only place you can go, and I know you can't go there."

Barry leaned in and put his arm around Dave's shoulder.

"Listen, I know you're a good lad and Menena's just been maligning you in the village. And the last catch you brought, Dave — if only they were fresh. So hear me out. I can get a word in for you, at the town up north. Might be able to get you a merchant's pass. You'll need to sail along the coast for three days, but you'll be able to sell your catch reasonably fresh. I've got me an office there. Troublesome waters out there, though. Do you dare?"

~

"So, do I dare?"

Dave turned to his wife. He leaned against the tallest post of his boat's small pier and watched the sunset.

"I don't want to leave you here, all alone. Two days to the town, and two days back, if the winds are kind. Three, maybe four, if not. Barbara, that's a whole week."

She wrapped her arms around his waist and snuggled closer.

"Yes, Dave. We need the money and the goods. I don't like it either, but there's not much choice besides moving away, and I don't want to live in a filthy, smelly, noisy, crowded city. I want to be here, alone with you, in peace. If they pay as much as Barry said, you'd only have to do this once a month."

She pulled at the thin chain around her neck and dangled the pendant before her eyes.

"Maybe we should try and sell it. It must be worth a fortune."

Dave shook his head, laid his hand on it and gently tugged it back into the hem of Barbara's skirt.

"Don't even think about that. It's risky enough, you parading it out in the open. Keeping it in the hut is bad enough. Gems are for noble folk, y'know. If the wrong people ever found out, they'd just take it from us and throw us behind bars — or worse. We should bury it well away from our home, just to be safe." He watched her face and sighed. "All right, so I won't bury it. I know you love it so much, but promise me you'll keep it well hidden while I'm gone."

~

Chapter 5: Market Tales

~

The sun rose over the horizon. Its warm rays pierced the many holes in the parchment over the tiny bedroom window and tickled the young woman awake. As Barbara turned over, her arm slipped across the empty space where her husband used to be. She sighed.

"Two more days. At least the weather's holding out."

Her fingers combed through her long rumpled hair. This day's duties were well planned in advance. She hated them nonetheless. Market day.

~

Barbara put on her best clothes and ran her fingers down her slender hips to smoothen out her skirt. Judging from the pinching the cloth gave her, she definitely had put on some girth around her hips. With a sigh, she bent down, grabbed the handles of her cart and leaned in.

Behind her, the two tall wheels creaked in a grating rhythm as she pulled the cart along the deserted dirt path to the village. When she left, the morning sun still sparkled in the dewdrops on the grass, but by the time she saw the small spire rise over the wheat-covered last hilltop, the midday heat had her drenched with sweat.

~

"Still with your little cart, I see," greeted the bulky, middle-aged man. Barbara raised her head in surprise, but kept on fanning with her straw hat to both dry the salty droplets on her skin and to keep the flies from the fishes on display. The hubbub from the market barely reached into the little alcove on the side street.

"Didn't hear you coming, Robert Blacksmith," she smiled. "How come a man built like his anvil can be so stealthy?"

"It's the missus, keeps me on my tiptoes," he replied and drew his hat. "I'll have two of them snappers, thank you."

Barbara sighed. "You'll get three for two. It's not like I'm going to sell out today." She looked around. Her assigned place was at the worst possible corner. As to why, Barbara knew all too well.

"How's David? You two doing alright?" the blacksmith asked.

"Could be worse," she answered. "Could be much better, though. We're selling some of our catch to the traveling traders these days, but they don't pay well. Can't blame them. By the time our fish arrive in the big city, they're almost overdue. Wouldn't see me buying them then, that's all I'm saying. Now here, if I could get a stall closer to the market, I might — well, fat chance of that."

"Menena?"

"You need to ask? Of course it's Menena's doing." Barbara cast an angry glance at the big house across the market. "Why can't she just let it go? She's turned me into a leper, Rob. Can barely sell a handful of fishes on a market day. Nobody dares to be seen here. Present company excluded. Sorry, Robert. It's just grating my nerves, is all."

She pinched the root of her nose and exhaled.

Robert scratched his stubbly beard. "You don't know half of it. She sees someone at your stall, she makes them pay their loans on time."

"Really? No wonder I'm stuck with all my display. Still, you came."

"Only smith in town, dear. She doesn't quite dare."

Barbara leaned in. "So why do you people keep on appointing her the mayor year after year? She's bossy, she's mean, she's crafty —"

The blacksmith chuckled humorlessly. "Because she's bossy, mean and crafty — Barb, dear, she's the right tool for that job. You can't deny she's been good for the town."

Barbara's shoulders sagged. "But she's bad for me," she grumbled.

She raised her head. "Still, she doesn't dare messing with you? Oh Robert, then can't you get in a word for me with her? It's been going on for a year now, that's just childish to hold a grudge for so long."

"Whoa there, love! I'm not mad enough to step between the two of you, Barbara. The missus will have my head on the anvil if she ever finds out! Besides, wouldn't call Menena's anger a childish grudge, Barb. You know it's much more to her."

"But it wasn't my fault! Should I have left him to drown?"

~

The winter storm came in gusts from ever-changing directions. Scattered snowflakes marked the whirls. Barbara leaned against one of the thick poles of the village pier, pinched her eyes to make out the cockleshells dancing on the waves and drew her thick clothes tighter.

Menena had stepped up to her side. Behind them, several other of the town's women waited and worried. The trader woman kept her eyes fixed on one boat.

"David," she whispered and brushed a few of her raven strands back under her hood's fur trimming. "Oh please ..."

"They'll be all right, Miss," the young maid tried to calm her worried mistress. "It's just a few hundred yards, they're almost back in the harbor —"

"David! David!" Menena's shrieks pierced the howling wind. Barbara spun around. The boat was empty now. A gush of water shot up by its side, only to be scattered by another squall. The sail tilted, then the boat turned over.

Barbara didn't think at all. Her legs stomped over the pier. Her eyes were fixed on the dark and glistening hull. She leapt and hit the ocean with her arms stretched out ahead.

Cold. Colder than ever before. The water sucked all warmth from her body. She kept on stroking, her eyes still fixed on the dark shadow of the boat. Waves buried her under their icy weight, but she kept on, it was even easier under the surface. Her clothes, soaked full of water now, heavy, slowing her, dragging her down. A brush of her hands, and her slender body slid out of the wool's deadly grip like a snake shedding her skin. Speed. More speed.

One, two. One, two. Coming up for air, freezing cold air like steel being rammed down her throat. Back under the waves. The boat, a dozen yards ahead, maybe less. A shadow beneath, so small, slowly sinking into the inky void. Her muscles, numb and cold, but still going. Reaching out. Soaked cloth between her fingers. Pulling.

Air, fresh air, and that heavy, heavy, heavy weight in her grip. The beach, getting closer. Closer. Blackness, closing in from the corners of her eyes —

~

Barbara woke, shivering, in the softest bed she'd ever felt. She tried to turn, but she couldn't muster the strength.

"Easy now. All is well," said a shadow sitting by her side.

"Mistress Menena! I'm — where —"

The raven ran her fingers over Barbara's cheek. Her voice was soft, and an undertone of tears swung in it.

"My bed. You had us scared, child. For a day or two, we feared you'd pay too much of a price. Oh Barbara, I owe you so much —"

She turned and looked over her shoulder. "And here's a young man who wants to thank you, too."

Barbara looked up, and the maid's eyes met David's for the first time —

~

"Robert, you know I didn't steal him from her! You talked to him!"

The blacksmith shrugged. "Doesn't matter that everybody knows he left Menena. Thing is, he left her and went straight to you. Now if I were to leave the missus for another pretty bird — godsforbid — I'd keep on looking over my shoulder because one o' them days she be standing there with the sledgehammer to crush in both our unfaithful skulls!"

"Thanks, Robert. Didn't need that picture in my mind." Barbara shivered at the thought of hulking Bertha Blacksmith with a blood-spattered hammer in her hands.

~

Eight coppers.

The coins slipped through her fingers and disappeared without as much as a jingle into the velvety blackness. Barbara sighed and tied shut her tiny pouch. The three snappers for Robert were the only sale she'd made all day. High time to pack up, else nightfall would catch up with her out on the road.

That's nothing. That's even less than nothing. It'll barely pay for next week's bread.

She glanced at her display and took stock of the half-dozen of unsold fish, smiling wearily.

The fish — well, can't let them go to waste, with David gone. Her stomach growled already.

At least it'll be a dinner to remember.

She grabbed the cart's handles and started the hour-long journey back.

~

Chapter 6: When the Husband's away, the Wife's going to — dilate?

~

I miss him like crazy, Barbara pondered, turning over and over in her lonely bed. Oh David, the things we could do right now.

Her fingers wandered down over her body. She cast the sheets aside and laid naked in the pale light as the moon rose over the sea. Her hands followed her slender sides and traced the lines of her ribcage. Lifting her palms off her skin as she neared her chest, Barbara let only her fingertips graze her nipples. The faint touch made a tingling echo, spreading from her chest all through her body until it reached the top of her head and made her hair stand on end.

"Hhhhahhh —," she inhaled. Left side first, her areolae contracted. Barbara felt the flesh under the slight bumps as it turned hard and made the skin wrinkle. The sensation spread out, and it felt like weight. It also felt like heat, a wandering wave of heat with a shiver and goosebumps in its wake.

Her index fingers tapped on her nipples again, and once again, the rousing sensation spread like ripples in a pond.

Tap.

Tap.

Barbara's rhythm accelerated. The heat of each wavefront no longer had time to fade. It collected on her skin. Thin droplets of sweat appeared. Her areolae were all crinkled up now.

Taptap.

"Mmmnnnhh —"

Taptaptap.

"Mhhhh. Mhhhhh."

She bit her lower lip.

Yes, yes! More! Need ... stronger!

She grabbed her flat chests and squeezed her fingers into the thin layer of womanliness over her ribcage. Angling her hands, she pinched her itching, hard nipples between thumbs and forefinger.

"Guuuhhh!" groaned Barbara. She twisted her hips, she rubbed her one leg against the other, holding them closed tightly, trapping her aroused crotch between them. The faint rubbing noises of dry skin on dry skin turned into moist smacking. Wetness coated her thighs, and the heat in her crotch grew stronger.

Not just her nipples itched and throbbed from the inside now; the strange and delicious sensations spread out over her body. Her eyes bugged as she recognized the building arousal.

Last night, were her scattered thoughts. In me. Oh David, David, so deep, in me, to the hilt. You brought me those feelings. So good. Just ... some more ... then ... then ...

She almost felt Dave's hands again, his arms around her narrow waist, and he inside her, embedded so deep, oh so very, deliciously deep, in her quivering cave, for those endless moments. Her left hand moved down and cupped her crotch. The touch of her palm on her swollen bud drove her wild. Barbara pushed down harder, rubbing the ball of her thumb all over her vulva. The frantic sliding of skin on skin coated her matted blond hair with the froth of ecstasy.

More! she moaned inwardly. So close ... can't stop ... bliss ... coming —

Her legs trembled in spasms, her whole body arched upwards. Thin jets of liquid sprayed from her crotch and splattered against the foot board of the bed. Her chest heaved, her insides contracted, time and again, squeezing out more of the silver arcs.

Barbara sagged down. Her hands cupped her reddened, wide open labia. Her glazed fingers spread the cooling liquid across her gaping hole, soothing the burning sensations of her raw-rubbed skin. Dragging a trail of moisture along, she let her left hand wander higher until it reached the onset of her breasts. Her skin glowed with inner heat. She sighed delightedly.

A sound like a quiet inhale, somewhere in the distance.

What the —

She jerked and opened her eyes. Blueish moonlight revealed her glistening body, but almost nothing of the bedroom. Barbara strained her ears to no avail. The only thing she could make out was the wind rustling dry leaves in the bushes.

Stop that, she chided herself. Who'd come out here that late at night anyway?

As the rustle subsided, the weird noise came back. Perched at the edge of perception was some strange ringing sound. And the odd feeling of her head caught in a vise, of a numb pressure on her ears.

Is that what the other girls meant when they whispered they heard the bells ringing after a good romp? Barbara frowned, and tensing her forehead brought the onset of a headache. Ugg. That's not worth bragging about, it's rubbish.

She swung her legs out of the bed and struggled upright, clutching her temples. The ringing in her ears grew stronger. Barbara stumbled to the door. She clung to the doorpost and inhaled the cool night air.

It's better with David around. It was good, though ... didn't know my fingers could do me like that, but I really need him to hold me in the afterglow. Feeling ... so weak ...

She moistened her lips.

No wonder. I'm parched. A little sip might be a good idea.

Barbara turned around and took the earthen jug from the shelf. The gulp ended up a bit bigger than she had planned. Coughing, she corked the liquor and stowed it away. Warmth spread through her innards. She shuddered in delight.

Mmmh. Much better. Much — gaah!

Her eyes grew big, and her hands clutched her crotch. Muscles deep in her womb contracted and pulsated. She panted, slack-jawed with her tongue hanging halfway out.

Can't be — can't — c—

David was inside her again, she milked him again, drawing every last drop from that huge rod again.

"Mnnnhhhh!"

Sagging against the wall, her face contorted to a delirious grin, she came again, jerking and twisting. Barbara's hands overflowed with another helping of her ample juices. Wisps of fog rose from the warm puddle on the floor between her legs.

Where did that just come from —?

She struggled upright once more. The itching all through her body receded, but it did not go away completely. In fact, it rapidly grew stronger again. The calm before the storm upon her was going away fast.

No, no, please, I can't take any more of this, so weak, why —

Oh the gods — here it comes agaiahhh—

Barbara's breath raced. Her knees trembled and lost their strength. She dropped, swaying, as the pressure inside her rose higher. This wasn't like the first times, it was like diving down, deeper and deeper, feeling the crushing weight of water piling up above her — only it was all wrong, it was upside-down, inside-out. The weight was in her and it wanted out, it needed out. The pliable but unyielding weight of the endless ocean amassed in her and surged in waves against her skin, filling her up.