Gamine and Gambler

Tracy Somerset's breasts trembled sweetly when she bent over the crap table. As she placed a fistful of paper money on the green felt one of them almost wiggled free of the décolletage of her evening gown.

Nicholas Kane, confirmed ass man, damn near got converted to a tit man on the spot by those sensational mammaries. Tracy, beautiful daughter of plantation owner Colonel Terrence Somerset, also possessed a deliciously developed backside, a distraction as big as her breasts. But Kane was working and could only pay those assets minimal attention. If he blew this assignment he'd not only lose the Sheikh's money he gambled with so freely, but his life.

Should he run afoul of the men managing the tables they'd hang him faster than a runaway slave. If they didn't, the man in the gray uniform at the bar would.

Despite the danger Kane couldn't help himself, eyes darting to steal one more glimpse at Tracy. The brown tops of both nipples were visible above her plunging bodice. Only the erect tips poking through the silk prevented the dress from sliding down around her slender waist. Her gown must have cost her old man a pretty penny, so sheer Kane had imagined he could see through it. The champagne-colored material fit tight as a drumskin around her hips. The young lady deigned not to wear a bustle, or undergarments either.

Kane, like every other man and woman in the casino of the riverboat, had seen the dark triangle of Tracy's pubic hair when she'd made her entrance from the promenade deck at sunset. The blaze of light behind her streamed through the thin gown and rendered it nearly invisible.

Definitely nothing under that dress except Tracy, Kane thought when she strutted buoyantly into the casino.

One grande dame had uttered loudly enough for him to overhear the withered hag drawl, "Such a pity Colonel Somerset's daughter has all that blonde hair on her head, but that scraggly black bush between her legs."

Kane had grinned, as had others privy to the jealous old biddy's remark.

Even with her long locks and obvious womanly charm, a hint of the gamine lurked in Tracy. She had a head of hair, elaborately coiffed and curled, unfurling around her delicate shoulders and down her back. She had a big bodyguard too, a stone-faced bloke in a fancy Confederate Army sergeant's uniform. He remained a discreet distance behind his charge and probably no one took much note of him. But Kane did. He needed to; the bully outweighed him by fifty pounds and stood half a foot taller than him. Kane watched the man park himself at the bar where he could survey the width and breadth of the gaming room and intervene should anyone approach Tracy with bad intent.

She'd ignored the bodyguard and everyone else in the casino, sweeping over to the crap table like Kane had known she would. Earlier his source of information told him dice was her game. When she'd placed her money on the table the boxman exchanged it for stacks of chips and Tracy joined the game. For the first hour Kane acclimated himself with the way she played. He also noted Tracy did not drink mint juleps. She partook of whiskey and hectored a colored indentured servant to bring her drink after drink. She drank a lot, but won a lot. People began to drop out of the game. Kane stayed. The stickman continually slid chips in front of the girl until she'd amassed several untidy teetering pagodas of them.

She seemed quite self-absorbed and impressed with herself, especially her hair. Between rolls she fussed with it incessantly, combing her fingers through the curls, repeatedly glancing at her reflection in the big mirror behind the bar, admiring her perfection. Tracy was doubtless as proud of her lustrous tresses as she was those breasts of hers she kept shaking and jiggling around. Kane couldn't find it in himself to begrudge the aloof wench one iota. A veritable feast for the eyes: every man in the casino obviously wanted to lift up the hem of her gown to bury his love muscle in the warm tightness of the shimmying bottom she wagged about as much as her tits; likewise every woman present wanted to bury a dagger between them.

Lust and jealousy, reflected Kane with an ill-concealed smirk, the age old maladies of the human animal. But he was different, not that he didn't want to fuck Tracy senseless. He did. The only difference was Kane was going to get to have his way with the little slut; the men clustered around the roulette wheel and card tables were not.

Her bodyguard met Kane's eye, but Kane remained unworried, the brute watched everyone at Tracy's table closely. Kane kept his face blank as he thumbed a wooden match alight and lit a thin cheroot, exhaled a nonchalant cloud of blue smoke. While replacing the small box of matches in the side pocket of his black velvet frockcoat he palmed a pair of loaded dice. He tucked them into his burgundy cummerbund unseen and rested his now empty right hand casually on the carved lip of the mahogany dice table.

Sweat filmed on his forehead and above his upper lip, easily explainable by the heat of the room should anyone be paying him undue attention, or the Confederate sergeant at the bar suspect anything. The fellow was not Kane's sole cause of concern. The men operating the Mississippi gambling ship would kill him for cheating, just like Colonel Somerset's goon if Kane touched a hair on the head of his only daughter. Kane didn't need to cheat for money; the Sheikh always funded him well. He just needed to beat Tracy and put her in his debt somehow.

A damnable dangerous game he played that evening.

His turn to roll the bones again came around and Tracy bet a dozen chips that he'd crap out. Conceited shit, acting like a bloody queen as if those around her were her subjects and, as such, beneath her. She noticed Kane; licking those swollen pouting lips of hers and favoring him with a sly glance now and again. He guessed her crotch was wet indeed from all the attention she studiously ignored. In his lifetime he'd tumbled enough wives and daughters to know the female of the species found him attractive. For the last quarter century more women than he could count had kept his cock coated with saliva and vaginal secretions. Unlike Tracy he tried not to act snobbish, not always succeeding. But Kane didn't take his good looks for granted and worked to maintain them. The Sheikh employed him because of them too, among other things.

The game continued. Tracy finished another whiskey and dispatched the beleaguered servant to the bar for another. She appeared sober and very much in control. When the dice went out of play for a minute Kane decided to employ a spot of charm.

He smiled a smile just shy of a leer across the table at her and essayed some polite banter. "You play well, Miss Somerset. It's my misfortune to have you on the other side of table this evening."

"I always play to win, sir," she answered without a glance his way.

"As do I," he said with brash confidence.

She condescended to look at him. "You have me at a disadvantage."

Kane stared pointedly at the flesh barely contained in Tracy's bodice. Christ, he couldn't wait to sink to the hilt in the tight declivity sweetening itself between her thighs.

"How so, Miss Somerset?" he asked her with great deference.

"You know my name but I don't know yours." She gave a quick nervous tug to her décolletage as if just then noticing her nipples on almost complete display. A fine sheen of perspiration shone in the valley of her breasts.

"Forgive me if I've been forward in speaking your name. You're Colonel Somerset's daughter, I thought it common knowledge. Since you've come of age you've already made an impression from New Orleans to Charleston."

"Thank you, sir, but I still don't know your name," she said, her tone arch.

"I beg your pardon, ma'am." He stuck his cigar back in his mouth to free his right hand to reach across the table and shake Tracy's. "Nicholas Kane, at your service."

His gesture and subdued words had the desired affect. The girl actually smiled. "I thought I knew most of the riverboat gamblers on the Mississippi. But you're not from these parts, are you? Not with that English accent."

"You are as perceptive as you are lovely, Miss Somerset."

"Thank you, Mister Kane. What brings you to Louisiana?"

Kane decided to tell the truth and gave Tracy a vague reply. "I oversee certain interests of various businessmen abroad. In three weeks I set sail from Boston to return home."

"What kind of interests?" she wanted to know.

"Property, stocks, that sort of thing." He neglected to mention various other duties.

"Interesting," commented Tracy, uninterested, and took a sip from her glass. Typical.

The stickman announced the dice in play again, ending the conversation.

Kane knew about a flaw yet to be fixed in craps, a European game less than fifty years old in the States. Before embarking on his current mission the Sheikh's experts taught him the craps wagering system where he could exploit the flaw through the use of loaded dice. Kane's teachers assured him of the safety of the cheat. The Don't Pass line hadn't been implemented prior to the Civil War which, if Kane had his history straight, would officially begin exactly two months to the day when the Confederacy attacked Fort Sumter. He could roll sevens all night long and strip Tracy of her money before he stripped her out of that gossamer thin gown. A dangerous game!

But Tracy got on a hot streak rolling seven after seven and took him to the proverbial cleaners. Instead of fretting about all of his chips being pushed to her side of the table with the stick, Kane exhaled in sudden relief. The girl apparently knew about the same cheat he did; she had to be playing with loaded dice. Kane could leave his own in his cummerbund and not risk being caught cheating. Things couldn't have worked out better had the old Sheikh scripted this turn of events himself.

Should Kane expose her? No, not on this brief excursion. Despite the chintzy Valentine's Day decorations everywhere, they were aboard a riverboat where gambling integrity took precedence over holidays. The boxman and the stickman both acted unaware of her crooked shenanigans. If Kane caused a public outcry Tracy might be whisked from the casino and detained out of his grasp in one of the compartments topside on the Texas deck of the paddlewheeler. But what to do before the other gamblers or the riverboat's management got wise? His brow furrowed in thought. Finally a viable solution occurred to him before he forfeited many more dollars.

Kane raised a finger to catch the boxman's eye. "I'm out, my good man," he muttered, stepping back from the table.

Tracy spoke. "So soon? Things were beginning to get interesting."

No shit, she'd won over three hundred bucks. That would go over well when he presented his expense report to the Sheikh.

While the boxman converted his remaining chips back to dollars Kane ambled around the table to stand next to Tracy Somerset, wealthy debutant.

The girl smelled of expensive perfume, and another underlying effluvium. One more subtle, more intoxicating, the one he'd only guessed at earlier. Being correct in his assumption only bolstered his confidence. He couldn't keep a smile off his lips when that second scent swirled in his nostrils. It made Kane as hard as he'd ever been. He placed a familiar hand on the small of her back, inching downward until his palm rested on the swell of her delicious behind. His fingertips drifted across her left bottom cheek to her right one, lingering in the valley separating the two. If the sun shining through her flimsy gown revealing the nest of hair on her pubis earlier hadn't provided enough of a clue, Kane knew for certain now he'd also been correct assuming she wore nothing underneath her dress. The knowledge she had no panties on caused his stiffness to throb all the more. He felt a shudder pass through her and she squeezed her thighs together.

Tracy whispered hotly, "What do you want, Mister Kane?"

"Why not just call me Nick, sweetheart? And I know you know what I want."

The young whore surprised him by blushing. Still speaking in a whisper she said, "Why don't I just call you Mister Kane and you put your hand back where it belongs?"

He watched over her shoulder as the sergeant stepped away from the bar and made a surreptitious yet purposeful beeline toward them. Kane had maybe ten seconds to deliver his ultimatum before the bully would be on top of them, breathing down his neck.

He said in her ear, "Now see here, young lady, I'm going to pass you a pair of clean dice in exchange for the loaded ones you've been cheating with so you don't get caught with them in your hot little hand."

The color drained from her flushed face and Tracy swallowed visibly. She began to stammer, "You don't know what you're talking--"

He interrupted her lie. "Don't insult me by denying it. The Somerset reputation is on the line here, missy."

She glared at him, her big brown eyes hard as diamonds.

"Shut up and give me the damned dice," he ordered as her bodyguard laid a huge paw on his shoulder. "And tell this chap to get his mitt off me."

Tracy swallowed again but said quickly, "Lee, what do you think you're doing? This man is a friend, unhand him."

Lee the bodyguard ignored Kane and rumbled to Tracy, "But isn't he bothering you, Miss Somerset?"

"We were just talking, you overlarge oaf, like women and men will do, especially on Saint Valentine's Day."

"They often do more than talk," essayed the sergeant.

"Quit causing a scene, Lee, people are starting to stare."

She must've been used to giving orders and the man in the brand new uniform used to obeying her commands because he removed his hand. Not in a hurry by any stretch of the imagination, but he withdrew it and let it hang by his side.

"Go back to the bar, Lee, now!" Tracy hissed under her breath, but folks all over the casino eyed the three of them anyway. "I'll call you if I need any help."

"I don't like the looks of this man, Miss--"

"Do as I say, Lee. You don't want me to have to complain to daddy, do you?"

"Miss Somerset, this fellow is obviously--"

She cut him off. "Don't sass me," she said menacingly with a slight jerk of her head toward the far side of the casino, its walls pasted with paper red hearts and pink Cupids for the occasion.

The man risked her wrath, "I'll be right over there then if you need--"

"I know you will, Lee. Thank you, Lee." Tracy smiled meanly at the man, exasperated.

When he retreated Kane said to her, "You're smart, Tracy, and quicker on your feet than I'd've given you credit for."

The girl simply glared. She leveled her glare on several people looking in her direction and they turned their heads away.

"You do have a commanding presence about you, my dear."

"So do you, Mister . . ."

"Nick," Kane said firmly. Then he grinned and extended a hand. "And now, the dice."

Tracy pressed them into his palm, close enough to him to press her quivering bosom into his chest. He smiled wider, assured he'd be cupping those magnificent mounds very soon.

"Miss Somerset," the stickman called to Tracy, "Do you want to place another bet? It's your roll."

Tracy glanced at Kane and read his eyes. He'd hardened them as she had hardened hers a moment ago. "I'll pass," she said with her back to the stickman.

"Wise decision," Kane murmured in her ear. He gave her wonderful bottom a licentious squeeze.

She began to get mad, but thought twice and her features softened. Color seeped back into her face.

"Wise decision," he said again.

"You're repeating yourself," she said with a crooked smile on her face.

Excellent, thought Kane, she was flirting with him now. Not that it would do her any good. She could pour on all the considerable charm she had at her disposal and it wouldn't do her a bit of good. Not a goddam bit.

"Collect your money and let's go."

Tracy did as she was told. She conducted a whispered conversation with the stickman before cramming a fat wad bills in a pearl-sewn evening bag.

"Where do you want to go, Nick?" she asked playfully, rubbing her tits against his chest once again. "We're in the middle of the Mississippi River." She positively exuded charm now.

More than one large surprise lay ahead for this wench.

~~~

"Thank you for not making any trouble for me," she said when he linked his left arm through her right and led her to the casino bar.

He just nodded, "It wouldn't do on a day as traditionally romantic as this."

What a gentleman, she thought, a tad wicked perhaps but definitely unlike any of the boring suitors who'd called on her at the plantation since she came of age six months ago. And the men her father tried in vain to attach to her failed to compare. She bossed them around like she did her doting father, a strong domineering man with everyone else including her mother. Tracy had had daddy wrapped around her finger like so much limp twine for as long as she could remember. Her haughty demeanor derived from his side of the family to be sure; her fondness of whiskey came from her mother.

Tracy wanted, no, needed a strong man like daddy to control her. Not the daddy who refused to buy her a new dress or horse or withholding her allowance for some minor infraction, but the way daddy was when issuing orders to his soldiers, household staff or slaves. She would be infinitely bored with any man she could tame. A real man took what he wanted and brooked no nonsense from womenfolk. Nick might just be that man. She'd been sneaking glances at him all night when he'd not been looking; desired him since she first spotted him at the crap table. He appeared so dashing swaggering about in his cravat, starched frilled shirt, jodhpurs and polished high boots. With thick brown hair that curled on the ends and muttonchops he was every inch the riverboat gambler, mysterious, handsome, a little cruel maybe. She could feel his muscles when he'd linked arms with her.

Nick would be very strong. Would he be a good kisser?

She wondered how strong he'd be in between her legs; she planned to test his mettle right away to find out if he could handle her. The thought served to make her wetter still. All the whiskey she'd consumed made her amorous. Juice oozed out of her for the past two hours till the insides of her thighs stuck together. Tracy would absolutely let Nick take her if he played his cards right.

Daddy thought his little girl a virgin, but she wasn't. She'd slept with two other men, boys really, one last year and the other just this spring. They disappointed her in the romance department. Daddy would horsewhip them if he knew. Nick would take away his braided rawhide whip and shove it up her father's ass if he tried that with him. He just had to be a man of experience, confidence gleamed in his eyes. She'd wager he bedded any woman he winked at, and used them long and well. Tracy's pussy dribbled even more just thinking about it, she deliberately swiveled around to mash a breast into Nick's arm.

She knew he had to feel it, her nipples were hard as stone, and he enjoyed it but didn't try to grope her like other men of her acquaintance. "What do you have in mind, Nick?" she asked coyly with a bat of her long eyelashes.

"A stroll on the deck, take some air."

Tracy adored his English accent. "Will you buy me something to drink first?" she asked in her best purr. "I'm a tad thirsty."

"I never met a southern belle who wasn't," he remarked. "But I ought to make you pay after all the money you won from me. Your purse is bulging at its seams."

Good, she thought, he was going to be a challenge!

She said coyly, "I can afford to, but how would that look? Me paying for our refreshments? It's simply not done."

"Fine," Nick conceded, "I'll buy then."

His answer disappointed her, but he walked right up to the bar not six feet away from where Lee stared a hole through him. Nick acted like the big man wasn't even there. Tracy was impressed. In a fair fistfight Nick could probably handle her daddy, but no man could handle Lee. Not even the black bucks on the plantation.

When the man made a move toward them Tracy stopped him with a dirty look. "Relax, Lee, have a drink. Nick and I are going to take a stroll around the boat."

"You know I don't drink, Miss Somerset, and I don't think you should have another drink either."

"I forgot you're a good Baptist. But it really doesn't matter to me what you think. Stay in here and sulk for all I care."

"The colonel told me not to let you out of my sight."

"Daddy always says that, Lee,' she whined. "Where can Nick and I go, for God's sake? We're on a boat in the middle of a big ole river. You know this isn't some upriver journey, it's a gambling cruise; we pull back into New Orleans at dawn." She stood in front of Nick with her back to Lee to act as a barrier between them. Her forefinger suggestively traced the row of black pearl buttons on his ruffled shirtfront. "Nick, you don't plan to throw me overboard, do you?"

"Farthest thing from my mind, love," he said before ordering two whiskey and sodas from the barkeep.

Lee rumbled in that deep voice of his: "I'll follow along behind to make sure this foreigner doesn't get up to any tricks. I won't eavesdrop on ya'll's conversation. I'll be like a . . what are they called . . . like a chaperone."

"No, you won't!" she snapped. "You stay here and don't embarrass me in front of this gentleman."

"He don't look like no gentleman to me."

"Lee, do as I say!" Tracy raised her voice. "Stay put. We'll be back in just a little while."

Lee didn't say yes or no, but she felt his eyes burning against her back as Nick and she walked away. She carried her purse and drink in one hand so they could link arms again. Outside they unlinked and he put his arm around her possessively even though the early February night air wasn't cool, if anything it was humid. They walked down the outer promenade deck that wound like a porch all the way around the paddlewheeler. They were not the only couple out for a romantic stroll along the walkway. As the two of them lingered at the railing to sip at their whiskies she wondered if he had a stateroom on the Texas deck above them. How convenient that would be!

Nick said idly, "Your chaperone is following us."

"That fucker," she snarled shooting a glance past Nick. Lee stopped in his tracks when he saw her, propped himself against the rail pretending to gaze at the lights on the shoreline a mile or so in the distance.

"My, my," said Nick.

"What?" she asked, deliberately making cow eyes at him.

"Such language from a little girl," he grinned.

She chided him to see how he'd react. "In case you haven't noticed, mister, I'm not a little girl."

"To me you are."

Good, she thought, he didn't apologize, just took a pull from his glass. "And what exactly do you mean by that?" She bent forward enough to make sure her bodice hung away from her breasts so he could see them, nipples and all. Now more juice leaked between her thighs in a big way; few men affected her that way.

"I mean I'm more than twice your age."

"Age doesn't mean anything to me. I've been with a man older than you before," she fibbed.

He chuckled. "I thought you might be a virgin."

She punched his arm. "What gave you that idea?"

He nodded Lee's way. "Colonel Somerset apparently has you watched like a hawk. Do you ever get any time alone to yourself?"

"Are you worried about Lee?"

"Not in the slightest."

"Then why don't you kiss me then?"

"Would you like that?"

"Why don't you try it and see for yourself."

"Maybe this isn't the time and the place," he said smoothly.

"We're under a lovely moon and it is Saint Valentine's Day. It doesn't get much more romantic than this."

"Who said I'm after romance, as you call it?"

"Then what are you after? Do you want your fucking money back?"

Every man she knew would've backed down then; tiptoed around her attitude in hopes of making love to her. But Nick smiled instead, earning more points on her mental scorecard. He said easily, "If I couldn't afford to lose it shooting dice I wouldn't have brought it aboard."

"Then why don't you kiss me? I'll be damned if I'm going to pay you to."

Nick's smile changed to a grin. "Let me ask you a question first, I'm curious about something."

"And what would that be, kind sir."

He chuckled and took another drink of his whiskey. "I may not be as kind as you think I am once you get to know me."

"That sounds exciting."

"Maybe. What I wanted to ask you is why do you cheat at craps?"

"That's a dangerous assumption."

"What am I assuming? You do cheat, admit it."

"Oh, I admit that. Don't assume because my father's a rich landowner that he lavishes money and gifts on me. That's very much not true. He's very stingy, in fact. I didn't speak to him for three days until he agreed to buy me this dress to wear on this all night jaunt." She paused to wet her lips with her tongue. "And allowing me to take this short little cruise, well, let me just say that was another battle altogether."

"But you won it."

"I told you I play to win."

Nick grinned, "Yes, you did tell me that, didn't you?"

"Uh huh. So that leaves the question: are you going to kiss me or not?"

"Now you're speaking my language." He stooped down to set his glass on the deck and took her in his arms.

"Wait a second, Nick," she said.

"Are you trying to tease me, Tracy? Stop leading me on."

"I'm not leading you on."

Nick flirted well.

He asked: "What do you call it then?"

"Suspense," she said in her best coquette voice. Nick and the whiskey were having quite an effect on her about then. She drained the contents of her glass and hurled it into the river, looped her arms around his neck. "Now I'm ready for that kiss."

"I can tell," he said and kissed her deeply.

His hands slid down to her ass and squeezed her body against his. She sighed. Nick's physical reaction to her was everything she hoped for.

"You're hard as a railroad spike." Big as one too! "Do you have to pee or something?"

He laughed out loud at her remark. "The answer to that, little missy, would be 'or something,'" he said and kissed her again.

She'd been right, he kissed well.

He gripped her behind even tighter during the kiss and grinded against her. She ground back. My God, she thought, I'm getting a tad dizzy. When he broke the kiss she saw Lee heading their way. "Shit!" she groaned.

"What?"

"Take one guess, Romeo."

"Does thou bodyguard approacheth, Juliet?"

"Thou arth correct," she giggled drunkenly, mashing her chest against him and grinding against his top notch crotch again.

"What do you want to do?" asked Nick peering back over his shoulder.

She nibbled at his ear saying, "I want to be alone is what I want to do, darling, and Sergeant Strict himself is fifteen feet away."

"And on today of all days," Nick said whimsically.

"Get away from Miss Somerset, you mountebank," barked Lee.

Tracy disengaged herself and took a step toward the big man.

"I told you not to follow us, you louse. Go back in the casino and wait like I told you to!"

"I can't."

"And why not?"

"Just following orders, Miss Somerset."

"Well, I'm ordering you to get the hell away from me."

"I take orders from the colonel," said Lee. "He wouldn't want this for you."

Tracy showed him the rough side of her tongue. "I'm an adult now in case you've forgotten."

Lee stopped and started to speak, but couldn't find any words.

Tracy continued, "We're hardly alone, you fool, there are other people walking around, for Christ's sake!"

"You're drunk, Miss Somerset, and you're not thinking straight. You need to come with me. Your father would disapprove."

"Daddy doesn't want me to die an old maid!"

Lee put out one of his ham-sized hands, indicating she needed to accompany him back into the casino.

"I said leave us alone!" Tracy shouted. With her pearl-sewn handbag she angrily slapped Lee's face using all her strength. She whipped the bag backhanded in a blind fury, pelting him on the other side of his jaw. That heavy purse had to have hurt, but the blows didn't faze him; a fly might've landed on his cheek for all the emotion in Lee's eyes. People stopped their strolling and watched the scene, but nobody challenged Lee. Tracy spun on her heel and took Nick by the hand. "Come on," she said vehemently and began to drag him away.

Lee stayed where he was, unsure of how to respond, surrounded by onlookers. Tracy searched Nick's eyes and didn't like what she saw. The man wore a nervous grimace on his face. She snapped at him, "What are you? Afraid?"

"A little, the chap's as big as a house, he's going to spoil--" Nick stopped speaking and Tracy stopped in mid-stride.

"Go ahead, Nick, finish what you were going to say."

For the first time since they'd met she saw him uncertain, hesitant, but he regained his composure in a flash. "That fellow's going to spoil your evening."

"Why didn't you say something back there then, or do something?"

"What would you have me do? Shoot him?"

His words startled her. "Are you carrying a gun?"

"A derringer. It would take more than two bullets to kill him."

Tracy muttered fuck under her breath. Slapping her father's right hand man was one thing, but getting him shot was another altogether. "Things are getting too serious and out of control, Nick. Maybe I should go back."

She studied the planks of the deck till he put a finger under her chin and tilted her head up. He still looked nervous to her and that disappointed her. Any man of hers needed to stand up for her, even against a man the size of house. He tugged at her hand and she didn't budge.

"Come with me," said Nick brusquely, but masterfully.

She followed him.

~~~

Holy shit, thought Kane, what a close call. The girl's bodyguard had nearly queered the deal. He needed to put some distance between them and the colonel's goon or fail his assignment. Plus not getting to fuck Tracy senseless and getting his neck broken in the bloody bargain. Now the big son of a bitch pushed his way through the onlookers and stalked after them again. The walkway curved around the stern of the riverboat. Kane veered left to cross the wide aft deck of the steamship to where he'd been leading Tracy all along, before she wanted to get kissed. Her cockeyed notions of romance and moonlit strolls bordered on the absurd.

The gigantic paddlewheel thundered below, throwing a mist into the air as it churned the waters of the Mississippi. He felt the spray on his face and the backs of his hands before going left again to head up the narrower starboard promenade walkway toward the bow, dragging Tracy along behind him before she decided to change her mind and return to the casino.

"Off we go, young lady, the night is too young to end just yet," he said in a feeble attempt to sound both cheerful and debonair.

But she grumbled, "What do you intend to do, run from Lee all night?"

"We're not running, we're hiding."

"What do you mean hide, Nick? He'll find us no matter where we go."

"Not where I have in mind he won't," he promised her.

Kane thought he heard heavy running footsteps behind them above the roar of the paddlewheel, but knew it was just paranoia. Lee lost sight of them when they crossed the stern deck yet doubtless hurried to catch up. Not that it would do him any good. Kane had chosen the stern of the ship for his purposes because of the paddlewheel's proximity. Its constant threshing made it nearly impossible to hear anything. To Kane's immediate left a ladder led up to the third level of the riverboat, the Texas deck. He hurried Tracy up the wooden stairway ahead of him.

"Where in the hell are we going, Nick?"

"You'll see. I think you'll like it." He knew she wouldn't, once she got there and found out what she was in for. In the last few minutes Colonel Somerset's daughter had transformed into an absolute handful.

"Are we going to huddle in the crow's nest?"

"Don't be silly, girl, riverboats don't have crow's nests. But I swear we are going to huddle, actually cuddle is the better choice of words," he lied.

"That sounds intriguing." Tracy sounded like she'd gotten back in the spirit of things, at least her mood seemed improved.

"Then let us go," he said with more levity than he felt. They walked a short way then trundled back down another ladder, once more enveloped by the noise of the paddlewheel. When they reached the promenade deck Kane paused to kiss Tracy to reassure her before taking yet another ladder below to the main deck. She loved kissing and before the kiss ended he sprouted another erection to replace the one he'd lost evading Lee. Kane hunched his pelvis against hers and, to his relief, Tracy reciprocated.

What a good little slut, jolly good.

On the lower main deck she had to yell to be heard above the roar of the wheel and water. "Why are you taking me down here?"

He said loudly close to her ear, "We're going up and down these ladders to confound Lee. Doubling back ought to disorient him."

"Ladders?" wondered Tracy.

"Stairways in landlubber talk. Let's get a move on, love."

He cupped a cheek of her ass to guide her along. They passed several doorways until Kane came to a halt at one without a porthole, produced a key and let them inside a surprisingly roomy compartment. When he closed and locked the door behind him, Kane could hear himself think again, the paddlewheel's racket muffled like a constant but distant rolling thunder. Oil lamps set in the bulkheads provided a hazy illumination. He figured Tracy would find dim lighting romantic, at least until she realized what he'd got up to. When she spied the stacked barrels, coils of tarred rope littering the deck and shelves of sundry boiler room tools, she hesitated.

"For a minute I thought you might have a stateroom, Nick. Let's go back outside; it's more romantic under the moon and stars."

Kane asked, "Would you have gone with me if I'd said let's go up to my cabin so we can be alone?"

"Well, maybe," the deceptive tart said slowly, indecisive like so many women Kane encountered during a checkered lifetime. "You said you knew a place where we could cuddle. I don't see anywhere to cuddle in here, not in comfort at any rate. What is this place anyhow, a storeroom or something?"

"On the other side of these barrels is a couch. See for yourself."

He'd not lied. An old castoff couch with a tall tattered back and two oversized scrolled arms had long ago been pushed into a corner, its fabric threadbare and ripped in places. The dilapidated sofa was late for the rubbish heap but suited Kane's purpose. He clasped Tracy's upper arm, hauled her over to it then sat down and pulled her onto his lap. When he palmed one of her splendid tits, she recoiled.

"This isn't very romantic, Nick, I said let's get out of here."

Kane gave the bodice of her gown a yank to bare her breasts. The silk settled around her waist and he admired the belly button in her flat stomach and the ribcage outlined under her alabaster skin. Those tits bobbed quite nicely, stood high and firm without a hint of sag like a very young girl's full breasts will, far more lovely than he'd previously imagined. Kane tongued one of the nipples and she tried to push away from him.

"Behave yourself, or I'll scream."

"Go right ahead," he told her, raising the hem of her party dress up until the material bunched around her waistline like a wide belt. He ran a hand high on one of her legs to reach her pussy. She immediately got his fingers wet. Then Tracy began to squirm, setting her breasts into delicious motion. Mesmerized, Kane began sucking on a stiff nipple.

"Stop I said or I'll scream."

"Be my guest, no one will hear you, not in here."

Kane smelled her slightly fishy scent even before he sunk a finger deep between her labial lips with such ease it should've shamed Tracy, but didn't. She was like a ripe berry overflowing with juice, ready and in need of a good drubbing. She struggled in his arms, but just a little. Like many women she put up a token resistance for nothing other than to soothe her conscience tomorrow morning. Her squirming just excited him more. She wriggled about less and less the more he fingerfucked her. Ardor overtook her, her breathing becoming heavy and uneven. Panting, she grabbed him by the hair to move his face in close, kissing him with great passion, tongue roving inside his mouth with a mounting hunger. Her legs parted more to permit Kane access to fondle her more easily. Before long he introduced a second finger inside her and she groaned loudly, moving her hips in concert with his skillful probing to ratchet up the degrees of her pleasure. When she came the first time Tracy kissed him with a fiercer intensity. Wet smacking noises sounded, the source of them between her legs. Her lips left his and she whimpered into his ear, gasping and moaning in unbridled joy, her breath heated.

Suddenly she clamped her thighs together to trap his hand and voiced a loud unembarrassed cry signaling a powerful orgasm.

"Oh, darling Nick, don't stop, please keep doing that. I want you to love me so bad. I want you, don't deny me. Please!"

Seconds later Kane sensed a growing wet spot on his trouser leg where she perched in his lap. He slipped his slick digits out of her liquid core and thrust them into her mouth.

"Suck them clean, you naughty girl, you've gotten cream all over them."

She obeyed him and sucked for a minute before pushing his hand away. Then the fickle bitch declared, "That's disgusting. I want to go."

"You liked it. Besides, you know what today is. I thought you wanted to fuck."

"Stop using that coarse language and take me back to the casino."

"You hypocrite. It's all right for you to say fuck, but not me."

"I'm ordering you to stop touching me and take me back."

"What makes you think you can give me orders, love? From this point forward you'll be taking orders instead of giving them."

"Who do you think you are?"

"I might ask you the same exact question," he replied. "You think now that you've gotten your jollies it's time to go and my satisfaction means little or nothing to you."

She got contrite, or as contrite as a self righteous spoiled bitch like she would ever get. "Didn't I make you happy, darling?"

"I'm happy alright," he agreed, "but I'm about to be even happier!"

"What do you mean, Nick?"

"Don't ask," he said in a growl, "you understand me just fine."

His wicked grin came back into place.

He rolled her over his knee and pulled the hem of her dress back up above her ass where it had slid down. Kane discovered her bottom to be on an equally fabulous par as her languidly swaying breasts. After a short spell of admiring the smooth halved flesh of her buttocks he brought the flat of his hand down hard to deliver a ferocious smack to her left cheek. The flesh of her bottom leapt under the impact and a charming red handprint appeared as if it had been there all along. The mark looked right, like it belonged there. In fact he found it appealing enough to apply his hand again to smack her other buttcheek. Perfect! So perfect that Kane did not stop and commenced paddling her fat young ass for minutes on end. He ceased only long enough to grip her slim wrists together in one fist before the resumption of spanking her behind continuously with his other hand. Tracy wailed, calling him every name in her vast vocabulary. Not that she could've checked his determined pummeling with words alone. The sight of her ass dancing under the rhythm of his hand almost dizzied him.

After a while he spread her legs apart and fiddled some more with the succulent folds of feminine flesh between her thighs. The little bitch was wetter than when she'd come all over his hand. All of Tracy's cursing and yelling stopped as she began to pant anew, no longer fighting him. Before long she gasped in another profound orgasm. A miasma of teenage arousal perfumed the air. The smell of her pussy intoxicated Kane and, since Tracy already had had a series of orgasms that night, he decided one of his own was long overdue. He needed to release the pressure built up in his balls and expend a little fluid of his own. Kane waited only enough to prize her buttocks apart with the fingers of one hand in order to get an extended view of her anus.

From the adorable hub of her asshole tiny lines radiated like bicycle spokes. With a rude fingertip Kane massaged the pronounced and upraised grommet of Tracy's anal muscle with a fondness bordering on obsession, a fondness worthy of delaying his much needed expenditure of lust. The girl squeaked in protest about the location and duration of his examination. To shut her up he landed an unexpected smote on her already reddened bottom. With her silence assured Kane continued his curious inspection of her sweet little blowhole. Rubbing it, stretching the rubbery ring from one side to the other to observe its youthful resilience before finally pressing the tip of his forefinger against it to test its resistance. So engrossed in his study of her anus Kane pushed a bit too hard and, to his dismay, his digit disappeared to the knuckle inside her. His dismay though was nothing compared to Tracy's. The intrusion elicited an oath most foul from the young lady who resurrected her vocabulary for a third or fourth time that evening to stun Kane's ears.

"Sorry, love, purely an accident," he said not altogether truthfully.

"Then why is it still in there, Nick!"

Kane extracted his finger very slowly so as not to injure her precious backside, marveling at the way the raspberry-colored lining clung to him stubbornly before his exit was complete. This egress caused the youngster to emit a real-life raspberry of her own which earned her ass an additional five or six affectionate swats accompanied by Kane's uproarious laughing regarding the comedy of the entire tableau.

"I don't think it's funny in the slightest," she complained.

When Kane's laughter subsided he complimented Tracy on her delightful sense of humor. "A companion as witty and beautiful as you is hard to find, little lady," he said while carelessly stripping the disheveled gown off her.

"I'll bet you'd find it even funnier if I jammed a finger in you," Tracy retorted.

Kane howled. Eventually his merriment faded away and he got serious once more, remembering his aching set of balls. He spilled Tracy out of his lap unceremoniously and onto the deck. Standing over her Kane unbuttoned the front of his jodhpurs to free his throbbing and engorged member. His orders left no room for gray areas: "Put this in your mouth and pleasure me or I'll warm that fat bum of yours some more."

Tracy's eyes widened and she remarked in a tiny awed voice, "Nick, you're so very very large."

Eagerly she crawled over to him, clasped him timidly in one small hand, stroking him vigorously. The girl never took her eyes off his dick, watching it like a mouse watches a snake, as if hypnotized. With renewed absolute devotion written on her face Tracy parted her lips to accommodate him. He placed a hand on the back of her head and she drew him deeply inside her mouth. It was, of course, warm and wet and she groaned throughout her labor of love, powerless but enthusiastic. For long minutes he fed her his staff, pushing enough of it in her to make her she choke. All the while her tits bounced and knocked together with great abandon. She ministered to Kane in an inexpert but nonetheless gratifying manner. Strings of drool dangled from her mouth like spaghetti as she worshipped his tool to the extent his bloated scrotum tightened.

His time to come had come.

Then Kane filled Tracy's mouth with semen in pulsing squirts. He cried out like she had done earlier, unable to contain himself until his numerous heated discharges dwindled. His sperm leaked from the corners of her mouth and around the sides of his rampant tumescence. When he withdrew the remaining thick white mass of ejaculate slipped off her tongue like oil, covering her chin and began dripping onto the tops of her breasts, down their rounded slopes and descending in trails the length of her tummy to clot in her pubic hair. Several erratic globs splotched both her thighs. She looked so good splattered with his outpourings that Kane wished he had a camera to record for posterity the sight of her kneeling there splashed with his loving tribute of tenderness and high regard.

After catching his breath he admonished her, "Next time I want you to swallow all of it down like a good girl and not waste a drop."

"I won't," she promised meekly. "Are you going to fuck me now, Nick?"

"I'm giving it some serious thought."

"Whatever you want me to do, I'll do it."

"Do you promise to do everything in your power to please me?"

"Yes, yes, everything in my power! Please, fuck me."

"You're dying for it?"

"Yes."

"Don't want to go back to the casino?"

"No."

"I want you to come on my dick all night long."

"I won't be able to help myself."

"And you'll follow orders to the letter?"

Tracy vowed, "Darling, I promise I'll do anything you want for as long as you want."

"You'll have trouble walking tomorrow," he advised her. "Your father and Lee will know what you got up to tonight."

"A small price to pay. Those two always think the worst when it comes to me regardless."

"You want me to make you be naughty, don't you, you wicked girl?"

"Treat me like a whore if you want to, darling."

"I'll remind you you said that if you shy away from what I want."

"I want to make you happy."

"Excellent! Get up and sit on the couch. Spread your legs so I can see how pretty your pussy is."

Tracy scrambled onto the couch as fast as possible and adjusted her long legs in the position Kane wanted her to. Her breasts rose and fell with excitement. The splayed open mouth of her pussy shone pink and wet amid her dark pubic thatch. Beneath it he noticed the protruding pinched socket of Tracy's anus, but not well enough to suit him.

"Scrunch forward on the couch until your ass is almost hanging off it. That's much better, love. Now keep those legs of yours spread apart as much as you can. Put your feet flat on the cushions with the toes pointed away from you. Superb! Don't talk and don't move a muscle."

He paced over to the steamer trunk he'd brought aboard the riverboat with him earlier and opened it. Rooting among his gear he found a small pair of scissors, a straight razor, a comb and an aerosol can of shaving cream. Tracy watched puzzled as he approached her with the curious items in hand. She opened her mouth to ask a question but his stern look shushed her before she spoke. He sat on the deck with his legs crossed like an Indian. Taking up the comb and scissors he combed through the dark triangle of hair between her legs as he snipped it with the scissors. Tracy watched in fascination as her nest of pubic curls fell away till only whiskers remained. When he set aside his barbering tools and took up the aerosol can of foam she could not help but inquire about it.

"I told you not to talk," Kane reminded her.

The girl lapsed back into silence.

He shook the can and filled a palm with lather that he coated her pubic stubble with. While the lather softened the short hairs he stood and stowed comb, scissors and shaving cream back in his trunk. The shaving cream had yet to do its work properly so Kane filled in the time waiting by laving the congealed come off Tracy's body with the finger he'd delved into her bung and made her lick the finger clean. So copious had been his ejaculation that she was required to suck the semen from his finger half a dozen times. By the time she'd finished the task she appeared a bit green around the gills, but Kane paid her wrinkled nose and pursed lips no mind. Sitting down Indian fashion again he shaved her pubes bald as an egg with the razor. His chore complete, he used her discarded gown to wipe away the excess lather with it, gave her another look when she started to object. Finally he bid Tracy to stand and lean against the couch with her feet as wide apart as she could manage while he spread the fleshy moons of her ass apart. With deft sure strokes of the razor he eliminated a stray hair or two he'd originally missed but, for the most part, the valley between the girl's nether cheeks was void of unsightly hair.

Never one to miss such an opportunity Kane tongued her charming anus for a minute or two while he had her in a convenient position. She gasped and groaned while his tongue busied itself, but Kane elected not to chastise her for disobeying orders until later. When finished tickling her asshole he told her to sit back down.

He knelt between her legs, pulled her toward him till her ass wasn't touching the sofa cushions and all her weight centered on the small of her back. The thick elongated lips of her cunt were dual wings of irregular flesh that curled inward like orchid petals. Even in the dim light Tracy's pink insides shone with wetness. At the base of her pussy a droplet increased gradually in size before becoming heavy enough to slide from its point of origin and trace a wet path down her left asscheek. Kane found the droplet so arousing he removed the evidence of its short journey with his tongue. Tracy shuddered.

He murmured, "Your flower is a work of art, child, and must be displayed totally bare for me to gain full appreciation. I may be sufficiently inspired to compose a poem dedicated to your unique loveliness."

Her fragrant gaping pussy caused him to fully stiffen again. For the next ten minutes or more he found himself moved to lick and suck every nook and cranny of what he'd laid bare. He drank from her fountain until it gushed copiously, almost as copiously as his hard pecker did in barren times when he'd done without for weeks. She tasted delicious and smelled of girl. Poor Tracy squeaked helplessly, catching her breath and moaning with delight while he employed his mouth on her as skillfully as he had his two fingers in the same spot earlier. He saved the swollen clitoris nosing from its hood for dessert. Crying out, the girl wrapped her thighs around his head, bucking against his face in debauched paroxysms of pleasure. She didn't even fight the sticky forefinger that sought a sneaky passage back into her asshole, but instead came harder than ever.

Kane rose to his feet wiping the juice from the lower half of his face. Urging the naked girl off the sofa cushions and onto her knees, he wagged his erection in her face and she needed no coaching to know what to do. She nursed him feverishly in her mouth; he made her stop before he came.

Then he began issuing orders: "Back on the sofa, my trembly young slut. Turn around. No, face away from me, that's right, stay on your knees and lean over the back of the couch. Thighs well apart, there's a girl."

She hastened to obey his every whim.

Again Kane marveled at Tracy's freshly shaven genitals not unlike the way Tracy had when praising his dick after seeing it for the first time. The humid circle of muscle residing between her buttocks above the vertical slash of her denuded pubes beckoned to him in lascivious invitation, her crimson rear end especially endearing. Gripping a glowing red asscheek in each hand Kane stretched the moons of her bottom far apart to ease in guiding his spear inside her to the hilt, his entry heralded with squishy slurp. With one hand cupping her left buttock he moved his other up to her lower back to steady her, thumb sunk into her defenseless bottom, rotating round and round to describe a lewd circle.

Tracy groaned, "Oh, God."

She watched over one of her slim shoulders to witness what transpired, but only for a moment. Her wide eyes rolled up in their sockets then her blonde head drooped out of sight. She must have come hard with that first stroke because Kane sensed a mighty tremor shiver down her torso to her loins. The muscles of her pussy clamped his length like a soaked velvet vise. A hint of fresh fish drifted to his nostrils, dilating them in olfactory delight. Kane knew positively the marine life in the nearby river couldn't claim responsibility for the warm pungent smell permeating the enclosed space.

Tracy proved to be a regular screamer when getting her ashes hauled. Her endless chant of "oh my God, my dear God" echoed off the compartment bulkheads, a mindless song thrumming in his ears.

Kane hammered himself in and out of her until he knew for a certainty she'd liberally glazed his long prick, not once, but many times. He feared his spout might bubble over too soon and pulled out of the girl's sluicing crevice. He longed to probe the depths of her asshole and centered the knob of his cock to target her sphincter. Tracy reached a desperate hand between her thighs to grab at his erection in an attempt to redirect it back into her fragrant crease. He was having none of it.

Knowing she'd lubricated him enough to make the jar of petroleum jelly in his trunk superfluous, Kane pressed his large plumhead against her anus and inched forward until her lovely tight muscle gave way. A compactness enveloped his rigidity. He carried on pushing deeper, reveling at the way her anus widened with every ingoing centimeter. Wordless sounds erupted from the girl, midway between a gurgle and a groan. Engulfed in the depths of her rectum sent Kane's senses reeling. His balls tingled and his temples drummed, the compressed sensation boggled his mind and threatened to explode his brain inside his skull. Finally his delighted prick could go no deeper. Tracy's helpless gyrating behind gripped him wonderfully.

He eased out of her ass to sheathe himself deep again, watching how her enlarged sphincter seemed to turn inside out before he repeated the slow languorous reentry process of embedding his erection until his balls pressed against the salivating open mouth of her vacant labia.

Thoughtfully he touched her erect clitoris to push Tracy's button for her. Right away she hunched back at him, wantonly slamming her ass against his pelvis to coax him to fuck her faster. Once the girl grew accustomed to her asshole being plundered Kane quickened his pace until he rode her at a gallop, plunging in and out of her ass at a rapid clip. He would've come sooner if he hadn't just clogged her mouth with a rain of goo however, like just moments before in her pussy, the inevitable second outcome wasn't too far in the future.

Kane strived to slow the frantic pace only to discover himself incapable of doing so. Then he cried out as ecstatic waves reverberated through every nerve ending in his body before he flooded Tracy's heated anal tract with surge after surge of gruel. His chest labored and his head whirled over the course of the next few minutes. During that period the girl squeezed him gingerly out of her bottom. When Kane felt as if he could walk without collapsing he stepped away from Tracy, who slumped insensate onto the sofa. An unconscious fart escaped her and she sighed. Come dribbled out of her yawning bung to decorate the lips of her widespread pussy like gravy. Again Kane wished he'd packed a camera in his trunk along with his other toys so he could photograph Tracy Somerset to preserve this memory.

What an outstanding and exemplary fuck she turned out to be!

"Did you like that, sweetheart?"

She favored him with that old sly smile of hers. "I could learn to like it," she admitted.

"It'll be easier next time."

"Will there be a next time?" she inquired, still breathing heavy.

Had Kane ever met a girl who didn't ask that when he finished putting her through her paces? He gave an inward shrug and answered Tracy's question with an enigmatic grin.

Getting her to her unsteady feet he knelt before her. Situated thusly he could inhale the heady aroma of her overworked teenaged pussy. Her meaty vaginal lips hung slack, splayed open and dewed with her discharge and his. Another droplet leaked out of her opening like the one after he'd shaved her pubes. The sheer randiness of her spotting the deck caused Kane's deflated prick to pulse with the early warning signs of reviving.

Time to get back to business.

He clutched at the girl to help him stand up.

"Again?" she asked hopefully, her face and eyes aglow.

"You're a willing young thing," he observed.

She said, "I've never been with a man like you before. You have such enormous stamina. And a size to match."

They both laughed at her impromptu and likely unintentional humor.

Tracy said, "Have you never been told that?"

"What?"

"That you have an exceptionally large . . ." she got embarrassed and giggled like a schoolgirl. Apparently she couldn't bring herself to say dick or cock or prick so she reached over and touched his to indicate what she meant. Tracy stood there caressing it for a minute, like some new prized possession of hers. Then she squatted down and placed an affectionate little kiss on the helmet at the end of his length.

Despite her bossiness and flagrant disregard for other people's feelings, Kane thought, he could really get to like her. If he let himself, not that he'd allow it. The Sheikh doubtless already had a buyer for her.

He wondered then about Tracy, and other women, his employer sent him back in time for via a mystical process that Kane had never understood. On this occasion the Sheikh sent him back over 160 years. How could he set Kane down in a bygone era with a pinpoint accuracy a parachutist would envy? The Civil War would begin in a mere eight weeks. Colonel Somerset and many others had to know what lay ahead for this country. Did Tracy care? Not likely. How had the Sheikh learned about her? And the others? Stacy O'Bannon. Rachel Roman. Boy, had she been a dandy little wriggler! Maybe the wily Sheikh had a collection of daguerreotypes stashed away somewhere to alert him of the existence of these beautiful young ladies. Kane knew better than to question the Arabian about such matters, always finding it prudent to keep a stiff upper lip around the old boy.

Tracy disturbed his reverie by asking what time it was.

Kane wondered himself and consulted his pocket watch. Earlier than he thought, a little past ten. The riverboat would steam into the harbor in New Orleans between six or seven o'clock the next morning. Kane hoped not to be aboard this old tub then. That fucking bodyguard of Tracy's had been the stickiest wicket he'd ever run across in the past or present.

"Nick? Are you daydreaming?"

"Things on my mind," he snorted. "It's five after ten."

"It's time we should be getting back." Tracy reached for her soiled and rumpled dress.

Kane stopped her and reached inside the velvet frockcoat he'd discarded over an arm of the sofa sometime earlier in the festivities, possibly when she'd knelt before him the first time. While he'd buggered her he'd undone his sweltering cravat too, putting the knob to Tracy proved to be a sweaty business. He found the chrome pair of handcuffs in his coat, showed them to her.

"Ever seen anything like these?" he asked her. He rather doubted it; he'd brought them with him from the 21st century, in addition to a few other choice items in the trunk.

"They look like some of the slave bracelets daddy has on the plantation. What are they?"

"Let me show you. Turn around."

"I really think I should get dressed."

"And I really think you ought to turn around like I said."

The girl almost argued but saw the uselessness of that in Kane's face.

He swung her around and fastened her wrists together behind her with such alacrity that at first she more than likely didn't know just what he'd done to her. Those excellent breasts heaved with Kane's sudden exertions, the nipples hard and pointing upward.

"What are you doing, darling? I need to go now, really."

"You're not going anywhere," he informed her. Not yet anyway.

"Are you going to fuck me again," she asked.

"In a manner of speaking, yes," he said, knowing his wicked smile was back on his face. "Get down on your knees, you devious little scrubber."

She complied immediately, by now she knew better than to do otherwise. He brushed the head of his prick across her lips.

"This is kind of exciting. Do you want me to suck you off again?"

He just nodded and Tracy went to work fellating him until her eyes watered. Halfway through the proceedings she commented on how arousing she found it to be helpless kneeling before him telling her what to do. Kane thrust back into her mouth and forced himself all the way down her throat a couple of times. She gagged and spit up on the deck, her tits juddering as she coughed. Kane got down on his haunches, placed an exploratory hand between her legs.

He said, "You're so perpetually wet I'm shocked you're not dehydrated."

"What does that mean . . . oww!" she screeched when he assisted her standing up by pulling at her hair.

"Lie on your belly on the arm of the couch. Move, girl, when I tell you to do something!"

He smacked her smartly with a bare hand to rush her along. Sprawled forward over the scrolled side of the sofa with her ass in the air she looked vulnerable and saucy. Kane felt compelled to sink his wakened hard-on into her one last time before administering some well deserved punishment. He fucked her very hard then, her ass flesh jiggling all over the place with each vengeful lunge. Tracy was unable to do anything except exclaim loudly with every powerful stroke.

"Oh. Oh. Oh. OHH!"

"Are you coming again, Tracy?"

"Yes. Oh. Yes!"

Kane removed his hardness from her pussy to seek an alternate route. When he pulled out of her her cunt slurped and emitted a farting noise. He grinned at the sound as he began plumbing the depths of her behind again. Tracy's bottom received quite a workout the second time around. Kane's senses exploded like fireworks after a ballgame when he came for the third unprecedented time that night. He pulled out of her bottom and tore off his frilly shirt and cummerbund. Tracy's purse full of the Sheikh's money had gotten wedged between two couch cushions while they'd been playing. He picked it up, tossed it a foot up in the air and caught it, snickering.

"You didn't think you were going to get away with my money, did you, sweetheart?"

Speechless and handcuffed, Tracy watched him, unable to move much.

When procuring the key to this compartment for the princely sum of five dollars from a deck hand that afternoon (with many assurances from the old boatswain no one ever entered this area while the steamship was underway) he'd placed his trunk of belongings inside. Kane strode over to it and tucked Tracy's handbag among them before selecting a supple riding crop he'd purchased in Cairo last month. He'd yet to test it out on a filly, but tonight would be the night he broke the crop in.

No longer speechless, the bound and naked girl lying over the arm of the couch demanded, "Give me back my money, you thief!"

"Thief?" he sneered. "You've got a lot of room to talk, love. I must admit you were well worth three hundred dollars. But I don't like to pay women for their favors." He held the riding crop up for her to see and cut the air with it experimentally. The crop made a fearful swooshing noise. "But you, young lady, you're going to pay for cheating me. And dearly."

"Nick, what is that?" she asked.

He didn't answer. She rode horses and knew damn well what it was.

"What are you going to do to me?"

Kane chuckled. "Allow me to demonstrate."

The horrified nude girl endeavored unsuccessfully to get to her feet and swore like a sailor in Nelson's Navy. Kane stepped behind her holding the leather switch like a sword. And for the next quarter hour Tracy's backside had a very bad time of it. Stripe after stripe appeared on her buttocks and the backs of her thighs. The bare handed paddling Tracy received before seemed like a game of patty cake compared to the thrashing of the riding crop.

That mysterious smell of fish returned, poignant and invigorating in the close quarters of the compartment. Apparently the switching caused Tracy to come harder than while frolicking with Kane, but he cared not a jot. He was quite enjoying himself too. A professional like he could've drawn blood with every slash had he desired, but stinging the self important girl's bottom repeatedly and seeing her flinch was good enough for Kane. Kane was his name and cane was his game.

Smack, smack, SMACK!

During the tanning of Tracy he paused once to cram his cravat into her mouth to squelch her panicked outcries. She'd become vocal enough to be heard even over the noise of the paddlewheel. But after the short pause to gag the hapless maiden he continued lashing her like an angry schoolmaster with a recalcitrant female pupil who refused to learn her lessons. Once he had Tracy's ass in the state he wanted it in, he stowed the riding crop back inside his trunk. Afterwards he stripped off his boots and jodhpurs and lay down on the couch with Tracy astride his loins. He exhorted her to bounce up and down on his stiffness so he could enjoy the wobbling of that pair of breasts he'd become so enamored of over the last few hours.

Never in his life had a girl given him as thorough and satisfying ride as Tracy gave him on the old sofa. She came so many times he thought she might faint, but the girl was a real trooper, carrying on in an admirable fashion right up to the very end. The finish left his pelvic region so slick it appeared as if someone dumped a pail of water over him. He left Tracy prostrate on the couch and, to her chagrin, swabbed her abundant passion off him with her expensive silk gown before flinging it away from him onto the deck. She'd never be wearing it again.

After another consultation of his pocket watch he saw over a half hour remained until midnight. He unlocked one of the cuffs confining Tracy's wrists then secured her hands in front of her. He got dressed and hustled her over to the barrels across from the marine tools on the bulkhead. Kane kicked one over on its side, made Tracy lie facedown over it. She steadied herself with the palms of her hands flat on the deck to keep the barrel from rolling her over.

Tracy Somerset was so exhausted she didn't move a muscle while he delved inside his trunk again. This time Kane selected a wooden paddle to blister her ass with. She groaned when she saw it.

"Next time you'll think twice before shooting dice," Kane intoned. "Hey, that rhymed!"

Tracy failed to appreciate his droll humor.

He deemed it necessary to use a ball gag this time round, also from his trusty steamer trunk. While spanking her he enjoyed in the way her lovely bottom leapt with each crack of the board, wildly clenching and unclenching as she received another two or three dozen (Kane lost count) tidy whacks. At long last he put away the paddle in the trunk and tied Tracy's ankles together with some leather restraints he'd had the foresight to bring. Then Kane lifted her onto the couch. No doubt she tasted tears trying to curse him with the ball gag in place. She acted like she felt very sorry for herself.

Just before midnight he stepped out on the deck to reconnoiter. The night had grown cooler and the mist produced by the rackety paddlewheel felt refreshing against his skin. Relief settled in when he saw no one in sight, but had his derringer in hand just in case. Lee might be foraging about somewhere but, for the time being, the big sergeant was nowhere to be seen. On the starboard side of the riverboat a fishing vessel floated up alongside. Right on schedule. Kane peered over the railing and his friend Peyt waved up at him from the deck of the smaller craft.

Gadsby Peyton, a muscular black man clad only in a pair of dungarees, hollered up at him, "You got some cargo for me to take aboard, Mister Nick?"

Kane said he did. Back in the cabin he hauled a rope ladder from the trunk before fastening it shut. He carried both out on the deck, held the trunk out over the rail and let it go over the side. The trunk bounced once when it landed in a large fishing net Peyt had strung across a portion of the aft deck of his craft. Kane hitched the rope ladder to the riverboat's rail and let it unwind down the side of the ship. The ends of it dragged in the water because there wasn't much of a drop. Throwing a trunk over the side was one thing, but he didn't want to break Tracy's neck dropping her a few feet regardless of how much netting Peyt had strung up. Back in the cabin he slung the dazed girl over his shoulder in a fireman's carry. Clambering down the moving ladder with Tracy was a brief, but precarious affair. He transferred the girl into Peyt's waiting arms and hopped onto the deck of his boat. Kane shook his hand and thanked him for being on time.

Peyt eyed the fettered and terrified naked girl and whistled.

"Is that as fine a piece of ass as it looks, Mister Nick?"

"You can find out for yourself just as soon as you get us the hell away from here."

Tracy's eyes went wide at his statement however the ball gag prevented her protests from being heard. A southern belle wouldn't fancy a black man.

Peyt's laugh boomed out across the water. "Welcome aboard, ma'am." Tracy averted her eyes and Peyt laughed again. "Well then, Mister Nick, I guess we'd best get the hell away from here."

"The sooner we shove off the better, I'd say, Peyt. The lady's got one helluva nasty watchdog on board that ship sniffing around for her."

Peyt gave Kane a mock salute.

"Aye aye, cap'n." He leered at Tracy. He picked the girl up like she weighed nothing and scuttled to the wheelhouse as fast as his legs would carry him.

Kane started to follow except for an uncharacteristic noise behind Peyt's boat. From where he stood the paddlewheel still roared sending a spray up in the air. What the devil had he heard? No fish flopping around in the river could be heard on the deck of Peyt's craft. His eyes crinkled around the edges as they swept the moonlit water, rippling like ink shot with silver. Kane must be imagining things; turned to fetch his trunk when a large hand clawed at the gunwale less than eight feet from him. A second hand seized the gunwale and a giant form hauled itself out of the river and almost onto the deck of the fishing boat. Water erupted around the figure like an explosion as he emerged, streaming down his clothes. In the moonlight Lee's drenched gray uniform appeared black.

Bloody hell, Kane had time to think as the big man scrambled nimbly onto the deck in front of him. The bastard obviously witnessed their departure and instead of shouting some worthless doggerel like "stop" thereby warning Kane, the tricky bastard had dived off the steamship to launch a silent attack on Peyt's boat. Kane panicked then, he was a lover not a fighter, a coward at best. And now the stickiest wicket he'd ever encountered (excluding policemen) stood a yard away from him ready to pounce.

The oversized sergeant would crush him.

Kane's smooth getaway hadn't gone so smoothly.

He didn't have the presence of mind to shout out Peyt's name. The gun in his coat pocket was forgotten in his haste and fear. Lee made no sound as he lunged at Kane, eyes swimming with hatred. Kane twisted out of the enormous man's clutch and attempted to run for the wheelhouse but his foot tripped on a cleat in the deck tumbling him into the netting Peyt partially rigged across the aft deck to aid in the lowering of Tracy. Luck sided with Kane somehow. Within reach he saw a fisherman's gaff, a harpoon-like instrument used for snaring nets out of the water and spearing fish. The long wooden handle fit inside a hollow steel tip with a barbed hook pointed straight like an arrow on its end. A second hook angled in a curve like a comma. Kane grasped it to stab at Lee. The sergeant grasped it in his fist but cut himself badly in the process and let go. Kane jabbed it into Lee, felt the point go through clothing and puncture the hide of his assailant's chest before striking bone. Lee got both hands around the handle and yanked it out of his body and wrenched it away from Kane. Blood jetted from the grievous wound and Lee's hand bled profusely, dripping red onto the deck in ragged splotches. The man uttered not a sound and swung the wooden end of the gaff like a bat. Kane took a glancing blow on his upper left arm, had it properly connected Lee would've broken the bone. He hurled the gaff out into the river and charged Kane. In his headlong rush he got his hands around Kane's neck and the two men toppled over the side and into the water. Before going overboard Kane had reached into his pocket after finally remembering the derringer. He fumbled with it as he sank into the freezing depths of the Mississippi, not knowing if it made any difference now.

Those ham-like hands of Lee's were choking him to death.

The only instinct instilled in human beings stronger than the sex drive is that of survival. He kicked at Lee underwater and tried to gouge the chap's eyes out with his left hand, all the while concentrating on readying the little pistol to fire. Had the derringer originated from the Old West and not been of modern manufacture Kane knew the gunpowder would be wet and useless. Though he might manage to the pull the trigger, the gun wouldn't have fired. With the breath almost choked out of him, he struggled to get the pistol out of his pocket, not wanting to shoot a small caliber bullet through his clothing and reduce its effectiveness. Near death, Kane surprised himself thinking with such clarity.

There! He had the damn thing outside his coat, rammed it against Lee's left side under his armpit and fired. He heard a muffled discharge in the deep water and Lee's hands immediately left his throat. Kane fought his way to the surface, gasping for air. When Lee's head broke the water Kane already had the pistol in a firing position. He slammed the muzzle into the sergeant's left eye, praying the gun would fire a second time and pulled the trigger. The bullet blew brains and viscera out the back of Lee's head and his corpse sunk out of sight in the river.

Never letting go of the lifesaving pistol, Kane retched and vomited. He spat two or three times hearing shouting from the riverboat, and from Peyt's. Kane swam furiously toward it; even though the night was warm the water was ice cold. He'd done some terribly dirty deeds in his lifetime but he'd never killed a man. Fuck it, he'd worry about that later if he worried at all.

Peyt bellowed, "Mister Nick, Mister Nick, what the hell happened?"

"Get me aboard and let's flee the scene, man," Kane cried out to him, the taste of vomit still in his mouth. He refused to rinse it out with water from this dirty river.

Peyt grabbed hold of Kane's outstretched arm. Grunting and cursing he hoisted him out of the water and up the side of his boat. A blessed moment later Kane lurched across the deck, coughing and sputtering. Peyt raced to the wheelhouse. What a bleeding nuisance the Confederate sergeant wound up being, from the moment he'd laid a hand on his shoulder at the crap table until he left off wringing his neck. Certainly there'd be no tears of mourning shed for the dead man, not from Kane anyway. He never doubted he'd lose a minute's sleep over pulling the trigger on Lee.

But he did harbor doubts about continuing to toil for the Sheikh, and not for the first time. What was he on about anyway? He owed the Sheikh. If not for him Kane would be rotting in a prison cell getting the stuffing beat out of him daily by the other prisoners once they learned about the piano incident. Yes, his piano playing days were forever behind him. The Arabian had saved his life, got him away from the law in Kane's hour of need. Yes, Kane was in debt to the slaver. Besides, the Sheikh had made him a very rich man, wealthy beyond his wildest dreams. Far richer than teaching the piano ever would've made him. And Kane got to dally with some of the most beautiful and randy young women who'd drawn a breath in the past several generations. He always had been a good looking man and never had had a problem pulling birds, long before the Sheikh introduced himself to Kane. His getting laid increased a hundredfold once he began working for the man. Rich, and getting more pussy than a popular actor, athlete or rock star.

Life was good. How long would it stay that way? No amount of money could keep him out of jail after all the crimes he'd committed, the lust and love of a thousand women would not be worth the abuse he'd endure if he spent the rest of his days behind bars. But in the fullness of time the law would catch up with him again and the courts incarcerate him. Or drop a noose around his neck. Such was Kane's cross to bear, the black cloud overhead following him, the albatross clinging to his back.

He watched the riverboat for long minutes, thinking.

The old tub began making a wide slow turn as if to reverse its course and pursue them, but would never catch up with Peyt's trustworthy vessel. It might appear to be a weathered fishing boat but Kane knew about the dual inboard engines that even now left the steamship far behind. Praise God that Peyt hadn't sped away and left him adrift. He reached for a cheroot but his dunking in the Mississippi River ruined them. Oh well, he had more in his trunk. His pocket watch and derringer might suffer water damage and stop functioning, but they'd become cherished keepsakes now. The watch represented the time he traveled through performing dangerous missions, and the derringer saved his life. When all was said and done at the end of the day Kane knew in his heart of hearts he loved the life he led. Working for the Sheikh paid well and contained more fringe benefits than being a Royal. He must put his scruples behind him, now wasn't the time to have a crisis of conscience. Regardless of what fate, or tomorrow, might bring.

Already Peyt's boat entered into a thick fog or mist and not the spray from the paddlewheeler either. That barge was a mile to the south, a few floating specks of light on the water. Kane let out a bark of laughter. Life was good! And he'd continue living it to the fullest.

At least until a man like Lee murdered him or some law enforcement agency jailed him.

He shrugged out of his cold wet clothes, draped them over the net so they could dry. Not that it mattered; he'd never wear them again. He opened his trunk, found a towel to scour himself dry with then got some cigars. He lit one and slipped on a pair of dry trousers. As an afterthought he selected a dress shirt from among the clothes he'd brought, but didn't don it. Then he staggered into the wheelhouse. Peyt manned the wheel, the twin engines hummed and Tracy crouched in a corner crying. Peyt glanced at him with a question in his eyes, Kane nodded back at him indicating he'd survive. He unlocked the handcuffs on Tracy's wrists and set them aside before undoing the restraints around her ankles. The ball gag he removed last knowing once the girl could speak she'd unleash a torrent of questions.

She did.

"What's going on, Nick? Where are you taking me? Where were you, darling? What's happening outside?"

"Quiet down, Tracy, everything's going to be jim dandy."

She put her arms around him and whimpered, "I want to go home."

"I know you do, but you can't. Not right now anyway."

"When?"

"Not right now I said. Maybe one of these days," he lied.

"Why can't I go now?"

"A bad war's coming, it's only weeks away. I'm taking you to a safe place. You won't be killed there." Spanked and screwed perhaps, but not killed.

"I know a war is coming, Nick, everybody knows it, but I want to go home now. Why won't to you let me?"

He didn't answer her but said, "Here, put this shirt on and cover up. You'll get a nice hot bath in a few hours and feel better."

She slipped into the shirt and hugged it around her before buttoning it up. The shirttails hung almost to her knees. "Why is your hair wet, Nick? Where are your other clothes? Were you swimming in the river?"

"I got in a fight."

"Out here? With who?"

"Who do you think? With Lee."

"Where is Lee?" she asked anxiously. "Is he outside?"

She stepped quickly to the door and out on deck to look for him. Kane trailed behind her, leaned against the wheelhouse and smoked, not saying anything. He let her wander around the boat but never let her out of his sight. The stupid chit might jump overboard to try to swim to the shore and he'd be damned if he was going back into that water.

After searching in vain for her bodyguard she came back to Kane and laced her arms around him. "Where is Lee?"

"He dove into the river to follow you and came aboard. We fought. In the water."

"Did you kill him?"

"I don't know," he lied again. "But I got away, left him behind."

"Did you shoot him?"

"Didn't I tell you before that little two shoot gun of mine wouldn't kill him?"

"You did shoot him, didn't you? Is he dead?"

"Just wounded I think. He was trying to drown me. Look, sweetheart, let's go back inside."

She acted like she hadn't heard, glanced around her at the gathering fog. "Where did this cloud come from? Where are we?"

"Still on the river. We'll be getting on another boat shortly."

"Another boat," she idly, looking around her again. "This boat is moving faster than any boat I've ever been on."

Kane thought, wait till you ride in the Sheikh's Cantius 560 cabin cruiser. He'd taken many rides aboard many luxury boats the Sheikh owned and kept moored around the world, always in the company of some worried young lady he'd just whipped then abducted, like Tracy Somerset. The latest name on his list.

The girl said, "I've never experienced a fog like this either."

Kane experienced the mysterious cloud on numerous occasions.

According to the Sheikh, it was one of the portals in which he passed through a hole in the skein of Time. If Kane didn't understand the mystery of it, neither would the girl. He wouldn't have tried to explain even if he could, he just stood there smoking and let the girl talk. Finally she wanted to get in out of the chilly night air. In the wheelhouse later the two of them laid down on the lone bunk. Tracy fell asleep within seconds and he drew a blanket over her then joined Peyt at the helm. They'd rendezvous with the Cantius in half an hour or so. When they exited the mystical fog they'd still be on the Mississippi River.

Except in the year 2012, not 1861.

~~~

The Somerset mission wound down like others of its kind. During the night Peyt and Kane transferred Tracy aboard the cabin cruiser without waking her. Kane would clean the girl up, start her on a diet of homegrown fruit and vegetables. Women from the past got ill and became malnourished eating food treated with modern day chemicals. One needed to adjust them in stages. From there Kane would guide them gently through the culture shock of mega cities, televisions, airplanes and automobiles. He always made love to them frequently during this period, reassuring them with kind words and encouragement yet still maintaining a steady discipline of canes, paddles and straps.

Tracy's first morning in another age found her awakening in the luxurious bed inside the master suite of the Cantius. She stretched and yawned on the silk sheets. Kane got a giggle as he watched her discover her new opulent surroundings and answered her endless questions. He took her into the master head and although he'd already cleaned up when he came aboard he joined her in the shower and lovingly bathed her. She in turn soaped him down too, paying special attention to his very hard prick. He gave her wet behind a few playful smacks before handing her a terrycloth bathsheet to towel dry with. She squealed with delight when he dressed her in a white satin teddy with matching thong. He carried her like a newlywed bride back into the bedroom suite and dumped her on the bed and crawled in after her. He summoned Peyt to bring them a breakfast of pineapple, honeydew melon, grapes and strawberries with cream using a telephone. Tracy oohed and ahhed over that modern device as well.

Kane made her suck his dick while they waited for Peyt to arrive. She went about her chore with as much eagerness and enthusiasm as she had aboard the riverboat. She removed his saliva slick member from her mouth once to ask, "Did you mean what you said last night, darling?"

"I've meant everything I've ever said to you, Tracy."

"Even the part about your friend?"

"You mean Peyt?"

She nodded unsurely then applied a series of kisses up and down Kane's erection for a few seconds before asking, "I mean the part about you saying for him to 'find out for himself?'" Her breasts worked themselves free of the low cut teddy and she'd not bothered tucking them away.

"Of course," he said, cupping a hand between her legs. She'd gotten her new panties all wet; the string in the back left most of her asshole visible.

At the start of their conversation Peyt glided silently into the suite with a covered silver service dish in his hands. He stood there beaming, eyes on Tracy's exposed bottom. She had her ass in the air and face in Kane's lap when they'd begun talking.

Unaware of the black man's presence she confided to Kane, "But he's a big sweaty nigra, darling. You wouldn't want to soil me by letting a nigra use me, would you?"

"You're a prejudiced rebel's daughter, Tracy. You've entered a new life in a new world and things have changed." Kane smiled hugely and pushed her head back down so she could continue giving him a blowjob. He waited while she slurped away wetly for a moment then said to the grinning black man, "Go ahead and tell her things have changed since the Confederacy lost the war, Peyt."

He laughed. "Oh, they's changed alright."

Tracy's mouth came off Kane's cock as she brought her head up quickly. "Oh, my God, Nick, why didn't you say he was standing right there?"

"I wanted him to hear you say it."

He put both hands on the top of her head to make her resume sucking him off. When she finished a white string of come hung from one corner of her mouth. Then Kane forced the ex-southern belle to give Peyt's long thick upstanding penis the same treatment. Peyt groaned and sighed as the girl's mouth made love to him. When he came he shot a prodigious amount of sperm on her tongue. Tracy wanted to spit out the black man's white sauce but Kane's stern gaze told her she'd better swallow her pride and all of what filled her mouth. He thought she might vomit when she gulped it down; she made the cutest face of disgust. Kane got hard as petrified wood watching her touching performance and brilliant finale.

He told Peyt, "I think you might want to take her in the head and help her clean up in private before she eats her breakfast."

Tracy features turned ashen and she looked aghast.

Peyt said, "I don't think she's got much of an appetite after all me and you've done fed her, Mister Nick."

Kane lifted the lid of the silver service and surveyed the chilled viands. "I'm famished. I'll be able to tuck all this away if she can't." He bit into a strawberry. "Go ahead, Peyt, take her in there and show her what being a modern day nigra means to a white woman."

Kane's friend grinned. "Aye aye, cap'n, if you insist."

Then the black man marched Tracy into the toilet and closed the door behind them. While Kane enjoyed the fruit tray he overheard scraps of talk coming from the head. ". . . now get those panties off, white girl . . . don't sass me, bitch . . . I'll skin your fat ass good . . ."

Kane listened to the sound of Peyt sodomizing the girl before he spanked her with his belt. Tracy's protests fell on deaf ears as smacks of leather fell on soft flesh. Kane lit a cheroot after his breakfast. He had a little time.