Date: Tue, 16 Jan 2001 21:20:59 -0800 (PST) From: Glenda Goodwitch Subject: The Desires of Rebecca-Ch. 2 The Desires of Rebecca by Olivia M. Ravensworth Chapter 2 My heaven suddenly turned to a hell as a whip cracked resoundingly, and flaming pain seared across my naked back. Screaming mindlessly in shock and terror, I flung my quivering body off of my darling Elsie and the damp picnic blanket-and found myself staring up into the maddened eyes of Elsie's red-faced father! We tried to hide our nakedness as best we could, but we had only scraps of clothing and the blanket, which tangled and seemed far too short to hide our quaking bodies. We struggled unsuccessfully to cover ourselves, but it was all too clear that there was no appeasing the man. He was deathly silent in the face of our frantic motions. His mouth worked uncontrollably, yet for a moment no words came. An engorged, ropy vein throbbed visibly at his sweating temple, and the horsewhip in his fist trembled in barely controlled hate as his steed, perhaps scenting his rider's dangerous fury, shifted its weight uneasily. Elsie's father could not have followed us purposely, I realized numbly, but must have stumbled upon our lovemaking during a far-ranging morning ride. Yet it made little difference-for he was here. Oh, we were lost, lost! Though I knew within my heart of hearts that what my Elsie and I had done was not wrong, I knew just as instinctively that no man ever would find it right. For other women, perhaps, the embrace of one of those hairy, sweating male beasts was to be not merely endured but actually enjoyed-but not for me. I knew little of the ways of men, yet wanted to know less. Their swaggering gait and grossly oversized muscles, their great booming voices, their coarse faces either messily stubbled or greasily bearded-all of these things filled me with disgust. What they might think of me or my natural desires interested me not one whit. I had tasted of the love of a clean-limbed girl, and found it right and, to me, natural. Yet arrayed against our innocent girlish passions, I knew, was the whole of English society. We would be outcast, cruelly scorned. "Whore!" shrieked Elsie's father finally. His breath came out savagely, and he filled his lungs again in a heaving gulp. "Filthy bawd! Luring my daughter into thy wicked ways! Ruining her!" He raised his whip hand once more. "No, Father, no!" exclaimed Elsie. She tried to move to shield me with her naked body. Her bosom heaved with heartfelt emotion, and I could smell her delightful femininity. Even then I wanted to take her in my arms once more, to touch her, and to taste her .... But the cruel lash cracked down again, cutting a burning trough in the white flesh of my shoulder. Where the skin had been suddenly laid open, a gleaming line of dark blood began to ooze forth. Dizzily I struggled to gather up my clothing and wretchedly tried to hide myself from his terrible gaze, vengeful and-and something else which at first I was too naive to recognize. He would have whipped me to death if he could, so enraged was he. Yet behind the sickening hate of his glazed eyes I began to sense a strong undercurrent of forbidden desire. I stared uncomprehendingly at the rigid bulge in the front of his trousers. Could it be...? Yes, I saw disgustedly, it was. Powerful emotions seemed to fight against each other behind his reddened eyes. No matter how he wished to punish me, the overwhelming urge to have his way with my nubile young body was clear in his face. I gagged at the realization. Suddenly I saw myself as he must have-naked and available, flushed with passion-and I knew the danger I was in. It was only the presence of young Elsie that kept him from pinning me to the ground and ramming his straining manhood into my helpless little cunny. If he sent his daughter back to the house and was left alone with me... I shuddered convulsively. He raised the whip again, and I sprang to my feet with an inadequate armful of clothing-no petticoats at all, no stockings, or even shoes. I pivoted and at the same instant heard a tremendous crack so sharp and resounding that I felt it with my ears like a solid blow. For a stunned moment there was no other sensation, but when I looked down I saw blankly that the whip had bit savagely into the bare flesh of my hip. Too stunned even to cry out, I stared at the wound in shocked disbelief. My brain reeled. Yet as my gaze traveled slowly up the hulking form of my tormentor, I glimpsed the bloated shape of his manhood straining beneath his clothing. There was a terrifying, animalistic gleam in his bloodshot eyes. Instinctively I ran, gasping, for the woods. Hoof beats splashed out of the stream and thudded rapidly as he spurred his horse angrily out of the water and toward the trees. For a moment I feared he would dismount and follow on foot-but then his fatherly instincts overwhelmed his revoltingly mingled hatred and lust. I realized he was returning to his weeping Elsie. No doubt he imagined I had ruined her somehow, and he stayed, thinking-the male fool-to comfort her. The undergrowth scratched at my naked body, and soon my bare feet were sore and bloodied, but still I dared not stop running. Never could I go back, never! Of that I was bitterly certain. After this my father, the vicar, could not have me in his house. I would be sent away somewhere, I supposed. Never again would I see my home ...or my sweet Elsie. Tears streamed down my wretched face. I ran and ran. Rough branches snatched cruelly at my naked hips and belly, my shoulders and arms. Thinking despairingly of my Elsie, I cried aloud, sobbing as I crashed through the undergrowth, heedless of everything but the tormenting emptiness within my soul, the maelstrom of physical and emotional pain which drove me onward. And all the while my nipples, erect and throbbing, burned from the unnoticed scratching of twigs, sending a mocking tingle to the hungry pit of my bare, sweating belly. In agony I ran on and on. I was falling with each step, it seemed, falling forward yet somehow still just remaining upon my running legs. My dizzy head seemed far, far ahead of my bloodied feet, and my ears rang with the deafening silence. Everything was gray and dark, shadowy, far away .... Finally I simply collapsed, falling facedown into the loamy earth of the forest floor. The shamefully meager handful of clothing fluttered out ahead of me. My right arm was flung out over my head, and my left was pinned beneath my body. My legs were carelessly splayed, but I made no attempt to move. I was exhausted, and, for the moment at least, far beyond any pursuit I lay there helplessly, gasping for breath O Elsie! Elsie! my mind sobbed silently. Now I had no home, no parents-and no Elsie! Bitterly I cursed her father. He had no right, I raved, no right! He had intruded and thoughtlessly trampled our innocent joys. The terrible, lustful brute! I clung despairingly to the thought of my dear, lost Elsie. To think that but a few moments before, her body had touched mine.... Just moments, yet it might just as well have been a chasm of decades, for never again, I knew, never again could I see her. Never to touch her, to stroke her, to taste her, to feel her sly fingertips upon my ready flesh, both virginal and whorish... Despite my tears, my hungry body throbbed in remembrance. I shrugged my aching shoulders about feebly, and as my erect nipples rubbed against a length of tree root protruding from the earth, I felt a betraying quiver of delight run down to my crotch. Sighing, I repeated the motion, more purposefully. For a moment I lay there, writhing. Yet all too soon it was clear that I needed something more. There was a familiar hunger below my belly, yet my exhaustion was nearly complete. I could scarcely move, certainly could not even roll over. Still, my flesh ached with nameless desires. My left arm was trapped beneath me, and though I lacked the strength to rise, I struggled to push my awkward hand farther down my belly. My fingers touched sweat-matted blonde curls and instinctively reached farther. Sobbing, I hooked my middle finger at the top of my open cunt and slowly began to comfort myself. I was sticky and wet there, and when I raised my haunches I could smell myself on the breeze, a musky scent of pure womanhood. Though the salty wet odor of my naked flesh was arousing-deliriously so-it made me feel cold and lonely as well. Elsie, I remembered in despair, had made me smell like that. Elsie had touched me there, shamelessly, with her hands and with her mouth, had made me wet and slippery inside. I breathed deeply, rubbing my fingertips wistfully over sodden velvety pink flesh. Though my heart still ached fiercely with the loss of my friend, the honeyed sensation below my fluttering belly helped to assuage the hunger which consumed me. I touched myself, rhythmically, as I had done to my Elsie-as she had done to me. Drawing moist fingertips about the trembling bud nestled within the fragrant pink petals of the open flower of my womanhood, I tried to make myself feel as I had with Elsie. A quiet, lonely joy slowly began to rise up from beneath my taut belly. Soon I found myself writhing, naked on the bare earth of the damp forest floor, the motion of my shoulders rubbing my thickened nipples against the great tree root beneath my chest. The bark was rough, but it grew softer as my heaving young bosom massaged into it the moisture of the rich loam. I craved the sensation. Though I knew the crude self-stimulation might leave me sore, right then the ache in my heart was a greater pang. Perhaps I would pay for this fleeting, piquant labor of pleasure later, yet still I dared not ignore the ravenous appetite of my loins. As I thrust the tender dark peaks of my creamy white breasts against the coarse root, it was as though I were making love not only to myself but to the whole of Nature. The ancient oak before which I prostrated myself shamelessly in pleasure extended to the heavens, yet it also remained anchored deep in the living earth. In its lifetimes of inexorable growth, the great tree had twined its tapering rootlets ever deeper-and ever wider-into the nourishing soil, while its heavy trunk had pushed rustling, spreading leaves ever farther into the sweet breezes of the sun-warmed sky. A welcome fire spread from my pale, rose-nippled mounds to my sweating belly, and I felt that I, too, was like that tremendous matriarchal growth, anchored firmly in-and reaching hungrily into-both earth and sky. My natural lusts united me with the wild passions of the untamed world. Writhing, I slowly pulled my right hand, which had been flung out in front of me in my fall, back toward my face. It still smelled deliciously of my lost Elsie's cunny, and for a moment it was as if nothing had interrupted our bliss. 1 shuddered and inhaled deeply of the fragrance of her body. Gently I traced my musky fingertips about my dilated nostrils, the sensitive skin of my lips. It smelled so good. Bitter tears rolled down my flushed cheeks as my salivating mouth opened, seemingly of its own volition, and I began to lick the traces of Elsie's savory juices from my tapering white fingers. Dirty though it was, that simple act helped to comfort me. The taste-the tangy, intimate taste of another girl's body-pooled on the back of my tongue. It was exquisite-and right, somehow. I nursed hungrily at my sticky fingertips, the heavenly flavor filling my panting lungs. My nipples burned. I groveled joyously, naked on the forest floor as I masturbated myself. Had any other soul been able to creep up behind me and spy upon me in those most private of moments, I would have been quite a sight. My portals of Venus were swollen and open, smelly with the bittersweet warmth of my unfulfilled love. My questing fingers drew blissful circles about the hidden nubbin of delight they found trembling in a nest of matted blonde curls. Despite the pain in my heart, the pleasure between my spread thighs was such that I could not help gasping aloud. On and on I prodded myself, heart pounding wildly beneath supple breasts whose tender nipples I ground roughly against the unyielding root of the great oak I was alone, lost and alone-but, sobbing both in sorrow and in joy, I reveled in my aloneness. Despite the cruelties of fortune and the vicissitudes of a treacherous and disapproving society I could not be denied my rightful, natural pleasures. I realized it all at once, exulting. Heady sensations throbbed at the spasming core of my very being, spreading like waves through my shaking limbs. My fingertips tingled. Yes, I sensed, nearly swooning in delight, there was no shame in relying upon myself. Indeed, such self-reliance-nay, self-love-was necessarily a noble virtue. Mine eyes rolled up in heavy lids, stung by tears of pride. I quivered upon the brink of a sumptuous climax, yet my hand slowed not. Onward I rushed, onward! Facedown on the forest floor, I shamelessly spread my spasming netherlips with the thumb and third finger of my awkward left hand. With my bunched index and middle fingers I stroked frenziedly at a slippery bud of naked pink, while my heaving shoulders thrust the ravaged rosebuds of my pale breasts against the rough bark of the pleasuring tree root. The musky taste of Elsie's sweet honey pot delighted my watering mouth. My reckless joys mounted higher, higher. Indescribably sweet sensations spread, seeping from the center of my very being, trembling in my belly, reverberating up and down my sweating limbs. Those nameless blisses throbbed in the swollen tips of my breasts and coiled about a tongue which sucked hungrily at an ersatz femininity. My cunt was flooded with fragrant liquid, but I minded not-nay, indeed, my naughty digits reveled in the squelching, nectared mess! Mine own juices ran in dripping rivulets down my wrist. I screamed in unendurable ecstasy, on and on, as the slow-building culmination of my desires pulsed through my veins and glowed hotly behind my beatifically closed eyelids. My previous climax, bittersweet in its woeful brevity, had been wretchedly interrupted. Yet this sweet death, mercifully, knew no obstacles. My joy seemed to course ever onward, endlessly.... I hurried away from the only life I had ever known, walking barefoot through the slowly darkening forest, hour after hour. I was desolate, lonely beyond belief but I had to escape, had to get farther away before my father could begin searching for me. Having retained no shoes, or undergarments, or bonnet, I had clothed myself in my dress as best I could. Beneath my clothing I felt pleasantly bare. I confess I had no plan in mind, no goal. Perhaps I thought I might live all alone on the empty countryside, eating berries and nuts, hiding whenever any other wandering human chanced to come near. Probably I was thinking of some half-remembered fairy tales. Certainly I knew nothing of taking care of myself in the wild, nothing even of what plants might be eaten and what might not. At the time I thought only of the pursuit which I knew must follow. I dared not be caught. At length, sobbing, I heard the soothing sound of running, splashing water-a small waterfall, it seemed, somewhere nearby. I had lost the stream hours ago, and I was thirsty, and dirty as well. I stumbled toward the refreshing sound. Vines and coarse shrubs blocked me, but I pushed onward. Closer I came, and closer. Finally I caught a glimpse of sparkling water through the obscuring tree trunks. My mouth felt wretchedly dry, my tongue thick. Water tumbled off a rocky little ridge, falling five or six feet to splash noisily into a pool secluded by the trees which grew right up to the stream's pebbly bank Swallowing hard, I stepped forward-but stopped suddenly. A girl was bathing in the pool, surely less than ten yards in front of me. I bit my lower lip in anguish. I needed water, yet I dared not be detected. I knew not what would happen if I were caught and returned to my father, the vicar-yet I feared the punishment a wrathful society would be certain to deliver upon me. Pillory or prison, the lash, God only knew what-I was but an innocent young girl, and against me, it seemed, stood arrayed the whole of the kingdom, from landed nobles in their flag-lined halls down to the simplest peasants in their rude cottages. I trembled in terror. But I felt that without water I might faint. I crouched in the undergrowth, quaking helplessly. The girl bathing so close before me was about my age, I supposed, perhaps a little older. Yes, I realized, mine eyes widening at the smooth contours of her well developed young breasts-definitely she was a couple of years older than I. She stood beneath the coursing fall of water, nude and unashamed, torrents splashing in her long black hair and running down her shapely, darkened body. The girl massaged her naked flesh eagerly, trying to cleanse the stubborn grime from her sleek limbs, her alluring belly and breasts. Yet her skin grew no lighter. Gradually I began to wonder if the older girl was not simply dirty, as I had at first thought. Indeed, it almost seemed she were naturally dark, though she was more tanned than any farmer. Yet it made no sense, and for the moment I dismissed the strange fancy. I watched her slim hands move carefully down throat and collarbones over rounded shoulders and high, stiff-nippled breasts. I could not help but watch the girl cup and cleanse those resilient handfuls. Her fingers moved lovingly over the firm young mounds, caressing, squeezing. Now and then her thorough digits chanced to brush across the plum-colored peaks of those ripe, dusky fruits. Did she shudder at her own touch? I could not really tell, for, close as I was, the light danced in the running water, softening and confusing my sight Did those sly hands sometimes catch a tender nipple purposefully, rolling the delighted pap between naughty thumb and finger? Those hands seemed to circle about the stiffened centers of her breasts more than was seemly ...yet truly I could not tell. Perhaps it was merely my wicked imagination. Certainly mine own hands trembled betrayingly wondering-of their own volition, it seemed-at what joy it would be to pluck at those warm, quivering fruits which hung alluringly from the slender dark trunk of her smooth-limbed form. My lips tingled. My face felt hot. Breathing unsteadily, I let mine eyes roam down the older girl's sleek, wet body. Her abdomen was young and taut, her hips swelling smoothly from an attractive narrow waist. As she shifted her weight about and chanced to rotate those pretty hips, now and then I spied the rounded mounds of the girl's buttocks growing shapely and firm from the bottom of her tapering back The water rippled sensuously about the indented bowl of her navel, sometimes revealing a tantalizing glimpse of thick sable curls. Shuddering, I tried to direct my gaze back up to the girl's face. The bather's eyes were closed contentedly, her dark lips faintly upturned at the corners of her pretty mouth. Her cheeks were flushed, it seemed, and her wet, silky skin shone with a natural dusky gleam. Slowly I began to realize the significance of the seductive girl's complexion-she must have been a Gypsy. I let out my breath in relief. Though her presence made me think that there had to be more Gypsies encamped somewhere nearby, I felt I had less to fear from the mysterious, shunned Romany than from the pious inhabitants of a pretentious English country house or from some unlettered and superstitious farm family. Moreover, if this girl was bathing here, it suggested that the other Gypsies could not be too close, after all. The others were somewhere near, of course, yet certainly they would not be near enough to disturb the girl's privacy. Heart palpitating beneath my stiff-nippled breasts, I watched the girl. Mine unblinking eyes knew no shame. No matter what my father, or Elsie's-or even the Crown itself-might say, I knew that their prudishness was in reality most unwholesome, even hypocritical. What sense did it make to live in this material world every day of one's life and yet mindlessly deny oneself the world's natural, innocent pleasures? And what could be more natural, more right, than the sleek flesh of a nude young maiden? Surely there could be no harm here, my mind repeated righteously. I did, however, feel a strange twinge within my chest. Suddenly it pained me that I could respond this way to someone other than my Elsie-it felt as if I were betraying her. Yet I could not help the desires raging through my fevered blood. Though I loved Elsie with all of my heart, my flesh still sang to me its wild lusts. I could not deny them. Perhaps some girls might look upon men, but for me, for Rebecca... this girl, this blossoming young woman naked under my secret gaze, aroused the feelings I longed for. If the throbbing in my loins made me covet this girl's flesh made me lustful and hungry inside ...so be it. Heart pounding with pride beneath my stiff-nippled young breasts, I accepted myself for what I was. Nothing that any maiden might do in this most private regard could be wrong, my mind asserted wordlessly. Shivering in my restless arousal, I repeated the thought again and again. No, surely there could be no harm, no wrong here. My desires were only natural, and to deny the passions of my healthy young body would be foolish at best-perhaps even injurious to health! I ached inside. Most likely I imagined, the succulent morsel prancing naked beneath the waterfall would have disapproved of my inclinations. Possibly she was one of those unimaginative maidens so different from the likes of Elsie and me-yet it made no difference. My flesh craved its satisfaction. And perhaps, I admitted slyly, perhaps that difference made her even more desirable. How arousing to stare wantonly at such delectable forbidden fruit, and to imagine the many wonderful, wicked ways with which the older girl might be persuaded to overcome her silly prudery .... So I squatted there near the bank of the stream and pulled the hem of my dress up over my hips. I looked down, blushing, and saw myself shockingly bare beneath the prim muslin. Between my pale, shamelessly spread thighs pouted a pair of musky pink lips in a nest of moist golden curls. Already I could scent myself, wet and womanly, smelly with my sudden arousal and with the sticky, half-dried juices of my earlier exertions. Steadying my balance behind the trunk of a tree with my left hand, I let the fingers of my right hand slide slowly down my trembling belly. As I watched, the Gypsy girl so close before me squeezed her supple breasts with both hands, fingers and thumbs tugging with purpose upon the engorged flesh of her dark, thimblelike nipples. She cupped her dusky mounds, pushing them higher, higher.... I bit my lip at the sight of her wanton tongue lashing at the stiffened, sensitive peaks. I could do naught but look on in amazement as the older girl bent her pretty face low so that she might nurse at her own sweet upthrust bosom. Her eyes were contentedly closed, lips full and pursed as she sucked the dark paps between them, one after the other. I watched those ripe nipples, firm and stiff, indent under the tender pressures of nibbling teeth and supple lips. The sight was heavenly. Perhaps this girl was not so prudish as I had imagined, I admitted silently. I could see the motion of her tongue working fiercely behind her flushed concave cheeks. Truly her hungry lips seemed to crave that exquisitely dirty act just as much as her delighted nipples did. Trembling, I could scarcely stop myself from wondering how that passionate, wanton mouth might treat some other young girl. Mine own fingertips swirled insistently through the open pink of my sodden vulva, pulling apart the shy inner lips to reveal the tender nubbin of joys which hid beneath them. I let my fingertips explore soft, naked flesh, searching for the slippery little clitty they longed to fondle. A pulse of quivering ecstasy ran up through my hips, and mine eyes remained locked upon the pretty girl beneath the waterfall, the naked wench whose hungry dark lips sucked knowingly at her own nipples. How I craved her! Stroking myself intimately, I stared at the Gypsy maiden as she reached beneath the rippling silvery surface of the water and began masturbating in earnest Though I longed to feel her lithe, slippery body beneath my hands, the mere sight of her face was almost enough to bring me off. Trying to prolong my secret pleasures, I slowed my feverish fingertips. I relished the girl's unguarded expression of utter bliss, the way her upturned mouth gasped helplessly for air, the beautiful cheeks framed in cascades of wet sable. Her eyelids were closed and sensuously flushed. I bit my lip in disappointment as the girl turned her back, and in my passion I almost thought to move to try to get a better view. But I smiled as I saw that she was merely stepping up on some rocks, climbing higher out of the pool. Mine eyes looked on eagerly, not daring to blink Her bottom was soft and round and lovely, veritably craving to be squeezed, and when she turned around again I was rewarded by the heavenly sight of her beautifully thick pubic bush. That intimate triangle was dense and deep, dripping with moisture. Oh, to part those hairy lips with my fingertips, and then... I watched in fascination as the lissome, wanton young bather placed her hands on the rock ledge behind her and lifted the plump young cheeks of her bottom up onto its flat, slippery surface. The water poured down on her as she sat there, even more directly than it had when she had stood. It soaked every delectable inch of her dusky skin, but she minded not. Indeed, she lay down under the little waterfall, and the coursing stream struck her directly on her taut belly, splashing. I watched as she slid her torso farther away from the falling waters. Then the girl drew up her knees and let her tender thighs fall apart, and I found myself staring directly into the soft, vulnerable pink folds of her musky young womanhood. Quaking with desire, I edged closer, though I feared discovery-she was too tempting, a wicked treat the natural girlish lusts of my flesh would not let me ignore. Mercifully, the sound of the falling waters covered any little noise I might have made in creeping through the undergrowth, and soon I was hidden at the very edge of the pool. I peeked out from behind a broad tree trunk, fingers all the while swirling through my sloppy cunt. My mouth dropped open in surprise as I watched the inventive little Gypsy push herself slowly back with her heels. The stream of water falling from above splashed thickly below her navel, and then its edge hit bubbly and rich upon the raven curls of her black-furred pubic mound, digging into her tangled curls like silvery fingers. My position was such that I could also just spy the girl's face, and I saw her even white teeth nip the full pink of her rounded lower lip in expectation. She fingered her erect nipples wantonly. I watched her creep carefully backward. The pretty young wench gasped as she slyly maneuvered her naked quim into the bubbling edge of the splashing torrent. Mind reeling, I kept mine eyes upon her, somehow kept my balance as I watched the coursing waters tumble frothily onto her exposed pussy The pulsing stream parted her hairy netherlips, opening up her beckoning pink flesh, stimulating her at the very core of her being. At this I could not help but rub at the quavering morsel of my clit with blissful abandon, scooping a dollop of my generous lubrication onto my fingertips and massaging the slippery mess where I knew it would do the most good. The girl cried out ecstatically as the very waters of the sun-warmed land made love to her. What could be more beautiful? I thought, near swooning. I stared in awe at the sight of the wench's soaked delta of crinkly ebony curls, her sensitive pink lips almost lost from sight beneath the sparkling press of falling, splashing water. Writhing in joy, her back arched, she fingered the plums of her nipples roughly, compounding the sweet agony which made her pretty mouth open wide in pleasure. I struggled to keep my heavy-lidded eyes open, to focus my attention upon the unsuspecting object of my desires as mine own climax pulsed liquidly between my shivering lips. Watching the Gypsy girl shudder in her innocent ecstasy I rocked mine open pussy down onto my pleasuring hand. Tremors of spasming delight rippled blissfully beneath my sweating belly, like the spreading wake of a smooth stone dropped into a warm pond. Powerful sensations traveled up and down my tingling limbs, coiling in the resilient flesh of my stiffnippled breasts, quivering in open lips which gasped aloud. Squatting beside the waterfall whose tumbling noise would cover almost any sound that I might make, I surrendered to the instinctive pleasures coursing through my palpitating young body. The naughty culmination of my desires rolled on, and on.... At length the satisfied young bather pulled herself shakily from the pool and stepped into the trees. The undergrowth soon hid her from view, but as I peered forward I found that I could just glimpse the movements of her naked brown body. She seemed to be drying and dressing herself. Surely she could not see me. Soon she was dressed and seemed to be walking away. In a moment she had disappeared from my sight. I was safe again. Hesitantly I crept to the edge of the stream and scooped a double handful of water to my dry lips. I swallowed thirstily, relishing the refreshing slide of clean water down my parched throat I drank deeply. As I gratefully slaked my thirst, mine eyes slowly rotated back to the water-smoothed stone ledge where the Gypsy had pleasured herself so delightfully. Despite the strength of my melting, the very thought of what that wicked girl had done was enough to bring the blood to my face. My pulse thudded heavily within my chest. After the endless running through the forest-and other exertions-surely I needed to bathe again. Shivering, I hurriedly freed the little buttons of my dress and wriggled out of the garment Naked at last, I stepped my sweaty body into the stream. I washed myself quickly, eyes darting again and again back to the noisy fall of water. Despite the need to hurry on, I confess I was most intrigued-my nipples were almost painfully stiff. Finally, summoning up my courage, I stepped toward the little waterfall- Yet something just at the edge of my vision chanced to catch mine eye. Slowly I turned my head-and froze. The girl, her footsteps unheard beneath the rush of falling water, had returned to the stream. She wore a brightly colored dress of some flowing material, her skirts picked out in gaudy checks of reds and browns and yellows and blues. In one hand she carried a large wooden bucket banded with iron strips. She looked as surprised as I must have, and for a moment we stared at each other guiltily. Regaining my senses, I staggered out of the water and, still dripping wet, dressed myself in feverish haste. "I am sorry, Miss," called the Gypsy girl, eyes meekly downcast. She had a faint accent-Continental, I imagined, yet certainly not French. I never had heard anything like it before. "I did not think that anyone lived nearby." She pulled her bucket through the water, bowed quickly, and turned as if to leave. "Wait!" I cried. I hastened to fasten my collar buttons. "This land is mine no more than it is yours." The girl turned back and frowned uncertainly as I lifted up my skirts and padded barefoot across the little stream. I reached her and curtsied. "My name is Rebecca." "I am called Magda," she replied softly. She was apparently unused to talking to an English girl, for she looked around almost fearfully. Though she was surely a year or two older than I, her shy and uncertain demeanor made her seem younger than her true age, and somehow I found that enticing. Her shining orbs were big and dark, almost black, accentuated by long lashes and beautifully arching eyebrows. Heavy silver hoops hung from her ears. She pursed her full lips, then asked hesitantly, "Thou really dost not live here?" I shook my head, uncertain of exactly what to say next. "I...have no home." She stared back uncomprehendingly until I added, "I ran away." "Oh, how sad!" exclaimed Magda with genuine emotion. "Dost thou have anywhere to go? Any family, any friends?" "Not anymore," I said quietly, my throat tightening. The inner corners of mine eyes stung, and I suddenly had to blink back tears. Magda thought about this a long while. For the first time, she seemed to notice that I had no shoes or stockings. She looked me up and down, secretly ...yet I saw, and it made me shiver self-consciously. A moment before, I remembered, she had seen me naked. Finally she said, "Perhaps thou shouldst come with me." "Well..." I bit my lip. "Would that be all right? With thy parents, I mean." Yet at the same time I was wondering how long she had been standing there watching me. Had she seen me looking so longingly at the exposed stone platform? Worse, could she have known that I had seen her? No, I thought, blushing suddenly. Surely not I tried to listen to what she was saying-something about how nice her mother was, and how surely her family could take in such a lost young lady as I. "Thank you, Magda," I agreed at last. "Perhaps thou art right In not too many hours night will be falling ...." All at once the realization frightened me, and I was grateful for the girl's offer. I had not really imagined what it meant to spend the night alone in the wild, and all at once I knew I did not want to find out Despite the bounties of generous Nature, there were many other aspects not so friendly-insects, bears, wolves... Already I was cold beneath my damp clothing. But Magda smiled sweetly at me, and I found myself smiling back. Then my new friend turned and began to lead the way back to her encampment. Limping, I followed her swinging hips through the forest. Minutes later, we emerged from the trees into a rolling meadow slowly darkening with the lengthening shadows of the evening. There in the rosy light of the impending sunset stood a great fabric-covered wagon and two smaller covered carts attached in succession behind. The team had been unhitched and, tethered loosely, the horses grazed placidly nearby. I heard strange voices, suddenly smelled a campfire, and hesitated. If these people turned me away or, worse, thought it might profit them to curry favor with the local landowners by sending me home again... I looked uncertainly at Magda, but she beamed back innocently "Come, Rebecca," she whispered with a smile. Slowly I followed my new friend. Near the back of the wagon a heavy older woman sat cooking over the fire, patiently stirring the contents of a great cast-iron kettle with a ladle held in both broad hands. She looked up at the sound of our approach-but frowned warily as she saw that her daughter had brought a stranger. Magda spoke rapidly in some language I did not recognize. The sounds were thick and foreign, but in the middle of a long string of unfamiliar words I heard my name. The girl's impassioned voice held a note of pleading. My heart thrilled in adoration for my newfound friend, and I found myself watching the smooth dark planes of her earnest cheeks, glowing rosy with unfeigned emotion. Gradually I forced my attention upon her mother. At first the woman looked dubious, but as Magda spoke on and on, her expression softened. Slowly she nodded. Finally she turned her great soft face to me. Despite her lingering suspicion, the pudgy visage beneath her colored scarf seemed innately kind and loving. Though my own mother was pale and thin and the Gypsy was dark and world-weary, somehow I was drawn to this Gypsy as if I were her natural child. I sensed in her dusky face a comforting, mothering quality that I could not quite analyze. I knew that she would treat me right "Ran away ...?" she asked finally in a voice both thick and deep. Meekly I nodded, blushing. "Yes, ma'am." "Mmm..." She considered the idea, her round chin outthrust in thought "Why?" Her black eyes bored into me I felt mine eyes well up with tears as I realized that I dared not say what had really happened. I shook my head quickly, hopelessly, and covered my burning face. There was nothing I could say I knew, that could make her understand my plight. If I told her my story, I would be cast out! I wept for despair. Yet in a moment I felt her matronly fingers upon my quaking shoulder. In my wild flight through the forest, my dress had been torn there, unnoticed, and the woman plucked at the damp fabric. Ashamed, I tried to shake free, but she held the ragged edge open and touched her blunt fingertip wonderingly against my bare skin. "Child...," she whispered. I wiped mine eyes and saw that she had found the fiery lash mark Elsie's savage father had left in the naked white flesh of my shoulder. She gripped my upper arms and looked into my tear-streaked face. "This is why?" Sniffing, I nodded again. "I cannot go back," I whispered. Though I blushed at the half-truth, verily it was no lie. Mine own father never would have whipped me, as Elsie's intemperate parent had, yet he might just as well have. Any man would have felt the same way; I was sure-judging and condemning almost instinctively. Though my father's way was knowing talk of hellfire rather than the lash, in the end it would be no better. In his pious face I would find no mercy or understanding now, I knew, only self-righteous disapproval. My poor mind, unasked, conjured up images of the terrible fate unto which he would deliver me if ever I returned-the public shame and ridicule, the wretched exile, the tortures of some prison. I shuddered convulsively. Responding to my distress, Magda's mother pulled me to her and threw her meaty arms about my quaking body, nearly smothering me in her great bosom. "Oh, child, child," she cooed softly, "we will protect thee." For a moment I felt as if nothing could harm me. Then she held me at arm's length again and carefully pronounced, "Rebecca..." She smiled at me. "Thou will travel away from here with us, no?" "I thank thee," I gasped gratefully. I looked to Magda, who beamed back at me, her dark eyes shining-but then she bit her lip in sudden anxiety. I followed her gaze. Magda's father had come around the wagon, followed by two boys, one perhaps ten and the other but three or four years old. They stopped in surprise. The boys wore quaint, foreign-seeming jackets and trousers, while the man, his jacket removed and shirtsleeves rolled up, carried a heavy hammer in one grimy hand. The man looked uncertainly from me to his wife ...and then back to me, his eyes traveling slowly up and down the tattered dress which covered my body. Frowning uncomfortably, he crossed his arms and asked something of the woman. I held my breath while the woman explained in their own language. Magda listened intently, nodding. The man wore a great black mustache which covered his upper lip and partially masked his expression. I could see as he listened, however, that he was not eager to accept a stranger into his family, even temporarily. And he was unsettled, too, in another way... His dark eyes, half hidden under heavy brows as he inclined his j head, kept returning to me. I was cold, I realized suddenly, my clothing almost soaked through with the moisture I had not had time to wipe away as I dressed in haste at the river. The rosy points of my high young j breasts were uncomfortably stiff beneath the clingy fabric, and I felt exposed and vulnerable under his gaze. The man licked his dry lips. Finally the woman was done, and the man seemed to consider what she had said. Magda's father looked at the ground, frowning, as the boys shyly peeked out from behind him. Still I noticed his glance return now and again to me. He shifted his weight uneasily, and I imagined I knew the thoughts running through his mind. He seemed a good-hearted man ...yet I sensed the desire smoldering in his hooded gaze. Probably he saw blossoming young maids such as myself only rarely, and at a distance as he peddled his wares. Certainly it had been twenty years or more since his own wife had been my age. Twenty years since his coarse hands had caressed flesh so high and firm and ripe... The man looked up from the ground, and his wife's eyes seemed to lock purposefully with his. The two looked at each other for a long moment, and the man's hands flexed on his biceps. He wished to turn me away, I realized slowly-aroused though he was, he did not relish the temptation. Yet he did not have the heart to cast me out Finally he sighed and nodded. "Rebecca," the man said awkwardly. "Welcome." He nodded briefly to me, and I barely had time to smile in return before he turned around and went back to mending his wagon wheel The boys hurried to follow him. "I thank thee," I told the mother again, earnestly. She smiled indulgently and returned to her stew. I looked at the black-eyed beauty who had rescued me ...and found Magda smiling slyly back. ...transcribed by Glinda Goodwitch