Your support makes Blue Moon possible (Patreon)Master Machiavelli
Super-Earth
- Joined
- Feb 19, 2013
- Location
- USA
The village of Treen lay within a stone’s throw of the angry waters of the great ocean. It clung to the earth and the rocky shoreline like a barnacle, unwilling to budge no matter how hard the earth seemed to try and shake it off. The village was laid out along a single rough street, rutted and muddy, which stretched like a thin ribbon from the east and traveled a few hundred feet past the town to the edge of the ocean. It was primarily a fishing village, with tavern and stable, the market stall in town center and this cluster of homes and businesses. In the winter the land lay fallow and bleak as the dark waters of the ocean. Compounding the dreary existence, the inky smoke rising from their small fireplaces stained the already grey skies.
He burst from the doorway of the tavern, propelled through it by a burly man wearing a large leather apron and bracers which covered his wrists. “Go home John, you drunken wretch. You have no money to pay, come back when you have either fish or coin to settle your debt!” The door slammed shut and the drunken men could hear the laughter which erupted from within the tavern’s doors. It only fueled his rage. He had been someone once, more than a lowly fisherman and in his day, these villagers would have found themselves hanging from the end of his sword had they spoken to him in such a fashion. John pulled himself up from the muck, turned and cursed them all before shuffling off towards his cottage.
He found his door and pushed his way through and into the cottage. He saw his old blade, now pitted with rust where it hung above the small hearth, taunting him with his failure. He had nearly nothing now. His wife run off with a traveling merchant, leaving him with his son Aeric who now was the only one who worked and earned any sort of money and his daughter. Every time he saw her he was reminded of her mother. And even more so of late. She’d grown into a ripe young woman and as he thought of the swell of her breasts and the curve of her hips, he felt a twitch beneath his trousers.
‘What was she good for?’ He asked himself as his hand absently rubbed his crotch and he felt his manhood begin to grow. It had been a long time since he’d last been between a woman’s legs, and why shouldn’t he have her? No other man in the village would marry her- they were too poor to pay a dowry. So why was he saving her for someone? 'She should be his.' The liquor worked its way into his thinking. ‘Of course she should…earn her keep.’ John nodded as he stumbled about and fell into his chair.
“DAUGHTER!” He shouted, knowing she was in the other room. “Come here and give your father what he needs.”
He burst from the doorway of the tavern, propelled through it by a burly man wearing a large leather apron and bracers which covered his wrists. “Go home John, you drunken wretch. You have no money to pay, come back when you have either fish or coin to settle your debt!” The door slammed shut and the drunken men could hear the laughter which erupted from within the tavern’s doors. It only fueled his rage. He had been someone once, more than a lowly fisherman and in his day, these villagers would have found themselves hanging from the end of his sword had they spoken to him in such a fashion. John pulled himself up from the muck, turned and cursed them all before shuffling off towards his cottage.
He found his door and pushed his way through and into the cottage. He saw his old blade, now pitted with rust where it hung above the small hearth, taunting him with his failure. He had nearly nothing now. His wife run off with a traveling merchant, leaving him with his son Aeric who now was the only one who worked and earned any sort of money and his daughter. Every time he saw her he was reminded of her mother. And even more so of late. She’d grown into a ripe young woman and as he thought of the swell of her breasts and the curve of her hips, he felt a twitch beneath his trousers.
‘What was she good for?’ He asked himself as his hand absently rubbed his crotch and he felt his manhood begin to grow. It had been a long time since he’d last been between a woman’s legs, and why shouldn’t he have her? No other man in the village would marry her- they were too poor to pay a dowry. So why was he saving her for someone? 'She should be his.' The liquor worked its way into his thinking. ‘Of course she should…earn her keep.’ John nodded as he stumbled about and fell into his chair.
“DAUGHTER!” He shouted, knowing she was in the other room. “Come here and give your father what he needs.”
