LORNA CROSS: THE CASE OF THE ROGUE ELEMENT

by “24” Ward

PREFACE

This is a historical piece starring a young treasure huntress named, er, “Lorna Cross”. I’m hoping it’s the first of a serial of adventures for our heroine in the 1860s. I wanted to make the story a creature of its time, with all of the attitudes of the time, including racism, classism and sexism. I’ve tried to capture it as tongue-in-cheek, but it is a part of the narrative and for the people at the time it was serious business, so I hope no one is offended by the content. This is, after all, a piece of fiction and the characters bear no resemblence to any person, living or dead, or to any trademarked character.

This is my first piece of fiction, although I’ve been an admirer of the genre for a long time. Thanks to those who’ve done a lot for the genre, particularly the Grey Archive (stories) and Superstories (addventure), and Doctor Droid and Marcus Lycus, who inspired me to actually give this a shot. Please let me know what you think of it: i24ward@yahoo.com

Port au Prince, Haiti, early 1860

The Expedition had finally pulled into dock as the final rays of daylight were disappearing over the Gulf of Mexico. Two young women peered expectantly over the side of the vessel at the chaos of the darkening city below.

Caitlin Neill took into the vista with some dread. Peculiar odors and unfamiliar words wafted up from the shore. A chill breeze snapped past her and seemed to penetrate her thin cotton dress. She glanced over at her companion. Lorna Cross, confident as ever, gazed out over the view with wide eyes and a mischevious smile. When Lorna looked over, Caitlin found herself smiling too. Lorna’s enthusiasm for her work was absolutely contagious. Like the plague.

They loaded themselves down with their supplies and trudged off the vessel. Those on the docks that night couldn’t help but raise an eyebrow at the unusual sight. The Expedition was no more than an ancient sailboat, recently arrived from Jamaica. Yet here arrives two girls, surely neither of them much older than 18, pale skinned, dressed well and loaded with luggage. But no servants assist them; indeed, no man appears to accompany them at all!

Caitlin Neill eyed the gathered crowds with poorly concealed wariness. She stood out with her fiery red hair and green eyes, but she was sensibly attired in a typical red cotton dress. Lorna Cross, however, was another matter: long auburn hair bound in a tight braid running down her back, tight brown breeches, knee high boots and a white shirt which hinted at a large pair of breasts. The rabble looked on in wonder at her unusual wardrobe (and the attention it brought to her unusual physique).

Caitlin winced as the crowd pushed in for a closer look, and even Lorna started to look around with some concern. “Lorna...” Caitlin whispered anxiously.

Suddenly there was a loud command in a french dialect, and the crowd retreated. A well-dressed black man made his way through the crowd.

“Mademoiselle Cross?” he asked as he approached.

“Yes. Uh, oui,” Lorna replied.

“I am Albert. Monsieur said you should be easy to find. I think he is right, non?”

Albert grabbed the baggage from the girls and led them to an awaiting coach. The girls clambered into the back with some relief.

As the coach sped through the narrow streets, Lorna gave an approving nod at the decor of the interior. “Mister Wynthrope seems to be of good status. Uncle will be pleased.”

Caitlin too had regained her composure and smiled dutifully. “Yes, m’lady.”

The carriage ride otherwise passed in silence until the coach pulled into the gates surrounding a large mansion. Albert climbed down from the front to open the door for the guests and invite them inside. Reginald Wynthrope greeted them in the foyer. He was an impeccably-dressed white man, at least 50, with whatever hair remaining on his head cascading instead down his jowls in a pair of very unfortunate and very bushy sideburns.

“Ah, Miss Cross?” he said with some genuine surprise in his voice as he took her hand to his lips.

Lorna gave him a smirk. “You were expecting something different?”

The old man replied, “I expected someone different and I have not been disappointed. And who is your lovely friend?”

“This is Caitlin Neill.”

“Ah, an Irishwoman! Your servant.”

“My colleague,” Lorna replied, smiling but speaking forcefully.

Wynthrope was forced to extend Caitlin a forced smile and slight bow. “Sidekick, then, hmm? A pleasure to make your acquaintance, miss.” Caitlin returned the smile weakly. Wynthrope turned and fixed his eyes on Lorna, “I trust we can speak of your uncle’s dealings in private?” Lorna nodded.

“Splendid!” said Wynthrope. “As Miss Cross’, er, ‘colleague’, you shall join us for dinner!”
Wynthrope and his two guests retired to the dining room where they dined on the finest English cuisine. “Don’t worry, we don’t go for any of that spicy nonsense in this house!” Wynthrope blustered as his colored servants rolled their eyes. Wynthrope proceeded to lecture the girls for over an hour on his remarkable successes in an awful land. He noted that great profits were to be had in the most inhospitable places: “Like India!” he said through a mouthful of stewed beef, pointing his fork at Lorna. As a consequence, he concluded, he acts as an unofficial ambassador to Haiti, “especially to those who come in the name of Cheswick!”

After Wynthrope had eaten enough, he declared that it was time for business, and glanced at Caitlin dismissively. Caitlin left with the other servants.

“Mister Wynthrope...” Lorna began wearily.

He cut her off: “Ah, Miss Cross, do you realize I have a son of about your age? Well, he is actually nearer to 30, 35, but he stands to inherent some sizable holdings in the swamps south of town. Sizable, I say,” he said, nodding gravely for effect as he reached for his brandy snifter.

Lorna stared at him incomprehendingly. “Well, sir, that’s all very well, but I have...”

“Ah yes!” Wynthrope interrupted again. “The Royal Society! Exciting stuff! Do tell!”

“Well, it’s...”

“Royal Society for the Study of Primitive Societies! Quite heady stuff! I love it! Very progressive name!”

“Well, sir...”

“And progressive spirit, of course! Yes, we must learn about these poor primitives before we can expect to help them. You know, civilize them and all that.”

Lorna stared at him.

Wynthrope cleared his throat, “Well, of course, now that the Earl of Cheswick is on board, well, anything I can do to help, certainly. Your uncle is of course... an old dear friend of mine... well, my cousin... I believe they... attended finishing school together or something... polo, perhaps...” Wynthrope trailed off and stared into his brandy. Lorna shifted in her seat uncomfortably.

“Jolly good. Lovely chat. You are a charming young lady.” Wynthrope rose and staggered out of the room.

Lorna looked after him and then made her way to her bedchambers. She found everything to her tastes and began to leisurely prepare for bed. She stripped her confining clothes off and admired her ample breasts and small waist in the mirror. It was the sort of body corsets could only imitate, but never match. As she pulled on a thin white cotton nightdress, Lorna glanced out the window. She was shocked to see Caitlin disappear around a corner half a block down the street, unmistakable with her red dress and red hair.

Lorna dashed out of her bedchambers, down the stairway and out the door. In front, Albert was brushing a horse and turned to look at Lorna with surprise. The translucent white fabric did nothing to shield the view of her incredible body.

“Miss Cross, what are you doing?” Albert exclaimed.

“Albert...” she panted, pointing out towards the city, where she had seen Caitlin.

“Miss, dis city ain’t a place for a girl to be wandering at night, especially a white girl,” he said evenly, trying not to stare at her clearly visible nipples.

This only seemed to make her more upset, and Albert led her inside to calm down and get her out of the nighttime cold. Lorna took several deep breaths and tried again: “My companion, Caitlin, I just saw her from my window. She’s wandering the streets, alone!”

Albert smiled at her. “Miss Cross, dat’s crazy. Your friend have more sense than that. Is not a place for a girl to be going...”

“Especially a white girl. Yes, you said that,” she mumbled snarkily.

“Miss Cross, dis be a full moon. Here in Haiti, it be a night for strange things. Apparitions. You probably just seeing things. I didn’t see nobody leave.”

Albert then agreed to search the house for Caitlin and ask around for her while Lorna put something more appropriate on. After hurriedly dressing again, she came downstairs to find a crestfallen Albert, now joined by other concerned members of the staff.

“Any sign of her?” Lorna asked hopefully.

“No miss,” Albert admitted. “Seems she must of gotten out without nobody seeing, but I don’t know how.”

Lorna thought it unadvisable to share with these strangers that Caitlin Neill was a mystic, still a novice but with a definite affinity for the supernatural. Caitlin was no doubt drawn out on this night by some magical druidic calling, but Lorna couldn’t decide if that unique sensitivity would be a blessing or a curse.

“Well what should we do?” she asked.
The staff looked at each other. Albert offered, “Well, she’s probably already dead, so we should wait until morning to look for the body.” Lorna stared at him in disbelief, lip quivering slightly.

A matronly woman smacked Albert and cursed him out in Creole for his insensitivity. Albert turned to Lorna. “She might not be dead. Maybe she be in slavery!”

Lorna fainted, and Albert caught her just before she hit the floor.

* * *

When Lorna awoke, she was laying on one of the coaches, with a cool cloth on her head. She rose tentatively and found several servants gathered around. She was relieved to see Caitlin standing nearby too!

“Oh Caitlin!” Lorna exclaimed, jumping up and embracing her friend. “We were so worried!”

“A miracle!” Albert said, “While you was out, suddenly she just... reappear!”

“Thank God you’re alright!” Lorna said, struck by how truly worried she was. “I was worried something horrible had happened. Where did you go?”

Caitlin smiled at her friend. She seemed to have a certain radiance that Lorna had never seen before. “I’ll tell you about it soon. For now we should get some sleep.”

The excitement seemingly over for the night, Lorna reluctantly retired to her bed to eagerly await the certain adventures tomorrow.

* * *

The next morning Lorna and Caitlin joined Wynthrope for breakfast. If he knew about Caitlin’s disappearance he didn’t say anything about it. Instead he asked Lorna about her family and her father’s new posting in India.

Finally, after a seeming eternity, Lorna and Caitlin went out to the garden to talk privately.

Caitlin started abruptly. “If we want to find the artefact, we have to head for the United States.”

Lorna shook her head. “What are you talking about? How do you know that?”

“Last night I went investigating. I met a priest. A voodoo priest.”

Lorna gasped.

“You have to trust me. If we want to find what we’re looking for, we have to go to a plantation in Mississippi.”

Lorna didn’t know what to say, but she looked in Caitlin’s big green eyes and knew she could not refuse. “Alright Caitlin, if you’re sure about this, we’ll do it.”

* * *

As the young adventuresses packed up and left, Caitlin wished she could give her friend a better explanation, but she knew it would only worry Lorna. Caitlin knew she had to obey the commands the priest gave her, and she would need Lorna to complete her mission.

As they sat on the deck of the boat, Caitlin thought about meeting the voodoo priest the night before and the power he offered her. She had been drawn to the old man, as though he were calling to her. When she arrived at his shack, he took her hand as though he already knew her. He told her that he could sense her thirst for power over the forces of the spirit world. He warned her that once invited in, the spirits are usually unwilling to leave.

Caitlin told him she was ready. She could feel her heart beating in her chest. She never thought she wanted power, but when it was offered she found she lusted for it. As he prepared his potions, she told him everything she could think of about herself: her sensitivity to the supernatural, her modest upbringing, her devotion to Lorna and her quest for unusual artefacts. She provided a sample of her hair, held the potions and recited the strange words he told her. He worked stedily, but viewed her with a mixture of amusement and contempt.

Finally he stood before her and handed her a simmering broth. She eyed in warily and looked up at him. “You must take what I command you to, and give what I command you to.” he thundered. Caitlin gripped the bowl and drank its contents. She was breathing heavily, her heartbeat echoing throughout the tiny space.

“You are but a girl,” he smirked. “Have you ever seen a man before?”

Caitlin looked up at him questioningly, and saw an erection straining against his pants. She shook her head and bit her lip. “I have never seen a naked...” her words trailed off as he opened his pants and she was confronted with his fully erect penis. She stared at it: it was very long and thin, and very black.

The old man’s eyes burned fiercely as he grabbed a handful of red hair and guided her face towards his crotch. Caitlin thought she saw the penis curl towards her mouth, like a live snake. Then it was in her mouth, subtle ridges rubbing against her lips and tongue, a slight taste of dust. He guided her, gently but firmly, to take more of it into her mouth.

Caitlin rhythmically slurped on the penis, surprised how much she seemed to be able to fit into her mouth. She could feel his eyes on her, and when she looked up she was mesmerized as he stared deep into her big green eyes. “You will drink of me,” the old man commanded and suddenly she felt a burst of warmth in her stomach. She grasped his cock with both hands, buried her nose in his pubic hair and sucked deeply.

As he pulled back from her, inch after inch escaped her mouth. When the head finally popped past her lips, the organ was at least a foot in length. It hung between his legs, twitching and slithering like a living thing. She stared at it in awe.

“Take off your clothes, girl. It is time to become a woman.” Caitlin looked up at him pleadingly and started telling him about a boy back in England she would like to marry one day, and that she would want to be a virgin for him. As she spoke, she unfastened the dress, revealing her sizable milky white breasts. When she was naked, Caitlin laid back and spread her legs, still trying to talk him out of it but ready to obey.

The old man said nothing further, just mounted Caitlin and pushed his slithering snake into her vagina. She stared at him, wide eyed, as he roughly thrust his python into her yielding body. A tear fell from her green eye as she watched the long black cock disappear between her legs and rob her of innocence, and Caitlin moaned softly as the old man delivered another load deep into her body.

The priest smiled at her as he dismounted and surveyed his work. “You have shown yourself to be obedient, a virtue in women. I am Papa Pago: I will give you what you want.”

He cast another spell on Caitlin and she immediately started to feel better. “I have restored your virginity. Whenever a man takes you, it will be like the first time. And when he is finished with you, you will become a virgin again. In this way you remain clean.”

She was allowed to leave then, but he had one more command for her, a mission. Caitlin looked over at Lorna, wishing that she could tell her friend about everything, and hoping that she wasn’t betraying her friend’s trust.

* * *

Dawson County, Mississippi, U.S.A., three days later

Lorna Cross was starting to lose patience with this whole exercise. Upon returning from her unusual disappearance that night in Haiti, Caitlin had led her back to Jamaica, and then on to New Orleans, in the United States. Upon landing, Caitlin and an increasingly suspicious Lorna trekked by boat, cart and even foot up the big river and deep into the state of Mississippi. The last town was now two miles behind them as the two young women trudged down a dirt road, fields of cotton on either side. A slave, back arched and brow glistening with sweat, watched the girls with guarded curiousity as they approached.

“Caitlin...” Lorna started to whine. But Caitlin had the answer to her question.

“There! That’s our destination.” Caitlin pointed ahead, towards the big mansion just up the road.

Lorna looked at her companion with confusion. “What possible artefact could be...”

“Good day, ladies,” the old slave said, bowing as they approached. “Can I help you with your bags?”

Lorna smiled tightly at the interruption. “Very well.”

The old man sauntered along beside them, now weighed down with their luggage. “Y’all not friends of Miss Debbie, are ya? Don’t think I seen y’all ‘round these parts before.”

“We’re here on important business,” Caitlin said, looking at Lorna.

The man didn’t press further, but their accents were foreign. British.

As the three of them approached the house, they observed a man seated on the veranda, fanning himself and drinking iced tea. The man was in his mid to late 40's, grossly overweight and wearing a white suit. What was left of his hair was plastered to his scalp in a poorly concealed combover. He bolted to his feet as the young women approached.

“Well, how do you do, ladies?” he called hoarsely, waddling quickly down the stairs to meet his new guests, wiping his sweaty palms on the ample sides of his body. “I say, are you friends of Deborah’s?”

“No sir,” Lorna said. “I’m Lorna Cross, and this is Caitlin Neill.” He shook each of their hands heartily, giving each a careful but approving look.

“Y’aint friends of Daisy’s, are ya?”

“Sir, we’re from England,” Lorna explained stiffly.

“Uh huh,” he said carefully. “Well, my name is Chester William Duff, and I’m the boss around these here parts. And I hail from right here in Dawson County in the heart of south-central Mississippuh.” He smiled with obvious pride. “Can I offer y’all a drink? I see Jeremiah here has your bags. Put them inside, Jeremiah.”

Caitlin smiled and offered a thank you to Jeremiah as he passed them and went into the house. Chester snorted at that, “Ain’t no cause to thank the help, young lady. Just doing what he’s supposed to.”

Just then another young woman emerged from the house. She was about the same age as Lorna and Caitlin, with creamy white skin, green eyes and long brown hair. She smiled at the newcomers as Chester introduced them. “Ladies, this here’s my eldest daughter, Deborah. This is Laura and Katie. They’re here visiting from England!”

After the introductions, Chester and his daughter went into the house to fetch something cool for the guests. Once they were alone, Lorna turned to Caitlin.

“What are we doing here, Caitlin?!” she whispered. “We are supposed to be looking for artefacts in Haiti, not sipping drinks in a cotton field in America!”

Caitlin looked at her friend intensely. “Lorna, please, trust me. We’re here for her.”

“Who?”

“Her! The daughter!”

“What?!”

“I can’t explain it, but she’s like us. She has special powers, and she will lead us to the artefacts.” Caitlin whispered. Lorna cocked an eyebrow. “Please Lorna, just let me handle this.”

Lorna gave her companion and former servant a good long look, a frown hesitating on her lips. Finally, she said, “You know, you never fetch me a drink. Look at how well that slave is behaved!” She cracked a smile, and Caitlin smiled with her.

“Yes, m’lady,” Caitlin said, rolling her eyes.

* * *

“So, Cross and Neill, huh? You sure you girls ain’t Catholics?” Chester Duff said, guffawing at his own joke. He had pushed back from the table having just finished dinner, and to Lorna’s horror, proceeded to unbuckle his pants in an apparent attempt to aid digestion. Lorna was a child of wealth and privilege, and in England no property owner would commit such a breach of etiquette at the table. Old Man Duff was, quite simply, a boor.

His children were behaved, but seemed unfazed by his antics. Deborah sat across from Lorna, and down the table were her younger twin siblings, brother Troy and sister Daisy, both 16.

Lorna was initially worried that Chester would want to know why two single young women from England would appear uninvited at his house, but he seemed perfectly pleased to have the company. He took the opportunity to lecture them at length about the perilous state of American politics and the country’s continuing degeneration. He dismissed the abolitionist movement as the work of Yankee Jews from Up North, and darkly predicted that the South may soon have to go its own way. He made not-at-all nice comments about various racial types and believed in a human hierarchy where people like him enjoyed the top status. Lorna Cross, being a product of her time, was in general agreement with his views but nonetheless silently disapproved of his presentation.

Caitlin, herself having been a victim of anti-Irish sentiments, was not as sure. She thought the voodoo priest, Papa Pago, though black, was trustworthy. She wanted him to be pleased, though she did not realize that she was still under his magic.

* * *

At the conclusion of the meal, Lorna decided to take an opportunity to stroll the property. She hoped that Caitlin would soon do whatever she had to do to get them back on track, but found herself enjoying the way the early evening light played in the leaves above the creek. She stood there admiring the view and the welcoming gurgle of the water. She realized she had not bathed that day: after their dusty trek the lure of a swim was too inviting to resist.

Lorna looked around briefly and, satisfied that she was alone, stripped out of her clothing. She stepped lightly into the stream and gasped as the cool water rushed by her leg.

For a minute, Lorna forgot about the mission and everything else and enjoyed the sensation of the water.

In the meantime, Chester’s son Troy had come looking for the Englishwoman. Hearing the commotion, he was shocked to discover Lorna skinny dipping in the watering hole. Troy hid behind a tree and watched her in wonder, marvelling at her perfect body and graceful motions. He found himself irrestably aroused, and without thinking his hand went to his groin. He pulled his dick, now hard, from his pants and began to furiously masturbate as he watched her.

Lorna was oblivious to his presence until her sensitive ears picked up his soft groaning. She looked over just in time to see him as he ducked behind the tree. His heart raced as she emerged from the brook and approached him. When she reached him, dripping wet and still stark naked, he still had his fully erect penis in hand.

Lorna smiled and looked him over. Without a word, she took his throbbing member into her hand and began to gently caress it. Troy, at first tense, began to relax and lean against the tree, smiling vacantly at the beautiful stranger. She smiled at him as she rapidly ran her hand over his member. Suddenly, his eyes widened and he grunted as his cum erupted from his penis and splattered against her stomach and leg. Lorna gasped and gave a little giggle as he looked on sheepishly.

Lorna’s keen ears then picked up the sound of a hushed exclamation. She looked over to see two other teens, these ones black, crouched nearby behind a log and watching the display with wide-eyed wonder. Lorna gave an embaressed yelp and tried (unsuccessfully) to conceal her lithe figure with her hands. Troy looked over in surprise, then in anger.

“You sons of whores, I’ll git you!” he hollered as he fumbled with his pants and stumbled after the boys, who scampered off.

Lorna went for her clothes, shocked by her behaviour but giddy with excitement. She looked down at the trail of ejaculate on her body and lifted some off with her finger. She examined the gooey substance and, after hesitating a moment, put it to her lips. She found it had a salty but otherwise pleasing taste. Seeing Troy gone and finding herself once again alone, she looked side to side, scraped a wad of semen off of her stomach with her finger and shovelled it into her mouth. She savored it with a mischevious smirk.

* * *

Meanwhile, Caitlin and Deborah (“Call me Debbie”) Duff were getting acquainted over a sarsapirilla out on the deck. Caitlin was initially guarded about their mission and her intentions, instead trying to draw more information out of her host. It seemed that Debbie was a debutante and expected to wed a wealthy and well-connected suitor before her next birthday. Debbie lamented that there wasn’t much to choose from, although she noted bitterly that her cousin Hillary landed a good husband with her wholesome good looks, blonde hair and competent singing voice.

Caitlin was disappointed to hear, however, that Debbie did not seem to share the duo’s love of adventure, exotic travel and unusual cultures. Debbie seemed to be a fairly typical rural southern belle with no appreciation of or interest in the outside world.

The conversation petered out as the girls watched the sun dipping towards the horizon. Caitlin’s eyes were drawn to a trio of muscular young men, returning from the fields after a long day’s work. Caitlin thought of those strong arms holding her close, the musky stench of exertion wafting over her.

“It must be nice having all those big handsome men around,” Caitlin said, indicating the passing men with her eyes.

Debbie looked over and fixed a look of shock on Caitlin. “Those are slaves, Caitlin! Ah could never...” her voice trailed off, hoping her darting eyes and quivering voice wouldn’t deceive her. “People wouldn’t stand for that! Daddy couldn’t allow such a thing!” She paused and leaned forward. “It’s impossible.”

Caitlin thought of her magical night with the voodoo priest and looked over at Debbie. She looked forward to when Debbie would meet him, because that would change her opinion.

During the awkward silence, Debbie excused herself and went inside the house. Caitlin smoothly removed a small container concealed in her dress and shook some of the powder into Debbie’s drink. Papa Pago had given it to her. Then she waited for her to return.

* * *

When Lorna returned to the mansion, Caitlin came out to meet her.

“Great news!” Caitlin said, “Debbie will come with us, we’ll all go together to find the artefact!”

Lorna was shocked. “Really? She’s want to come with us? I didn’t know she fancied such things.”

“Well, be ready to go. We’ll leave in the middle of the night.”

“Why?”

Caitlin fixed Lorna with a serious look. “Lorna, her father would never allow her to go. We have to sneak her out. I mean, sneak out with her.”

“Oh. Very well, then. Keep me advised.” Lorna went to her room. It was unusual for Caitlin to be so determined. Lorna was happy to see her friend starting to develop a passion for discovery. Although Lorna hoped that she would get to see Troy again, someday...

* * *

New Orleans, Louisiana, U.S.A., two days later

Lorna, Caitlin and Debbie had escaped the Duff plantation in the middle of the night and made their way down to New Orleans. The girls charmed their way to free passage across the state and down the river of Mississippi, Lorna leading but the other two picking it up quickly. No man was a match for three beautiful and curvy young women, generous with both smiles and cleavage.

Debbie soon learned that when adventuring with Lorna Cross, sexuality was an asset to use in manipulating men. She found her new life as a “rogue” exhilerating.

Caitlin sometimes wondered if it was such a good idea to play with men’s base instincts and hoped it would not proceed any further than flirting and the occasional unwelcome touching. But she trusted her companion to steer them clear of danger. “Men are fools before the wiles of women,” Lorna would say, and Caitlin supposed that she was right.

Our heroines floated into town on a steamer, the guests of a particularly impressed Captain Ross, and up until now the girls had been able to successfully fend off his awkward advances. Upon their arrival in New Orleans, the sleepy town Lorna and Caitlin had passed through mere days earlier had come to life. The dusty streets were full of drunken revellers enjoying Mardi Gras celebrations.

When the boat docked, Ross invited the girls to spend the night on the town with he as their guide. “I have a place in the French Quarter; you’ll be able to enjoy the celebrations up close.” The girls exchanged a quick glance, but Lorna could see Debbie was eager to see the sights in the big city.
“Captain, you may have the pleasure of being our host,” Lorna said with a smile.

The girls accompanied Captain Ross into the sensual French Quarter and were overwhelmed by the spectacle. Debbie, away unaccompanied from the homestead for the first time and having never been to a city before, was amazed by the excitement and debauchery.

“Are all the places you travel so strange?” Debbie asked Lorna in wide-eyed wonder.

Lorna cast a suspicious glance around the crowd. A Creole stumbled towards Debbie and said something Lorna was pretty sure was rude. “Come on, Debbie, this is no place for you.” The party scampered away.

They arrived at the Captain’s building, a stout two-storey building encircled with a balcony. Captain Ross led them up the stairs and to his shabby apartment. The girls were disappointed by the squalor but happy to be out of the crowd.

The four of them went out onto the balcony to survey the celebration. Captain Ross was curious how three well-dressed and extremely attractive young women came to be travelling alone. He pressed up against the southern belle, the most awe-struck of the three.

Lorna looked over as Debbie and the Captain shared a laugh and Ross wrapped his arm around her midsection. She was sure old man Duff would not approve of his daughter losing her virginity to some scumbag sailor. “Think we should step in here, Caitlin. Caitlin?”

Lorna looked over at her friend. The redhead was smiling broadly and looking over the scene below. Lorna thought she seemed somehow different: she was breathing rapidly and seemed to have a weird kinetic energy. Suddenly, Caitlin started to unbutton the front of her dress.

“What are you doing?!” Lorna demanded as the crowd below cheered her on. “Don’t listen to that rabble!” But it was too late. Caitlin tore open the front of her dress and threw her head back, waving her exposed breasts at the grateful audience. Lorna looked on in shock as her usually reserved travelling partner bounced for the entertainment of the crowd.

For Caitlin, it was a pure instinctive reaction. It felt like drums were beating in her head, urging her on. She didn’t need to think things though anymore: somehow she just knew what to do. And she obeyed that voice.

As for Debbie, she was changed by the magic too. She looked over with envy at Caitlin’s approval. Summoning all of her strength, she tore open her own dress, exposing a remarkable set of breasts of her own. She giggled and looked over at Lorna as the crowd roared.

“Wow!” Captain Ross said. “You’re my kind of gal! How about it, three for three?” he said to Lorna. Lorna blushed. She was usually the one pushing the envelope. Lips clenched tightly, Lorna pulled the front of her tunic up, showing a brief glimpse of her breasts. When the audience cheered, however, the infectious energy took over, and Lorna smiled broadly. She lifted her tunic and gave her breasts a festive wave.

As the girls enjoyed their attention, Caitlin looked over and saw Captain Ross and Debbie disappear back into the apartment. Suddenly, the fun left her mind. Caitlin realized that Debbie must not lose her virginity to this man. Papa Pago would not approve. Caitlin had to do something.

“Lorna, Lorna, we have to stop them! Debbie mustn’t have sex!”

Lorna looked over at her friend. “What? Why, do you want that scabby old bastard?”

“No! It’s important that she not!” Caitlin shrieked.

“Why? Is she to be a virgin sacrifice?” But Lorna could see that her friend was near tears and obviously serious. Lorna pulled her shirt back down. “Okay, Caitlin, you distract him.”

The girls entered the apartment and found the couple removing the shreds of Debbie’s clothing, one of her nipples in his mouth. She looked over in surprise.

“Debbie, I need to talk to you.” Lorna said, pulling her outside. The crowd cheered their return. Debbie, now completely naked, waved for them.

Lorna grabbed her. “Debbie, please listen to me! You can’t! He’s awful. He’s a bleeding ship captain... and he’s, uh, Catholic!” Lorna stammered.

Debbie recoiled. “Catholic? Ew.”

“That’s a good girl. Now let’s get out of here.”

Lorna and Debbie went back into the apartment and found Captain Ross now naked and sitting at the edge of his bed, leaning back slightly. Caitlin kneeled before him, leaning forward and sucking his dick. Her bare breasts swayed as her head bobbed in his lap and Ross held her red hair back with one hand.

Lorna and Debbie gasped at the sight. Ross looked up at Caitlin’s stunned companions and smiled. “I know. Whores won’t even do this.” Then he gave a satisfied grunt as Caitlin slurped down his cum. “You girls will have to give me a few minutes here.”

Lorna and Debbie grabbed their bags and Debbie began to put on some clothes. “Thank you, no, we must be going.” Lorna said.

“Well, y’all welcome anytime. Anytime!” he said as the girls prepared to go and left without another word.
“My goodness, Caitlin!” Lorna said as they left the area.

“You said distract him,” Caitlin said with a smile.

“You put his penis in your mouth!” Debbie muttered in disbelief. These Catholics are so dirty!

* * *

Port au Prince, Haiti, two days later

As the boat pulled into the harbor, Lorna couldn’t help but notice a change in Caitlin’s attitude. She had certainly been acting more confident, more assertive, ever since they last were here in Haiti. She had led Lorna to America, far from their objective, recruited a seemingly random young southern debutante to join their ranks, and spirited her away from her home and family to the seedy streets of New Orleans. There, as the girl became seduced by their roguish adventures, Caitlin showed an aggressively sexual nature Lorna had never seen in a civilized woman. Or even in the Irish. But she maintained a steady eye on their young charge, keeping her pure in body without being an example of such. Now, little more than a week after the initial arrival, Caitlin was no longer trembling at Lorna’s side, but striding purposefully down the gangway and into the thronging dark masses on shore as though she were home.

Lorna was proud of little Caitlin Neill: she’s finally growing up to be a real adventuress.

Lorna escorted Debbie into the crowd and tried to keep up with Caitlin. As usual, the anonymous bodies pressed against her was full of probing and exploring hands, but she saw Caitlin shrugging through and pressed on herself.

The three girls arrived out on a main thoroughfare a few blocks from Wynthrope’s, hair and clothing out of place but otherwise unharmed. Lorna heaved a sigh of relief, “Well, back to Reggie Wynthrope’s, I suppose?” But Caitlin shook her head and gestured for her friends to follow her the other way.

“It’s a bit late for a stroll, Caitlin. We’ll start off fresh in the morning,” Lorna urged. She reached out to her friend, but froze when Caitlin fixed her with a piercing stare.

“No. Now. We’re so close to completing our mission,” Caitlin said evenly but with authority. Lorna had never heard Caitlin talk like that, especially to her. She was about to protest, but she realized that Caitlin was listening to her spirit advisors and wouldn’t be dissuaded. Caitlin would go with or without her.

“Very well, Caitlin. Lead the way.”

* * *

Debbie followed more reluctantly as the English girls led her away from the lights and activity of the downtown and down dark and winding alleys. The three of them disappeared into the darkness, seemingly wandering without guidance. Debbie was thoroughly disoriented: she felt she were descending into the primodial. Descending to hell. Her heart started to beat faster. Who were these women? What was going to happen? What were their plan for her? She started to feel very uncertain about all of this. Dread emenated out of her pores, and her breath grew short and ragged.

“I don’t like this. I’m afraid.” Debbie whimpered.

Suddenly a dark figure loomed before her. “You should be.” The three girls screamed as a gang of shadows descended upon them, clutching at their flailing limbs and dragging them down a stairwell, down into the earth. Each of them struggled against their captors, but could not break from the cold hard grip.

Once down the stairs, Lorna heard a heavy door slam behind them. Lorna screamed until dumped roughly to the ground. She was held down and her arms were bound tightly behind her and a gag was put into her mouth. She could hear her friends’ cries for help similarly muffled. While she was securely bound, she could hear the mirthless chuckle and feel the icy hands of her captors. She began to involuntarily shiver as one hand brushed across her erect nipple. The hand explored it carefully, then tore her shirt open and felt her bare breast. Lorna could only grunt in protest.

Lorna felt her unseen captors pull her breeches down her legs and realized with horror that she was now nearly naked. She was hoisted up onto her knees as light finally appeared. Torches suddenly blazed to life, showing what appeared to be a cellar decorated with the trappings of voodoo ritual.

Lorna was somewhat relieved to see Caitlin and Debbie also in the room, though both were also kneeling on the floor in a state of near undress with their arms tightly bound behind their bodies. Each girl’s elbows were nearly touching behind their backs, and the torchlight played across the sheen of sweat on their pale skin, the six breasts on display shining brightly and jutting welcoming if not defiantly from each body.

Their captors were a half-dozen muscular young black men with vacant eyes, dressed only in loinclothes that did not nearly cover their dicks. Each of the girls stared at the penises at eye level with fear and wonder. Lorna was able to break her gaze at the manhood in front of her long enough to glance over at Caitlin and Debbie, who was shaking slightly. In terror, or anticipation? Lorna couldn’t tell for sure, but she had to admit the three of them did make an inviting target for an evening’s action. She wondered why on earth Caitlin would lead them to this awful place...

Suddenly an old man appeared from the shadows, gaunt but sinewy, bursting with vigorous energy. His coal black skin clung tightly to his ribs, and his face was haggard and ugly. But his eyes burned with intensity and power. He beheld his lovely captives trembling before him. A single tear of relief rolled down Caitlin’s cheek. Papa Pago! He was here at last!

The old man glared at the girls and said, “Was that you making all that commotion? Tsk-tsk. I want to hear no more of that yelling and we will take off the gags. Because if you do, it will be your friends who suffer for it.” The girls glanced at one another and nodded, and the guards removed the gags.

Papa Pago walked over to Debbie and nodded with approval. “Yes, this is the one. She contains great power within her,” he said as she cowered before him. He turned to Caitlin. “Redhead, you have done well. Such obedience is rewarded.”

The other girls looked on in confusion as Papa Pago walked over to Lorna Cross. “And this is extra? You have offered me a lovely tomb raider?” Lorna glared at him: she hated that term.

“And what fire! Ah, she is bold. Used to having her way. I will have her first.” Lorna’s head snapped up in surprise as the goons surrounded her. She winced as they hauled her up and placed her on a crude stone alter. She shifted awkwardly on the stone, her arms still secure behind her, and eyed the old witch doctor suspiciously.

“Don’t touch me! I’m an Englishwoman,” Lorna said sternly, although her voice shook.

“Such a beauty,” the old man said, taking hold of her legs and with surprising strength pulling her around to face him. “And also with great power, like your friends. Are you a virgin too, Englishwoman?” He pulled open her legs and looked down with satisfaction.

“Take your hands off me, you old bastard!” What little bravado she had escaped her, however, when he uncovered his penis, long and sleek, glistening in the torchlight, and seemingly possessed of a mind of its own. He grinned malevolently as she stared down at it, then up at his face. “Oh, please, no, I am a noble woman, a Lady. You can’t do this.”

Papa Pago got on top of Lorna and spread her legs wide. “No...ohhhh!” she moaned as he thrust his penis into her. She sobbed softly as he slid more and more of his cock into her vagina with each thrust. Her breasts jiggled jauntily as he violated her.

Caitlin watched the old man fuck her best friend and hoped that he would cast the same spell on Lorna that he did on her. And Debbie just watched in silent horror as the black man slid himself effortlessly into the white girl. Her horror grew as she watched Lorna’s hips begin to buck as her body accepted the assault.

“I fucked your redhead friend too, but I have fixed her virginity. You want this too?” Papa Pago grunted.

“Yes... oh yes,” Lorna gasped in amazement as her body accepted the entirety of the serpantine penis. She moaned as he plunged deep into her and released the rushing warmth of his ejaculation. He filled her up and pulled out of her, covering her breasts and face with cum. Lorna licked eagerly at the dick, but it was still hard so she took it into her mouth. Soon she drank another load.

Papa Pago then cast his spell on Lorna, saying, “I have restored your virginity. Whenever a man takes you, it will be like the first time. And when he is finished with you, you will become a virgin again. In this way you remain clean.”

Lorna smiled in relief as the guards took her back to the floor. She too was feeling better already.

Papa Pago smirked at Lorna and Caitlin. “You have proven yourselves open to my magic and have embraced my power.” He motioned to the group of young men, a pair of them flanking each girl. “These men also embraced the magical and are now at peace as living zombies.” They stared blankly at him.

He turned back to the girls. “Since you have proven useful, you two will also live as slaves.” The witch doctor then addressed two of his guards, instructing them to bring Debbie to him.

“We will be your slaves?” Caitlin asked miserably.

Papa Pago smiled at her as his henchmen carried Debbie, struggling and writhing against them, to him.

“Well, someone’s slaves,” he said and turned his eyes on the young American. “And now for the prize.” He caressed Debbie’s cheek as two of his henchmen held her down on the alter. “I could sense your power from a great distance, and now I see even I have underestimated it. When joined with my own, your power shall make me invincible.”

The young woman quaked in terror, recoiling from his probing touch. When he produced his slithering, sentient penis, Debbie stared at the dark monstrosity poised between her legs. She began to stammer as he approached, “Sir, don’t you touch me, ah’m an American and, ah’m nice to our slaves, ah, oh god, please, mah daddy is the most powerful man in Dawson County, Mississippi, oh god, OH GAWD!!!”

Debbie arched her back sharply as the old witch doctor thrust forward into her. She could feel his horrible member probe her insides, and he smiled down at her as he methodically pumped his hips against hers.

Lorna watched miserably as the innocent southern belle was cruelly molested by a follower of the dark arts. Debbie’s body was awkwardly contorted to the side, her arms still securely fastened behind her, breasts jiggling as the withered old man did as he pleased with the young beauty. Lorna tried not to think how she had been in the exact same predicament only minutes before. She looked into Debbie’s face, partially obscured by her chestnut brown hair, biting her lip, her eyes wide but blazing intensely.

Papa Pago was beginning to look his age now, breathing heavily. Lorna looked up at her guards, and for the first time they looked down at her. Though still bound and naked but for a few shreds of tattered clothes, Lorna smiled up at them shyly. Apparently good red-blooded boys at heart, they produced their penises from their loinclothes for her closer inspection. Lorna licked one, then the other, and soon she had one positioned behind her and one in front. Lorna noted out of the corner of her eye that Caitlin was similarly occupied: on her knees, bent forward slightly, with one man taking her from behind and holding her up with a firm hold on her bound arm or breast, the other standing in front and enjoying an enthusiastic cock sucking.

Papa Pago looked on the scene with wheezing disbelief. His mindless henchmen were not under his strict control. And below him, the girl positively crackled with energy. He was determined to vanquish the white girl and consume her energies before he lost control of this situation. He quickened his pace and plunged once more into the American, releasing his load into her yielding body. A crackle of energy erupted around the room, Lorna and Caitlin choking a little in surprise. Papa Pago had slumped to the floor, ancient and impotent. And the meek young woman from Mississippi rose from the alter, and with a mere twitch the cords which bound her arms were snapped.

Lorna and Caitlin looked over in wonder from their steamy interracial orgy. Terrified, the young guards fled from the room. Debbie approached her friends and quickly freed them from their restraints.

“That was amazing! What the bloody hell happened?” Lorna said.

“Ah don’t right know, but ah feel like a thousand dollars!” Debbie exclaimed (which was probably a lot of money in 1860).

“You have some special power,” Caitlin explained. “He could sense it, and he wanted us to bring you to him, so that he could harness that power for evil. But your power is either too strong for him, or it allows you to draw off the power of others. So that you’re some sort of...”

“Vampire?” Debbie asked in horror.

“More like a rogue!” Lorna offered.

“A Rogue?! Ah like the sounds of that better!” Debbie said with a smile. “But now ah absorb people’s power when I touch them?”

“No, you just touched us, and I feel fine,” Caitlin said. “I guess they have to touch you... uh... deep and... in a special way.” The girls looked over at the heaving pile of warlock next to the alter.

“Oh, thank GAWD,” Debbie sighed, “Not being able to touch people at all would be terrible!”

“Looks like you have a momento of your experience!” Lorna said, fingering a lock of hair on Debbie’s forehead. The girls admired Debbie’s hair, sporting a new white streak down the middle.

Debbie picked up a golden plate from the alter and observed her reflection. “Ohmigawd, I look like a skunk!” The girls shared a laugh.

Caitlin looked closely at the plate in Debbie’s hands. “Lorna, isn’t that the artefact we came to Haiti to look for?”

Lorna looked at it. “Yeah, probably. It only makes sense that everything gets wrapped up at once.”

* * *

Back at Wynthrope Manor, Lorna Cross was changing for the evening, looking out the window at the moon shining over the tropical sea. She smiled to herself, pleased with her first big success. She hoped that this was only the first of many adventures for her and Caitlin Neill, her loyal sidekick, and even for their new friend, Debbie Duff, the “Rogue”.

Lorna noticed Albert, that courteous servant, brushing a horse as he had been their first here. She breezed confidently downstairs and out the door.

Albert turned and saw Lady Chestwick, again dressed in sheer white nightdress, the fabric translucent in the moonlight. He turned and faced her, an expression of concern furrowing his brow. “Oh no, what is wrong?” he asked. “Has your friend been struck by the voodoo again?”

But Lorna only strode up to him and put her arms around his wide shoulders and with a glint in her steel grey eyes purred, “Not her.” She smiled at him and began to pull him towards the barn. Albert was baffled, but he knew a good thing when he saw it and allowed himself to be led into the semi-privacy of the stable. And moments later, as Lorna lowered herself onto his ample manhood, she let out an excited gasp and felt that she was really, truly alive.

POSTSCRIPT

I’m hoping this is the first of numerous chapters about Lorna, Caitlin and the friends and enemies they make along the way. I’ve dropped a few teasers for future adventures, and I hope to have some feedback to develop further storylines. Should Deborah Duff, the “Rogue”, feature in future stories? Or any of the other secondary (or tertiary) characters? Anywhere particular you’d like to see Lorna head? Let me know! And hey, I’m new at this, so be sure and give me your comments and suggestions too: i24ward@yahoo.com

“24” Ward