This is a mobile proxy. It is intended to visit the IOMfAtS Story Shelf on devices that would otherwise not correctly display the site. Please direct all your feedback to the friendly guy over at IOMfAtS!

Soulbound ‡ waif

by Wes Leigh

Chapter 3

On the whole it may be accepted as a correct opinion that immoral relations before marriage among the lower classes are not unusual, and are indulgently regarded.

-- From Life And Labour Of The People In London, by Charles Booth

"I'll get to the stables as quick as I can," Zavy said, rushing the opposite direction down the street with the empty beer bucket in one hand. "Let Old Man McCoy know I had to get milk for Mum first."

Reggie and Jack nodded and ran across the street, then cut through an alley. Ppassing behind a row of well-kept homes on Halifax Road was the fastest way to Wentworth Street and the stables. Halfway down the alley, they found themselves behind a tidy garden inside a high wall. As they passed the garden gate, they heard a soft voice calling, "Hello, boys."

They stopped and turned. A young woman in a flowing black gown stood just inside the gate. Her skin was shockingly white, contrasting starkly with the black dress she wore. They couldn't see her eyes, which were covered with dark brown shades. She stared at the two of them with a hungry smile. "Where are you two lovely lads off to in such a hurry this morning?" she asked.

Reggie approached the gate and leaned his hand on the wall next to it. "Headed to work."

Jack grabbed Reggie's shoulder and tugged. "Come on then, Reg. We can't be late."

The woman smiled haughtily and glanced down at the white skin of her arm. She reached over with the other hand and sensuously ran her fingers down the length of her arm. Reggie watched, entranced. The woman glanced up at Reggie and muttered, "Oh, no, it would be a shame if you were late for work. Best hustle along, little boys." She giggled at her own mockery, making Jack bristle and Reggie puff out his chest.

"We're men, not boys," Reggie replied.

The woman slowly scanned Reggie's body from head to toe, then looked back up, pausing at his waist. "That may be true," she replied, "but your little friend seems impatient to be on his way. You'll have to show me how much of a man you are after work, I suppose." She turned her back on the boys and walked slowly away.

Jack tugged on Reggie's arm. "Let's go, mate. What are you hanging about for?"

Reggie jerked his arm out of Jack's grip. "What's wrong with you, Jacko? Couldn't you see she wanted a bit of fun this morning?"

Jack stepped back, his face flushed. "Didn't you see her glasses, Reg?"

Shrugging, Reggie replied, "Course I did. So?"

"So? She's probably got the bad blood," Jack hissed.

Reggie shook his head. "You're imagining things. Her skin was perfect."

Jack shrugged. "Don't know anyone as young as her that wears eyeshades, 'less they caught the bad blood. You go messing with her and you'll have blisters on your pego for sure."

"You're full of horse shit!" Reggie exclaimed.

"Ya. And we'd best hurry it up or we'll miss a chance to be shoveling horse shit and making a pence or two," Jack replied, walking backward down the alley.

Reggie glanced back into the tidy garden longingly, but the woman was nowhere to be seen. He broke into a trot and caught up to Jack, and both boys ran down the alley, headed for Old Man McCoy's stable.

Zavy turned the corner and saw a group of men and women standing between him and the market. It was early in the day for Zavy, but probably late in the night for them, judging by the way they were wobbling about, leaning on each other and laughing uncontrollably. They paused as Zavy approached, and one woman broke away from the others, stumbling toward Zavy.

"What 'ave we 'ere?" she asked, her speech slurred and her eyes struggling to focus. She squinted at Zavy and said, "It's a bit late for you to be out, luv. Shouldn't you be home in bed?"

Zavy grimaced and moved into the street to avoid the woman, but she lurched in front of him and grabbed his shoulders to keep from falling down. Somehow, he managed to catch her and keep her on her feet, though he dropped the bucket in the process.

The woman stared at the bucket, confused for a moment. Then she turned to Zavy and spoke into his face, alcoholic vapors washing over him as she talked. "It's too early for beer, luv. They won't be selling any 'til later. Where you going with that bucket, luv?"

Zavy turned his face to the side, avoiding most of her noxious breath. "It's not for beer," he replied. "I'm headed to market to get milk for me mum and family."

"Did you hear that?" the woman asked her friends, who laughed and nodded. She turned back to Zavy. "What a good boy, you are. Getting milk for the family." She turned to her friends. "He's getting milk. What a helpful, helpful lad." She giggled and pulled down the top of her gown, exposing one of her pendulous breasts. "No need for you to trudge down t'market, lad. Not when Polly has a bubbie full of milk for ya'." She squeezed her breast and lifted it toward Zavy, wiggling it about suggestively.

Zavy leapt away, leaving the woman with no support and causing her to fall in a heap in the street.

"Hey, now," she complained. "Why'd ya' drop old Polly on t'ground like that?" Her friends were laughing and slapping their knees, which irritated her even more. "Don't just stand there a hooting. Help me up!"

Two of the men walked forward and lifted Polly out of the street, standing her back on her feet, though it was hard to say how long she'd remain upright.

She glared at Zavy and struggled to return her breast back inside her dress. "A lady offers you a bubbie like this and ya' takes a good suckle on it, if ya' knows what you're about." She squinted at him. "Unless ya' don't like what the ladies are offering. Are ya' one of them girlie boys?"

Zavy shook his head in disgust. "Nah. I ain't a girlie boy. But then, you ain't a lady either."

Polly stared at him, confused. "What are ya' saying, boy?"

Zavy dashed forward, grabbed the bucket, and ran down the street. Shouting back over his shoulder, he yelled, "You're a trollop!"

Polly held up both hands with middle fingers raised, cursing at Zavy's retreating back, while Polly's friends began laughing again, harder than before.

McCoy didn't have much work for them that day. They finished before noon, but he still paid them generously, giving them three pence each. When they put away their tools, he walked them out onto the street and glared at the cluster of Wentworth lads huddled together on the corner until they shuffled off down the street. "I reckon now's a good time for you three to head home," he said, nodding at the Hanbury boys.

"Thanks for everything, sir," Zavy said, shaking McCoy's hand.

"You lot work hard for me. Appreciate it, I do." McCoy clapped Zavy on the shoulder and turned to head back inside the stables.

Zavy motioned for Reggie and Jack to follow him, heading the opposite direction the Wentworth boys had gone. Ducking into an alley, they decided to cut across to Halifax before heading for Hanbury, hoping to completely miss any Worthies hanging about. A shout behind them made them look back. The Worthies must have anticipated their route, because they were a half block back and running after them.

"Move it, lads!" Reggie shouted, sprinting forward.

The three of them turned the next corner with the Worthies hard on their heels. It was the alley behind Halifax, so the safety of Hanbury wasn't far now. A bit of trash in the alley tripped up Jack, who tumbled and landed sprawled out on the ground. Zavy and Reggie stopped and grabbed his arms, pulling him to his feet, but that pause gave the Worthies all the time they needed to close the gap. Sliding to a stop all around the three Hanbury boys, the Worthies panted and laughed.

Flanders, their red-headed leader, snarled, "Lookie lookie lookie, we caught us some Hanbury quims. Good for nothing but a quick fuck in the alley, eh boys?"

A garden gate opened behind the Hanbury boys. The pale woman in the black gown stepped out, her head tilted down, her dark eyes staring over the top of her brown eyeshades at all the boys. Her voice was low and sultry as she said, "Boys, boys, boys. Such gutter language! My ears are burning from hearing this course vulgarity."

Flanders gulped and pulled his hat off his head, holding it against his chest. "Apologies, me lady. Didn't know anyone was there in your garden."

The woman glided forward and placed a fingertip on Flanders' chest, moving it down toward his stomach and pulling away as she reached the top of his pants. "No apologies required. I see now it was my mistake. What I thought were young hooligans, cursing in my alley, are actually young men, blowing off steam with a bit of loose talk." Her voice seemed to caress all the boys, and Flanders' pants quickly tented out in front.

The woman glanced down and smirked. "Although it doesn't bother me to have young men rollicking in the alley, I can think of a much better use for all that young energy." She smiled and glanced sideways at Reggie, who's cock was also straining to break out of his pants. "Perhaps you boys would like to come inside and have a cool drink in my garden."

Zavy shook his head. "We haven't the time, ma'am. We're expected back home shortly." He tugged on Reggie's arm, urging him to follow. Jack grabbed Reggie's other arm, and the three slipped past the Wentworth boys, who were all staring eagerly at the woman now.

She shrugged and turned to go back inside her garden, all five of the Wentworth boys following her.

Reggie bit his lip, frustrated. If the Wentworth lads hadn't gone inside with her, he'd have followed the woman, no matter what Zavy and Jack said. Getting your cock blown by a mate was fine for a bit of relief, but Reggie wanted more, and the woman was young enough. Not old and wrinkled like the whores on Wingate and Middlesex Road. And despite what Jack had said, he was sure she didn't have the bad blood. She looked healthy, and he really wanted to see what she had under that dark gown of hers.

The boys gave Crawley six pence, keeping back three for themselves. He sent them out for pork pies and beer, and after the family had eaten its full, the three wandered the street that afternoon, talking.

"Her skin was perfect," Reggie said, tired of Jack's harping about how the woman was sure to have the bad blood. "No sores. No blisters. She don't have the bad blood, I say."

"Then why'd she wear the glasses?" Jack asked, for the third time. "Only old people with bad eyes and those with the bad blood wear eyeshades like that. Their eyes can't handle bright sunlight. She has to have bad blood."

Reggie pushed Jack against the side of a building and held him there. "Shut up about it, Jacko. I don't wanna hear any more from you."

Zavy pulled Reggie off the smaller boy. "Hey, Reg. Calm down. Why are you so upset?"

Reggie turned to Zavy and frowned. "I'm tired of hearing about how she's got bad blood. She's beautiful, and she's perfect." But he released his hold on the front of Jack's shirt and stomped off down the street.

Zavy stared at Jack.

Jack whispered, "Bad blood."

Zavy glared, making it clear with his eyes that Jack should drop the subject.

Jack rolled his eyes, but nodded. If Reggie wanted to make a fool of himself with a high-class whore, who was Jack to stop him. One day, when Reggie's pego shriveled up and fell off, he'd come to Jack, hat in hand, and apologize for not listening.

Zavy trotted after Reggie, throwing his arm around his cousin's shoulders. "What do you wanna do this afternoon, Reg?"

"Don't know," Reggie replied. "Maybe buy a quart of wine and find a quiet place to drink."

"Mum doesn't like it when we drink away the day," Jack mumbled, catching up to the two of them. "She says we'll end up like Crawley."

"We won't end like Crawley," Zavy replied. "And it's only wine. We've worked hard this week, and we deserve it."

Reggie handed Zavy his last pence. "You'd best get it, Zavy. Tell 'em it's for your mum. They know she likes a glass every now and then."

Zavy nodded and took the copper coin from Reggie. Jack handed his over as well. "Get us a good bottle," Jack requested. "That cheap shit makes me stomach lurch and me head hurt."

Reggie leaned up, shoving his elbows behind him to hold himself off the ground. Zavy and Jack were stretched out beside him, snoring softly in the shade of the tree.

The wine had been just what they needed to relax on a cool Autumn day. It had even stirred up Jack's horny side, and he'd given both the older boys a good suck in between swigs on the bottle, before falling asleep next to Zavy. Zavy had laughed at Jack, then had pulled the boy into his arms and fallen asleep cuddling him.

Reggie looked at them, happy they enjoyed each other, but knowing it wasn't what he wanted from life. Reggie thought about the pale woman in the garden, picturing her kneeling before the Wentworth boys, giving them pleasure one by one. Her pale fingers would feel so tantalizing moving up his stomach and down his legs. Her mouth would be soft and warm on his cock. Her body would be cool beneath his own as he thrust up inside her. Her eyes would beg him to please her, as no man had ever done before.

Reggie squeezed his hard shaft and moved the pants about, giving himself a bit more space. Fuck the wine. Fuck sleeping away the afternoon.

He stood to his feet, waiting for the world to stop lurching, and walked shakily toward Halifax Road.

By the time Reggie reached the alley behind Halifax Road, his head was finally beginning to clear. He was still a bit muddled, but the sexual anticipation had burned away most of the fog. He stopped at the gate behind the woman's house and peered through the bars into the garden.

Nothing. No one about. Nothing but the chirps of birds in the trees.

Reggie sighed, disappointed and kicking himself. What did he expect, after all? The woman wasn't going to be hanging about, waiting for a horny teen like himself to show up one afternoon for a quick fuck on the grass.

He leaned back against the cold wall and stared up into the sky. "You're a right fool, Reginald Gregorio Gibbs. A right fool." He chuckled and pushed off the wall. Might as well wander back to the lads and wake them up. They'd all three find something to do with the rest of the day, no doubt.

A twig snapping caused him to turn his head quickly and look into the garden. The pale woman was walking slowly toward him, her lips curled into a knowing smile. She floated to the garden gate and touched the latch. The gate slid silently open. She looked over the top of her eyeshades at Reggie and beckoned slowly with one finger.

He swallowed hard and stumbled forward, passing through the gate. The woman placed one hand on his shoulder and pushed the gate shut behind him. Then she urged him to walk before her, up the path, deeper into the garden.

As he rounded the path, he stopped, shocked. Sprawled out on the grass, naked as the day they were born, were the Wentworth lads. They were all asleep, arms akimbo, legs splayed, soft cocks resting in pools of cum on their stomachs. Reggie's mouth fell open. They must have had wine too, strong wine judging by the looks of it.

He turned to stare at the woman, his eyes silently asking her for an explanation.

She smiled and lifted a finger to caress Reggie's cheek. Her nail scratched him slightly as she dragged it across his skin, down the line of his jaw, and underneath to his neck, pausing at the artery throbbing in his throat. She licked her lips and sighed, turning her head slightly to get a better look at the pulsing vessel filled with his life blood. Removing her eyeshades, her eyes seemed to glow and turn red.

Reggie didn't have time to panic. His mind went dark, and he remembered nothing else.

Talk about this story on our forum

Authors deserve your feedback. It's the only payment they get. If you go to the top of the page you will find the author's name. Click that and you can email the author easily.* Please take a few moments, if you liked the story, to say so.

[For those who use webmail, or whose regular email client opens when they want to use webmail instead: Please right click the author's name. A menu will open in which you can copy the email address (it goes directly to your clipboard without having the courtesy of mentioning that to you) to paste into your webmail system (Hotmail, Gmail, Yahoo etc). Each browser is subtly different, each Webmail system is different, or we'd give fuller instructions here. We trust you to know how to use your own system. Note: If the email address pastes or arrives with %40 in the middle, replace that weird set of characters with an @ sign.]

* Some browsers may require a right click instead