started 13/11/05

Title: Ties that bind
Author: Squeezynz
Chapter: One - Her life before.
Rating: NC17 and some.
Pairing: Wendy/George, Wendy/Others, Wendy/Peter.
Content: Incest M/g, non-con, chan, submission, explicit sexual content.

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Author's Note (or the epic within the epic): Please read before proceeding with this story. If you don't you'll be horrible offended and send me rude emails. Of course you may do that anyway; flames toast my marshmallows.

Okay.....well, I'm not entirely sure what the hell this story is or where it sprung from. It was supposed to be a one shot, just to get it out of my system, but once I'd completed the first chapter, I had to write a second, and now that's done, I have to write a third. *sigh* It runs along similar themes as one of my previous stories, "Violation" in which it involves an incestuous relationship between Wendy and her Father at the start, but this takes it a step further, being much, much earthier in dealing with bodily functions and involving the particularly nasty subject (touched on relatively briefly) of child prostitution. Wendy is fourteen, nearly fifteen in this chapter and as yet has not met her destiny in the shape of Peter Pan. It does not follow the storyline line of JM Barrie's Peter Pan, but several of the element will be included and referenced to. The characters and their histories will remain largely the same, just with a darker twist. One major disparity will be the age difference between Wendy and Peter, he being much older by several years, and more importantly, experience than her. As with all my stories, I can't help myself and they all dissolve into a romantic adventures. This one is no different, but there's a lot of gratuitous nastiness to wade through before you get to the lovey dovey stuff. Sorta like real life really. There's a ton of explicit sexual description of various acts between grown men and our young heroine, plus the whole father/daughter thing which would squick most people out. As this story rather took me by surprise and has written itself so readily, as usual I have no idea where it's leading, so don't bother asking. Some would call it a porn fest only fit for Literotica.com, but I can never just write a smut fest and leave it at that *shrugs*...blame my muse, she/he/it sets the pace and suggests the words, I'm just the fingers on the keyboard. There is no violence, as yet, just a ton of sexual manipulation and heartless use of poor Wendy as a sexual toy in this first chapter - yet again. *sigh* If you make it past Chapter one, you should find the rest of the story more palatable....mostly, but still sexually graphic. (Ed:-and turning out to be quite romantic!*sigh*)

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London, 1906

"Oh dear, I'm not ready....oh...oh no."

Hurriedly unpinning her hair, Wendy Darling reached under her skirts and pulled her lace trimmed bloomers down her legs, kicking them off her feet as she hastily pulled the last pin from her hair, wincing as it snagged several strands in the process. She could hear the steady clop of horses hooves coming to a halt outside the house and she quickly glanced out of the bedroom window, confirming what she already knew. Her father was home from work.

Smoothing down her ankle length navy skirt, she hurried out of the room, her loose hair flowing behind her as she flew down the stairs, arriving just as the handle was turning on the front door of number 14. Standing still, she folded her hands in front of her skirt and lowered her head, her hair coming forward to form a curtain, her chest still rising and falling faster than was normal because of her hectic dash.

George Darling was an under manager at the local branch of Quiddich, Cooch and Simpkin, Savings and Loans. He had started as a clerk and risen to under-manager in a gratifyingly short time, his self effacing attitude and attention to detail making him amply qualified for the position of banker. At home he was a despot and ruled his household with a rod of iron. He was also a hedonist and studied the art of pleasure with unalloyed zeal, his stiff and starched outward appearance cast to the four winds as soon as he stepped over his front door lintel and shut the door behind him.

His daughter had been tutored at an early age to provide what his wife could not, the girl child educated in all manner of amoral acts so that now, at the age of fourteen, she could satisfy her fathers needs in every respect within the confines of their domestic environment.

Which is why Wendy now knelt on the floor and one by one lifted her father's leather shod feet, unlaced and removed the shoes and socks, replacing them with the soft kid slipper put by the door for just that purpose.

As she bent to her duty, George Darling felt his body quicken in response to her ministrations, her small hands easing his feet into their slippers before she rose, glossy head still bent, and waited for her father to instruct her.

"The Study." George spoke the short phrase quietly, setting down his briefcase on the floor before hanging up his hat and umbrella. Wendy turned and walked way, heading down the hallway to the small room at the back of the house, a frequently used room for activities that had nothing to do with the perusal of books or writing of letters.

As Wendy passed from sight, George looked up as his two sons clattered down the stairs, John, the eldest at twelve arriving at the bottom of the stairs first and standing at attention, his younger sibling, Michael, only five almost falling at the last step, George putting out a hand to catch him and swing him up before setting him on his feet.

"And how are my boys today?"

"We're fine father....how was your day?"

"Very productive my lambs...but I have to do something before I can sit down and eat, so run along to your mother and tell her I'll be along shortly with your sister. Shoo now."

John looked as if he was about to speak, then thought better of it, shrugging his narrow shoulders and following his brother through the door to the front parlour.

George waited for the door to close before walking unhurriedly along the passageway to the portal leading to the study, his hand lifting to push his small round glasses back up his nose.

Without knocking he entered the room and closed the door behind him, turning the key in the lock in the process. Wendy had her back to him, standing by the window pulling the curtains closed against the late afternoon sun streaming into the small room. She jumped when her father's hands reached around from behind and encased her small breasts through her blouse, his thumbs brushing across her nipples and making them peak like hard buttons through the thin fabric.

She finished pulling the curtains closed while her father nuzzled her hair, his fingers stroking and tweaking her breasts through her blouse. His body was hard up against her back, his hips grinding against her bottom as he fondled her chest.

"The chair." George commanded hoarsely, releasing his hold on her body so she could turn and make her way to the armless padded chair standing clear of the desk in the middle of the room. As she walked she started to unbutton her blouse, carefully pushing each shiny shell through the button-holes, exposing a wedge of creamy flesh as each fastening was released. Behind her George was undoing his trouser fastenings, unbuttoning his fly and fumbling inside to release his hardening flesh. With his prick held firmly in his hand, George sat down on the padded chair, his legs parting as he stroked himself, his eyes behind their glinting windows sweeping over Wendy as she pulled her blouse out of her waistband.

"Hurry." George grated, his teeth clenched as his body responded to his stimulus. Approaching her father, Wendy hitched up her skirts and straddled his legs, her father holding himself until she was positioned over him, her breasts on a level with his face. Slowly she lowered herself until she was impaled on his cock, her hands resting on his shoulders as her father buried himself inside her, his mouth latching on to her immature breast, his fingers fondling the other as he suckled.

Wendy's face remained impassive as her father bucked under her, jerking his hips to ease the ache in his balls.

"Oh yes....mmmmph!" His mouth firmly attached to her breast, George wrapped his arms about her back and held her against his chest, her torso arching back as her father mouthed her breast, his teeth nipping sharply at her nipple. Wendy winced but kept her lips pressed together as her father bucked upwards, mashing his pelvis into hers, the fabric of his trousers rubbing against her thighs. A final thrust upwards and her father started to shake, his seed pumping into her body as he climaxed, his mouth still clamped to her breast, his chest heaving as he drew air in through his nose, his thin nostrils flaring.

With a popping release of suction he let go of her breast and collapsed backwards against the chair, his arms letting Wendy go while she continued to balance herself with her hands on his shoulders.

"Oh that is so much better.......been thinking of this all afternoon."

Raising his head, George looked up at his daughter, his oiled hair flopping forward as he breathed, open mouthed, his body in a blissful state of lassitude. His cock was softening as Wendy eased herself off him, tucking her skirts between her legs to catch the fluid leaking from her body, her hair falling forward as she turned away to see to her blouse.

"Cloth." George ordered and Wendy held out the soft cloth kept in a drawer for that purpose. She continued buttoning her blouse as her father wiped himself clean, tossing the cloth into the wastebasket when finished.

Sweeping his hair off his forehead, he shakily rose to his feet, tucking himself back into his trousers before adjusting his other clothing and pushing his glasses back into place.

"I'll see you in the dining room.....after." He said, seeing Wendy nod before he let himself out of the study and made his way to the front parlour.

With the snick of the door, Wendy paused in redressing herself, a sigh escaping between her lips as her fingers brushed over her sore nipple, her budding breasts tender from her fathers hard fingers. Buttoning her blouse she tucked it back into her skirt and shook out the folds of her petticoat from between her legs. Letting herself out of the study she quickly made her way up the stairs to the bathroom, her fingers turning the key to lock the door.

Taking off her skirt she ran the tap, filling the sink with warm water. Using a soft flannel she cleaned herself thoroughly from front to back, the warm water soothing her tender entrance and washing away the evidence of her fathers lust. Drying herself on one of the towels, she put her skirt back on after donning a clean petticoat. Finally she brushed out her long hair and twisted it into a chignon, patting it into place with a brief glance in the mirror, her eyes never making contact with their reflection, before leaving the bathroom and making her way down the stairs.

Passing the front parlour she opened the door to the dining room and went in, seating herself at the table, the door from the parlour opening almost at once and disgorging the rest of her family. John and Michael noisily found their seats on the other side of the table from Wendy, John grinning at Wendy who smiled back with something akin to relief. If her brothers were there, there was not likely to be a need for her father to call on her services. As her mother took her place at the end of the table, her father seated himself on her left, at the head. While they waited for their maid to serve the meal they chattered about their day, the boys telling of their time spent at Mister Copelands School for Young Gentlemen, while Mary Darling espoused on her time spent with her latest fund raising efforts through a local women's charity group. Wendy remained silent, her head bent over her plate, her ears listening to the chatter, but her thoughts far away from the table.

"Wendy?" Her father's voice jerked her out of her revery and she looked up, the maid already clearing the main course from the table.

"I'm sorry, did you want me?"

She saw her father's eyes soften fractionally, a smile tilting his thin lips as he lifted his glass of wine. "Always dearest. But I was asking if everything was alright with you?"

"Fine."

"Good. Sleeping well?"

"Yes, thank you father."

"Well, it's Friday, so I'm glad to hear you're well rested."

Wendy froze, staring at the table top as their maid laid dessert on the table, placing a dish in front of her. Drawing in a breath, she picked up her spoon and started to eat. From the end of the table her mother spoke.

"What time have you invited them for?"

"Seven. Is that convenient?"

"Completely, I will be out until nine, will you be finished by then?"

"If not, we'll endeavor not to keep you from your sleep."

"Thank you George."

Wendy's fingers clenched on the stem of her spoon, almost bending it as she hesitated over her next mouthful. How could she have forgotten it was Friday?

"H-h-ho-ow many?" Wendy asked, unable to prevent a tremor shaking her voice.

"Just three.....an evening of cards."

Wendy finished her fruit and lay her spoon down, her mouth suddenly dry.

"If you'll excuse me..." She rose to her feet, feeling nauseous.

"Until later then." Her father drawled, lifting his spoon to his lips.

Nodding to her mother, Wendy left the dining room and ran up the stairs, careful not to thump the door as she shut it. Leaning her back against the wood she let her fear wash over her, her hand reaching up to press over her trembling lips.

"Three....oh God."

Pushing away from the door she stumbled over to her bed and fell face first on the covers. She had known that her father had plans to invite his cronies over for an evening, but she had tried to ignore the days, the dates in the vain hope that the evening would be called off. But her hopes had been fruitless. A tap sounded at her door and she sat up, brushing at her face to remove the tears.

"Come in."

Her father entered and closed the door behind him, once again turning the key in the lock to avoid interruptions.

Wendy sat on the side of her bed with her hands folded in her lap and her head down bent.

"I get the impression that you are not happy with my plans for this weekend. Am I correct Wendy?"

"I don't know what you mean."

Placing his hands behind his back, George paced to the window.

"I think you know very well. We talked about this weekend. You knew I was going to be inviting some people over and that I expected you to help me entertain them."

"Please father....."

"I said....entertain them, as you do me. Now why are you suddenly all shy and missive?"

"I just.....I can't..."

"Can't?"

"Please father...."

Turning away from the window, George stared at his daughter, his brows drawing together in a heavy frown. "I suggest you reconcile yourself to the inevitable my dear." Approaching the bed, he felt a familiar stirring in his loins. "I think I need an after dinner relaxant. Strip."

Realizing the futility of arguing, Wendy stood up and started to unbutton her blouse, her fingers fumbling with the buttons. George watched her for a few moments before slapping her hands away and all but ripping the blouse from her shoulders, buttons flying in all directions.

"Father!"

Spun around by the force of having her blouse torn away, Wendy could only put up a token resistance when her father toppled her onto the bed, her skirts and petticoats rudely bunched around her hips. Face down on the coverlet she could only pant and gasp as fingers found her bodies entrance and thrust inside, causing her to cry out.

"Easy...relax. You know that I love you Wendy. Love you so much I just want to have you all to myself, but after this weekend I'm up for promotion and you're going to be my ticket into the boardroom."

As she gasped against the satin bed cover the fingers were removed and replaced with her father's prick, the hot fleshy head pushing into her body with little finesse, fingers digging into her hip as George thrust himself into her body, just as suddenly withdrawing only to plunge back in again, bouncing his daughter on the side of the bed and making it squeak in protest.

"You've only ever known me," George grunted, bracing his feet on the carpet and leaning over Wendy's back. "They say a little variety is the spice of life," Burying himself to the hilt, he pushed his hands under Wendy's torso and lifted her upright, wrapping his arms around her middle to hold her against his chest. With her feet barely touching the ground she found herself impaled on his manhood, her father ramming himself into her, almost lifting her off the ground with each thrust.

"Yes....yes...oh yes...a whole new experience for you my darling...you'll learn so many things...I can't wait to show you off...."

Bounced around, Wendy could do nothing but hang on to her fathers arms gripping her so tightly under her breasts, her breath leaving her lungs in harsh gasps as her father gave a final lunge and shuddered against her, his body expelling its seed once more inside her.

Withdrawing his support, Wendy fell face forward on the bed, her legs splayed and her skirts still bunched around her waist.

"That...should keep me...until tomorrow." George panted, hastily tucking himself back into his trousers and staggering away, once more sweeping his errant hair back onto his head and jerking his waistcoat back into place along with his skewed glasses before unlocking the door and stepping outside.

Pushing her hair off her face, Wendy slid off the bed and sat on the carpet, leaning her face against the cool satin of the bed cover.

After staring off into the distance for several long minutes she wearily clambered to her feet and stripped off her remaining clothes, tossing the skirt and petticoat into the corner. Nude, she opened her bedside drawer and found a soft cloth, cleaning herself up sufficiently before searching in her chest of drawers for a nighty. As she stood bent over her open drawer, she thought she saw a movement at the window, her father having not drawn the drapes fully. She had already started to turn away, but looked again, this time seeing nothing untowards. Shrugging, she rummaged until she found the one she wanted and pulled it hurriedly over her head. Shutting the drawer she went to her bedroom door and pulled it open, heading for the bathroom once more.

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Wendy was a bundle of nerves by the time the clock in the hall struck the half hour before seven. Her mother was out, as was expected and the boys had been sent to a friends house to stay the night, only herself and her father remained.

George had left his daughter alone for the day, wanting his own appetite to be keen when his influential friends arrived. He'd brought her a special outfit for the evening and it was the sight of her reflection in the dressing table mirror that set up the butterflies in her stomach. She'd brushed her hair until it shone, the tawny mane hanging down her back in thick, caramel coloured waves almost brushing her bottom. She'd bathed thoroughly, using some bath salts her father provided, careful to clean herself under her father's critical eye. When dry she'd found the dress, if it could be called that, laid out on her bed for her to put on when she was ready. When she finally pulled the flimsy garment over her head she figured she might well not have bothered, it covered so little of her body. The sheer white gauze bodice was so transparent her nipples were clearly visible, as was her lower body through the sheer folds of fabric that fell from the gathering below her breasts, falling to the floor to brush her bare toes. For all intent and purposes she was naked, just as her father planned.

On the stroke of seven she heard the doorbell ring and their maid hurrying to answer it followed by the rumble of male voices, her father's raised in welcome. Wendy sat tense and nervous on the side of her bed, repeating her father's instructions over and over, her eyes darting repeatedly to the clock beside her bed.

She heard doors opening and shutting then the house was quiet, only occasionally hearing the sudden burst of loud male laughter coming from the front parlour as the minutes ticked away. A movement at her window brought her head swinging around but there was nothing there when she looked, the curtains billowing slightly as a breeze pushed them into the room then back again, the smells of the street wafting in with the currents of air. The hands of the clock finally reached the half hour and she rose to her feet, her fingers plucking at the sheer gown as if they could make it any less outrageous. Drawing in a steadying breath, she padded across the carpet to the door and opened it. Walking through she made her slow way to the head of the stairs, looking down the steps to find that father waited for her at the bottom, as planned with three other men flanking him, all of them staring up at her as she stood poised on the top step. Except for her father, each of the men looked astonished, bordering on shocked as Wendy started to descend, her eyes modestly lowered, her hand brushing the bannister rail to steady herself as she took each step carefully.

"My God George....you weren't having us on after all!"

"She's a beauty for sure....you lucky dog!"

"She's never your daughter.....is she?"

When Wendy reached the bottom step her father held out his hand and she laid hers, now trembling violently, into it.

"Come my friends.......the evening awaits." Leading his open mouthed friends back into the front parlour, George smiled smugly, his promotion all but assured.

Wendy refused to look at the three finely dressed gentlemen that jostled behind her, each suddenly eager to be the first in the room, the smell of expensive cologne and cigar smoke stinging her nostrils as she held tightly to her father's hand.

"She's so tiny, George.....so fragile, are you sure she's up for this?"

"Oh yes Cyril, Wendy has been well taught."

"How long have you been.....herumph....you know?"

"I've been tutoring her since she was a child, but only orally from age eleven, and full intercourse since age thirteen....so don't be put off by her innocent appearance, Wendy is well versed in the duties required of her."

"My God. I never would have thought it of you George.....you dog!"

George continued to beam smugly as his cronies circled his daughter like wolves scenting a deer, their hot eyes stripping her of her flimsy gown, their mouths already drooling in anticipation of sampling the morsel on display.

"Who get's to go first?" One man asked, his fingers reaching for his neck tie and loosening it.

"I think a period of appreciation, a sampling of what's on offer would be a good idea, don't you think? Then we can decide how to proceed if you are satisfied?" He raised his eyebrows to each man, receiving a nod from each as they settled themselves in the chairs and settees cluttering the room, some of them adjusting themselves within their trousers as their bodies responded to the promise of sex before too long.

"I'll introduce you to my friends, Wendy." Still holding her hand, he led her over to the first man, the man's hot eyes burning holes in her body as she stood before him. "This gentleman is Mister Cyril Campton, one of the board members at the bank I work for, why don't I leave you with him for a moment to get acquainted."

For a second Wendy clutched at her father's hand but it was quickly snatched away, leaving her standing in front of Cyril, a man in his mid forties with mouse brown hair and piercing green eyes. He held out his hand as if to shakes hers, grabbing her fingers and holding tightly when she finally gave him her hand. "Now, my beauty...let's see what we have." Dragging her forward he snaked his hand around her back, his large palm clamping onto her bottom through the dress and squeezing. Pulling her forward he let go of her hand and held her with both of his around her waist, his face now pressed between the rise of her breasts, his lips hot against her cleavage as he planted a kiss between them.

"You smell delicious my dear." He commented, his hand now running up and down her sides, his thumbs brushing over her breasts with each stroke. "And so soft, do you taste as good as you smell?"

Not waiting for an answer he opened his mouth wide and engulfed one of her breasts, dress and all, his tongue sweeping over her flesh through the thin fabric as he mumbled against her chest. Wendy arched away, her hands resting on the mans shoulders as he suckled on her flesh. Seeing his other guest positively salivating for their turn, George approached.

"Cyril...leave some for the others!" He laughed, the others joining in as Cyril lifted his head, grinning in triumph but letting Wendy go all the same. George brought her to the next man and introduced her.

"This is Mister William Cartwright, another board member...." Wendy found herself standing in front of a distinguished man with a large grey moustache covering his upper lip, his pale blue eyes twinkling at her under a thatch of nearly white hair that was smoothed over his head with oil.

"Hello Wendy D-a-rling," Bill drawled her name, rolling the vowels on his tongue like a caress. "You are a toothsome baggage, and well taught, if your father is to believed. Turn around dear and let me inspect that delightfully fuckable arse."

Turning her back on him, Wendy felt herself pulled back to stand between the man's knees, his hands running up her legs on each side, bunching up her flimsy dress until her legs and backside were completely exposed. "Bend over dear and show me your treasures."

Resting her hands on her knees, Wendy complied, her hair falling forward to hide her burning cheeks as she felt the man's hands smooth over her cool bottom, gliding over the flesh of her thighs before delving between her cheeks, parting the fleshy globes to better see what he wanted.

"Good lord George....she's as fresh as a peach, and so smooth." Wendy could feel her flesh being stretched wider apart then jumped when a wet tongue connected with her bottom, sweeping wetly down her crack to her front opening, then back up to her anus, circling the puckered hole before lapping upwards again. "She's so sweet I could eat her for hours!" Bill exclaimed, licking his lips before burying his face once more between Wendy's nether cheeks. It felt like someone was sweeping her bottom with a wet brush as the man behind her lapped and sucked on her genitals, his hard tongue poking at her holes and coating her bottom with saliva.

"Times up Bill....pass her along the cart." Her father's voice broke into the chorus of uneven breathing filling the air in the front parlour, each man feeling the urgent need to bury himself in one or other of the girls apparently willing orifices. Giving up his brief session of cunnilingus, Bill lowered Wendy's gown with an affectionate pat on her bottom as she straightened up.

George led her over to the next man, the last of the guests and Wendy had to control the violent shudder that swept over her when she met the man's dark eyes. Where as the other two were for the most part ordinary men both in build and looks, this man bordered on ugly and grotesque, his figure overblown and tightly encased in an expensive suit, rings on two of his fingers as well as a gold fob chain around his neck. His hair was almost gone, only a few grey wisps covering his pate as he leant forward to peer at Wendy with lust burning in his bulging blue eyes.

"So pretty George, who would suspect you of hiding such a treasure all for yourself...I've a mind to buy her off you!"

Taken aback at the man vehemence, George tittered and swallowed hard. "Sorry sir, she's...er...not for sale."

"Pity....I'm in need of a new mistress, and I like 'em young."

Reaching out a pudgy hand he snagged Wendy's gown and pulled her forward, almost ripping the thin fabric in his haste. Once more she found her tender breasts ravaged by a male mouth, her nipples hardening as her ravisher sucked hard on the tiny nubs. While one hand gripped her waist to hold her still, the other hand lifted her skirt and delved between her legs, forcing her thighs apart to allow him to fumble with the soft folds of her sex, his thick fingers spreading the moisture gathered there around the entrance before plunging into her body.

"She's ripe for a fucking George.....age before beauty, I'll go first!"

Not heeding the token cries of protest from the other two guests, the man withdrew his fingers from Wendy's body, sucking on them briefly then fumbling to free himself from his suit trousers. Releasing his engorged flesh, he lifted both hands and grasped Wendy's gown, ripping the thin material in two so that is fell off her body to flutter to the ground behind her. Naked, she balanced herself on his wide shoulders as he tugged her forward, his mouth once more latching on to her breast as he placed a hand on her shoulder to force her downwards. With her legs either side of his thighs, Wendy felt the man force his cock into her body, his prick not as long as her fathers, but twice the girth.

With Wendy firmly seated on his erection the man started to grunt, lifting her off his lap only to slam her down again, all the while feasting on her flesh, his thick lips slobbering from one breast to the other as they bobbed in front of his face, the other men egging him on as he picked up the pace, his fingers leaving marks on Wendy's flesh as they dug into her waist. Within a minute the man was sweating and purple in the face, grunting loudly as he stiffened in his climax, his cock releasing his sperm in hot spurts, his lips pulled back from his teeth in a grimace of lust as he expelled himself. Panting he suddenly pushed Wendy off his lap, the girl falling onto the carpet before her father could catch her, the man flopping back against the sofa as he struggled to regain his breath.

"So...goddamn...tight!" The man wheezed, mopping his brow with a white handkerchief, his sex laying spent and lax outside the fly of his trousers.

Helping Wendy up, George handed her a towel which she used to wipe between her legs. The other two guests already had their cocks out, one with his trousers around his ankles in readiness for his turn.

"Mine now I think." Cried Cyril, snagging Wendy's hand and pulling her over to his chair. Bill scowled, his moustache twitching as he watched his cohort spin Wendy around so that she faced the room, her back to him. Spreading her legs he pulled her back so she straddled his legs before pulling her down and impaling her on his straining sex. Once fully seated inside her, he reached around and cupped her breasts, fingers pinching the nipples, Wendy bracing her hands on the wide armrests of the chair as Cyril started to bounce her on his lap.

Not content to just watch, Bill slip off the couch and walked on his knees over to Cyril's chair, his eyes now at crotch level with Wendy, his hands resting on Cyril's knees as he watched his friends cock piston in and out of the girl, her pubic curls glistening with the juices being pumped out of her body from her previous fuck. Looking up, Bill grinned at the sight of Cyril's hands cupping Wendy's bouncing breasts, the nipples quite pink and hard as the mans hands brushed over them with each pass.

"Lean her back a bit Cyril...I want to eat her out while you fuck her."

Not surprised to find Bill in front of him and so close, Cyril leant backwards, drawing Wendy with him so that her hips angled outward, exposing her core and his cock to his friends avid gaze.

"Perfect!" Bill exclaimed, leaning forward and fastening his mouth on Wendy's mons, his tongue sweeping down and back over her clitoris as his friend continued to thrust into her. Wendy head was now resting on Cyril's shoulder, her hair cascading down over his head and chest, his hands still fondling her breasts as his hips pistoned upwards into her body. Bill feasted on her body, his tongue darting out to lap at Wendy's clitoris, his eyes flicking up her body to gauge the effect. Cyril was reaching his peak, his body bucking under her, almost lifting her off her feet as he cried out, Bill's tongue the final catalyst as he darted it against Cyril's cock when he thrust one last time, exploding his seed into Wendy, his hands gripping her tightly as he shuddered and jerked, Bill's mouth still clamped to Wendy's mons as she rode out Cyril's climax.

For a long moment Wendy hung suspended, her chest heaving as the man below her tried to catch his breath, his own breath leaving his lungs in harsh pants as he continued to twitch and shudder. At last he propped her upright, his sex softening and slipping out of her to flop between his thighs. Bill was sitting back on his heels, his own cock as stiff as a flagstaff as he eyed Wendy's body hungrily.

"At last.....George, pass me that towel." While Wendy still straddled Cyril's lap, Bill cleaned her up, keeping the towel between her legs even when she managed to get to her feet, albeit a trifle unsteadily.

"My turn now....enough of this chair business, I prefer a more earthy approach. Lay on your back my dear....I so want to plunder your treasures. George, pass me a cushion or two please."

Wendy lay down on the thick carpeting and stared up at the mustachioed man looming over her. Her flesh felt tender between her legs after her two bouts of intercourse and she really didn't feel up to another, but a speaking glance from her father dispelled any thoughts of complaint as Bill positioned the cushions beneath her buttocks to raise her pelvis.

"Relax my dear, I know you'll enjoy this as much as I will." Bill assured her, spreading her legs wide apart before getting to his feet and taking his trouser off along with his under garments. Naked from the waist down he once more sank to his knees, his sex bobbing beneath the edge of his untucked shirt as he leant forward to rest on his elbows between Wendy's spread legs.

In front of the three men watching, Bill started to noisily eat out the girl spread eagle on the carpet.

"Go for it Bill....chew that fanny!" The fat man called out, laughing at his coarse wit, the other man joining in the laughter when Bill paused in his pleasure to raise a rude gesture with one finger.

George watched his daughter being debauched with his blood thumping in his veins, his heart racing as he stared in rapt attention. His own sex was painfully hard and he ached to touch himself but knew that he'd climax before he could clear his clothes, his hands shaking with the effort of keeping his calm exterior in the face of unbearable sexual tension. Bill had finally eaten his fill, his daughters thighs soaked and glistening with saliva as he pulled back, shuffling forward on his knees while he pulled Wendy's hips towards him. Draping her legs over his thighs, Bill positioned himself at her bodies entrance, resting a moment before jerking Wendy forward to impale her on his sex, sinking deeply within her body to the hilt. His move prompted the other men to cheer him on as his body started to move, buttocks clenched, thrusting in and out of the girls body, his arms hooked around her legs to hold her close. It didn't take him long to reach his peak, throwing back his head and groaning long and loud as he jerked himself against and into her body.

As Bill climbed to his feet they heard the front door open and shut, the men exchanging worried glances between themselves before swiveling to pin George with their hard stares.

"Don't worry yourself my friends, it's just my wife......she'll be going straight up to bed and won't disturb us."

"Damn if you don't have the most perfect arrangement." Cyril crowed, his head slumping back on the chair, his legs sprawled in front of him.

Throwing another towel to his daughter, George went to the parlour door and slipped out, leaving Wendy alone with the three men. Keeping her face averted, she cleaned herself as best as possible, her genitals swollen and pink, tender to the touch as she carefully wiped the towel back and forth between her legs.

The three men watched her avidly, drinking in her peachy skin and flushed colour, her breast quite red from their mauling, the nipples swollen and stiff.

"I'm damn thirsty....anything to drink girl?"

"Yes sir." Getting to her feet Wendy padded over to the drinks cabinet and opened it. Filling three glasses with her father's best sherry, she carefully carried the tray over and offered the alcohol to the men in turn. They ogled her flesh as she bent forward until she finished dispensing the drinks, returning the tray to the cabinet. As the men sipped, her father returned, slipping into the parlour and shutting the door firmly behind him.

"Ah good....I see Wendy has kept you supplied with refreshments."

Rubbing his hands together he bent down and picked up the remains of the gown she'd worn at the start, the fragile material weighing almost nothing in his hands. Lifting it briefly to his nose he inhaled her scent, his body instantly responding to the allure of her perfume.

"Excellent sherry George.....but you haven't taken care of your own needs, dear chap....don't mind us." The fat man waved his hand negligently.

"I can slake my thirst at any time Jerome....tonight is purely for my guests." George replied expansively, bowing to the three men who chortled back at him with leering smiles, ogling the bulge tenting his trousers.

"I'll say this for her George...she don't say much!" Snorting at his jest, Cyril almost choked on his sherry, Bill thumping him on the back as he coughed and bent double in his chair.

"Wendy is a good girl and knows her place....personally I can't abide chattering women, they grate on the nerves and distract from their purpose...." George explained, pouring himself a sherry.

"Oh I agree entirely George, should just gag the lot of 'em." Jerome agreed, snorting into his sherry.

"Does she have her own room?" Cyril asked, tipping the last of the smooth liquor down his throat.

"Oh yes...." George assured him, licking his lips and tasting the sweet sherry coating them.

"Send her up there....I've a mind to sample her charms in a more...comfortable setting." Jerome demanded, holding out his glass for a refill.

"Capitol notion Jerome....we can take turns and not have to suffer carpet burn." They all laughed together, the object of their mirth keeping her head bowed as she stood off to the side, her body throbbing from it's use, liquid still leaving her body in sticky trickles down the inside of her thighs.

"Get yourself cleaned up and go to your room." George ordered, his voice hard as he watched his daughter walk submissively over to the door and leave the room, her debauchers watching her slim body until she disappeared from their view. Closing the door behind her, she listened and heard several crude jokes tossed back and forth, the air rent with raucous laughter before she turned and fled up the stairs to the bathroom.

Standing in the bath she squatted on her haunches and used a soft rubber tube attached to one of the taps to douche her body both inside and out, the water as hot as she could stand as she washed away the evidence of her ravishment. After drying her legs off she patted herself dry before padding down the hallway to her bedroom, welcoming the pitch black of her room when she shut the door behind her. Dropping the damp towel to the carpet she slowly made her way to her dressing table, barely able to make out the outline of her figure in the mirror, only faint starlight visible through the gap in her thick curtains to rim her reflected image. She felt drained, a bone cracking weariness that pulled at her eyelids and made her legs tremble. Before she could do more than imagine the softness of her bed, warm hands reached around her and fastened onto her tender breasts, trapping her arms as a body plastering itself to her naked back, a warm breath bathing the nape of her neck.

Disorientated, Wendy froze, wondering how the men had reached her room before her. "Please....I'm so tired...."

Her whispered plea received no reply, the faceless male behind her moving his hands down her chest, stroking her trembling flesh as he progressed lower, combing through the hairs at the apex of her thighs briefly before sweeping back up to rest below her breasts.

She could feel heat where his body touched her all down her spine, his hips snugly pressed against her bottom, his sex hot and hard against her as he shifted. With a start she realised that the man behind her was as naked as she was, his skin smooth and hairless, his arms well muscled but lightly furred which ruled out two of the men from the parlour below, both having a quantity of hair on both chest and arm. Cautiously she sniffed, inhaling the air around her, again she found herself surprised as she registered the smells of earth and rain overridden by a clean male scent, unadorned by cologne or perfume.

Her second discovery ruled out the remaining two men she'd left behind, both of whom wore colognes, in the case of her father that was distinctive and in the case of the other man, overpowering.

"Who are you?" She asked, still whispering into the darkness.

Instead of replying the intruder behind her moved, his arms spinning her around so that she faced him, his broad hands splayed over her back to keep her still as his mouth covered hers, her gasp of shock cut off as warm lips moved against her own, her breasts crushed against a hard chest.

In the sudden move her arms had become freed of his embrace, her hands finding smooth skin in the darkness, her fingers feeling the shift of muscle under flesh, the shoulders broad and an inch or two taller than her own.

Kissing was a new sensation for her, her mouth rarely used for its usual purpose by her father, and the men that had used her that evening had been more interested in other parts of her body. This new assailant was plundering her mouth as if parched, his mouth moving over hers, forcing her lips apart to dart his hot moist tongue inwards, sweeping over teeth and gums and tangling with her own hesitant appendage. It was a heady and wondrous experience that melted all resistance in one devastating move. A thump from the floor poured icy reality over her swamped senses, a reminder that below her feet four men waited to assail her body some time soon. Wrenching her lips away from their pleasurable occupation she gasped and pushed against the arms still imprisoning her.

"Please...stop....they'll be coming up here....you have to go..."

"Who?" Her unknown assailants voice was a low growl against her neck, his hands now exploring the dips and hollows of her lower back and bottom.

"Oh...oh....my-my father....his guests.....you must....oh...go."

Where the touch of the men below had left her trembling with disgust in herself and them, whoever this male was that was storming her body was creating a whole slew of new sensations in her body, the twinges and aches of only moments before turning to a burning lassitude that melted her bones and left her pulsating with want.

His mouth found hers again and she drank him in, his taste like honeyed nectar as he dipped again and again between her lips, her body melting against his hardness as his hands pressed her closer, molding her to his contours, her softness giving in to his harness.

When they next parted she sagged against him, his body turning as his arm caught her behind her legs and hoisted her into his arms. Wendy felt dizzy, her skin tingling, a throbbing pounding between her legs as she wrapped her arms around her invisible seducer. As he stood, legs braced apart, she could feel the rise and fall of his chest, his heart pounding against her breast as the silence between them stretched.

"Do you want to stay here?" He whispered, his breath fanning the hair on her face.

Lifting her heavy head, Wendy stared at the dark features to faintly visible scant inches from hers.

"What did you ask me?"

"I can take you away from all this...to a place where you won't be bothered by your father ever again."

"I-I don't know....."

"Hurry....I can hear them coming up the stairs."

Instantly Wendy tensed in his arms, her body rigid with fear and loathing.

"Decide." His whisper washed over her, raising goose bumps as she cowered in his arms.

"Please....I can't.." Wendy whimpered, unequal to the task of deciding her own fate, her submission too strong to overcome.

"Decide.....what you have endured tonight, repeated every night until you break and take your own life....or escape."

"But I don't know you...where would you take me?"

Sensing her capitulation her mystery assailant grinned wolfishly, his arms tightening like iron bands around her trembling body.

"Trust me.....you can go to sleep now."

She felt something fall on her face like sand, her mouth instantly opening to yawn, her eyelids impossibly heavy as her head fell heavily onto his shoulder. Satisfied that his captive was unconscious, her would be rescuer carried her to the bed, laying her down and wrapping the satin coverlet around her in a few quick moves. As if able to see quite clearly in the darkened room, he donned his discarded clothes before gathering the inert girl into his arms and heading towards the window. He heard the men approaching and hurriedly pushed his way past the curtains and sat on the edge of the open window, his feet dangling over the ledge.

As the door opened he stood up on the narrow ledge, his satin wrapped bundle safely trapped within his arms. Before the door had swung wide enough to admit the first man the figure on the ledge had stepped off into space, his body swooping down then up, arcing over the blackened roof tops and off into the starlit sky, heading for the brightest light in the heavens.

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15/11/05

Chapter: Two - His Life After

Note: See Chapter One for rating and content.

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The stars turned to streaks around him as he flew at speed through the gateway, exploding out the other side, spiraling down towards the glassy ocean, the black sky reflected like a mirror in its surface.

He shifted the bundle in his arms, his fingers gripping the satin coverlet tightly as he lowered his head to bury his nose in the silky hair spilling out of the folds around her head. The Neverland sun was rising quickly into the sky, the thickly forested island appearing from its deep shadow like a jewel, the abundant flowers blooming instantly when the sun's warm rays hit their closed petals, all welcoming back their prince, spring arriving each time he returned. This time he wasn't alone.

As he approached Neverland's shore he saw a tiny ball of bright light appear from the canopy of tree's edging the beach, the sprite at it's center setting up a shrill call before streaking towards him, fairy dust glittering behind her in a sparkling trail. Reaching him, she darted about his head, her tinkling voice strident as she took him to task for being so long. Ignoring her, he flew above the trees heading for his current hideout, the fairy struggling to keep up and persist with her tirade as she followed him.

Slowing down, he floated feet first into a clearing, his bare feet touching down on the thick mat of fallen leaves, his toes digging into the rich loam as he staggered slightly, over balanced from the girl in his arms. Above his head the fairy continued her chittering, buzzing around his head like a wasp, her wings a blur as she darted overhead.

"If you don't stop bitchin' I'll swat you like a bug!"

Abruptly the tinkling tirade halted, the fairy's colour changing from pale yellow to an angry orange. She hovered for a moment, watching him crouch down and lay his burden on the soft leaves, his long brown fingers peeling back the folds of shiny pink ruffles to reveal the girls face. Curious, the fairy flew down to peer at the still features surrounded by tousled hair. He crouched beside her and just stared, his eyes roaming over the girls face, noting the thick lashes laying against her cheek, her full red lips slightly parted, the hint of pearly teeth behind them. After a few minutes the fairy grew bored and took herself off to sit on a branch, chittering to herself and leaving him to look his fill.

Reaching out, he picked up a strand of hair laying across her brow, smoothing it back into place, but he found that it wasn't enough just to touch her hair, he wanted to touch her skin, memory supplying the feel of her flesh under his hands and against his chest, her ribs expanding under his fingers as she breathed, the rise of goose bumps on her arms as she'd trembled against him. Turning his hand over he trailed the back of his fingers down her temple and over her cheek, feeling the slight fuzz of hair as he buffed his knuckle back and forth before drawing back so that only his finger tips touched her. These he drew across her cheek to the corner of her mouth, tracing the outline again and again as he remembered how it felt to kiss her, his tongue darting out to wet his own lips as memory supplied the texture and taste of her mouth against his, the heat and wetness of her tongue against his own.

Abruptly he pulled his hand away and rested his arm on his knee, frowning down at the girl laying at his feet. In all his life he'd never wanted anything as much as he'd wanted her. He'd never thought that his life was missing anything until he'd spied on her through her half drawn curtain, at first his attention caught by her face and form, then by the expression on her face, part melancholy, part submissive acceptance of her life, such as it was. He'd wanted to take her away at once, rip her from the man she called her Father, and spirit her away to his world, there to explore at his leisure the reasons why this girl, one of many hundreds he's seen in his lifetime, affected him the way she did.

It had been sheer chance that he'd stopped to peer into her room just as she entered, her face full of fear and apprehension, barely pausing before throwing herself face first onto the bed, her shoulders heaving with emotion. He'd only left Neverland because he'd felt so restless and bored, the usual diversions leaving him frustrated with desires for something more to occupy his thoughts and actions. As in the past he flew beyond the boundaries of his world and visited the mortal realm, flying above the small lives of the people who lived in the sooty houses, their minds as tightly encased as their bodies, unable to comprehend that there was a world beyond their narrow lives, a world unfettered by convention and rules, a world that revolved entirely around, and for, one existence.

Their world always served to remind him how good it was to return to Neverland with its clean air and clear water, his body always needing to be scrubbed clean whenever her returned from one of his visits, the smell of the city choking him for days afterwards.

This time was no different except that he'd felt an urge to peep into as many of the second floor windows as he could, a sort of game to see flashes of peoples lives through their windows as he flew past, some of them getting ready to go to bed, some of them getting ready to go out, often children, always the men buttoned up tightly in their dark suits, always the women constricted in their fashionable clothes, the children small copies of the adults. Sometimes he found a family that allowed themselves and their children more freedom, their laughter ringing out above the noise of the city, drawing him to investigate the cause of their mirth. Other times the very fact that the house was quiet and withdrawn drew his attention, his curiosity begging to be satisfied as to why. Which is how he had ended up flying past her window, the half pulled curtains giving him a glimpse into a world he had no part of, and a girl he hadn't realised he'd been looking for.

Hovering outside her window he stared into her room and wondered how best to get himself inside it, the window sash only opened a little way, the curtains only partly drawn. As he'd puzzled over his next move the door had opened and the girls father had entered the room, marching over to the window so that he'd had to dart to the side to avoid being seen. He'd listened to the man pontificate to the girl and could only guess what he meant from the fragmented words he heard through the glass. When it went quiet he approached the window again and saw the Father standing close to the girl beside the bed. She had been undoing the buttons of her blouse, her fingers shaking too much to do the job quickly, which irritated the man into ripping the garment from her shoulders. He'd wanted to leap into the room at that moment and tear the Father's throat out but what happened next stopped him in his tracks, the blood pounding in his head as he watched the man have sex with his daughter as if it was the most natural thing in the world. Afterwards he watched as the girl slid down beside her bed, her skirts bunched around her waist, her hair covering her naked torso as she sagged against the pink coverlet for several minutes. All this he watched with a dry mouth and a painful throbbing in his groin, made worse when the girl rose eventually to her feet and stripped of the remainder of her clothes, baring herself to his eyes, as yet unaware of him watching her through the window. It was almost as exciting watching her get dressed in one of her pretty lawn nighties as it was to see her with nothing on at all, his eagerness to get closer almost causing her to see him, only his quick actions preventing her from discovering him.

With only that tantalizing glimpse to go on, he had to find out more, remaining near to her window until dawn when he found himself a tree to hide him during the day, his perch sufficient to give him several hours sleep. That evening he'd been back outside her room once it was dark, his patience rewarded with the pulse thumping exhibition of the girl getting ready for the evening by donning a garment that did nothing to hide her body from his greedy eyes and did everything to heighten his desire for her. When she eventually left the room he flew to all the other windows in the house to find her, frustration building until he found a chink in the front parlor curtains and was able to see nearly everything that went one for the next hour. What he saw was both a revelation and fuel for the rage building up inside him. He had seen many things in his life, many cruelties and many hurts committed by man against man, as well as his wife and children, but the calculated callousness of the Father to give his daughter to the men in that parlor left him breathless with outrage and his plan was born.

He was shaking as he forced the sash of her bedroom window, his ear hearing her soft footfall as she padded along the corridor to the bedroom. He still hadn't decided exactly what he wanted to do, but suddenly his clothes seemed to constrict him and he threw them off, shedding them like a snake skin leaving him bare to the night air, the insistent throbbing between his legs ameliorated slightly. When she'd opened the bedroom door he'd hidden in the corner, sure that the shadows hid him, ready to spring once she switched on the light, but she confounded him but not turning it on, her body only faintly visible in the gloom as she approached the dressing table and stood before the mirror, her back to him. He heard her sigh, the sound so deep with emotion he was moving without conscious volition, his arms going around her to hold her in a blind effort to comfort her. It was his first mistake. He found his hands full of her, roaming over her warm flesh as he breathed in her scented hair, his fingers finger the soft down of her nether hairs, combing them before sweeping his hand back up her body, his own pressed hard against her rounded bottom. He hadn't heard her speak at first, not registering her words of her first question, but when she asked who he was he spun her around to face him, cursing the dark when he couldn't see her face or eyes. Then she touched him, her hands fluttering to his shoulders as she tried to push away, the electric shock of her fingers pressing against his flesh made his breath leave his chest, his mouth unerringly finding hers in the darkness, their fusion of lips feeling like a homecoming. For a split second he thought she'd fight him but she didn't sagging against him and giving up her lips for his plunder, her soft breasts crushed against his chest as he tangled his tongue with hers, his body clamouring with need. She did pull away eventually but only to try and warn him that the men were coming for her, his mouth shutting off her protests as he drank deeply, his hands molding her body to his, two halves joined as a whole.

He knew the moment she capitulated, her body melting against him, a sigh leaving her lips, accepting the inevitable, her arms going around him and holding on tight. It was then that he decided she had to come back with him, that he couldn't let her stay a minute longer in that house. Despite offering her a choice, there had never really been one, his use of the sleep dust a guarantee if she'd fought him over the decision, but her body had already told him her answer so he didn't wait to argue with her, the sound of the men climbing the stairs galvanizing him into action. Hurriedly he'd placed her on the bed and wrapped her in the coverlet before pulling on his discarded clothes and weapons, the stamp of approaching feet making him move faster, almost throwing himself and his precious burden out of the window just as the first man entered the room, their shout of alarm lost in the rush of air past his ears as he swooped and dived above the rooftops and on to Neverland.

"It was well named....for never shall you return to that place, never will you belong to anyone but me....and never shall you leave me!" His resolve firmly stated, he gathered the girl up once more in his arms and carried her towards the center of the clearing, lifting into the air a foot off the ground before letting himself drop, disappearing into a hole in the ground and out of sight of any curious creatures, the only one to notice his passing too intent on inspecting her reflection in a dew drop of water thereby missing his departure.

When she did finally look up, she stamped her foot and turned a bright orange again, her wings carrying her over the glade until she reached the spot she knew concealed the opening, the trap door once more in place. Angrily she scuffed the inoffensive grass before taking herself off to find another entrance to the underground hideout.

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With the girl settled on his bed, he set about putting his den to rights. With only himself to worry about he rarely bothered to do more than gather up the larger scraps and chuck them somewhere beyond the hideout. As he stared around the large, low room he saw it as it would look through her eyes and he scowled. Not wanting to get his traveling clothes filthy, he stripped them off before attacking the accumulated muck, sweeping it into a pile then into a bucket. It took several trips to clear the floor completely, and another handful before all the rubbish was removed from all the surfaces. Then he set to and used his knife to trim back the hanging roots that snaked down through the earth. After despatching them, he gathered together the roots, plus any broken pottery and bone shards, into a pile on an old Indian blanket that was in dire need of a wash. Gathering up the corners he heaved it over his shoulder and flew outside with it, disposing of it the same way as the other rubbish. Returning, he looked at the blanket with disgust, sniffing it and wrinkling his nose. Checking all the other pieces of material used for various purposes, including his wardrobe, he found them all in need of a wash, only his leaves, which had to be renewed when they died, were fit to be worn. For a moment he thought of burning the lot, but to replace them would need some serious bartering with the natives, and he didn't have the time or inclination to do it, plus it would mean leaving the girl alone for some time, another point to consider. Gathering up the linen to be washed, he stuffed it all into a large wicker basket, which he'd been given precisely for that purpose but never used, and carried the malodious pile to the stream. Where it curved around a huge boulder a pool had formed which he usually used for bathing, but today would be used for housekeeping instead. Vigorously he beat the blankets and clothes on the flat rocks at the side of the pool, the air full of the sounds of wet material and flying water, the workout making him sweat in the midday sun, the washing wrung and hung out to dry on the surrounding bushes before he took the time to wash himself. Diving under the surface he emerged dripping, his short plait slapping him on the back as he shook himself free of the water, his fringe falling into his eyes before he flicked it out of the way with a practiced move. Running his hand over his face he felt the rasp of soft bristles against his finger, making a note when he returned to the den to take care of that.

Hauling himself out he basked in the sun like a golden seal until his skin dried, then left the washing where it was and returned to the underground hideout. Entering the earthy cave he sniffed, his nose encountering nothing but the clean tang of fresh dirt and vegetation, the rank odour of old food quite vanished. Picking up one of the buckets he flew quickly to the stream and filled it, hurrying back after a quick glance up at the sky confirmed that the Neverland day was drawing to a close and he still had a lot to do. Arriving back he set the bucket on the wooden table and rummaged for his tiny collection of soap berries, scowling again as he realised he'd have to replenish his small stock or start growing a beard. Testing his blades, he found the sharpest one and sat himself down at the table. Picking up a soap berry he held it in his cupped hand and squashed it with his thumb, the slippery juice pooling against his skin. Squeezing the skin he was about to discard the husk then thought again, placing it on the table top for disposal later. Dipping his free hand in the bucket he dripped some water onto the juice and watched as it bubbled and turned white. Carefully bringing his two hands together he rubbed, the liquid turning into a foaming white froth which he quickly lathered about his face and chin. Taking up his knife he positioned the tiny triangle of mirror so that he could see himself in its spotted depths and started to scrape his whiskers off. The blade rasped in steady strokes over his cheeks and around his chin, the line following his jaw and back up to his ears leaving stripes of the foam behind. He checked with his fingers and, satisfied that he'd got most of the whiskers, he washed the blade before washing the remains of the soap berry juice off his skin, which tingled pleasantly in the aftermath of his shave.

Peering into the tiny mirror he scowled at his image, his ragged fringe once more flopping into his face. Taking the blade he started to hack at the over hanging hair, squibs of damp strands falling to the table top as he cut his own hair away from his eye brows, the shorter remains instantly curling in defiance of any attempts to smooth them flat. Satisfied that he'd no longer have to worry about impairing his vision, he spent a few minutes peering intently at his features, the straight nose, full bottom lip and thickly lashed eyes, and wondered if the girl would find him pleasing. If the reactions of the Indian women and girls at the natives home grounds was anything to judge by, his looks were more than pleasing, his visits to the Indian's always an occasion for the females to pet him and coo over him in a way that before had been rather alarming, the braves nudging each other in amusement as he darted out of the reach of grasping hands that seemed to only want to investigate what he hid behind his leaves. Many a dark eye had sent him signals that his attentions would not be repulsed if he cared to take advantage, but with the except of one torrid affair with the vastly experience daughter of the chief, he'd managed to avoid being lured into any entanglements, his departure often punctuated with heavy sighs and disappointed glances.

Carefully wrapping his shard of mirror, he snorted at his own vanity, resolving to not worry whether she thought him pleasing or not. She would take him as he was and be glad, after all she no longer had to perform for men like those that had used her the night before, her Father the worst of them all. She would look on him as her hero, her savior and be deliriously grateful to have been taken away from her drear life and brought to Neverland. For a moment he pictured a scene that involved the girl at his feet, eyes adoring as he allowed her to feed him choice morsels before covering her with kisses, her cries of gratitude swallowed by his mouth.

The sharp call of the Night Bird jolted him out of his daydreams and he tidied away the stuff cluttering the table before going in search of clean clothes. His choices were rather limited. With one hand on his hip and the other at his mouth, he stared down at the ancient chest in which he tended to cram his clothes. Crouching down beside it, he pulled out a pair of soft deer skin leggings, shaking them before laying them to one side. There were several shirts and trousers, attire he'd only wore when he went to visit with the community of retired pirates that lived on the coast near the Black Cliffs. Unfortunately shirts didn't store well when thrown in all higgledy piggeldy, the sleeves sadly crushed and creased, as were the trousers. Dumping them out he rummaged further and produced a fringed waistcoat covered with pretty beading that matched the leggings. He fingered the beads and smiled as he remembered the wedding feast he'd gone to some time back, the Chief's daughter dragging him into her tepee and ripping his leaves off, leaving him nothing to wear when, some time later, he wanted to rejoin the feast. She'd offered him the leggings and waistcoat, taking inordinate pleasure in dressing him, complete with beaded armbands and a head band, plaiting feathers into his hair and giggling frequently. He hoped the girl didn't giggle, it always got on his nerves, part of the reason he'd ended the affair with the Princess Tiger Lily and avoided being left with the women and girls of the village for any length of time, it always seemed to provoke a high pitched chorus of giggles.

Of course he could just fashion himself another leaf suit, but that took some time and he couldn't be bothered. Picking up the leggings he pulled them on, the fine leather hugging his thighs and sitting low on his hips, the front opening needing to be laced before securing the woven belt that held them up and which he'd modified so he could carry his sword and daggers, along with other weapons as he chose. For the moment he left the weapons where they were and pulled on the waistcoat instead, adding the wrist guards and arm bands but leaving the headband off. The bleached deer skin was the colour of wild honey and highlighted his deeply tanned skin, his colour not exactly swarthy but certainly evidence of his time spent in the sun as apposed to the white skin of the men he'd watched perform that night, their colour reminding him of dead fish bones drying on the sand.

Finished at last with his appearance he made a final sweep of the room, grunting in satisfaction at the changes wrought, before making his way over to his sleeping bench, the vivid pink of the satin coverlet looking rather incongruous against the darker animal skins, the smooth material glistening in the glow of the lamps, like wet skin against the rough wolf skins and furred deer pelts forming the mattress beneath her.

She was still blissfully asleep, a victim of the fairy sleep dust he'd sprinkled in her eyes, the lashes already starting to flutter as she dreamed, the effect of the dust starting to wear off even as he watched her struggle to return to consciousness.

Feeling an overwhelming desire to be the first thing she saw on awakening, he clambered onto the wide bed and gathered her close, keeping her wrapped in the coverlet in case she panicked, giving him time to calm her before she could hurt herself or him with her struggles.

Unknown to him, his preparations were unnecessary.

He saw her eyelids start to lift, the lashes fluttering briefly before revealing the blue circles of her irises, tiny flecks of gold amid the vivid blue, their gaze unfocused at first, then blinking up at him without recognition or, surprisingly, fear.

For a long time she just stared at him, her brow eventually furrowing as she tried to place him.

"Do I know you?"

He shook his head, keeping a firm grip on the smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. Her lashes swept down again as she moistened her mouth, the tip of her pink tongue gliding over the fullness of her lips and giving a tantalizing glimpse of her pearly teeth.

"Have I been.....kidnapped?"

Again he shook his head, his lips pressed together to stop them twitching. She looked so adorably confused he wanted to blurt out everything, but resisted the temptation and just waited.

"Then I must be dreaming...but such an odd dream." She sighed and turned her head away from him to stare about the underground room, her gaze roaming over the earth roof and crude furniture before swiveling back to look at him again.

"Are we in a cave?"

"No." He spoke for the first time and she visible jumped.

"You were the one in the dark...behind me.....you-you..kissed me."

"So you do remember, I wondered if the dust would addle your brains. Yes it was me, and now you're here."

"But where is here?"

"My den....underground."

He could see the confusion and questions piling up behind her eyes, her head twisting again to look at the dimly lit room around her, her fingers clutching at the edge of the pink coverlet in her agitation.

"Where is my Father? Is he here with us...me?"

"No. Just me....and you. No one else."

"But.....he'll be worried, I was supposed to wait.....in my room..."

"You didn't want to wait...you didn't want to see those men again. You asked me to take you away."

"I did?"

He nodded.

"You must have misheard me...Father will be so cross....I must get back home as soon as possible...."

"No."

"No? What do you mean, no. You can't hold me here, wherever here is, I have to go home....Father..."

"So he can use you again!" Feeling angry that she didn't seem to appreciate all he'd done for her, he rose up on to his knees and scowled down at her. He saw her shrink back, her gaze skittering away from his, her bottom lip caught between her teeth as she wriggled a little away from him.

"I have to go home...." She said again, almost to herself. Before he could stop her she had swung her legs over the side of the bed and sat, still wrapped in the satin coverlet, staring out at the room, her hair in a tangled mass about her shoulders.

"How far is it to London?" She asked, her shoulders shaking as she struggled to understand what was happening.

"A million miles." He told her, anger making his voice sharp as he scooted off the bed and stood, his arm folded, in front of her.

"So far? How can you have taken me so far away? This is madness."

Freeing one arm from the enveloping satin she pushed agitatedly at the mass of her hair falling over her face, her eyes darting back and forth as if looking for a way out. At once her arm was grabbed between hard fingers. He was staring at the bruises standing out on her flesh, the livid purple hue in the exact shape of a man's fingers.

"You want to go back to this?" He flung her arm away and she hurriedly tucked it back into the coverlet.

"I have to....he'll be so cross..."

She made to stand up but her feet became entangled in the ruffles of the cover and she fell back onto the bed.

Angry beyond reason at her persistence in wanting to leave him, he leaned forward, forcing her to lean back to get away, leading to her overbalancing and fall on her back across the bed. In a flash he was on top of her, pinning her down as she started to flail at him, his hands encasing her wrists as she thrashed, his legs holding hers as she kicked. In the process the satin cover became dislodged and fell away from her body, leaving her bared to his eyes, her breast heaving as she fought him. The sight of her flesh inflamed him and he lowered his head to fasten his mouth on her breast, ignoring her cry of pain as he sucked on her already bruised nipple. Abruptly her struggles ceased and she lay panting beneath him, her head turned away as he continued to lick and suckle her breast, her stillness finally registering and making him lift his head to stare up at her features. Her face was turned away, half covered by her hair, her lips pulled back from her teeth in a pain filled grimace, her eyes squeezed tightly shut. Looking back down at her body he saw other bruises, more evidence of the men's and her Father's use of her, his fingers instantly loosening their grip on her wrists, their imprint making him wince at his own brutality as he lifted himself off of her.

He stood and looked down at her, noting the finger bruises on her thighs and belly, the puffy red nipples and taut muscles of her neck.

She lay as he'd left her, not moving for fear he'd attack her again. Disgusted at his lack of control, he stepped back and ran an unsteady hand through his hair. Sensing his withdrawal she turned her head only far enough to look at him from the corner of her eye. Slowly she eased her arms down and rolled on to her side, drawing her legs up as if to protect her vital organs.

She whimpered and buried her face against the coverlet, shaking in reaction.

"Pl-ple-ease...I want to go home."

"You can't." He told her grimly. "You're mine and I won't let you go."

As his cruel words lashed her she cried out again and flinched as if he'd struck her. Disgusted as much at himself as her, he left her curled up on the bed, all his daydreams shattered by what he saw as her unreasonable attitude and complete lack of gratitude for him saving her, his face pulled into a scowl of frustration as he sat with his back to her at the table, his shoulders rigid.

Tentatively she put out a hand and dragged the coverlet over her exposed body, curling herself up as tightly as a hedgehog in an effort to make herself as small as possible. She didn't understand any of it and wished heartily that she was tucked up in her bed back home. Instead she was at the mercy of a hard eyed stranger who apparently lusted after her as much, if not more so than the men who had taken her the night before. Exhausted emotionally, she pulled a corner of cloth over her head and tried to imagine herself invisible.

As the silence lengthened she lifted the corner and peeped out, seeing the young man's back still turned to her as he sat at the table. Gathering her courage in both hands she opened her mouth to speak.

"Wh-wh-a-at is your na-name?"

Jerking in surprise, he turned around on the bench and looked at her.

"Peter."

"Peter...." She repeated his name in a whisper before retreating once more beneath the coverlet and blocking him from her line of sight.

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19/11/05

Chapter: Three - Her life after

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It had to be a nightmare. Laying curled up under her own coverlet on a bed covered in furs, in a strange cave with an equally strange young man called Peter. As carefully as possible, Wendy pinched a finger full of skin, biting her lip to muffle the yelp before rubbing it better. So she wasn't dreaming, it was all distressingly real, but that was not possible. Cautiously she lifted the corner of the coverlet and peeped out, expecting to see the angry young man sitting as he had been with his back to her at the rickety looking table. To her consternation he was not there any more. Lifting the cover higher she looked about as far as she could but he was nowhere. Feeling a spike of panic cramp her stomach she raised her head and threw off the cover altogether, finding herself quite alone in the burrow, the empty room mocking her caution. Pushing herself upright she let her legs swing over the side of the bed and sat staring out at the strange, earthen room with its peculiar furniture, the flickering flames in half a dozen sconces providing just enough light to see by. Unfortunately what she saw was not encouraging.

Above her head was a low roof, a tall man would have had to stoop, made of earth, a few tendrils of roots poking through to hang like ragged hair from the ceiling. The walls were also of dirt, alcoves dug out of them to hold pots and bric-a-brac at various levels, some high, some low, several used to hold the lanterns that flickered fitfully. Ranged around the walls were also hung trophies, she assumed had been garnered from hunting, an impressive pair of antlers, plus several smaller horns from a variety of animals alongside strings of barbaric teeth, some of them so huge as to make her shake to think what they'd once belonged to. Animal skins of an amazing variety also decorated the walls, inviting her to run her fingers over their thick pelts if they hadn't already been buried in the thick fur covering the bed she was sitting on. Looking down she marveled at how thick the fur was and surprisingly course, the dark hue reminding her of a dog she'd once known. Surveying the room again she saw that the floor appeared to be recently swept, the corners clear of refuse or rubbish, the table apparently scraped clean leaving a collection of candles at its center, the wax in various stages of use, from nearly untouched to almost melted to the table top. Apart from the table, three chairs and a small wooden bench there were several chests ranged against the walls, looking very battered and well used, alongside a motley collection of wooden buckets with rope handles. Hanging above them on wooden pegs were what looked like leather bags, which she assumed could also carry water, and woven baskets over several shapes and sizes. There was no evidence of a fire place or anyway to cook anything so she assumed that was done elsewhere, her gaze not finding any cooking pots or piles of crockery, which struck her as unusual. There was also no windows or an obvious door. She was trapped in an underground burrow with no means to get out and no way of knowing when her kidnapper would return.

Shivering, she tugged the pink satin tightly around her and tentatively stood up, her bare feet recoiling from the cool earth at first.

"H-h-hello?" She called out, her voice sounding odd in the confined space. "P-Peter?" She tried again after clearing her throat.

There was no reply so she stepped forward and approached the table, all the while listening for any sound to indicate her captors return. Turning, she looked back at the bed and gasped. The wall behind and the ceiling above were covered in an assortment of weapons, some rusted, all of them wickedly curved and sharply honed, adorned with beads and feathers, bones and shells like some barbaric display, the weapons mounted on bones and branches to keep them from contact with the earth. Wendy had a vivid mental picture of them all falling on to the bed at once and impaling the person sleeping there. She shuddered and turned away. Whoever the young man was he had a strange idea about decorating a room. Still cautious, she made her way over to the closest leather bound chest and lifted the lid. Inside were an assortment of clothes and she breathed a sigh of relief, glad to dispense with the coverlet in favor of more normal attire. Unfortunately as the place belonged to a young man, there were no feminine clothes to be found, despite her searching through two more chest. The best she could find was a plain, long sleeved shirt which hung almost to her knees, over which she tied a square of fabric, knotting it at her hip so that it made a snug skirt that exposed only a small amount of her legs and reached to her ankles. She's looked at the various breeches and trousers but they had seemed to strange to try and wear, so finding one of the trunks held a quantity of un-used fabric, she found a square that could be used as a skirt.

Now, decently clothed given the circumstances, she sat down on the small bench beside the table and tried to sort out the tangle mess that was her hair. As she performed the familiar and soothing ritual she turned her thoughts to the frightening young man that had carried her off.

Pushing aside her initial feeling of panic and surprise, she tried to view him dispassionately. He was tall, but not above average height, his body lean but well muscled, his arms certainly showing evidence of a life spent in a very physical way, his skin very dark compared to the men she knew, apparently coloured by spending a great deal of time in the sun, like a farmer she supposed, but then laughed. Anyone less like a farmer it would be hard to find. Combing her fingers through her hair she continued her musing. His hair was long at the back, caught in a pony tail that appeared bound in leather strips, the front quite short and curling, bleached light by the sun at the tips, around a face that could only be described as very beautiful for a youth. She put his age at several years older than herself but by no means yet a full grown man. She tried to imagine his darkly lashed eyes under their straight brows not scowling, the full sculptured lips not pressed into a harsh line and thought he must be quite captivating when not angry. A sudden flash of memory recalled the feel of those lips on hers, their warmth and pressure leaving her breathless and limp. Blushing hotly, she renewed her efforts to disentangle her hair, tugging at a knot quite viciously to dispell the memory, reminding herself that he only wanted her the same as the horrid men her Father had given her to, as a body to gratify their lusts. With her blush fading she returned to her thoughts, her minds eye supplying his face and form, her memory letting her down as to the colour of his eyes. With his strange clothes and half naked body she supposed him to be quite a savage, given the primitive surrounding he appeared to live in. But that didn't explain how he had been in her bedroom, almost in the heart of London, and how he carried her off so far, for she could hardly believe that this underground hideout could be within one of the great parks within the city, surely not.

Thinking of London brought her back to her Father and she shuddered to think what he would do when he found her gone, and what he would do when she was finally returned. Veering away from that future unpleasantness, she ran her fingers through her hair, finding it free at last of its tangles and now hanging over her shoulder as it should, in glossy waves of honey coloured silk.

One of the lanterns abruptly went out, making her give a little scream, quickly stifled by her hand over her mouth. That left only three to illuminate the gloom and she suddenly felt very alone, having no idea how long she was to be left or how she was to take care of a pressing, basic need that she'd been trying to ignore for the past half hour or more.

She wriggled for a few minutes more then decided that there was nothing for it but to seek relief. She appropriated one of the buckets and retreated to the far corner of the room, half shielded by a rampart of earth beside the raised bed. There she hitched up her makeshift skirt and thankfully relieved herself. Her most pressing need taken care of, she walked another circuit of the burrow before sitting back on the bed of furs and contemplating her next move. She was dressed and clean, her body's need sorted, her thirst quenched by the water she'd found in a bucket under the table, the only remaining need not satisfied being her hunger. And of course her freedom.

Another of the lamps spluttered and died and she gazed fearfully at the remaining two, praying very hard that the young man, she must call him Peter, would return before too long. Laying down on the luxurious furs she tucked her hand under her cheek and stared off into the distance, her eyes unfocused as she wondered what was happening within her home back in Bloomsbury.

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Unknown to Wendy, some time had passed since her abduction from number 14, the passage of normal time warped during the trip through the gateway to Neverland. When her Father had first discovered her missing, it was assumed she'd run away, a search instigated both publicly and privately, his promotion deferred until her return. Enraged beyond reason, George Darling could do nothing but smile and accept the ruling despite its unjust nature, in his estimation. Mary Darling viewed the event of her daughter running away as both a blessing and a curse. She now had to bear the brunt of her husband displeasure and was seriously considering leaving him and taking the boys, only the very real threat that George would take the boys from her, as was hit right, kept her under his roof. For her daughter she felt only relief that she no longer had to bear the indignity of having her husband prefer her offspring to herself. It also got rid of a potential embarrassment if the truth of the shocking events that had taken place in that house over the years ever came to light.

John and Michael were only told that Wendy had gone away and they mourned her sincerely, having no real knowledge or understanding of her duel role within the household.

Wendy's disappearance caused no more disturbance to the society at large than a flower dropping from its stem.

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A hand on her shoulder shook her roughly and her eyes flew open. Peter stood beside the bed, his hands on his hips, regarding her with a scowl marring his handsome face.

"I brought you food. It's time to eat."

Not waiting for an answer he spun on his heel and made his way to the table, the room much brighter than before with several lamps lit around the walls and the candles on the table providing extra light. As she sat up she saw that the table surface was almost covered in an array of food that took her breath away. In anticipation her stomach growled loudly and she blushed, standing up and fussing with her skirt to hide her embarrassment. Peter appeared not to notice and was busy filling a misshapen jug with water before finding a space for it on the crowded table and setting it down. He glanced up and saw her still standing beside the bed, her head down bent.

"What are you waiting for, get over here?"

Nervously she walked slowly over to the table and pulled out one of the chairs as Peter took another at the head of the table. He was still dressed in the clothes he'd worn before and she stared in fascination at the play of his sun brown skin over well defined arm muscles, the armbands accentuating every flex and pull. She was quite lost in her fascination and didn't see the smugly satisfied look that crossed Peter's face before he hid it behind a mouthful of melon, the juice dripping down his chin in sticky trails. Seeing her still staring rather blankly at him, he deliberately banged his knife hilt on the wooden table top, making her jump and focus her attention on him.

"Eat!" He commanded and was pleased to see her reach for a piece of fruit, her fingers closing over it, testing it for ripeness. Satisfied that it was ready to eat, she looked around for something to cut it open and was surprised when Peter held out his knife, hilt first, for her to use. She took it and held it in her hand a moment, looking up at him shyly and with a little consternation.

"Aren't you afraid I might use this....against you?"

Peter almost choked and let go a bark of laughter. "You can try."

Slightly miffed at his instant dismissal of her as a threat, she pared the peach with delicate precision before slicing it into neat wedges. Peter watched her with curiosity and a hint of amusement, discarding the melon skin over his shoulder before leaning across to grab the same fruit that Wendy had. With blatant disregard, he bit into it with a will, juice spurting as he munched the tender flesh. Wendy ignored his boorish behavior and picked up each of her fruit wedges and ate them in a ladylike fashion, careful not to drip juice on her shirt.

"If that's how you eat everything, its no wonder you're so skinny!"

"And it's plain to see you, from the way you eat, that you have never moved in civilized society."

"From what I saw, your society is about as civilized as a pack of wolves devouring a fawn." Peter retorted, throwing a pip over his shoulder.

Wendy trembled inwardly, sure that her pert answer would result in a blow or some other retribution. To her surprise Peter just kept eating, his eyes watching her, like a cat watching a mouse, unnerving her.

"From the way you dress, I supposed you to be a native of the America's...a red skin I think they're called. But you're the wrong colour, according to the pictures I've seen in the Strand Magazine."

"I'm not a redskin....but these were a gift from one." He glanced down at the beaded waistcoat before reaching for another fruit, this time an apple. He put his hand out, asking for the knife, and after a brief hesitation, Wendy placed it on his palm.

"Are we in America then?"

"No." He answered unhelpfully, biting deeply into the apple.

"And we're not in London?"

"No." He saw her frown and had to fight to suppress the smile begging to be released.

"Am I a prisoner?"

"No."

"So I can go home?" Wendy's face lit up for a brief moment, but then she saw the frown pulling his brows together.

"No." Peter told her unequivocally. "You can never go home again."

Wendy felt tears well up and she turned her face away. "Why can't I go home? Am I to be kept here in this...burrow forever?" She closed her eyes as the tears started to fall, her chest tight with suppressed sobs.

She didn't hear him move but he was suddenly there, crouched beside her chair, his hands on her arms pulling her around to face him, his eyes staring fiercely into her own. She noted that they were a bluey green, the lashes as dark as his brows.

"You are here because I wanted you here and because you couldn't stay where you were."

"You-you kidnapped me...and took me away without any consideration for my family or....or me...." She suddenly found herself shaken hard until she thought her teeth would come loose.

"Your family couldn't care less about you...if they did, would they have let him do what he was doing to you?"

"What do you know? He's my Father, he loves me...."

"He used you! He gave you to those men to use...that's not love!"

"And you are any better? You look like a savage....dressed in your barbaric skins! You're just the same....you want to use me too...don't you!" She found herself suddenly released, Peter standing up to tower over her, his fists clenched at his side as he seethed. She thought him a savage, well so be it.

"You think me a savage." He ground out, reaching for her and pulling her out of her chair. "Then I'll treat you like the savage you expect."

Dragging her behind him he made for the bed, Wendy hanging back, too shocked at first to resist. When it became clear what he intended she started to claw at his hand, raking his arm with her nails. Spinning back he bent over and caught her in the middle with his hard shoulder, Wendy bending over him in surprise as he straightened up. With his arm around her thrashing legs he turned once more and headed for the bed, Wendy beating at his back with her fists as she hung head down over his shoulder.

Before she had time to catch her breath he had flipped over and laid her none too gently on the bed, her hair covering her face as she lay panting. She felt his fingers at her hip, undoing the knot that secured her skirt. Realizing his intent she kicked out, connecting with a some part of his body making him grunt, her ankle caught in iron fingers that held it still as she thrashed.

"Hell cat!" Peter swore, capturing the other leg and dragging her towards him, imprisoning her legs between his own. With his hands free he pinned her wrists to the bed and stared down at her as she lay panting against the wolf skins. His anger couldn't dull his admiration for the way she fought, her spirit unbroken by the men who had used her so selfishly. Holding her two hands with one of his, he returned to attack the knot holding the fabric together about her waist. Easily undoing it, he pulled the cloth from under her and tossed it away, now just faced with the ridiculously long shirt.

"I'll never forgive you if you rape me..." Wendy gasped, her body as taut as a bowstring as he shifted her further up on the bed, her legs suddenly free. Twisting she tried to free herself but instead only allowed the shirt to ride up her thighs almost exposing herself. Frantic she twisted her head to clear the hair almost blinding her, her view of Peter obscured by the thick strands. She could feel his fingers gripping her wrists, but she wasn't sure of what else he was doing, his thighs no longer trapping her legs, his weight lifted off her. Before she could deduce his purpose his body was once more pinning her to the bed, her legs either side of his hips, his free hand sliding between her thighs and delving among her soft folds, a finger finding its way inside her and making her gasp, her heels scrabbling against the furs to push herself away from the intruding digit. Uselessly she twisted her head, arching her back to retreat, his fingers stroking her relentlessly, both inside and outside. Her senses, so focused on what he had been doing, suddenly registered that her thighs were wrapped around his hips and that they were touching skin to skin, Peter having got rid of the legging.

"Oh God....you're naked!" She gasped, still fighting to free her vision from her smothering hair.

"You only just noticed that....not very observant are you?" The fingers between her legs were suddenly withdrawn and she almost groaned in frustration.

His mocking voice made her blush hotly, her mouth opening on a retort just as his body invaded hers, his hot flesh filling her and stretching her and setting tremors rippling down her thighs and across her belly.

Abruptly he let go of her wrists but she remained as she was, her hands above her head, her legs wrapped around his waist, his sex firmly seated to the hilt inside her, heat blossoming outward from where they were joined. As she lay panting, her body pulsating in time with her heart, she felt his fingers gently pulling the hair away from her face, the strands tugging at her eyelashes as she kept her eyes closed until the last tickling thread was smoothed away. Apart from seating his hot hardness inside her, he hadn't moved, his body braced on one hand over her as his other started to unbutton the shirt, making short work of the small impediments and pushing the white cotton out of the way to fully expose her body to his gaze.

As he continued to remain still, she risked peeping at him through her lashes, her eyes opening fully when she realised he was waiting for her to look at him.

"There you are...I wondered how long you'd last before giving in to temptation."

Unable to tear her eyes away, she stared up at him in bemused wonder as he started to move within her, pulling out slowly before thrusting back in, equally slowly, teasing her with each stroke, their bodies only touching where they were joined, his eyes holding hers, looking for something, waiting for something. The tension started to leech out of her body, her arms and shoulders sinking into the furs, her legs losing their hardness as she unconsciously started to move with him, melding them more closely as he thrust slowly into and out of her body. Her breathing started to become uneven as a previously unknown sensation started to coil in her belly, tingles running up and down her legs making her grip his sides, pulling him in more tightly with each inward stroke. Suddenly he stopped moving and she almost moaned at the loss of sensation, her inner walls clenching around him, willing him to move.

"Patience....there's no hurry." He murmured, bending his elbows to lower his head to her torso. As if knowing that any roughness on his behalf would break the unbearably sweet tension holding her in thrall, he slowly lowered his head and just licked the hard pebbled nipple of one breast, his eyes flicking up to gauge her reaction. Seeing her half closed eyes watching him, her lips parted, he stretched out his tongue and licked her again, swirling the tip around the darkened skin surrounding the nipple. Keeping the pressure light, he pressed his lips to the sensitive skin and kissed it, his lips brushing over the tiny blue veins visible beneath the surface, a sudden indrawn breath raising the soft mound to press against his lips. Moving to the left he placed a kiss on the skin between, the faint pulse of her heartbeat plainly visible, his lips warm against her skin, raising goose bumps.

He started to move within her again and she couldn't suppress a moan, her eyes shutting as all her sense focused on the heat coiling in her womb, the muscles of her belly trembling as she wrapped her legs around his hips again and held him close.

His restraint was being tested to the limits, his brow beading with sweat as he tried to prolong her pleasure, sure in the knowledge that no one had ever truly made love to her before him, her body only ever used for sex with no feelings engaged on either side. His muscles bunched as he drove himself repeatedly into her heated core, her muscles clenching around him, her heels digging into his buttocks as she urged him on, the air filled with the wet slap of flesh against flesh, of urgent gasps and frantic panting. Wendy's fingers were digging into the wolf pelts beside her head, her lips pulling back from her teeth in a grimace as she strived to reach her peak, her muscles as tight as bow strings, coiling and clenching until suddenly she was there, shuddering beneath him, her mouth wide open, keening as her body convulsed, her inner muscles clamping down on his sex as she rose out her climax, her back arching upwards and then relaxing. Panting, she blinked open her eyes and stared languidly up at him, her soft mouth curving into the hint of a smile as he remained buried in her, his body thrumming with its need to complete the race, vibrating like a bow string as he braced himself above her.

Fiercely resisting the urge to slam himself into her, he lowered himself until he was resting on his elbows either side of her head, practically nose to nose with her.

"I'm going to kiss you now." He whispered, seeing her eyes widen a second before his mouth fastened on her, his tongue sweeping past her lips to dive into the softness beyond, tangling with her own, inviting it to dance with his, his body moving as his tongue mimicked his lower body, thrusting into her mouth again and again.

He had been near to the brink before he stopped so it didn't take him long to reach his own climax, his mouth still on hers as his buttocks bucked forward, burying himself inside her and releasing his seed deep within her body. He shook against her, breath leaving his mouth in sharp grunts as he shuddered and jerked, sweat plastering the curls to his forehead as his head dropped to lay beside hers on the furs.

With his heart thumping in his chest he raised his heavy head to look down at Wendy, her own eyes closed.

"Do you forgive me now?"

"Forgive you?" Wendy's voice was a mere thread, her internal muscles still spasming intermittently around his softening sex.

"For raping you."

He almost laughed out loud at her puzzled expression, her eyes flying open to stare up at him. "Rape?"

"I didn't think so." With a small grunt he drew himself out of her, Wendy moaning faintly at the loss of his heat and weight. Lifting himself off, he rolled to the side and lay gratefully on his back, boneless with satisfaction. She had been all he'd ever expected and more.

For Wendy it had been a revelation, her body responding in ways she'd never known before, all apprehension at the start washed away as he slowly built up the excitement, the tension almost unbearable as she strived for something just beyond her reach, and then she was there, splintering into quivering shards, stars igniting behind her closed eyes as she floated weightless before plummeting to earth again to lay trembling and breathless.

Turning her head she stared at Peter's profile, the strong line of his jaw, a single bead of sweat snaking into his hair line, his chest rising and falling, the skin stretched tight over his ribs, a pulse beating strongly in his neck. Before she could look away he turned his head and caught her staring.

"Still want to go back to the way it was before?" Almost at once he wished the question unasked, Wendy's eyes turning a deeper blue with pain before she turned her head away.

Not prepared to let her retreat into herself again he rolled onto his side and propped himself on his elbow, his free hand darting out to grip her chin and force her head back so that she faced him again.

"Don't run away....face what you know to be true. I can give you everything you've ever wanted, make you forget the hurts of the past and give you a chance to start again...with me."

"As your bed mate." Wendy spat, her voice shaking. "How does that make it any different?"

"Because I can make you enjoy it, despite your best intentions. You did, didn't you?"

Wendy stared up at him mutinously for a second before lowering her lashes, missing the look of triumph that crossed his face.

"Yes."

"And you will every time....." Lowering his head he pressed his lips to hers, not using his tongue but just moving over them, willing her to respond. At first she remained still, her lips firm but unyielding, resisting his invitation. But Peter persisted and he was rewarded with her mouth opening without him forcing it, her lips softening and moving against his, his fingers able to release her chin and Wendy staying still, returning his kiss of her own free will. Keeping the kiss soft, he let her take the initiative, her tentative exploration sweeter for her giving it freely. As the kiss progressed he felt a hesitant touch against the side of his face, her hand brushing lightly against his cheek.

Raising his head he broke the kiss and gazed down at her wide blue eyes.

"That wasn't so hard." He felt her fingers fall away from his face, missing their touch at once. "Touch me again." He ordered, seeing her eyes flicker for second in indecision before her hand once more reached up and laid itself against his cheek, the pads of her fingertips brushing over the soft bristles starting to emerge from his skin. Feeling a surge of triumph he suddenly smiled, the look transforming his features, revealing the dimples beside the corners of his mouth, his eyes crinkling at the corners and making him even more irresistible, Wendy falling under his spell harder with each passing moment.

"How would you like to see outside this gloomy burrow...see the world you now are a part of, my world?"

Slowly Wendy nodded her head, still in awe at the power of his smile, her fingers falling away from his face as he pulled back, rolling off the bed and starting to pull on his leggings. Wendy quickly sat up and did up the buttons of her shirt, sliding off the bed once she was done and finding the length of fabric she was using for a skirt. With that knotted tightly around her waist she stood ready, nervously tucking her hair behind her ear as Peter rummaged in one of the chests. As she waited she wondered at her sudden complaisancy, all her anger and despair melted away in the heat of their coming together, his tenderness and forbearance undermining her will to fight him, to demand to be taken home. His smile had rocked her foundations, sending her heart spinning as an unknown force spread warmth all through her, spreading from her core, radiating out to her toes and finger tips like fire. Having never felt it before she had no name for it, except to associate it with that devastating smile and hope that sometime he'll bestow its gift on her again.

Peter was beckoning to her to stand near the center of the room. "Come...time we did some exploring."

Unsure of what to expect, she was surprised when Peter put his arm about her and held her close to his side.

"Ready?" He asked, sending her a carefree grin which she answered with a tentative curving of her lips.

"I suppose so...."

"Then hold on tight." With an explosion of bunched muscles, Peter shot straight up, Wendy shrieking and clutching him tightly about the neck as they rocketed through the concealed trapdoor and into the air outside, the change from dark to light making them both blink for a few seconds while Peter slowed their ascent then let them hover among the canopy of trees bordering the grassy glade hiding his home.

"Welcome to Neverland."

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27/11/05

Chapter: Four - Their Life Together

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Wendy sat in the shade and let the sand run through her fingers, its cool silk tickling her skin as she lifted another handful and let it drift out of her grip. She was sitting in the shade of a palm tree, its broad fronds casting stripes over the beach, the light breeze barely stirring her hair as she stared out at the water lapping the sloping shore, the hiss and rattled of the waves a sound she was rapidly becoming accustomed to. The sun sparkled off the surface and dazzled her eyes, her hand coming up to shade them before trying to spot any disturbance in the water. Peter was out there somewhere and she hadn't seen him surface in some time. Dusting off her hands she rose to her feet, digging her toes into the sand, hesitating before leaving her shady spot to go in search of him.

His world was proving to be both bewildering and delightful. Nothing in her life in London had prepared her for the jungle paradise she now found herself in. Sooty streets and noisome alleyways couldn't hope to compare with verdant green jungle and clean, sunlit infused air populated with exotic bird life together with deserted stretches of untouched beaches. Peter had tried to give her an aerial view of his island home until he realised that Wendy had shut her eyes soon after they flew above the tree tops, her body rigid with fear, her fingers so tightly attached to his shirt he had to prise her free when they finally landed. When he brought them back to earth she was trembling uncontrollably, her teeth chattering in a body grown cold with terror. He'd forgotten that Wendy had been unconscious for her trip to Neverland, that his precipitous expulsion from the underground burrow, done more to impress than for any consideration of her feelings, was her first experience of what he took for granted. The thought that she might have a fear of heights had never once crossed his mind, her reactions filling him with a brief sense of shame for frightening her so badly.

But Wendy was resilient and she soon recovered, Peter keeping their exploration of the island to those attractions found within walking distance of the burrow, the beach being one of those.

Once he'd set her on her feet he hadn't touched her again, leading the way to the beach, telling her about places they would visit, but not taking her hand or attempting to kiss her again.

They had reached the sandy shore and Peter had instantly started to shed his clothes, one foot lifted before he noticed that Wendy was not doing the same.

"Don't you want to have a swim?"

Not looking at him, Wendy stared up the beach. "I don't know how to swim."

"Oh.....well I do....don't wander off."

Hopping on one leg he pulled off his leggings, the beaded waistcoat already laying in a crumpled heap on the hot sand. Tugging his leg free he tossed the trousers down and loped off towards the water's edge. Wendy walked over towards a shady spot and watched as Peter dived into the water, his long golden body slicing through the waves until he ducked out of sight underwater.

She had studiously ignored the sight of his body, fixing her gaze on the headland rising to her left while he stripped then watching him from the corner of her eye as his suntanned back was turned to her and he left for his swim. Admiring the play of muscles as he flexed his arms, she made her way to the palm tree and sat down, tucking her legs underneath her and trying to sort out her conflicted emotions without the distraction of his physical presence.

For a distraction he certainly was. Admittedly her knowledge of men was limited to her father and brothers and more recently the men her father had given her to. But none of them could she imagine let loose in this tropical paradise and look so at home. Peter's barbaric splendor was created for this island, making her wonder how she fitted into the picture. Was she just a temporary diversion? A passing fancy to be discarded, returned to her own world when he grew bored with her? Could she return to her own world after tasting paradise? Peter seemed so sure that she would never return to London and her family, and if she was completely honest, she didn't want to return. But once he grew tired of her, as he surely would in time, where would she go? Could she live on this strange island for the rest of her life? Would he let her stay?

All these thoughts whirled through her head at a dizzying rate, the sand running through her fingers as she lost herself in her thoughts.

Now she stood, her eyes shaded, staring out at the breaking waves and wondering where Peter had disappeared to.

She suddenly saw what she thought was a head appear out of the water, followed in quick succession by several more, all of them too far away to make out features. As she strained to see better another head joined them and she saw the sun glint of golden hair, the newcomer obviously Peter. The darker heads instantly converged on him, surrounding him and circling, dark arms lifting out of the water, reaching for him before swinging away to swirl around him again. It was as if they were dancing.

Slowly she made her way down to the waters edge for a closer view, the sun reflecting off the ocean making her squint as she tried to see what was happening. One of the darker heads was suddenly very close to Peter's, long arms appearing out of the water and wrapping around his neck in what was obviously an embrace. The other heads continued to circle the pair at their center and then they all disappeared from view, leaving just the dark and light head still close together. Suddenly bodies were leaping out of the water, arcing gracefully, skin glistening with water, tails slapping the water noisily before they sand below the surface.

Even from the shore it was easy to make out the long dark hair above the blatantly female forms gambolling in and out of the water, their fish scale tails flashing as they danced among the waves. And still the dark head and light head remained locked together.

Feeling as if she was in a dream, Wendy back away from the water's edge and turned her back on the scene, her mind struggling to grasp the fact she had just seen what appeared to be mermaids cavorting in the water, alongside the unmistakable fact that one of them appeared to be embracing Peter with some enthusiasm.

Unable to sort out the conflicting emotions of hurt, embarrassment and shock at finding mythical creatures suddenly very much alive, Wendy retreated to her shady haven and drew her knees up, staring out at the blue water stretching endlessly to the horizon, studiously avoiding the area of water that had previously claimed her attention.

She stared so hard she must have gone into a trance, because when Peter emerged from the water she didn't notice until he stood over her, his shadow adding to the palm trees, water dripping off him and splattering the pristine sand.

With a start Wendy felt a drop of water land on her arm, sliding down her skin leaving a cool trail behind.

"You should have come in.....the water's very refreshing."

Not raising her eyes above his knees, Wendy swallowed before speaking.

"Did you enjoy your swim?"

Peter stared down at her, his eyes narrowing at her strangely disinterested tone.

"Very much.....what's the matter with you?"

Turning her head away to stare down the beach Wendy only shrugged and didn't answer.

"Come on....come and have a paddle at least...it'll cool you down."

He held out his hand but Wendy ignored it, tucking her skirt more tightly about her knees, not meeting his eyes.

"No thank you." She tugged over his leggings and held them out to him. "Don't you think you should get dressed?"

"No." Snatching the deerskins out of her hands he dropped them back on the sand. "I like being naked."

"So I noticed." Wendy affected a bored voice and continued her perusal of the view.

Irritated by her manner, Peter stood with his hands on his hips and glowered down at her. Water dripped into his eyes and he shook himself, water showering in all directions, liberally coating Wendy who held up her hands to shield her face and snorted in disgust.

"Good grief, you're worse than a dog!"

"Better get out of those wet clothes then!" Peter retorted, bending down to grab her by the arms and haul her to her feet. Wendy instantly froze before struggling to free herself from his iron grip.

"Let me go!"

"No....get out of those clothes and come for a swim."

"I told you, cloth ears, I can't swim!" Wendy continued to struggle, sweat starting to bead her forehead as Peter remained unmoved.

"I'll teach you."

"I don't want you to teach me anything....leave me alone!" Fighting in earnest, Wendy kicked at him with her bare feet, leaving little impression on his shins. Angry now, Peter spun her around so that her back was to his front, one arm pinning her arms as his free hand worried the knot of her skirt. With that undone he let it fall to the sand before starting on the buttons. Wendy tried to bat his hands away but couldn't move, her feet unable to kick him as they shuffled in the sand, his fingers inexorably undoing the shirt. With the buttons undone Peter let her go, grabbing one sleeve and tugging hard, spinning Wendy around and pulling the shirt off at the same time, flinging it away to land near his own clothes. Now she stood as naked as he, her long hair doing an inadequate job of covering her.

"That's better.....now stop being silly and let me teach you to swim."

Feeling incredibly vulnerable, naked and outside, Wendy tried to cover herself with her hands. "Leave me alone...I don't want to swim...I don't want you to touch me!" She screamed.

Ignoring her protests, Peter scooped her into his arms and turned to walk down the beach towards the water. Wendy wriggled in his arms like an eel, half blinded by her hair and the tears just starting to flood her eyes at her humiliation.

"I'll touch you if and when I damn well want to...and you'll learn what I damn well want to teach you!" Peter told her, reaching the water and starting to wade in, the waves splashing against his legs and soaking Wendy's back and bottom, making her shriek at the feel of the cool water on her heated body.

Wendy tried to scramble up him to get out of the reach of the waves but Peter instead dropped her legs so she found herself immersed to the top of her thighs in the sea but still held tightly against his body. She put out a hand against his chest and almost cried out as the heat from his skin seared her. He was pulling her further out and she couldn't stop him, the water reaching her waist and then her ribs, her hair starting to float on the surface with each wave that rolled past.

Panic made her continue to struggle, Peter's hand clamped around her wrist like a manacle, the water now up to her breasts, gooseflesh starting out on her skin as she felt her feet start to lose their grip on the sandy bottom as her buoyancy fought with her need to stay grounded.

"Please....please let me go......please!" Scrabbling at his fingers encasing her wrist, Wendy tugged and pulled, glancing urgently over her shoulder at receding shoreline, water starting to splash up into her face making her splutter.

Satisfied at last with the depth of the water, Peter gathered her against him, their bodies pressed close together. Peter could feel the hard points of her breasts against his chest and the silky feel of her body and limbs brushing against his body, the sensations bringing parts of his body to rigid attention, his hard flesh trapped against her soft belly when he pulled her close.

Wendy clutched at his arms, the action of the waves pushing and pulling them together then apart, rubbing them up against each other, distracting her from her fear. She could feel the hard jut of his cock against her stomach, the heat radiating outwards and filling her with an urgency she had no idea how to fulfill.

"Look at me...." Peter ordered her, her wide eyed skittering gaze finally coming to rest as she focused on his face. "That's better...there's nothing to fear...I've got you..just relax and let the water support you."

His hands were splayed across her back, one on her shoulder blades the other cupping her bottom, holding her firmly against his arousal as the water moved them against each other.

"Put your hands on my shoulders...." Peter instructed her thickly, his heart starting to pound as she complied, her breasts moving against his chest and teasing his own nipples against her skin.

"I'm afraid..." Wendy whispered, her eyes pinned by his as his hands positioned themselves on her buttocks, shifting her against him.

"Don't be." He murmured back, dipping his head to find her mouth, at the same time using his hands to lift her thighs and wrap her legs around his hips. "Just let the water hold you.....let me hold you..."

With her legs now holding her on his hips, Peter used a hand to free himself from between their bodies, positioning himself hot and hard against her entrance. Returning to grip her bottom , he pulled her in and speared himself inside her, Wendy's gasp of possession swallowed by his mouth as he seated himself fully, filling her body with hardness and heat in direct contrast with the cool water surrounding them.

The waves jostled them, providing a delightful friction as Wendy rose up only to sink back down, Peter braced against the sandy bottom as he thrust upwards to meet each movement.

With the sun warming her back Wendy wrapped her arms about his neck and rode the waves, forgetting her fear of water, forgetting the mermaid's she'd seen before, forgetting everything in the feel of him inside her, moving against her with the rhythm of the water.

It was very pleasant holding a wet, naked girl in his arms, but he couldn't get any leverage and the teasing was driving him mad. Turning towards the shore he started to wade in, all thought of swimming lessons forgotten, Wendy still firmly seated upon his flesh, the taste of salt on his tongue as he swept his lips over her neck and shoulders, his arms wrapped tightly around her middle.

As the water receded, gravity started to pull, Wendy tightening her grip with her legs about his waist, Peter holding her plastered to his chest. Unable to move either in or out, Peter gritted his teeth and told Wendy to lower her legs. Slowly she did so, Peter slipping out of her as she pulled away. Not releasing her entirely, he started to wade out of the water, running when it got shallow enough, dragging Wendy behind him. At the top of the beach he spun them both around and tumbled to the grassy bank above the high water mark, Wendy finding herself wrapped in his arms and legs, his still proud sex stabbing her insistently.

Impatiently he turned them both on their sides, hooking Wendy's leg up and over his hip, his own thrusting forward to bury himself back inside her, rolling so that she now sat straddling his pelvis, impaled on him to the hilt.

Wendy braced herself with her hands on his chest and stared down into his face, her body prickling with awareness as he shifted beneath her, bucking upwards and forcing her to rise on her knees. Biting her bottom lip she lowered herself on to him, seeing a look of bliss pull the grin over his lips, his eyes half closing as he let her do the work, her knees lifting her up almost until he left her, then lowering herself once more, encasing him in her body with tormenting slowness.

"You're a witch to torture me so...but what sweet torture!" Peter groaned, his hands resting only lightly on her hips as she continued to ride him, her back arching so that her wet hair swept his legs as she flexed her pelvis, grinding herself against him. Peter endured several pleasurable minutes of the torment, liking the view of her supple body swaying above him, her breasts high and proud, rosy tipped. Heat started to coil in his belly so he reared up, tipping Wendy on to her side before rolling her onto her back, his sex still seated within her. Braced on his hands on the short turf beside her head he started to thrust more vigorously, Wendy moaning faintly as he strained against her. Her hands wrapped around his wrists to stop her body being jolted, giving her leverage against him, both of them racing the other, faces tense with lips pulled back as the pleasure grew, spiraling ever upwards, dragging them both towards the inevitable.

"Forget them Wendy......forget them all......." Peter's guttural whisper was all she needed to push her over, her body shuddering in her release, Peter's shout following her over the edge, his last forceful penetration melding them together with sweat and sea salt.

Boneless, Peter rested on one elbow, his head bowed to Wendy's breast, his heart hammering in his chest as he recovered. Below him Wendy lay relaxed and limp, her chest heaving as she slowly relaxed her thighs and released her grip on his hips.

Feeling himself soften, he pulled out and flopped onto the grass on his back, the short blades prickling his sweaty skin as he shifted. Wendy lay splayed beside him, uncaring now of her naked state or wanton exposure.

"I'm surprised you had the energy for that...you are remarkable." Wendy panted, easing herself onto her side, her back turned to him.

At first he didn't react, still recovering from his exertions, then her words penetrated and he turned his head to frown at her.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Just that I am impressed by your stamina.....not many men could perform after so short a respite. It's a compliment."

Feeling drained, Wendy pulled herself upright and sat on the sand, staring out at the waves, her arms wrapped around her knees. Peter looked at her back and wondered what maggot was turning in her brain.

"I have no idea what you think you're alluding to...if you have something to say, spit it out."

"I saw you....out there.......with those.....creatures."

"The mermaids? So what."

"Nothing...nothing at all....I'm tired, I want to go home."

Getting to her feet she walked over to the discarded clothes and pulled on the shirt. She had only fastened two of the buttons when she felt Peter behind her, his hands fastening on her shoulders to turn her about. Keeping her eyes downcast she waited for him to speak, a faint tremor shaking her body. Peter regarded her submissive attitude with some irritation, his body still pleasantly buzzing from their vigorous love making.

"What is this about?"

"Nothing......can I go home now?"

"Not until you tell me what's making you sulk."

Glaring up at him, Wendy shrugged his hands off her shoulders and stepped back. "I'm not sulking.....I just didn't realise that I'd be sharing your services with a hose of mythical mermaids...are there other creatures I should know about? I'd hate to walk in on you taking your pleasure with a unicorn or maybe a dragon!"

"I don't fuck animals...." Peter retorted, amused by her childish anger.

"What's a mermaid then? A fish?"

"This is ridiculous.....you have no need to be jealous....." He reached for her again but she twisted out of his reach, her face flushed with indignation.

"Jealous! Of a fish? I don't care who or what you choose to have....sex with...!"

"I think you do, you silly chit....otherwise you wouldn't be so jealous!" Peter laughed, snagging his clothes and pulling on his leggings.

Incensed, Wendy waited for Peter to lift one leg up to pull on his pants before lunging at him, knocking him flat on his back in the sand. Horrified at her own audacity, Wendy snatched up her skirt and darted across the green sward and into the dark shadows of the jungle bordering the beach. Fearful of punishment she ran on, leaping over fallen trees and dodging around tree trunks, her wet hair slapping at her shoulders as she sprinted further into the thick vegetation. After only a few minutes she had to slow, a stitch creasing her side, her lungs heaving as she tried to draw breath. Seeing a thicket off to the side she limped towards it, clutching at her sore side, and sank down into the leafy loam, crawling under the overhanging branches and laying on her side. Hidden within the greenery she recovered her breath, the stitch slowly loosening its painful grip as she started to relax. Her heart had finally slowed its hammering pace when she saw movement beyond the curtain of leaves sheltering her hiding place. Peter had entered the tiny glade, his head lifting to sniff the air like a wolf after its prey. He crouched down on his haunches, the long ponytail at his back falling forward, checking the ground for signs of her passage. Holding her breath, Wendy remained motionless, invisible behind the screen of shrubbery, she watched as he rose to his full height, his head turning as he searched the undergrowth. A noise off to his right drew his attention and he instantly tensed, drawing the knife from his belt and advancing beyond her line of sight into the surrounding jungle.

As quietly as possible she let go the breath she'd been holding, her body relaxing back into the mattress of leaves, content for the moment to remain hidden.

She dozed, overcome by her exertions, the sound of insects lulling her into a deep sleep that lasted for most of the afternoon, her eyes opening to find long shadows covering the forest floor, the sun no longer high enough to penetrate the dense canopy. The distant call of a bird jerked her fully awake, its shrill scream making her tremble as she contemplated what she was going to do next. She wondered briefly if Peter was still looking for her, a chill running down her back as she thought of how angry he'd be when he finally found her, which she knew was all too possible. This was his world, his island, she had no idea where to go or where to hide, her capture inevitable.

Crawling out of the bush, she stood up and secured the skirt around her waist, knotting it tightly. Looking around she saw a narrow path leading off in the direction directly opposite to the one Peter had taken. Tilting her chin, she started along the faint track, not allowing herself to give in to fear, her bare feet noiseless on the soft earth. The path wound around and through the forest of trees, the shafts of sunlight becoming fainter and fainter as the sun sank lower in the sky, casting the shadows below the canopy into a greenish gloom. Feeling chilled she wrapped her arms about her body and tried to hurry, jogging along the rabbit track between the trees, racing the sun to find somewhere to spend the night. Her stomach was starting to rumble, her last meal several hours before, and her mouth was dry with fear and lack of water. As if conjured from her desires, a small stream cut across the path she was following, Wendy falling to her knees to scoop the clear water into her mouth. Her thirst relieved, she sc