Come One Come All Ch 01 02

CHAPTER 1

She hadn't known the carnival was in town.

Now she lifts the flyer posted a lamp-post and reads by the yellowy light:

VOO-LAY VOO:

CARNIVAL OF THE CARNAL

A shudder passes through her and she pulls her jacket tighter around her, although the moonlit night is almost breezeless and this October has been unseasonably warm. She continues past the storefronts at the center of town and down a narrow side street that leads to her home, where she lives alone. On the way, she counts three more flyers.

VOO-LAY VOO...

Mass tonight had been humbling. Few people who go to a single church service glean very much virtue from it - there are some for whom a

weekly

celebration of mass seems to have very little effect - but Chastity is different. When the priest gave his homily on

sin

and

perdition

, her eyes glistened with contrite tears. The elder church-goers were suspicious of her at first -

Who is this pretty young thing who comes to a church with no husband?

- but as she walked back up the aisle from receiving the eucharist, her angelic eyes downcast and her blonde hair backlit by the flickering candlelight, there were some who thought they might be having a vision

.

Chastity turns onto a dirt path that winds through thickets of blackberry bushes to a small red lakeside cabin. The landlord lives in a house up the hill, and although he wishes he could share

her

bed - he, like every other man in town, fell in love with Chastity the moment they set eyes on her -- he is instead fast asleep beside his loudly snoring wife. Most of the town, by now, has long since gone to bed. Chastity was one of only a handful of people to attend this evening mass...and the only one to stay awake for the entire ceremony.

Including the priest!

Now it would be right to try to describe Chastity, as difficult as that may be. Her golden hair sweeps across her forehead and curls in luscious tresses that reach the small of her back. Her skin is fair and her features delicate, but her cheeks are rosy, her lips are full, and her figure is shapely. Her eyes are the clear blue of a bright winter sky, and her smile is timid and beautiful. When she's taken off guard by a witty joke and laughs suddenly, her eyes widen and she covers her hand over her mouth, as though to laugh aloud were something vulgar, although anyone who heard it would swear it was a sound more beautiful than the music of the spheres.

Her smile is something young men would go to war over. Many of the townspeople count themselves lucky to have simply seen her at the local market buying a baguette and a basket of strawberries, and their only complain is that she doesn't venture out for fresh bread and fruit more often.

But behind her eyes, there's something that few have noticed. Something troubled.

Penitent

, even.

But what sins could worry someone so young and beautiful?

people wonder.

She's over-scrupulous

, others reply.

That look in her eye is her own self-flagellating conscience. Probably begging pardon for something trivial, like taking the largest slice of pie.

It seems plausible. Certainly, it seems impossible that someone who seems so suited to her name would be guilty of anything more than that.

Chastity stops at her front gate, unhooking the latch and looking distantly at the water. She steps forward on the path, looks up towards her front porch...then gasps and puts her hand to her chest.

"Oh!" she cries.

There's someone sitting on the swinging bench her father built for her, someone small,

dwarf

-like. He stands abruptly, turning to face her. This someone is a man, with dark hair and a drawn face. His features are striking, but none so much as his size: he can't be taller than a yardstick! The man would be practically invisible at this distance in the dark if it weren't for the orange light of his pipe.

"I'm sorry to have startled you, miss," the dwarf says in a startling

bass profundo

. "They told me I would be expected."

Having never seen someone of this stature before, Chastity finds herself at a loss for words. She opens her mouth, looking him up and down -- an act that hardly requires a twitch of her head -- and stammers: "I-I...I'm afraid I- was

not

..."

The dwarf tilts his head, confused. "Isn't this where he lives? The young man I was sent to talk to?"

Chastity blinks. "Th-the...young man?"

"Yes, yes, the young man!" the dwarf declares impatiently. He steps off the porch, taking and unfurling a paper from his pocket, holding it out towards her.

"

The one with the 'leven inch

cock

!"

Chastity's mouth is suddenly very dry. Her blue eyes widen, and if it weren't close to midnight and dark, you'd see her cheeks flushing bright pink. "I...I don't know...what you...I..."

"The Nearly-Foot-Long Nethers! The One-Eyed Basilisk! The Hammer of the Gods! Bad enough I'm trudging around this wood so late at night when we've only just gotten into town, I haven't had a pint for the whole of traveling, we get

letter

after

letter

about this fellow and now I'm

here

, and you say ye don't know what I'm --"

As the dwarf steps closer on his stubby legs, he finally comes close enough to see Chastity in the dark, and his voice trails off.

"You say you don't know what I'm...what I'm..."

He pulls paper from his pocket again and, exasperated, tries to read it by the faint light of his pipe. Once or twice he turns to glance at her cabin over his shoulder, his expression perturbed.

Chastity watches his expression change. She still hasn't quite managed to process the strange angles of his face: he has a lantern jaw, clean shaven and youthful, but his brows are wiry, his eyes old. Dully (as the poor girl is still partially in shock) she imagines he might be quite strapping if his body were proportional. As it is, his head appears much too large for his small frame, his brow unwieldy.

Finally, the dwarf sighs and lowers the paper. His pipe smoke drifts in the wind, the amber light of the glowing bowl fading. "I'm afraid I've made a mistake," he says. "Please...excuse my...

vulgarity

. I had thought you might be someone else." He folds the paper and tucks it into his pocket again, and Chastity hears the

clinking

of his belt buckle. He takes a long toke from his pipe, illuminating the bowl again, before letting the air rush out of his nostrils. "Would it be possible for you to direct me to the Warnock Cottage? I was told it was on this road. I should have known that this was not it," he says gesturing at her cabin, "because the directions say the cottage is

green

. I should have read more carefully." Then he adds in a harsh mumble: "Or come during daylight." He looks at her and sighs again. "Either way -- I apologize."

"A green cottage?" Chastity says. "There's one on this road, but it's near the other side of the lake. I-I'm afraid I don't know the name of it. W...Warnock, you said?" She can feel the tips of her ears burning red, and she's grateful that the night is too dark for the dwarf to see her blushing.

"Thank you, lass," he says gruffly. "I'm sure that'll be it. There can't be too many green cottages by the lake with a swinging bench on the porch." As he walks, he swings his arms. He looks into Chastity's face with a slightly embarrassed smile. "Again, sorry for the mix-up." He snorts. "Even if there

were

a 'leven inch cock in this house," he adds, "a good girl like you wouldn't know anything about it, eh?" And then he leans back and bellows out a great roaring laugh.

Chastity's face reddens further still, and she wrings her hands together. She wants to laugh with this strange small man, but all she can manage is a fallow smile. "R-Right," she says. "G-Good night to you, s-sir."

The dwarf waves his hand over his large head as he passes. "G'night!"

Chastity watches him go through the gate, swaying and grumbling all the while.

The word is on her lips before her mind had even asked her for permission. Even after she's spoken, she can't believe it was her own voice.

"S-Sir?" she says.

The dwarf stops his awkward gate and turns, his wiry eyebrows raised.

"Wh-where are you..." She clears her throat. "Where are you... from?"

The dwarf looks at her intently. The ringlets of his curly black hair rest on his large forehead, and his large jaw tilts up towards her, as though in challenge. Suddenly, like a rift breaking open in the earth, his stern face cracks into a grin. He has a surprisingly comely smile. He belly-laughs once again

"Where do ye

think

I'm from, lass?" he says. "Don't ye know the carnival is in town?"

"O-Oh..." Chastity says in a small voice. "I-I saw a flyer."

As the dwarf's handsome grin fades, he tilts his head more curiously. Then, he taps his pipe against the gate so the ash spills out. He jams his small hand into his pocket once again and, fumbling around, takes out a small silver token that glints by the moonlight. Swinging his small legs, he makes his way back to Chastity and holds it up to her. "Here," he says. "Take this."

After a brief hesitation. Chastity slowly takes the coin from his nubby fingers and brings it to her face. It has no face on it, only an expression around the edges written in some language she doesn't know. Embossed at the center of the coin on both sides are the words:

ADMIT ONE

"Come to the carnival tomorrow, lass. Our first show is always the best." He grins again, and there's mischief in it. "And if I ever find this green cottage," he says, annoyance verging on his deep voice, "well..." He glances back up at her with a wink. "Then it could be our best show yet."

Before Chastity can respond -- or even un-catch the breath from deep in her throat -- the dwarf turns and swings away, vanishing into the night, leaving her alone on the path with the silver token clutched in her hand.

CHAPTER 2

"Oh! Oh god..OH!...oh, Horatio, god,

yes!"

The sound of their fucking fills the cottage.

(And, noble reader, please know that your humble narrator

did

consider replacing the profane word

--

i.e.

fucking --

with a more tender euphemism -- i.e.

love-making

, or perhaps

coupling

-- but a dedication to accuracy would not allow it. For indeed, there is no better expression to explain what's happening right now in this cramped and sparsely furnished bedroom in a green cottage at the edge of the lake other than

fucking,

in every mindless, glorious,

animal

sense.)

The firm, insistent s

lap

of his pelvis against her thighs beats on like a thudding heart, the sound punctuated by the bed-frame

clacking

against the far wall. All of this noise is drifting out the open window in exchange for the cool night breeze that causes the candle light to quaver.

Horatio reaches forward and clasps her breast with a cupped hand, pinching two fingers around her nipple, and she squeals, shivering with joy.

"Oh god

yes

! Oh my dear god

yesss!

" she cries.

Her eyes cross, and her dark hair falls over her eyes. Each thrust sends her forward with such a powerful, swinging momentum that the candles on the desk flicker. Their fucking is creating its own

wind.

"Enough! It's my turn!" cries another female voice.

(And, noble reader, if your narrator may again intercede, it behooves him now to explain the

configuration

of the aforementioned

fucking

, as it were not the usual one. See, whereas the act of

fucking

is typically -- though not necessarily -- limited to

two

participants, on this particular instance in the green cottage at the edge of the lake, there are

three

. In order from top to bottom, these participants are:

F

irst

, Horatio, who now carefully unsheathes his positively

enormous

member from the woman who is on all fours on the hay-filled mattress...

S

econd,

the woman who is on all fours, who now whimpers softly as his cock is drawn slowly from her glistening sex, then falls forward with a gasp, reaching back with her hand to replace the mouth that was just tenderly kissing and licking her clitoris, the mouth of the woman who just spoke...

Third

, the woman who who just spoke, who is lying on her back with her hands on the inner thighs of the woman who is on all fours. Now she wipes her lips and sits up, ducks her head between the other woman's thighs as she reaches back to pleasure herself, and the woman who just spoke open her mouth again to take in Horatio's cock, or at least as much of it as she can fit.

It is this humble narrator's hope that you will be able to conjure up in your mind's eye the difficult image thus described, as all three participants are youthful and quite attractive, so is altogether a thoroughly pleasing image to see.)

The woman takes Horatio's cock between her lips, reaching out to hold the base with her lily-white fingers. Her eyes widen as she realizes how far she has to reach, and as Horatio lowers himself into her mouth slowly, she makes a sudden noise: "

Mmph

!"

"Oh my fucking

god

!" the woman on all fours exclaims. She's dipped two fingers into her pink coin-purse with one hand and, with the other, is stroking her clitoris with abandon. She adds a third digit, pressing her face into the bedspread as she strains, but even three fingers inside of her is not as tight a fit as Horatio's fantastic organ.

"

Nng

," the woman with Horatio's cock now in her mouth says. She can taste her friend on his shaft from her plowing, and it's a sweet, coppery taste. She strokes her own sex, then gags softly, but instead of letting Horatio draw back she grabs his right buttock and pulls him closer. Her eyes begin to water, but his cock is barely halfway swallowed. She cradles his sack as though to say, without words,

I can take it, give me more!

and Horatio sighs, his disagreement temporarily punctuating. She has him in her throat now --

"Just once more," woman on all fours is pleading. She lifts her shapely bottom in the air. "Just once more and I'll --"

"

Gak-aaha!

" The other woman sputters and coughs as Horatio pulls back, a silvery thread of drool attached between the end of his cock and her mouth. She gasps for air, drawing in the sweet scent of it like a church-goer possessed by the spirit, her pretty face flush. She leans back, ducking again between her friend's legs, and hooks her arms around her thighs. "For fuck's sake, let's finish her off," the woman says, still panting and exasperated.

"Right, then," Horatio says, taking his cock in his hand. He guides it toward the pert bottom before him, the lips of her sex still gleaming, her nether-hole winking, her soft, smooth buttocks clenching and unclenching with the fabulous anticipation of --

"

Hnh!"

The woman on all fours closes her eyes, then opens them wide in sheer alarm, then lets her eyes unfocus completely as an expression of pure bliss and longing takes hold of her face. Slack-jawed and panting, she takes the near-full length of Horatio into her in a fell swoop. Watch her shiver as he glides into her, as graceful as a swan across the lake. Watch her feet twitch and a silver line of drool spill from her full lips. Hear her moan of pleasure well up into a desperate

wail

as he draws back and

slaps again

hard into her buttocks, once, twice, again, and again. She feels the distant pleasure of her friend's lips around her navel, then lower, then lower still, but it's all drowned out by the massive force of Horatio, the Hammer of the Gods, the One-Eyed Basilisk, living up to its name and turning her fully to stone.

As Horatio thrusts, the woman's wailing because a sharp, insistent, staccato cry, and she stammers: "I-I'm...I'm..OH!

I'm --"

(And for the last time, noble reader, your narrator must intercede to elaborate, for the woman on all fours never does finish her thought, but rather trails off into another series of moans. What she means to say, of course, is that she's

cumming

, even though that expression does little to encapsulate the full scope of what she feels in this moment, swelling and cresting, breaking over her in waves, crashing through her entire body as the roaring noise of the sea fills her ears and her toes curl and her back arches and her legs jut out and she is pressed slowly down into the mattress, melting away with a phenomenal sigh....

She never does get to

say

all of that. But from her expression, noble reader, it's pretty clear.)

"My turn," the other woman declares. She helps Horatio pull his cock out of her deflating, mumbling friend and is about to suggest rather forcefully where he needs to put all eleven inches of it next, when there's a sudden knocking at the door.

"Horatio!"

Horatio turns. The woman's eyes stay on his cock as it swings away from her, and she moves her face towards it like a dog whose treat has been withdrawn.

"

Horatio

!"

"I'm busy!" Horatio says.

"

Horatio!

"

"

Didn't you just hear him say he's busy

?" The woman exclaims.

The other woman, the woman-formerly-on-all-fours, has at this point slid off the bed like a rag doll. A ridiculous, drunken-looking grin is spreading across her face, and she slurs her speech.

"

Horatio!"

The voice at the other side of the door goes on in a mumbling drone, punctuating the incoherence with an occasional shouted, "

Horatio

!

"Oh, for fuck's sake, a

minute!

" Horatio says, getting off the bed.

The woman's face falls and she reaches again for his cock, her naked legs shifting forward. "W-Wait!"

Just as Horatio get to the door, it slams open, nearly knocking him on the head. A foul-tempered looking old woman with thinning hair is at the other side, and she immediately holds her finger to Horatio's face. She's wearing a worn set of pajamas, and her eyes are wide and red-rimmed from want of sleep. "No more, I tell you!

No more!"

"No more

what

?" Horatio says impatiently.

"No more of

this

!" The older woman exclaims, gesturing to the two naked woman.

The woman on the bed makes a feeble effort to cover her full white breasts, but the one on the floor appears not to notice anything has happened. She has a far-away look in her eyes, as though dreaming...in fact, she may be half-asleep.

"What the hell do you mean, Ma?"

"I mean I'm finally getting you

out of my house!

" She exclaims. "You want to

rut

your

trollops

every night, eh? Fill your bed with

whores

at all hours of the evening? Well, you can what you please now, because it won't be in

my house

!"

Horatio, exasperated, puts his hand to his forehead. "Ma, what are you --"

It's only then that he notices a small man standing behind her. A dwarf, by the looks of it. Horatio has never seen a dwarf before, and the sight of one temporarily causes him to lose his thread.

"I'm sending you away," his mother says triumphantly. "To the

carnival

. Where there'll be

use

for that instrument of yours besides to keep me awake every

damned

night!"

"What are you --"

"'Bout time a lad like you got out of the house. What are ye, eighteen summers? Nineteen?" The dwarf speaks in a gravelly voice, surprisingly deep. He shakes his too-large head. "Your mother is right. Ye ought to be coming with me."

"Coming with you

where

?"

"Why, the carnival!" the dwarf replies, his face breaking into a wide grin. "Ye know what people would pay to see a thing like

yours

?" He points to Horatio's cock with reverent admiration. "You'll make enough to pay your way and put your mother up in a

castle

!"