When rich girls get nasty, they get REALLY nasty!"Riverbeast: Fink's Revenge," the first book of the Riverbeast series by yours truly has been published.
You can buy it here."Riverbeast" is the story of Constance Harlee, the princess of Euharlee, Missouri, a small Mississippi riverfront town whose lifeblood is trading with the riverboatmen who carry goods up and down the Mississippi on their keelboats. Although born in Euharlee, Constance has spent most of her young life in finishing schools back east in Boston, consorting with the finest (and richest) people, learning the manners and making the connections to secure an advantageous marriage.
Constance's beauty and grace were also a great help to her in Boston. But they became a hindrance to her when she returned to Euharlee from boarding school, on the day she was kidnapped by the wild keelboaters of the Mississippi. These rivermen were among the toughest and most dangerous men in the Old West, men who braved the pirates and Indians who populated the river's wild shore to take their flatboats full of very stealable goods down to New Orleans.
Worse yet, Constance's captors have plans for her, plans for making her lower than the lowliest slave. The keelboaters plan to deny her humanity entirely and make her a Riverbeast, a naked slave, crawling before men, who must serve any man in any way that pleases him, on command.
Can Constance survive the torments of her captors as they teach her what it means to be the lowest kind of slave girl? Can she survive life on the mighty Mississippi in the days when it was wild and free? Can she manage to struggle back to the life she once knew, or something like it? Will she ever find love in her new and degraded state?
Riverbeast is an historical erotic romance novella, a classic piece of Western erotica set in the Old West days of the Mississippi River.
An Excerpt From Riverbeast: Fink's Revenge:I do not know for how long I lay in the back of that wagon, watching the leaves and branches of trees speed past above me, groaning and crying out as I was jounced about, watching the pathetic bobbing of my companions' hooded heads as they tried to somehow protect themselves, hearing their muffled cries, and making my own muffled cries. It seemed to have been forever, but it could not have been long, because the path we had ridden was not far from the river at any point, and the river was our destination.
I discovered this when my feet were freed from the chain and I was unceremoniously hauled from the wagon and dumped on the ground beside it. I was half-dragged to a wagon wheel and my bound wrists were secured to one of the spokes of the wheel.
The spokes behind me were hard, as was the iron hub of the axle, but the ground beneath me was soft, for we were on a sandy spit of land that jutted out into a small tributary of the river. Behind us an embankment towered over us and the water, with trees growing right to its edge, casting us all in deep shade. The tributary made soft trickling and rilling sounds as it flowed past half-submerged rocks and fallen trees and branches, and the birds whistled and called in the trees above us.
My companions were also pulled from the wagon and laid on the sand before me.
Still unspeaking, one of the men turned to the one who seemed to be leading the group, and made a circle with the thumb and forefinger of one hand, then poked the forefinger of his other hand repeatedly through the circle, then pointed at my companions.
The leader shrugged, then nodded his approval. He singled out two members of the party by pointing at them, then pointed at the embankment. They nodded and climbed it. Guards, probably.
My blood froze in horror as the men drew their huge knives and approached my companions. I shrank as I prepared to see their throats slit.
Instead I saw the men use their knives to remove my companions' clothing without loosening their bonds in any way. They stripped off their skirts, petticoats, bodices, and panties until they all lay completely naked before their captors, save for their hoods and the ropes encircling their wrists and ankles. Muffled cries of protest came from beneath their hoods, and they struggled feebly, but bound as they were, to no avail.
One of the men who had gone off to the woods returned. He held in his hands several long stakes cut from saplings. The other men took the stakes and pounded them deep into the sand, not far from where I sat. Then they dragged their victims over to the stakes and secured them to the stakes, two of them on their backs, spreadeagled, and the third on her knees with her hooded face pressed into the damp sand, her wrists still bound behind her, feet secured wide apart by two stakes, ropes running from her throat to the stakes at her feet, so that she could not slide forward, forcing her rear end in the air.
She was, I believed, the one who had first proposed riding home with me. It was hard to tell, really, because in the garb of a proper young lady of the town, the only part of her that had really been visible had been her face, and here that was the only part of her that was covered. But I spied a familiar piece of blue satin print in the strips of cloth that lay scattered about her, that had once been her clothing. It was her.
Seeing her nicely rounded bottom and the pink curl of her cunny raised so flagrantly in the air aroused all sorts of feelings in me, which I had just as soon not felt. I'd no idea she was so sexually developed. Her friend who lay spreadeagled on the ground to my left had been a little more obvious -- no amount of clothing would conceal the naturally ample proportions of her bosom, and now both of her breasts sat exposed, her large nipples puckered and swelling in the damp air, the large mounds of her breasts lying apart on her chest, jiggling with her every tiniest movement.
And I would never have guessed at her other friends' full, ripe cunny, or the large clitoris that sat atop her swollen-looking nether lips.
And I would have paid dearly to have never found out about those things.
