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Plucky Little Lizzie

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"Please, Tommy, there has to be another way." She had begged, but they had already made up their minds.

*

Marston stood in the forge, his large frame stooped slightly over the anvil as he hammered out the iron. His face was damp from the heat, and he wore his ever-present scowl on his brow. Elizabeth approached to make her proposition -- a shag down on the rocks, in truth a lure to have him killed -- and he saw right through it.

"Take off your clothes," he demanded gruffly. His large hand wrapped tightly around her wrist. Elizabeth knew it would bruise later. She was a married woman now, in truth, but the concept of laying with other men to get what she wanted was nothing new to her.

Part of what she had said was no lie. If Tommy and James failed to kill the blacksmith, they would be hurt. If they succeeded they would be hanged. Even if they killed him down at the rocks, even if they buried the body, everyone in camp knew that Marston had been stealing James' food, and everyone knew that James and Tommy were thick as thieves.

Marston had agreed to her trade, just not the location. If she let him fuck her, he said he would leave James alone and stop stealing his food. It wasn't until she'd mentioned going down to the rocks, where no one would see or hear them, that he'd gotten angry. Had he been calling her bluff, or did he really mean it? Was there a way out of this that didn't result in her husband or her best friend ending up hurt or dead?

There was a chance. She had to take it. She'd done it before, when she'd had to, and although Marston was much bigger and much angrier than any man she'd ever had, he was much less angry than she would have expected he'd be. He'd realized they'd meant to take his life and all he'd done is grab her arm and growl in her ear. Maybe he really was afraid of no man. Maybe he took the threat on his life as nothing more than a mild annoyance.

Slowly, with her free hand, she lifted the front hem of her skirts. She watched him as he watched her, his eyes devouring the sight of her legs as she revealed them. His breath hitched when she reached the tops of her stockings, then her milky white thighs. Finally, she bared her cunt to him and he licked his lips. Her body felt hot. From the forge, she was sure.

He reached out and rubbed two thick fingers between her cleft. When he hit her nub, she let out a breath she didn't know she was holding, and he smirked.

"You're wet," he accused. He brought his fingers up to look at them and sure enough, his fingers were coated in the evidence of her arousal. He popped the fingers into his mouth and carefully sucked the juices off.

Elizabeth shook her head, no. No, she wasn't really that wet, it was a trick. Wet enough for a shag, maybe, but no one made her as happy as Tommy did, not even in bed. Marston just grinned and continued to play with her cunt, now more vigorously than before. She pointedly ignored the slick noises it made, even as they grew louder. He began to rub her nub viciously with his thumb and pushed his fingers inside. They were big, like the rest of him, and she moaned involuntarily at the intrusion.

"Shut up," he hissed, dropping her wrist to cover her mouth, "Unless you feel like putting on a show for the whole bloody camp." He looked around furtively but no one was looking towards the forge. A couple of soldiers stood a ways down the road keeping watch, and about a dozen workers were down the hill hauling logs in from the bay. Anyone who looked over would see them standing too close for propriety, but nothing more, and no one here was particularly concerned with the propriety of the female convicts.

He pulled her towards the back of the room, between the wall and the hearth of the forge. With one hand he forced her to her knees, balling a tight fist in her long hair. With the other hand, he unbuttoned his breeches, his hard cock eagerly springing forth.

"I haven't had a woman in a long time, little Lizzie," he said. "You might be scum but you'll do. Don't imagine I'll be letting you off easy, because I won't."

With that, he pushed her mouth onto his cock. Elizabeth was shocked. This was a thing she had never done, not even with Tommy, and it was definitely not part of the deal. She had heard of it, of course. Prostitutes in the city would advertise it special sometimes, and she had heard whispers that it was routine for Frenchwomen. She was not a Frenchwoman, nor a prostitute, but there wasn't much she could do about it. His grip on her hair was strong, and he fucked her mouth slowly but firmly. She could fit barely a third of him in her mouth, but he didn't push for more.

"Cover your teeth with your lips," he commanded. "If you bite it off, I'll kill you."

Elizabeth had no intention of trying to fight back; it would be pointless. She did as he said, and after a few minutes of him languidly fucking her mouth, her fingers found her cunt. She thought she heard a snicker but focused instead on trying to replicate what he had done to her earlier. Her fingers weren't thick enough. Her three to his two wasn't enough, and four would be too much. She settled for rubbing her slit, her moans muffled on his cock.

After some time of this, he withdrew. Her jaw ached, but she felt strangely empty. He kneeled and pushed her down further, then grabbed her hips, twisting her so they lined up with his. Like a dog. He was going to fuck her like a dog, she thought. He moved her skirts out of the way and began rubbing his cock against her. She shuddered apprehensively. His cock was as big as the rest of him, how would it even fit? She looked over her shoulder to see him towering above her, even while on his knees. His eyes were closed, and his face held a look of barely-constrained lust. She didn't know why he bothered to constrain it at all. Although she certainly appreciated it, it wasn't as though there'd be any recourse if he well and truly hurt her.

He took his cock in hand to cover it thoroughly with her juices, then pressed it to the entrance of her cunt. He seemed to enjoy the sensation of her soft folds on the head of his cock, because he paused for a few moments before leaning over and covering her mouth again with his hand. He thrust into her with a single stroke and she let out a stifled scream, but it was not a scream of pain. He worked her nubbin with his hand, and she felt part of his massive weight bear down on her. It could not have been all of it, or she surely would have fallen.

He filled her completely as he thrust in and out. His rhythm was deep and slow and steady, and each time he pulled out she ached for his return. She could feel her own pleasure building. Apparently, so could he, as he sped his thrusts and rubbed her nub more firmly and rapidly than before. More muted moans, as she hit her peak and pushed back into him, her cunt squeezing erratically around his cock. After a short time, his own rhythm became more erratic, and she could hear his ragged breaths.

At last, he pulled out from her and spilled himself onto the ground. She wondered what it would have felt like for him to come inside, but she knew why he did it. The thought of her trying to pass off a giant, dark-haired babe as Tommy's was so absurd she would have laughed, if she wasn't so exhausted.

"Next time I'll have to see about those tits of yours," he said idly as he rebuttoned his breeches and stood.

"Next time?" she echoed. She felt a bit dizzy and her breath was still heavy. She took his hand and he pulled her up. Such a gentleman, she thought sarcastically.

"Aye, next time. I won't be stealing James Freeman's food today, nor Tommy Barrett's neither."

"Today," She said, in disbelief. She smoothed out her skirts and hair, hoping she didn't look as wanton as she felt.

"See you tomorrow," he said with a cocky grin, and turned back to his work.