Work Text:
I.
Elizabeth Swann is seventeen years old.
She is full of drowsy afternoon sunlight and marooned in the loft, entangled on bales of sweet-scented grass. She is kissing the most beautiful girl in the world.
Christine.
Chocolate-skinned, the farrier’s daughter, with teeth like ivory and eyes the color of molasses. Her lips are softer than Elizabeth’s, her tongue more cunning, her hands more skilled. Elizabeth dreams of Christine’s breasts; they are full and round and tipped with thick jutting nipples. She wakes from these dreams breathless and tingling. They are spilling out of Christine’s poor-girl chemise. Elizabeth wants to hold them but they won’t be tamed.
Later on Christine slides a long finger into Elizabeth’s cunt.
She has her first orgasm.
She is so scared that she bursts into tears and runs out of the barn.
II.
Elizabeth Swann is eighteen years old.
“You are too old for such things,” snaps the governess. “But he has decreed this punishment. You will drop your pantaloons. Bend over my knee at once.”
Her father caught her breaking into the liquor cabinet.
“This will be over soon.”
The first slap startles her. The second causes her to bite her lip. The third closes her eyes. The fourth shoves a tiny gasp through her lips.
Miss Chastain is young to be a governess. Her countenance is stern and handsome, her glossy hair combed into a tight twist. There is steel in her back. She wields her palm with ruthless efficiency.
Elizabeth dwells on Miss Chastain’s figure. She is a tall woman, full at the bosom and the hip. Her mouth is a sweet little cupid’s bow.
She has lost count of the slaps. Her buttocks are tingling. In shock she realizes she is wet, and that Miss Chastain’s fingers are exploring this development. She strokes her clit with one hand, slaps her cheeks the other.
“Shhh,” she whispers.
Six months later her father finds them in bed together. He fires Miss Chastain and does not speak to Elizabeth until her nineteenth birthday.
III.
Elizabeth Swann is twenty years old.
It is ridiculously easy to get him alone in the house. The servants are scarce and her father is locked away in his office.
James Norrington takes her virginity.
He shakes like a boy in her presence. She is on her back, her bodice loosened to expose her breasts. She has pulled up her skirts like a common whore. In his undisguised ardor he kisses her neck and falls into her breasts, caresses them with his large hands. She wants him to put his tongue between her legs; spreading her thighs and lifting her hips does no good. He puts a hand on her belly, touches her clit with his fingers. He is too eager and she is impatient.
He does not undress. When he pushes inside her it burns.
“Oh, goodness,” he pants. “Elizabeth!”
She holds her breath.
“Oh---!”
She feels the contraction at the base of his cock, sticky warmth spilling within her. He shivers and breathes into the side of her neck.
Later on she finishes herself off with one hand. The lingering ache of penetration makes it extra sweet.
IV.
Elizabeth Swann is twenty-two years old.
She is in bed with one of Sao Feng’s daughters. She is delicate and deadly and claws like a cat.
They are grinding into one another, a two-headed dildo of carved ivory buried in their bodies. Two pairs of tiny breasts slap together. Elizabeth bares her teeth and holds down her thin wrists and pumps harder.
If this is how it feels to be a man, it is sweet indeed.
The golden-skinned orchid beneath her comes first. Elizabeth feels the spasms travel the dildo’s curved length. With a tight-lipped cry she thrusts forward. Coming is this strange bed is like falling apart and gasping for breath.
V.
Elizabeth Swann is twenty-three years old.
Here is a beach.
This is Will.
Nothing is ever the same.