'I know one thing,' I said, brandishing my finger under her nose. 'We're getting out of here with or without any help from you, and if we have to leave you with your throat slit, then that's the way it'll have to be.'
'But Teenie, we already know that...' Andy began.
I glared a warning at him. 'Yes, we do,' I agreed slowly, for I had not forgotten that Megan Crowthorne had still been alive some years after the time we were in now. 'We know a lot, but not everyone has our advantages, do they?'
'No, of course not... okay, so we slit the bitch's throat before we go.'
'Maybe,' I said, watching again for some sign of a reaction from Meg. 'We'll have to see. But I don't think we need any help from her, anyway. Erik here will tell us all we need to know, won't you Erik, otherwise I shall cut a line right across Megan's cheeks, and then I'll start carving pretty pictures in her tits.'
It was a threat I could never have carried out, but Erik was not to know that and he quickly gave me directions for the stables, which were apparently only just behind the house. By this time of night, he further assured me, there would be no groom on duty, but I quickly realised that hitching up a team of horses to Hacklebury's carriage would be no job for an amateur.
'Then you'll come with us,' I said simply. 'You and me will get the carriage organised while Indira stays with Meg somewhere close enough to see and hear what's going on. If anything happens to me, she shoots the bitch.'
Erik nodded. 'Understanding I am,' he said sombrely. 'Doing as you wish will I be and of trickery there will be none.'
'Good,' I said. 'I'm glad we understand each other, now we just have to wait a while.' I smiled. 'What shall we do to help pass the time, I wonder?'
Perhaps I was descending to their level, but I didn't really care. Besides, the chance to get back at Meg was far too good to miss.
'Let's get her over that trestle thing, Andy,' I said, pointing to the timber stand over which I had been both whipped and fucked. 'There's plenty of cord.' I thrust Meg towards the trestle and I'm sure she would have resisted had she realised what I intended. However, by the time the light dawned in her cesspit of a brain, it was too late. She had been bent over the trestle and secured to it with her legs spread wide.
I reached down between her thighs and tugged at the ribbon tie at the crotch of her drawers. 'She's as dry as a bone,' I commented, exploring further with my fingers. 'So, Erik my dear, I think maybe you'll need to use that tongue of yours first. Come on, you great ox, get round here on your knees or I'll start cutting her face,' I lied enthusiastically.
It was obvious Erik was more than a little reluctant to obey me, probably because he was in awe of Meg and wondering what she might do to him once she was free again, but for the moment there was nothing he could do save follow my instructions in the hope that doing so would spare his mistress any real harm. He knelt behind her, shuffled forward on his knees, and soon had his head buried between her thighs with his tongue working industriously. The expression on Meg's face almost made my own earlier privations worth the while, for her features contorted with a mixture of rage and disgust, and then slackened into an expression of sheer horror and disbelief as she realised her own body was only marginally less treacherous than Angelina's when faced with certain inescapable stimulus. Very soon she began panting and groaning, wriggling her hips in an effort to escape Erik's tongue and lips, but the bindings held her as immovably as they had once held me, and eventually she realised that resistance was in vain.
'Let's see if we can help,' I murmured, and knelt beside Erik to untie the front of his breeches. To my surprise, I found he was already almost hard, so that a few gentle strokes from my fingers quickly completed the required task. 'Now,' I said, my heart beating madly against my ribcage, 'I think you can fuck her for us, Erik. Yes, stand up and I'll guide you in and she can enjoy a nice ride like the ones you've given me. It wouldn't be fair for me to be selfish, would it? Share and share alike, my granny always told me, and who am I to ignore the wisdom of my elders?'
I had earlier wondered if Meg was having a physical relationship with the giant Scandinavian, but now I realised she clearly could not have been, for the look of amazement that froze her face as she felt him beginning to enter her was no act. She turned her head to glance at him over her shoulder, desperately trying to get a glimpse of the fearful weapon that was about to take her.
'No, please!' she shrieked, to my utter astonishment, for I had not expected her to beg for mercy. 'Please, no!' she wailed as the head of Erik's cock began stretching her entrance. 'I'll give you money, clothes, horses, anything, just don't, please!'
'Too late,' I growled, and slapped Erik's rump.
He gave an involuntary jerk forward and buried four to five inches of his erection inside her.
'Right in,' I urged, and he obliged. 'Yes, he's a big bastard, isn't he Megan?' I grabbed her hair and lifted her head. 'And he can keep this up for a very long time, believe me I know, and soon you will too.'
'No,' she wailed as I released my grip on her hair and Erik pulled back to thrust forward again. Then for a moment he just stood there buried deep inside her, his arms tied helplessly behind his back.
I smiled up at him. 'Either you fuck her properly,' I said menacingly, 'or I'll take a whip to your arse and you'll fuck her anyway. Then I'll take the same whip to her arse when you're through with her.'
He saw there was nothing for it and began pumping in and out of Meg in that languid, steady rhythm I knew so well. She tried to resist, grinding her teeth and biting her lip until it nearly bled, but there are some things in nature that cannot be controlled, and not all storms happen on the outside.
After about ten minutes, Meg succumbed to the steady pounding between her legs and climaxed, shrieking a torrent of abuse while laughing like a maniac, after which she stopped fighting the experience completely. Like me as Angelina, she discovered just how many times it's possible for a woman to come when the man has the staying power of a steam engine and the self-control of a monk, and especially when he is under direct orders not to orgasm himself until given permission to do so.
Eventually, however, I relented, for by now Meg was becoming exhausted. Although her body still shook beneath involuntary spasms of pleasure, her head hung motionless and her arms and legs seemed to have gone limp.
'Okay, Erik,' I said, 'let it rip, and make it a good one!'
And he made it a good one, all right. With a sudden roar, he threw his head back and arched his spine as he climaxed.
Despite her exhausted state, Meg raised her head and groaned as his orgasm filled her to bursting. 'You... you bitch!' she wailed, her red-rimmed eyes staring wildly up at me. 'You absolute little bitch! I'll kill you for this, I swear it!'
'Yes, well, you can try,' I retorted, 'but right now I'm the one calling the shots here, so I'd say you were well and truly fucked, lady.'
'That was awful,' I said. 'I'm sorry. I shouldn't have done all that in there. I don't know what came over me.'
'She deserved everything she got.' Andy patted my arm with his soft little brown hand. I still hadn't quite come to terms with the fact that it was my Andy inside that pretty little body and that the breasts I could see through the slightly gaping top of her dress were real now and not padding, as when he was playing Andrea.
We were standing in the last room at the end of the stone building, having left our prisoners next door, Meg still bound over the frame and Erik with his manacled wrists leashed to one of the wall rings originally installed for my benefit.
'It was still wrong, though,' I sighed. 'She was terrified and now she's lost the plot altogether, I reckon.'
'Well, maybe she'll think twice before she does the same thing to someone else in the future,' Andy retorted, 'though I shouldn't hold my breath, if I were you. There's something about her that is really evil.'
'I know,' I agreed. 'It's like an aura, though you can't actually see it.'
'Well, the sooner we get as far away fr
om her as possible, the better, and I've been thinking about that and about your little plan. I don't reckon I should bring Meg up anywhere near the house. She's mental enough to try something silly, and if this gun goes bang up there, we'll have the lot of them down on our heads.'
'Well, you can't stay here with her, Andy. Once we get the carriage sorted out we'll need to get going straightaway, before someone hears us. Those things aren't exactly quiet, you know, and horses make a lot of noise all by themselves.'
'No, I shan't stay here,' he said, 'but she will, only we won't let Erik know that. You and he will go on ahead and let him think I'm bringing the bitch along just close enough so I can make sure everything's going smoothly. If you can grab one of the maids, and get everything sorted on the food and clothes front, I'll do a quick scout of the stables and make sure the coast is clear, but I'll keep out of sight until everything is hitched up and ready to go.'
'And we just leave Megan here?' I asked uncertainly.
He nodded. 'We take Erik along, but Megan stays here. It might just win us a bit of extra time, especially if she takes your place.'
'My place?' I echoed. 'How do you mean?'
'Well, she's a bit bigger than you, but I reckon that doggie suit thing will fit her well enough, and on all fours she won't look as tall as she is. We do her up as if she were you, complete with the gag thing, and let her stay here. If anyone comes looking for her in the morning, they'll find the doggie girl they expect to see and assume Erik is somewhere about his business. And if we're really lucky, they may not realise the carriage is gone. If someone does realise it's missing and Erik's not about the place, they might assume he's taken it to go somewhere on one of Meg's errands.'
'Maybe,' I said dubiously, 'but they'll realise the truth soon enough.'
'Not soon enough for us not to be twenty or thirty miles up the road from here.'
'But where are we going to go?'
Andy shrugged. 'Who cares? Anywhere has got to be an improvement over this place, although I must say, this is a very cute body.' He giggled.
I shook my head. Some things never changed.
'Anyway,' he went on seriously, 'once we get in the clear we can stop and think properly. Right now, we don't know how long we're going to stay like this, so the sooner we get out of here, the better for Angelina and Indira when they get their bodies back again.'
'Okay,' I relented. His plan made sense. It was unlikely that Angelina would act and react like me, and Indira, even though she was apparently capable of killing, was not Andy, with his surprisingly quick wit and the total irreverence which was his best weapon in adversity. 'Yes,' I said with more confidence, turning back towards the door, 'let's do it your way.'
And so it was that less than an hour later a new bitch dog took up her residence in my former kennel, and it was obvious that she was no more enamoured of the situation than I had been.
She stood on all fours, her discomfort registering plainly on her face, for not only was the leather dog suit tight on her but I had made sure Erik laced it as cruelly as possible. Now he waited to fit the gag, but Meg was determined to have one last word.
'I'll find you no matter how far you run!' she cried. 'I'll find you, Angelina, and I'll make this look like a child's nursery game when I do.' Her eyes glared madly up at me, fury at her helplessness making them gleam brightly in the lantern light.
I laughed and patted her on the head, wondering if I shouldn't have Erik shave her hair as he had been instructed to shave mine. 'Down, Fido,' I said. 'Be a good doggie or I'll have Uncle Erik here give you another bone.' I nodded to Erik, who moved forward to press the steel gag mechanism into place. He then held up the padded dog mask. 'Quite an ugly bitch, really,' I murmured. 'Say woof, there's a good girl.'
Outside in the darkness, Erik stood a little ways from us holding a lantern. He was just far enough away that he couldn't hear us talking, but not so far away that he would risk doing anything stupid. Besides, with Andy holding the pistol, and me gripping the knife, and mad Meg now helpless and silent, he had little option but to go along with us.
'Just watch yourself,' Andy whispered. 'I'll be close by, but in the house you'll be on your own, so don't take any risks.'
'You neither,' I urged. 'Keep well back, and if it comes to it, run like hell. One of us has to stay free, whatever happens.'
'We'll see,' he said. 'I wouldn't leave you, not now, not after what we've just done to her.' He jerked a thumb back to indicate the blockhouse. 'She's gonna be madder than hell. I reckon it would be kinder to shoot you than let you fall into her clutches again.'
'Yes, I reckon you could be right,' I muttered grimly. I looked towards Erik, who was standing with his back to us. 'Ready?' I whispered.
Beside me, Andy took my hand and squeezed it. 'Yep,' he said. 'Let's see what the past has in store for us now, shall we?'
Epilogue
And there, dear reader, the story must end - this part of the story, at least. I should like to describe to you how we managed to get clothing, money, food and another pistol from the house, and tell you about our flight in the carriage past the gate as we clattered away into the night. Unfortunately, I don't know any of the details myself, for we were only halfway to the house when I suddenly found myself back at Anne-Marie's place, still astride Andy and very close to coming.
Andy beat me to it but it was a reflex action; he came out of his own trance as the tremors faded. He lay there for several long seconds, bemused and stunned, trying to come to terms with what had happened and with the fact that he had now experienced the same incredible phenomenon I had. We lay together and talked about it for hours, and then, when the sun had driven away the morning mists, we woke Anne-Marie and related our story to her.
We were to go back in time again shortly, together once more, but by the time we arrived in our borrowed bodies our coach was already well on the road to London, with Erik up on the driver's bench. We could have asked him how things had gone, of course, but then that would have given our game away completely and neither of us felt so wise, not at that point.
It was not to be the last we saw of Mad Megan Crowthorne or her supposed master, Gregory Hacklebury, for I had awakened in her a dreadful need to be avenged and she was not a woman to take an insult like that lying down - on all fours as a doggie girl, yes, but not lying down, not once she was free again to do something about the indignities I had made her suffer.
But all that will have to wait, at least for the moment, as the adventures that followed our nocturnal carriage ride are enough to fill at least one more volume.
Did we finally solve the mystery of Great Marlins and the apparent disappearance from the scene of Meg and Greg? Well, that's for me to know and for you to wait to find out, I'm afraid, for it is now close to bedtime and tomorrow I have a very important appointment with Bill... Bill Shakespeare, that is. I've promised to help him with a plotline that's giving him a bit of trouble, and it's either me or that dreadful Bacon fellow who's a terrible bore, farts a lot, and insists on making much ado about nothing. And, oh yes, he also keeps staring at my breasts, which I think you'll agree is very rude of him and not at all the behaviour of a fellow some scholars still try to insist was the real bard. If you ask me, Bacon couldn't write his way out of a paper bag and Bill should put him on his bike once and for all. Not that he ever listens to my advice, mind you, but we live in hope.
So, it's goodbye for the present everyone and much love now, in the future and in the past,
Teena.
-oOo-
Enjoy more of Teena's damsel in distress, time-travelling erotic adventures, also exclusively published as eBooks by us...
Teena Thyme
I nodded and opened my mouth to say something, but immediately it was filled for me, as Anne-Marie pressed a soft rubber ball between my teeth and buckled a retaining strap at the nape of my neck to prevent me spitting it out again.
'Oh, sweet,' she trilled. She came around and knelt down, so that s
he was looking up into my face. 'I'll have to let you see yourself gagged,' she said. 'A gag does make a girl's face look so gorgeous, I've always thought; makes those big eyes look even bigger.'
Born in the fifties, a child in the 'Swinging Sixties', Teena Thyme comes to adulthood in the even more outlandish seventies, a self-possessed eighteen year old with the ability to see the funny side of most things. Little does she know, when she inherits the estate of a great-great-great aunt she never knew she had, that she will need all her wits, resolve and downright bloody-mindedness in order to survive the trials of time travelling and the perils of being a woman in an age when men ruled - either with a rod of birch or a whip of leather.
Whisked back through the ages, Teena finds herself as the very unwilling pawn in the power games of the black hearted Sir Gregory Hacklebury, who is determined to marry another of her previously unknown ancestors and seize her inheritance, even if to do so means that he must kill the unfortunate Angelina Spigworth, whose body Teena is now inhabiting - a body constrained by corsets, abused by everyone she comes in contact with and finally, it seems, destined to be left to rot in a forgotten prison.
Teena - A House of Ill Repute
I sucked on the gag and managed to swallow with some difficulty, breathing in through my nose as deeply as the stringent corset permitted.
Inside my rubber costume I felt hot and clammy. Suddenly my fetish garb did not seem so exciting and I wanted to pull it all off and simply go and lie down for a while, but I knew there was no chance of that happening. Gagged as I was, there was no way I could convey my wishes to Anne-Marie and any physical show would only be interpreted wrongly.
1839 - Having escaped from the clutches of the wicked Gregory Hacklebury and his insane 'maid' Megan Crowthorne, the youthful an supposedly innocent Angelina has been re-united with her own former maid, the beautiful Indira, but cast out into a world with only her jewellery and a few pounds.
Thyme II Thyme Page 18
