As before, Hannah moved through her paces, feeling the constant wrath of her disgruntled trainers etched in marks that painfully clipped her skin. Although she performed well enough to keep the men from abusing her harder, her mind escaped into a thoughtless stupor. When the early morning session ended, she stood as she had before waiting for another order. Any one of a half dozen men might have given her the next command, but the voice that drilled the morning air with its distinctive sound was not one she was used to hearing, although it was one she knew well. He didn’t speak directly to her—his comments were aimed at Eldon and the other man she believed in charge—but she heard every word as if the message was for her.
“Rub her down, give her a bath and get rid of those disgusting clothes. She’s my prize filly. I want her sweet-smelling and in a pretty dress. My Hannah and I have a few things to discuss.”
There was a ripple of laughter over the words ‘things to discuss’ as if the only thing she and Cain had to discuss was how often he’d be sticking his meaty member into the hot wet caverns of her body.
He must have shot them a disapproving glare because the laughter quickly died.
At the sound of the Jarrett’s voice, Hannah felt a tremor of lust rise up in her body, starting with her quivering sexual center. She shook visibly, although she imagined no one saw since they were focused on their boss. As much as she reviled herself for the unwanted feeling, she felt some pride in the fact that the man wanted her, and wanted her again and was taking great strides, at some risk to have her. She remembered the other times, all too well, and found herself quaking miserably as the erotic heat began to build again.
By the time she finally turned around, Jarrett was gone and she was being hustled back into the stables.
Hannah bathed in private, in a small room where a washtub of warm water had been placed. The dress provided for her was a pale blue silk that fit her surprisingly well. It was cut deeply at the bodice, and so low that she counted on the feathers that rimmed the edge to cover her nipples, which were just barely tucked inside and threatened to pull free every time she moved. It was a whore’s dress. And yet, as she gazed into the small looking glass that leaned against the makeshift dressing table, she admired the long line of her neck, the graceful curve at her shoulder and the way the feathers highlighted her bosom. Her bare skin gleamed with her natural feminine charm in a way she’d never seen before, that is, all but the nasty welt that had been laid there by one of her trainer’s whips. Her long tangle of hair combed into a mane of lustrous brown. If it weren’t for the metal cuffs still ringing her wrists and ankles, she might have passed for a presentable lady, albeit a daring one. She wondered what Daniel would think of her so attired. Would it shame him, anger him, or arouse his fierce sexual passions? She imagined the latter—as her husband was not some stodgy Englishman who would revile her for being so shockingly attired. Of course, he would hate the venue; he would take her from this hellish captivity and use her as a husband has a right to use his wife. If only…
Such teeming thoughts filled her brain, until she heard Eldon speak from beyond the closed door.
“Mister Cain wants you now.” He banged at the door several times.
“Well then, I guess I’m ready,” she called to him.
She brushed back her long hair as she took one last look in the glass and smiled at the woman she saw reflected back to her. Her heart was beating fast; the anticipation in her had brewed to a furious peak as if she wanted the abuse that would surely make this trial more hellish. And yet, she was aware that the demands on her so far had only served to take the edge of disgust and indignation away. She felt meek as a kitten with little of her feisty spirit intact.
The ranch house was cool and dark, so dark after the glaring daylight that Hannah could hardly see a thing. Eldon had pushed her up the steps and told her that Jarrett would be waiting for her inside, but once she moved through the entrance, she had no idea where to go. The front hallway of the massive ranch house was marked by several doors, one leading to the back of the house, another closed one to her right, and a third, a double door that was now wide open. It led to a massive sitting room furnished with leather-covered sofas and thick tables built from roughly harvested trees. The centerpiece of the room was a great stone fireplace. This was a man’s home, rustic, woodsy, smelling of earth and ash and a hint of spirits.
“Ah! You’re ready so quickly.” Jarrett Cain approached from her behind and she whipped around at the resounding sound of his voice. The way he extended his hand in such a gallant manner led her to think for a moment that she was being greeted by a gentleman. She took his hand like she might that of a suitor in some fancy Philadelphia home, while at the same time fighting back the urge to bow graciously as she’d been taught. Jarrett Cain was no gentleman and under these circumstances he could not expect her to conduct herself as a genteel lady. She knew her place. She was his whore.
“My, you’re looking well.” He again was gallant.
“No thanks to the last two days in the company of your men,” she said, but with not half the venom that she honestly felt. That odd submissiveness bred in her during the paddock training was clearly still evident.
“I had my reasons.”
She only nodded.
Hannah watched as Jarrett Cain poured two glasses of spirits.
“Drink this down,” he said as he handed her a small shot glass of amber colored liquor.
“I’m sorry, sir, but I don’t drink.”
“Oh, but you’ll want to tonight.” He reached for her right hand and curled her fingers around the glass. “You should know by now, Mrs. Crowe, that you’re here to serve me and serve me you will. It is in my power to alter your life in ways that would cause you great pain. I know that your husband and your sister have traveled to Springfield where that sweet child, Jolie was put on a train headed for her Aunt’s home in Pennsylvania. Too bad she’s been taken off the chessboard in my game; she would have made a fine piece to play for sexual sport. You, on the other hand, the willful Hannah, the wife of the poor but honorable farmer, Daniel Crowe, you’ve placed yourself right in the center of my game, so I can hardly complain with one so lovely as you to share my carnal appetites. How odd that you didn’t take the trip to Springfield yourself; you would have missed this feast of fleshy delights. But perhaps you knew, perhaps some second sight allowed you to see what was in store.”
“Don’t think so highly of yourself,” Hannah replied.
Jarrett smiled, unruffled. “Drink, Mrs. Crowe. Gulp it down. It’ll relax you.”
He upended his glass and watched as she cautiously took her first sip.
The liquor burned and her mouth screwed up into a terrible wince.
Jarrett laughed heartily, then spoke with some gentleness as he moved a step closer. She felt him breach an intimate barrier no man should cross with another man’s wife, but she allowed him in and did not back up as she would normally have done. Was that sip of whiskey already working? Or was such acquiescence a condition of her battered brain?
“You recall, my dear, when you were young and your mother gave you medicine, that it was best if it went right down in one fast gulp?” He took the hand that held the glass and tenderly moved it toward her mouth, all the while his eyes never left her baffled gaze just as hers were fixed on his. She opened her lips and gulped down the drink as she’d seen him do, experiencing at first the same harsh burn and sour taste she had from that first sip. Within seconds, the heat of the liquor warmed her body from the inside outward, as if the heat of the sun were breeding inside her body and spreading through every part of the whole. The effect began as a physical warmth, then within minutes, she felt an easy intoxication taking away what little will that remained.
Hannah had remembered Jarrett Cain as mean, as brutal and mocking and contemptuous; and she expected the same thing from him now. But at that moment in his home, surrounded by the trappings of a civilized man, he maintained a curious charm that both
drew her in and made her dreadfully frightened. It must be the spirits making her brain go mad, or her tired limbs, or resignation born of little hope. Surely that was so. Or was it more? Could she possibly be attracted to this evil man and the malevolent spirit that craftily wrapped her in its diabolical spell?
“Your poor husband; he should be here to see you,” Jarrett observed.
“He would kill you,” Hannah answered without thinking, in a voice that was surprisingly steely under the compromising circumstances.
The man didn’t flinch. “Indeed he would. He should. But you’ve kept the truth from him, I believe. If he’d known about me, about what threatened your brother, then he never would have left his wife behind. How interesting that you didn’t tell him. Again, I wonder at your motive? Could it be that you desire what I offer? What no other man can offer you? Could it be that you’re a woman of certain sensibilities that run counter to the world that puts your passionate feminine sex into the tight-fitting garments of respectability and Christian morality? Could it be those garments pinch you too tightly, madam, that you’re bursting at the seams with lust you can no longer contain? Tell me, Mrs. Crowe. Do you suppose that is why you never breathed a word about our meetings to your loving Daniel?”
Hannah listened as if in an hypnotic trance, her body quaking, her free left hand twitching with the desire to slap his face.
“I can see that you’re offended by that, but you also recognize the truth in what I say. All those venomous things you want to spit out just go unsaid. You know the truth.”
“Please,” she finally backed away and the seductive spell collapsed.
The effect of the liquor remained, however, to cloud her mind and compromise her judgment.
Jarrett Cain moved to one of his big leather chairs and sank into the soft deer hide with ease. “Come,” he motioned her with his hand.
Suddenly feeling hot and stifled, her breathing became labored, and her chest heaved like a bellows in order to bring adequate air into her lungs. To her dismay, in her efforts to overcome the feeling of suffocation, both nipples had escaped the dress and were now peeking out through the feathery trim. She was immediately alarmed without knowing why, and looked up at the man dazedly.
“I was hoping this time we could do this without threats. I think they detract from the pleasure, don’t you? Of course, if you insist, I’ll bring out my whip, bare your body and beat you into submission.” He watched her waver then added, “Maybe that’s what you want, eh?”
“No, sir,” she answered faintly.
“Well then, Mrs. Crowe, drop to your knees and come this way.”
Hannah felt the hard wood floor before she understood what she was doing, and though hitting the unyielding surface sent spikes of pain through her knees, she moved forward crawling like a loose harlot to the man’s feet.
“Ah, that is my good girl,” Jarrett said as he ran his hand through her hair. His attitude turned decidedly lewd. “Now, let’s reacquaint you with the object of your stay here.” He fished inside his pants and withdrew an impressively large and extremely stiff erection that he presented to her slightly parted lips. “With the first act out of the way, the rest will be much easier.” He guided her head down to his thick meat with enough force to ensure that she’d comply.
Hannah’s mouth opened wide and the purple head slipped beyond her lips. He forced himself deep, while Hannah tried not to gag. The guiding power of his hand was so persuasive that soon, her mouth was bobbing up and down on the steely shaft, her lips sucking and slurping as she noisily bathed the organ. Her tongue wrapped vigorously around the flesh, tasting his bodily juices with a relish she’d known only a few times with Daniel. Jarrett’s scent invaded her body like some enchanted charm. She breathed it in with a longing for more and her sex clenched on its own. In time, she’d risen to her knees; her head was in his lap and her ass end danced on the air as if seeking a lover to take her from behind.
His hands upon her body were firm, parental and claiming in ways that obliged her compliance. In the kernel of her soul, the very heart of her beat the resistance, the anger, the defiance that her life required of her. But the effect of it was so submerged that it never surfaced in that fatal hour.
The more she sucked the vile man’s prick, the more she wanted. Her hand wrapped the stalk and held it tight, her lips worked with fervor. Again and again she dove down, letting the once frightening instrument further into her throat, all with a wanting she could not explain. She felt the eruption of his jism begin to gather, and tasted the first drops as they emerged from the tiny slit. Any moment, she expected the rest to bathe her mouth. Their mutual anticipation was running high.
His grunts foretold his climax with some accuracy. His hips rose, his hand forced her head down so her mouth was practically eating at his nest of hair. Her throat opened wider still as she felt that first gush spurt inside her. Another and another spewed a great mass of white come into her mouth. She swallowed two, three times, gulping his cream as she had the liquor, and feeling its power spread through her in the same way, as if for the moment and the hours that lay ahead, she truly was his. She’d been marked; like an animal marks its territory, she was Jarrett Cain’s property.
Jarrett pushed her head back once the climax died away and Hannah sat back on her heels, feeling rightfully humbled. Then the man leaned forward, his hand searching inside her dress for a breast to squeeze.
“Does this arouse you?” he murmured.
There were no restraints left to check her response. The answer came a second later, “Yes, sir.” She moaned softly as he caressed her breast a little more firmly, a little harder, drawing from her what he wanted, knowing that as he did, Hannah Crowe’s body was seeping sexual juices.
Oh! And the night had just begun!
“I have friends who want you. I’ve told them about the little wife from the other side of the valley with the succulent body and the mind filled with lust.”
In the midst of her arousal, Hannah felt her shame and she blushed. “Is this not enough, that you have me this way?”
“No, little lady, it’s not enough.” He scowled in that surly mean way that so characterized their previous meetings.
She felt some movement behind her—the door to the room had never been closed. For all she knew a crowd of raunchy ranch hands was gathering behind her in wait, their palms massaging crotches, tampering with randy dicks.
“She puts on a fine show—at least to start.”
Hannah turned to the sound of a new and unfamiliar voice. To her surprise the three men joining them in Cain’s sitting room were not the ranch hands or the scruffy trainers, or the boys that had been part of her kidnap and rape. These were gentlemen much like Cain himself, stalwart looking fellows with smooth-shaved faces, or neatly trimmed breads, with combed hair and fine looking clothes. She could single out no man in particular; they came as one, moving in together and circling her resting body. Only their fiercely sexual expressions of lust gave away their treacherous intentions.
“You mind if we beat her first?” the portly round-faced fellow said, “you said she takes to leather?”
“She’s prime now,” Jarrett answered.
“But for three at once?” the man said doubtfully.
“Then loosen her up more,” Jarrett said, “I’m sure she’s not expecting a bed of rose petals,” he looked down at her, “are you now?”
“No, sir,” she said in petrified amazement.
“And you like pain?” he asked.
“I never actually think about liking it,” her voice quite faint.
“Then tell me, what happens when you’re whipped?” Jarrett went on. “When you’re disciplined? When you’re scolded? What happens when your husband takes you to the woodshed? You are taken to the woodshed?”
“I am,” she admitted as if she could keep no secrets.
“So, what happens when your husband takes his rage out on your hide? You get aroused, hmm?”
She gulped, her voice becoming weaker still. “Yes, sir.”
The man smiled and nodded, satisfied. “As it should be. That’s what a good woman is for. And you’re a good woman, aren’t you Hannah? You’re a good wife because you know what the beast in your husband requires. And you’ll be a good bitch for us to use.”
The three men sat down, but on their edge of their seats. Then the closest one to her pulled Hannah by the arm and she flopped into his lap, her torso going over his knees as limply as a child’s rag doll. Her breasts now freely loosened from the confinement of the dress hung down as her arms hung down. Her pink nipples were long and hard, and while the man poised to spank her ass pulled up her skirt, another man leaned in and took one of the dangling buds between his fingers and began to squeeze. He didn’t let up until the spanking began, until Hannah’s bare bottom was pelted with a rain of sharp smacks and her ass turned scarlet. She gasped, mewling in distress as the pain crescendoed quickly.
The other man began to pinch her nipples again. This time, he held on, squeezing tightly so the pain was magnified, and was present in her ass and in her breasts, unremitting and insistent, finally making her scream at them to stop.
Ending this torment was something Hannah could not control. If anything, her urgent protests only made the two men hurt her more.
After a string of testy but indistinguishable remarks, she managed to spit out real words, “Stop, please!” though to no avail.
“Stop? Why would I stop?” the spanker wondered aloud. “You have my cock hard as a rock, girl. Can you feel that throbbing? Tell me? Can you feel me against your thigh?”
She didn’t answer. The man with the pinching fingers seemed to refine the brutal torture into an art. Nothing worked in her body now, especially her mind. She couldn’t speak. She could hardly breathe. And she couldn’t think enough to answer the man whose blistering treatment of her ass end was only becoming more vicious.
The Humiliation of Hannah Page 10
