Hunted!

by Terri Pray

  A welcoming mix of smells and warmth that she had once enjoyed. Now it only offered her a source of terror.

  Long grey skirts swept close to her face, the white aprons of the cook and her helpers covered the front of those skirts as Celeste darted back to avoid the heavy hobnail boots added the resounding steps of the women around her. She had come to know those who worked here all too well, their strange mix of cold looks and flicker touches of fear.

  Did they fight the desire to take her place? She would not deny them if any one of them wished to be the naked, collared beast on the floor.

  “Well well, what brings the little slut into the kitchen?” The Yorkshire accent carried by a female voice drew her attention. The cook was larger than the other women in the household, but not fat. Her work had left her with strong upper arms and back, with just a little extra covering over her body from the tasting that was a part of her work. Dark brown eyes and ginger touched hair matched the ruddy touch to the woman's face, but the cold look that now ruled her gaze left Celeste shivering.

  “The Master sent me down to the kitchen, Ma'am.” Oh she'd had that term of address drummed into her. They were all above her. Even the lowest scullery maid had more rights than she ever would. Forgetting that came with a heavy price and one she was not prepared to pay, especially on top of the punishment she had been sent to endure for failing him once already.

  “And why did he send you my way, girlie?”

  “To... ” she faltered for a moment, the words sticking in the back of her throat. Gods, if she were a braver woman then perhaps she would take the chance of lying to the Cook. No, it had nothing to do with bravery. Celeste knew the price and simply did not wish to pay it. “To be bathed, scrubbed down, but only after I serve anyone in the kitchens who wishes to use me, Ma'am.”

  The cook's laughter bubbled out, filling the large room. “Well my girls, did you hear that. Little slut here has to serve us. Precious isn't it? The Master's own little pet sent down here to rough it with the common folks.”

  Any hopes that she might have been granted some limited form of mercy died with the laughter and mocking calls that now sounded in the warmth of the kitchen. Where they all nothing more than animals waiting to take advantage? Or did they see it as a way of keeping themselves from ever sharing her fate?

  Celeste glanced up, her gaze moving from one woman to the next, taking in their features, scanning their faces for some hint of kindness only to find nothing. Each one looked on her naked form as if she were nothing more than a succulent piece of meat and they had not eaten in a week.

  Then again, she did not know what liberties they were permitted. She had not seen a wedding ring, brass or otherwise, on the finger of any serving in the house. Did Davien forbid such things amongst his staff? Stranger things had been reported of those over powered and inbred lords.

  No, that was not a fair thing to think. No matter what had been happening in Ireland there had to be some good people in the country. Men and women of her rank who had little or nothing to do with the politics that caused so much in the way of upheaval.

  “So which one of you wants to put the little chit to use?” The heavy work boot worn by the Cook nudged against Celeste's thigh. A sharp kick that brought a soft cry of pain to life. Damn heavy boots. She had owned a pair like them once, for the work in the farm. How long had she saved her pennies to buy a pair of boots that did not look like hobnail boots? Such a prideful thing, the priest had warned her many a time about the sin of pride and how it would be her downfall. Now she would have killed for a scrap of cloth to wrap about her hips. “Keep in mind, we have food to prepare for the meal tonight but still time enough for one or two of you to put the slut through her paces.”

  Through her paces? What did they think she was? A horse in need of the workout? Celeste's stomach rolled, threatening to rid her body of the small amount of food she had been granted for breakfast. Just what she needed.

  “I'll take a dibs at her, Cook.” The woman who spoke could not have been much older than Celeste herself. “Might be able to find something to keep her busy, and I don't mind sharing her with a few others.”

  “Okay, Jane. You can have the slut first. Who else?”

  “Cook? Can I?” Dark haired, blue eyed, the woman who slipped through the gathered servants was easily in her mid-thirties. Yet still wore the dress of a scullery maid. Normally they tried to climb the ladder a bit by her age, but perhaps that ranking in the household was where the woman felt comfortable.

  Not that it mattered to Celeste. They were just women who would take advantage of her situation and put her through paces that she wanted nothing to do with. Gods, what had she done wrong that day on the road home from the village. Would it have been better if she had taken Donald's offer of an escort home?

  She shuddered at the memory. Not even Donald's presence would have prevented Davien from snatching her. She knew that much of the man that now owned her. At best he would have just knocked Donald out of the way, at worst, killed the man. Out of all the men she had come to know in and around the farm, only one might have stood a chance of besting Davien Blood. The Raven himself.

  Oh, what a sight that would have been. The bold man of the roads facing off against the cruel English Lord. Then what might have happened between them, would he have kissed her again, touched his hand against her cheek before sweeping her up onto his horse...

  Silly romantic nonsense. Still, the images kept her warm and safe through the long nights in that hateful cage.

  “Any others? No, well I'll get my turn in before she's scrubbed down and sent back to his Lordship.” Cook turned away for a moment before looking back at the kneeling Celeste, a large wooden spoon in her right hand. “Before you take her off though, I'm minded to give her a few sharp cracks to send her on her way.”

  A nervous chuckle ran through the assembled women.

  “What say you all?”

  “Aye.”

  “Yes.”

  “Make the slut scream.”

  Celeste paled, her knuckles turning white, nails digging into the edge of the stone tiles beneath her body. It would hurt she knew that, perhaps enough to make her scream. That was if. As long as she screamed, no matter how slight the pain was, it would be enough for the damn lookers on in the room.

  No, if she gave in that easily then Davien would find out and know she was faking it. Somehow, even without being told otherwise, she knew he would not approve of that type of action. The punishment that would come her way was well beyond anything she wanted to experience.

  “Face away from me.” The Cook ordered, tapping the spoon in her hand, her gaze never leaving the naked woman at her feet. “I want a good access to that sweet ass of yours.”

  “You think it will improve her performance if you punish her first?” Emily inquired. Curiosity burned brightly in her intense eyes.

  “Oh yes, I have no doubt on that. A good taste of my spoon will have her wondering what I will do if she really displeases me... or mine.” The note of possession as the woman looked around those gathered in the kitchen left Celeste with no doubt of just what problems she might face if she angered the woman or her helpers. “I've seen his Lordship do this a couple of times before. He likes them softened up good and proper like.”

  Shaking, Celeste turned on her hands and knees, lowering her head to the floor raising her ass high for the Cook and the spoon in the older woman's hand.

  Without warning the first of the blows landed on her taut skin. Harder than she had thought would be possible. A loud slap of wood against flesh that forced a cry into being. Heat blossomed out from the strike zone on her buttocks, such a small area, yet so very painful. Celeste arched, fighting to hold position as she waited for the next blow. How many, three, four, she didn't know for sure just how long a beating she would be given at the rotund woman's whim.

  Another lesson in obedience.

  Oh, she knew those things all to well.

  Twice more the
spoon lashed into her ass, adding to the deep bruise that Celeste could feel forming under the wooden bowl of the spoon. Each blow brought a new cry of pain from the kneeling woman, but something else as well. She would feel the blows later in the day.

  Heat grew between her thighs, an unwanted pressure that she tried to ignore. Her vulva tightening as her hips rocked in subtle timing between the heavy strikes. Her body was changing under Davien's hand; pain had begun to also offer a source of pleasure. No. He had warned of this, told her it would happen, she didn't want it yet it was happening nevertheless.

  Almost as soon as it had begun the simple beating was over, the spoon tossed to the large kitchen table. “You'll do your best to please us, won't you little slut.”

  “Yes, Ma'am.” Celeste whimpered her throat tight as she tried to fight the urge to cry. She wanted to reach back and rub her stinging ass, but to do so without permission would have only made matters far worse. “I will do my best.”

  “Good.” She nodded smartly, turning her attention to the other women in the room. Gods. Three of them, at least she would only have to deal with one at a time, wouldn't she? Celeste glanced up at the three women, the look Jane was giving the first woman, Emily wasn't it? That shared look sent a chill through to Celeste's core.

  “Take her down into the root cellar. I don't want her getting underfoot here. And remember no marks. She acts up, then you tell me and I'll deal with it. I know what his Lordship will permit in punishments.” With that the Cook turned her back on the trembling woman. “When I'm ready I'll make my way down there, then she can come back up here to be washed off in the half tub.”

  “You heard Cook, get moving slut, crawl. You know where you need to be so don't just kneel there.” Emily snapped out a sharp order followed by a harsh kick to Celeste's thigh. They had taken their lead from the Cook in what treatment would be permitted towards her.

  Celeste bit back a cry as she crawled through the mingled people in the kitchen. Even now she welcomed the warmth and homely smells of the baking in the large room. Fresh bread, she had made enough of it in her life to know the scent all too well. Meat roasting in a large spit over the fireplace and there were pies being prepared up on the counters. Large ones, stuffed full of apples and blackberries by the look of them. The smell of the pies, the work being done on them, pulled at the trembling and nude woman. It had been far too long since she had been permitted to taste something as simple as a pie. Had she been at home she would have been spending her spare time berry picking, laying them aside for the winter to come, making jams and preserves, drying some out in the cellar, working in the kitchen to bake pies and sweet rolls.

  Was it that late in the year already?

  How long had she been in his care, it had barely been the start of summer when Davien had snatched her from the side of the road. Six weeks, seven or more in his grasp? No closer to nine, it had to be. Or had the harvest come early?

  Without some way of checking how long she had been away from home she could only—

  “Stop dawdling, slut. I've got work to do after I've finished with you.” Jane growled, and the low snarl that came from Emily on served to force her to hurry along through the kitchen, down the small flight of steps until she waited at the heavy closed wooden door.

  A root cellar. Many houses had them to store carrots, potatoes, even dried herbs. Even the farm had laid claim to a small one that she had been careful to see was well stocked before the winter grasped the land. There were two other sections to the cellar that were not accessible from the kitchen. The wine cellar and the private dungeon Davien had threatened her with before now. A room she had never seen before, and only heard hints of even existing except from the man who had held it over her head as a threat. Still, there had been enough in the way of rumors to make her believe that the room was far more than an empty threat.

  A cold breeze washed over her body as Jane opened the door. Her nipples crinkled into tight coral points on her pale breasts, goose bumps blazed into life over her taut skin as a shiver played over her skin. Sacking had been thrown over boxes, a pile of clean sack cloth sat in a low bed like bundle on the floor, barely eight inches from the floor, rope and twine lay in abundance around the barely-lit room. Though it was not a dungeon and lacked the dangers of Davien's room, she knew there were enough items in the cellar to leave her at risk if the women put their minds to it.

  She could only hope that they lacked imagination.

  CHAPTER THREE

  “Crawl onto the sacking, slut. It would be best for you take your place there for what we have in mind.” Jane snarled. “We don't have all day, so move.”

  “What do we have in mind?” Emily enquired. “I've not had chance to do this before. I've listened to some of the things that he does to women like her, and how the men in the stables like to treat women.”

  “You're new, right?” Jane settled down on the edge of a barrel, her attention only half on Celeste. “You weren't around when he was training Alex.”

  “No, I've only been here a few months now.”

  The longer they spoke the better it would be for her. Celeste kept silent when she had crawled onto the rough sack cloth, her nipples scraping against the brutish material. Heat flamed fully through her body, she could not keep it under control, the heat that had been forced into life. Davien had done this to her, forced her body to welcome the heat between her thighs, he took every chance he had to teach her more of the wicked torments that he wished of her. Celeste clenched at the cloth beneath her body.

  They would take what they wanted them leave her alone all being well.

  “Well then, you've never known what it is like to take one of his pets and put them to use. She's not been in the service of women before if the rumors are true, so we get to teach her how to use that tongue of hers.”

  “I... I wasn't sure that we'd be able to do that.”

  “Lass, what did you think we would be doing?” Jane made no attempt to hide the laughter. “Watching her lay on the sacking, or maybe painting her in mud?”

  “I didn't know. Just, from what some of the others had said, if I didn't take a chance like this when it came along I could be the next to be thrown to the wolves.” Emily trembled as she spoke, a soft sob half heard in her voice. “I couldn't let that happen, Jane. I just couldn't.”

  “Oh girl, you're being daft. His Lordship doesn't pick from the staff. Someone's been pulling your leg. We've all got family round here, it's why he picks them up on his travels.”

  So he feared the actions of the men and women in the local area, or was it something more? He needed those who lived locally, better to have them on his side, be a source of income than have to watch for a dagger in the night.

  “So what do we do with the girl then?” Emily glanced towards the nude woman on the sacking. “Do we send for Cook?”

  “Like hell we do, the cook will get enough use from her when it's her turn. No we use her. She's got a sweet mouth on her, so we teach her how to use it, at least for what we like. Or haven't you done that before either?” Jane snorted, barely looking over at Celeste.

  “No, I haven't. Never looked at trying it, though I've heard rumors.” Jane shifted a little on the edge of one of the boxes.

  “Best we get you taught as well then, isn't it?”

  Only one out of the three women in the cellar knew what to do, that, at least, was a bonus. Until the cook arrived, then it would be a different situation. There was a woman who knew what she wanted and how she expected a slave to act, or so it seemed. A woman she did not dare disappoint.

  “What first?” Emily spoke quietly, an odd shyness evident in her voice.

  “Well you'll need to strip off, I would think, or at least lift your skirts. Did you want her to go straight to the sweet spot, or kiss you some first?” Jane explained almost as though she were talking someone through making a loaf of bread for the first time.

  “Will you show me?”

  Celeste tensed insta
ntly.

  “Might work better if I did.” Jane grinned. Her fingers moved to the ties on her clothing, stripping off the apron first, laying the clothing safe to one side over a clean barrel. “Don't want these getting dirty. Might get in trouble with Cookie if I do that. She likes to keep a clean kitchen, does the old lady. That includes the clothing we wear, something for you to remember.” The off white blouse came next, then the heavy grey skirt. One at a time the basic clothes of a kitchen maid were put aside, her boots placed against the side of the barrel until the women stood there in nothing more than a set of woolen stockings held up with red wool finger woven garters, barely seen through the thick stockings.

  Emily's cheeks colored instantly, though she was unable to draw her gaze away from her work mate.

  “Nothing to be ashamed of girlie. We're all made the same way, even old cookie back there.” Jane grinned and walked across the root cellar towards the nervous Celeste. “Kneel up there, slut, need to get your teaching on this started don't we.”

  “Yes, ma'am.” Her mind screamed no, get away, leave me alone. But there was nothing to be done about it except obey. Unless she wanted to find herself dragged to the feet of the cook, and from there to Davien. No matter what they wanted of her she would struggle to do it, to please them, it would still be better than being punished by Davien again.

  Trembling, Celeste moved to her knees and turned to face the nearly naked Jane. Since childhood, she had not seen another woman naked until now, heat rose in twin points in her cheeks, burning her pale skin turning it near scarlet as she looked on the kitchen hand. Jane did not lack for looks in her own way. She had a fresh-scrubbed face, slightly ruddy cheeks with soft curves that had been hidden beneath the plain garb of a kitchen wench. If she had the time to spend on her hair, to brush it out and work through the knots, perhaps rinse it through with a little beer, Jane might have attracted the attention of a dozen local men. Yet here, in the root cellar, she possessed a different sort of beauty, that of a woman who knew what she wanted and just how to get it. There was nothing Celeste could now do except obey her and Emily both if she wanted to get through the day with only her pride bruised.