The Devil's Surrogate

by Jennifer Jane Pope

  'Well, I think I'd have to agree with you there, Sean Kelly,' Paddy said calmly, 'which is why we're not even going to try looking. Besides, from what the little bird tells us, there's no certainty where she might be, either out here, in the house, or wherever. But, if you were listening, as I was, then you'd realise that come nightfall most everyone's going to be back at the house, or in the barn she told us about. After all this running around out here, I daresay there'll be a bit of ale and wine flowing, and that should give us the chance to poke around a bit.'

  'And what if we still don't find her?'

  'Well,' Paddy sat back on his haunches and peered out through the eye-slits in the mask he had taken from their first victim, 'if we don't, then we don't, and there won't be too much we can do about it. But,' he added, 'I think we might already be halfway to what we came for. The girl we left back there with the lad?'

  Sean looked up at him and shrugged. 'What about her? She was rambling, completely out of her head.'

  'Maybe so,' Paddy agreed, 'but maybe you weren't trying to listen as hard as I was. She was going on about a coach and highwaymen, or women dressed as highwaymen, I think.'

  'Ah,' a light dawned in Sean's eyes. 'You think she might be the cousin?'

  Paddy nodded. 'I reckon she might be. Of course, she could be some other poor wench they've seized and brought here, but she'll do, either way. It's one thing for this Grayling to be doing all this with legally bought slaves and bondswomen, but quite another to have free women held and treated like this. If we get our wench back to the inn, and give her time to regain her senses, maybe her testimony will be all Master Handiwell and the captain needs to get a warrant from a magistrate and send in the militia in proper numbers. Of course,' he said again, grinning wryly, 'they might be sending more of our lads up from Portsmouth even as we sit here, so perhaps it'll be us that gets to come back and sort the twisted bastards out properly this time.'

  'The old woman writes a surprisingly neat script, master,' Silas Grout observed. After the funeral he had discreetly called the witchfinder back into the church and passed him the note the boy had given him by the churchyard wall.

  Jacob Crawley furrowed his brow. 'More likely the miller's lad,' he retorted. 'From what I hear tell, the lad knows his letters well. But 'tis not the style that we need concern ourselves with Silas, but rather the content. You've read this through, I take it?'

  Grout nodded. 'Aye, master,' he confirmed. ''Twas not sealed, and the lad said I was to read it.'

  'Then you'll see we have a problem, or rather a choice. It says here that the gold we have so far is but a small portion of what the old woman will give us in return for her bitch of a granddaughter.'

  'A sizeable sum, from what they write there,' Grout agreed.

  'Aye,' Crawley mused, 'more than I expected to see offered.'

  'Maybe there's more still?'

  'As like as not there is,' Crawley said, 'but to waste time even thinking about that would be foolish. No,' he tapped the parchment with his knuckles, 'this is well worth our time as it is, and we'll not risk losing that for sheer greed. I am not a greedy man, Silas, am I?' He stared at Grout, who dutifully shook his head.

  'No, Master Crawley, you ain't a greedy man. So, you'll give them the girl?'

  'Yes, but they'll not enjoy her company, nor she her freedom, for long. You see, I fear I may have been a little careless in her hearing.'

  'Ah...' Grout looked sympathetic. 'We can't risk leaving a wagging tongue in our wake.'

  'Indeed not, though it'll be a while before that particular tongue wags again, in any case. Now, let's think this out. You'll have to go to the inn, of course, and say we're agreeable to the terms of the bargain.'

  'And what will you tell the village people?' Grout asked. 'They're out there now gawking at the wench and waiting to see me drop her.'

  'I'll tell them,' Crawley decided, straightening his shoulders, 'that I have been praying in here for her soul and that my prayers have been answered by her wishing to salve the last of her guilt before she goes to meet her creator.'

  'Her guilt as a witch?'

  'Her guilt as a murderess,' Crawley said. 'You go out and have her fetched back in here. Tell everyone that I wish for her to be given one last chance to pray before the altar with me, and afterwards we shall say she confessed to the murders of several travellers and agreed to take us to where she buried the bodies. We'll tell them the hanging is postponed until dawn. They'll not mind that too much, even if it means they need to be out of their flea-ridden beds earlier than usual to see it. Our fine new friends will make sure none of the villagers follow us so we can take her out to the agreed meeting place unobserved. Then all we need do afterwards is swear it was an intended trick on her part, and that the old woman and the miller's son tried to surprise us and take her. Of course, after a brave but brief skirmish, we managed to kill them, and then brought the girl back here to be executed in the proper manner.'

  'What if the old woman and the lad are indeed armed?' Grout sounded worried.

  Crawley smiled at him. 'Oh, I anticipate they will be,' he said, 'but they'll not be able to shoot at us for fear of hitting the girl, and by the time we come up to them and produce our pistols from beneath our capes, it'll be too late. Of course, we'll need to discharge their weapons and perhaps put a ball hole through your sleeve to show how close you came to paying the price of their treachery. That innkeeper and the pretty soldier boy captain are sure to ask questions, so we'll have their answers ready for them.'

  She stood before him now, legs astride, head held high, as she reached down to pry apart the lips of her desire. He stood watching quietly, a gentle smile playing across his usually cruel lips, one hand holding his erect passion, the other stroking his chin as if he were lost in thought.

  'Master, do I please you?' she asked quietly. Between her fingers she could feel the engorged stiffness of her clitoris jutting defiantly.

  He nodded. 'Yes, slave fawn, you do please me,' he said. 'But first I must cleanse your soul and purge all the ill spirits from you. Fetch the implements to me.'

  She released her grip on her moist lips, and then turned gracefully and padded across the thickly carpeted floor to the gold-covered table. Her breathing was shallow but also slow and rhythmic as she picked up the things he would need.

  Back before him once more, she sank slowly to her knees and placed her hands dutifully behind her back, lowering her shaven head while he moved behind her to secure the golden cuffs around her wrists. The golden collar followed, and the dull clicks as he secured each of the items in turn were like a clock marking the passage of time into her new self.

  'You are mine, fawn slave,' he whispered, bending close to her ear.

  She nodded almost imperceptibly. 'Yes, master,' she answered in the same reverent tone, 'yes, I am yours, and you should make me deserving of your ownership.'

  He picked up the golden-handled whip and paid out the nine long tails hanging from it. Then he bent again and offered the end of the handle to her lips. She parted them, sucking it into her mouth, and then drawing back from it to place a gentle kiss upon it. 'Thank you, master, for the punishment I am about to receive,' she said, raising her eyes to his.

  He smiled, nodded, and then moved around behind her.

  'I love you, master!' she cried, and the first crack of the whip's fiery tongues across her back sent shivers of delight throughout her entire being. Between her legs the hunger had begun again, and she screamed because she could not move her hands to it. Her master would not want her to, she knew, for only he was permitted to satisfy and fuel it.

  The whip fell again, this time the thongs curling around in front of her and wrapping themselves around her hanging breasts, drawing lines of red across her pale flesh and plucking at her bulging nipples. She screamed again, wanting to touch them, to knead them, to offer her full globes the better for him to punish them.

  'Patience, my fawn,' he said, as if understanding her desire. 'Patie
nce and contrition and you shall be fulfilled.' He reached down and pinched each of her swollen teats in turn, and then he stood back and the braids whistled through the air once more. Three more times the whip lashed out and she was singing now, calling her surrender to him in words she did not know she understood. And then it was the time and she rose unbidden, turning to where he now sat upon a golden stool, hands at his sides, his member jutting up from his lap. She smiled and shook her head to flick away tears of joy as she approached him. Straddling his knees, she opened herself to him, lowering herself down onto his full length in one impaling thrust.

  'Master!' she cried, and his teeth bared as fangs descending into the soft flesh of her neck. He took from her as he gave to her, and she gave herself completely and unreservedly to him...

  The wagon, although smaller than the one Sam Hawkin used to bring the slave girls from London to the Hall, was still barely able to pass along the narrow tracks that ran through the woods of the Grayling estate. Daniel Portfield had to concentrate to prevent the wheels from straying off into the softer ground at the edges. The lone horse knew his territory, however, and between them they were able to affect a comfortable progress.

  Daniel chewed reflectively on a thick stem of wild grass as he drove. He had hoped not to be chosen as one of the collectors today, for the job would take until it was all but dark and the opportunity to avail himself of any of the captured bird-girls did little to compensate for the boredom in between. After all, he reasoned, back at the barns there were scores of females from which to choose, and all without the penalty of having to guide this damned old wagon along the winding maze of mud tracks he was now on. At least he had been lucky so far; he had barely covered half a mile when the black- garbed hunter emerged from the bushes and hailed him. The girl he had caught lay securely trussed not twenty yards from the track, and between them they hefted her up and carried her over to the wagon. The hunter thanked Daniel, pressed a shilling coin into his hand as a reward, and set off back towards the Hall.

  An hour later, however, and he still had not added to his cargo. He passed two other hunters, but neither of them had so far made a 'kill', and after giving him vague salutes of acknowledgement, they had disappeared back into the woods to continue their quest. Daniel peered up through the trees towards the sky, noting the position of the sun. The afternoon was drawing towards evening now. Soon it would be time to consider running down any loose bird-girls himself, not that they could come to any harm or get into any mischief from being left out all night. As his cousin had said, they would make their way back soon enough when they grew thirsty and hungry, but the more of them that were returned for the evening festivities, the better it would go down with the guests. It would also save Adam the trouble of preparing too many substitutes from amongst the girls who had been left behind.

  He sighed, drew back on the traces to signal the old horse to stop, and dropped lightly down onto the grass beside the track. Why waste all this time looking for something when you had it in your hands already? These stupid nobs who spent their time running around after a bunch of dim-witted wenches dressed up in feathers would scarcely know whether they were fucking something they had caught themselves, or whether they had their cocks inside a girl who had spent most of the afternoon chained to a wall in one of the holding pens. But then again, if he missed one that had been caught and trussed up already, she would hardly be able to make her own way back. Then it would be up to the keepers to scour the grounds for her and Grayling would be down on Adam like a ton of stone blocks. Daniel sighed again. He would continue on, as he knew he must, but first no one would blame him for taking a short rest. And the girl in the back of the wagon would probably be grateful to have the use of her legs again, even if only for a few minutes, and at the expense of having them wrapped around him while he ploughed her furrow.

  He saw her as he was about to lower the tailboard. She wandered slowly out from between the trees away to his right and began walking unsteadily towards him. He leaned against the wagon and grinned, for even at this distance there was no mistaking those magnificent mounds bobbing up and down before her. It was the girl who had arrived with Sam's last but one consignment, the girl all the lads had nicknamed Titty Kitty. By all accounts she was quite something, and she had been tamed and trained quicker than most. But such had been her popularity, in particular the demand for those magnificent melons, that Daniel had so far not had the opportunity to sample her for himself.

  And now here she was, all neatly parcelled up in her bird costume, limping slightly and obviously no longer interested in running. He looked over at the back of the wagon and at the bird-girl lying hunched in her tight and excruciatingly uncomfortable bondage. 'Just you lie still a bit longer,' he said, 'while I catch our little friend over there, and then I'll loosen the ties on your legs for a bit while I loosen a few things for her.' He chuckled at his quick wit, and taking up one of the coils of thin cord from inside the wagon began walking towards the approaching Kitty.

  Adam Portfield stood motionless in the doorway of the barn room for a few moments considering the scene before him while listening intently for any sound of movement from outside. The girl, Sarah, lay on her back, her legs open, her hands between her thighs. She was groaning quietly, but her eyes were closed and she appeared not to be aware of his presence. In fact, Adam realised as he stepped further into the chamber, she did not seem aware of anything at all except herself.

  Leaving her for a moment, he went and knelt beside the prone figure of Ross. The young handler was completely unconscious, but not dead; Adam's expert probing quickly established a pulse in his neck. He frowned. It was possible Ross had been careless and the girl had managed to hit him with something while his back was turned. Yet even if it was she who felled him, Adam doubted she had been the one to truss him as securely as he was now. The knots showed expertise, and the manner in which his bound ankles had been drawn back up to double his legs behind him, and then tied off to the cords about his wrists, suggested the person responsible knew a thing or two about immobilising prisoners.

  He took his knife from his belt and quickly sliced through the web of lashings. Ross was unlikely to regain consciousness for a good while yet, but at least when he did so he would not have the added discomfort of recovering circulation. With a grunt of annoyance, Adam stood up again and moved over to the girl.

  Despite her shorn head and the grimy stains now streaking her face, he recognised her. This was the girl the women had taken from the coach the other night, the prim and proper little miss who had protested her abduction in such haughty tones. A virgin upon her arrival, she had been passed on to Ross for her induction into the world of slavery. Well, Adam mused, it seemed the lad had done a good job, for not only was she still completely unaware of him looming over her, she was now steadily masturbating. Her sex was swallowing her fingers and her clitoris was jutting from between them, shining a deep pink.

  He scratched the side of his jaw and took a half pace backwards. Yes, she would fetch a fine price all right if this exhibition were anything to judge Ross's progress by. In less than forty-eight hours she had transformed from frozen maiden into this. He grinned, but then quickly frowned again.

  Later perhaps, he told himself firmly. First there were things to be done and questions to be answered. If the girl wasn't responsible for Ross's predicament, then someone else was, and that someone would hardly have happened upon the pair by accident. Adam's gaze scoured the room and quickly lit upon what he needed. With a muttered oath, he strode quickly to the corner and picked up the water bucket.

  Kitty made no attempt to resist as Daniel turned her about and looped the cord around her wrists, drawing her winged arms behind her back and securing them with a quick knot. Turning her again, he placed a hand carefully on each of her exposed breasts, and then gently squeezed them so her bell-hung nipples protruded from between his thumbs and forefingers.

  'Pretty titties indeed.' He shook them so the bells
tinkled quietly.

  From behind her mask Kitty stared back into his eyes, her breathing steady and noisy through the nostril openings, her mouth distended by the tightly buckled gag.

  'Time nearly to take you back, my gorgeous little fucky bird,' Daniel chuckled. Kitty's gaze was unblinking. 'But first,' he continued, reaching around her to locate the buckle that held the gusset strap in place, 'I think we've got time for a little stuffing of our own.' The strap fell away to hang between them and the front dildo slid easily out between Daniel's fingers. He held it up. The leather covering glistened in the greenish light filtering through the foliage high above them. 'Oh dear,' he chuckled, 'you do seem to have got yourself into a state.' He let the thing fall to the ground and reached back between her thighs, feeling her warmth and the wetness that had seeped past the strap. He sniffed, smelling her arousal. 'Down we go,' he whispered, grasping her upper arms and pushing her backwards.

  Obligingly, Kitty sank to the ground and lay back, immediately opening her legs for him, her large breasts spreading upon her chest among the gaudy feathers.

  'More than a mouthful there, I think,' Daniel muttered as he tugged at his belt. 'And a nice warm scabbard for my sword, I reckon.' His breeches were about his knees and his penis already fully erect. Without further ado, he sank to his knees and leaned over her, supporting his weight with his left arm while with his right hand he grasped his shaft and guided the head of it to her opening. He lowered his head further, drawing her right nipple into his mouth as at the same time he began to enter her.

  Instantly, Kitty's back arched and her legs twined themselves about his thighs, seeking to pull him in deeper with a ferocious urgency. Daniel sucked harder, pushing steadily and savouring the steady entrance rather than thrusting quickly. 'Lovely,' he breathed, and began to pump in and out of her, letting himself rest squarely upon the cushion of her soft breasts. There was no tremendous hurry; after he came quickly during this first round, there should still be time to enjoy a second, more relaxed coupling before it was time to get her into the cart.