'Not half as large and round as this one's bubbies,' Soberton said crudely. He stood almost over Kitty, staring down at her with evident lust and, as she reopened her eyes, Sarah could not but notice the huge bulge in his tight breeches. 'Would you mind, sir?' Soberton stooped, his free hand indicating Kitty's right breast, which hung so invitingly below her.
'Be my guest, milord,' Grayling replied blandly. 'But don't titillate her too much just yet.' Greedily, Soberton bent further, his hand cupping the heavy breast and kneading it without any thought for its owner. Kitty groaned and writhed as far as her bondage allowed, the sudden motion of her head tugging Sarah's head with it, much as Sarah's earlier convulsive reaction had caused Kitty's head to mirror her own movements from side to side.
Sarah stared into Kitty's huge eyes, seeing her friend blink several times, her features etched with the strain of trying not to respond to Soberton's clammy touch, but although the gag had the effect of dulling her face's ability to display emotion, it was clear to Sarah that Kitty's large mounds tended to take over any natural reticence.
'I think that will do now, my friend,' Grayling warned quietly. 'We don't want to pre-empt anything now, do we?'
With obvious reluctance Soberton yielded his prize and stood back. 'So what now?' he demanded.
Grayling inclined his head slightly. 'We leave them awhile,' he said. 'Allow them a short time for contemplation and anticipation. Meantime, you mentioned earlier the possibilities of a painting, so I thought you might like to come and view my own private gallery. Come, there is much to see and these two little coquettes won't be going anywhere in a hurry, will you my pretties?'
Laughing lightly, he delivered a dismissive swat to each pair of raised buttocks in turn and then, lifting his wine glass, quaffed its remaining contents in a single draught.
Matilda was left in her enforced isolation for what seemed to her to be yet another lifetime. Lack of proper sleep, combined with her continuing ordeal, had left her so exhausted that she actually slept, rather than dozed, hanging by her wrists and totally oblivious to the acute discomfort this caused.
How long she slept she had no idea, but she was eventually awakened by the sounds of voices and the scraping noises of something heavy being dragged across the floor. For several seconds she had to concentrate to make sure that she was actually awake again, for with the blindfold still securely in place her world remained as dark as pitch.
Confirmation was not long in coming. She gave a small gasp as rough hands cupped her breasts, hefting them indelicately and then she felt warm breath upon the top of her chest, as her latest assailant leaned in closer.
'Nice to see you're still with us, missy.' Immediately she recognised the voice as belonging to one of Crawley's henchmen; Silas she guessed, though it scarcely mattered, she conceded, as his hands continued to rove all over the body she was helpless to defend.
'What do you want?' she hissed, realising it was a superfluous question. She heard his harsh laugh, echoed by another, similar, though coming from slightly further away.
'Well, we thought as how you might like some company,' Silas leered, 'seein' as how this is almost certain to be your last night on earth, like.'
'My last night?' Crawley had made the threat clearly enough, but even now Matilda found it difficult to believe he would carry it through. She heard the second man - presumably Jed - snicker to himself in what seemed the far distance, but it was Silas who continued speaking.
'Well, missy,' he breathed, 'unless your granny pays the tithe for your absolution, which she appears not willin' to do, then I'm afeared we'll have no choice, see? We'll have to hang you on the green, same as Master Crawley said.'
'Aye,' Jed joined in, moving closer, 'we've brought the wagon around to the green, with all the timber for the gibbet. Only takes a while to bolt it all together and then it's as strong as if it was built to stay there all the while.'
'But don't you worry too much, missy,' Silas said, ''cos this ain't no normal gibbet. You won't dance at the rope's end like most do, oh no. We drops you, see, and the rope snaps your neck.'
'Usually,' Jed added ominously. 'Depends if we get it right, with the rope length, I mean. If not, well, then you chokes to death, just like they normally does.'
'It's a bit difficult to be sure, like,' Silas continued. 'Not many people as knows just how the thing should be done properly. It's a technique they uses in some places in the east, apparently.'
'Yeah, they ain't all as barbarian as some people would have us believe,' Jed added. 'Master Crawley learned of the idea from some Arab, or Jew, or something like that. Not sure.'
'And you say this method kills a person straight off?' Matilda asked tremulously. She had seen hangings in London and the pictures of the miscreants writhing on the end of the ropes like stranded eels were still vivid in her mind, as were the strangled squeals and gasps that had accompanied their protracted demises.
'Humane, Master Crawley calls it,' Silas said. 'But then he's a man of God and he wouldn't want a body to suffer out of hand.'
'Is that why he flogged me?' Matilda snarled. 'Is that his idea of not making someone suffer?'
'But that's different,' Jed said calmly. 'That's to purge your sins. And he'll purge them again tomorrow afore we hangs you, but if you're lucky, at least you won't suffer on the gibbet. We just knocks out the board and wallop!'
'Snap!' Silas said.
Matilda shuddered. 'Why are you telling me all this?' she demanded, trying to steady her voice.
There was a short silence, before Silas spoke again. 'Well, we just thought of how you'd like to know as how we really only has your best interests at heart, like,' he said. 'Thought you might take some comfort from that and also be grateful for us coming here to comfort you now.' Matilda felt a hand on her breast again, but this time she did not start from it.
'I see,' she replied evenly. 'What you mean is, if I offer you a little comfort in return, then you'll see to it that my end is a quick one?'
'Well, them wouldn't quite be my words,' Silas said, and she could imagine that he was grinning widely.
'And what about the flogging Master Crawley intends to give me first?' she said. 'Am I to believe you'll dissuade him from that intention?'
'Hardly, missy,' Jed chuckled. 'Master Crawley don't get dissuaded from his course by no one—'
'But we do have a potion we could offer you,' Silas interrupted. 'A little something that will dull the pain greatly. It won't knock your senses cold, but I promise you, you'll scarce feel them lashes.'
'I see.' Matilda hesitated. 'And just what am I expected to do in return for such charity?' There was another short silence and then Silas began to speak again. In blunt words he explained in graphic detail, and Matilda felt her stomach lurch.
'No,' she whispered, when he had finished. 'No, I'll not debase myself such. Do whatever you wish, for God knows I cannot stop you, not like this, but as I told your master before, you'll find me cold fare.'
'Cold fare maybe,' Silas leered. 'But with a warm purse.' His hand suddenly grasped her sex, one finger forcing its way between her labia and Matilda groaned. 'Yes,' he repeated, 'a nice warm purse indeed.'
'It sounds most unlikely,' Harriet mused, 'but then why not? In some ways it all makes perfect sense.' She regarded the three boys across the kitchen table in Anne Billings's cottage. 'You're sure of who they were?'
Toby Blaine nodded. 'Yes, miss,' he replied sombrely. 'I'd swear to that on me mam's grave.'
'Better wait till she's dead first,' Anne interjected, pouring broth into the three mugs she had lined up on the hearth. The two women had waited in the cottage for the boys to return; George Billings, having returned from the spectacle on the green, had shown little interest when they tried to explain to him and left again immediately, heading for the Black Drum.
'The problem is,' Harriet continued, 'what to do now. The boys are right when they say that no magistrate would dare order a search of the Grayling estate. Besi
des, Roderick Grayling is a proxy magistrate while his father is abroad.'
'The nobs all look after each other, right enough,' Anne agreed. She began placing the bowls of hot broth on the table and the boys pounced upon them eagerly. 'I reckon the best course is to take what we know to Master Handiwell. He'll know what to do.'
'If he's yet returned,' Harriet pointed out. 'For all we know, he may have decided to stay in Portsmouth overnight.'
'That I doubt,' Anne said. 'From what you say he'll not leave you alone with this for longer than he has to. Besides, you'll need his money to pay these scoundrels, won't you?'
'Aye, that I shall,' Harriet replied thoughtfully.
'And that, I think,' Anne continued, 'will be our best chance of catching them. Pay the ransom as agreed and set a trap for whoever comes for it.'
'It all sounds too easy,' Harriet said dubiously. 'Whoever they are, male or female, they'll know we've had an extra day to work out a plan. I can't see them being so foolish as to walk into any trap.'
'Well, they've got to collect the money somehow, haven't they?' Anne persisted.
'Of course,' Harriet conceded, 'but I've been wondering why they wanted me to go with the money in the boat. Why not just wait downstream for it, as they did today?'
'In case someone else sees it driftin' and hooks it into shore, miss,' Toby interrupted, lowering his bowl. 'I was thinkin' about that earlier, if you don't mind me sayin'.'
'No, not at all, Toby,' Harriet said, smiling at the lad. 'That's a good point, in fact.'
'Not only that, miss,' Toby continued, 'but I had another thought.'
'You have too many thoughts, if you ask me,' Anne chided, but the smile on her face was full of warmth.
'Well,' Toby continued, 'I was thinkin' about how I'd get the money, and without anyone catchin' me. I mean, yesterday they probably knew you'd not have time to do much, not with how little time you had to go to the boat, or even send me. That's why they weren't too careful, I reckon, though whoever was in that other boat kept their face well hid, like I said.'
'And anyway,' Anne mused, 'there's no crime in intercepting a drifting boat. No way anyone could make any accusations.'
'But tomorrow,' Toby said, 'they'll expect something - I know I would, if it was me.'
'So how would you go about making sure you weren't caught, Toby?' Harriet asked encouragingly. 'You've clearly been giving the matter some thought, as you said.'
'Well, miss,' Toby proffered, his young features creasing into an expression of thoughtful concentration, 'I reckon, what I'd do is this. When you gets to Priest's Rock in the boat, you ain't gonna find anyone waitin' there for you. It'd be too easy to trap them there, see?' Harriet and Anne nodded in unison. 'So what I reckon,' Toby continued, 'is that, if it was me like, I'd leave you a message there, see?'
''Cept you can't write,' Matt pointed out, and Toby gave him a sideways look that said more than any words could have.
'If I was them then I'd be able to write, all right,' he said scathingly, 'so I'd leave you a message, nailed up somewhere so you couldn't miss it.'
'What sort of message?' Harriet prompted, though she thought she was beginning to understand where Toby was going. He really was, she thought, a very bright lad.
'It'd say somethin' like go to somewhere else,' Toby said. 'Probably you'd have to take the boat on down the river, maybe to where it goes through Kings Woods, 'cause it'd be hard to follow the river on foot through there. The trees are really close and the undergrowth is too tangled to get through. I know, 'cos I've been down there before.'
'And after that,' Harriet said, 'I suppose I'll be expected to go ashore and go to wherever they tell me on foot?'
'That's what I'd do, anyway,' Toby said, looking very pleased with himself.
'I'll bet you would, too, Toby Blaine,' Anne said, shaking her head. 'The Good Lord preserve us from the likes of you ever turning to crime!'
Chapter 12
Roderick Grayling continued his meticulous preparations only after he and Soberton had returned from viewing his dubious collection of art. Meantime, Sarah and Kitty were left in their enforced mutual silence, spread lewdly over their respective frames, unable to do anything but stare into each other's eyes and attempt to give some sort of communicative support by means of that eye contact.
Kitty, Sarah thought, seemed curiously calm about the entire situation, but then, with the previous experiences she had suffered, maybe this scenario held few terrors for her. Perhaps she too would come to accept such indignities and humiliations as commonplace: certainly, if she remained here for long, she knew it was more likely than she would ever have thought possible only a day earlier.
In one way, she had to admit, resignation made complete sense. After all, what use was there in trying to resist, what point in self-blame or deprecation? None of this was her fault, so why should she feel any shame, save that which was natural when a woman was forced to display herself in such wanton fashion?
Perhaps, she reasoned, the real root of the pangs of guilt that kept assailing her had nothing to do with any of that, but rather with the way she had so easily been brought to a point where she actually derived some pleasure out of her abasement. She was a virgin before being brought here and had no experience of sex as such, but her natural curiosity led her to some little self-experimentation, so that she was only too well aware of the magnitude of the orgasms her base treatment had triggered.
Did that mean, she demanded of herself as she sucked upon the awful penis gag, that she was, in truth, the sort of slut and whore these people habitually addressed her as? Could every woman be so simply subjugated and controlled, not just controlled by means of chains and straps, but controlled on a deeper level? Or was it just her?
No, she thought, looking at Kitty, not just her. Maybe women like her, but then what were women like her, exactly? Could she really be held responsible for the reflex actions of her body? Should she have the spirit, the determination, the strength of will and character to resist these primal urges?
Whether Prudence knew what sort of thoughts were going through her mind or not, the older woman soon gave Sarah further cause to doubt herself, for having at first left the room in the wake of the two noblemen, she now returned and, seeing that Adam and Robin had similarly departed, wasted no time in availing herself of the opportunity.
She moved behind Sarah, one hand reaching out to trace a delicate line down the length of her spine. Sarah shivered and her back arched as far as her stringent bondage would permit. Prudence chuckled, a throaty, animal-like sound.
'You see?' she whispered. 'You cannot help yourself, can you?' Fingers moved again, this time cupping Sarah's naked vulva, though gently, supportively, pressing hardly at all. Sarah made a small mewling noise and closed her eyes, unwilling to look at Kitty.
'Such a sweet little puss,' Prudence crooned. 'And such a shame it should be stuffed with tasteless man-meat, mm? Such delicacies should be tongue-savoured, not gorged like pigs.' One slender finger prised Sarah's nether lips apart and slipped inside a tunnel that was very moist and warm.
'Open your eyes, little miss,' Prudence said softly. 'Don't hide your shame so. Look at your friend - she has no false modesty, do you Kitty? She yearns for Prudence to play with her pouch. Well, fear not my little sweetmeats,' she sighed, withdrawing her hand, 'I'll take care of you both later, when these oafish men have had their fun. With luck there'll be no cock for either of you this night, for his lordliness won't stoop to poke a slave wench. Oh, he'll bury his pole in your mouth maybe, but he'll not sully himself on seeding the lower classes, just in case some undetected offspring of his ends up in a slave colony on the far side of the world.
'No, unless he decides to keep you, you'll not taste that particular rod between your legs and dear Roderick's rod could never be sullied in your alternative hole, though there are many here abouts who are not half as choosy. No, my guess is that you'll have a far more tender night, though tender will these lovely
moons be, too.'
Sarah quivered as cool hands moulded her upthrust buttocks. Strangely, she found this touch even more intimate than the earlier one, for Prudence's fingers lingered long, stroking, massaging and etching light lines with the edges of their nails.
'Ah,' Prudence declared suddenly, breaking the contact, 'I think I hear footsteps returning.' She stepped back. 'Now, let's see how right I am, mm?'
A moment later the door swung open and Roderick Grayling strode in, with Henry Soberton, redder still in the face than even before, hard on his shoulder. Seeing Prudence, Grayling's features twisted into a devious smile.
'Preparing the dishes for serving, Prudence?' he chuckled. Soberton, who was beginning to look far the worse for drink, stared from his host to Prudence with a total lack of comprehension. Grayling's laugh became harsher.
'Ha!' he exclaimed. 'No matter, dear Prudence. You shall have the two little lambs for your supper when I am done with them here. You see, milord,' he continued, turning to address his guest, 'we have found that there is a great market for a certain type of wench and these two here, though they'll ride a cock as well as any, I'd wager, show inclinations towards being that particular type of slave of which I speak.'
'Ha, sir, you speak in riddles, methinks!' Soberton exclaimed, trying very hard to focus his eyes. 'A maid'll either ride a cock well, or else she's an old maid, surely?'
'Yes... and no,' Grayling smiled. 'Both these have had a good poking or two since they got here and both ended up squawking like stuck chickens, I'm told, but earlier you saw a different side to both, did you not? Well sir, 'tis not only we fellows who would give well for a pretty bird and a good fuck, eh Prudence?'
Prudence said nothing, but the inference remained lost on the drunken aristocrat. Grayling opened his mouth as if he were about to elucidate, hesitated, appeared to realise that further words would be a waste of time, and then shut it again. Instead, he turned away to where his two African girls waited in their corner and clapped his hands.
Cauldron of Fear Page 16
