Perversion (Asylum for the Mechanically Insane Book 3)

by Sahara Kelly

She had glanced in her mirror, and for once not been pleased with what she saw. The cold had definitely turned her nose red, and instead of cheeks flushed with a healthy glow they looked sallow, and there were shadows where there had been none before.

  She told herself it was a trick of the light. Baron von Landau had seemed entranced, although he had a strange distant look in his eyes that had made her shiver a little—and not with excitement. It was as if his words were saying one thing while his mind was assessing her.

  It was disturbing yet arousing in a rather unusual way, and had resulted in her frustrated pacing.

  Arriving at the window yet again, she stared blindly out at the snow, watching as the great fluffy flakes fell through the light shining out on the blanketed landscape. Obeying an absurd urge, she opened the window and let the icy wind blow some snowflakes into her face, relishing the soft kiss that bit sharply into her warm flesh.

  She was surprised to hear a muffled sound from somewhere, shouting or a scream perhaps, and she leaned out to see if anyone was there.

  In the distance were lights, flickering in several windows of the Dower House. Of course. Granville and Somerly were using it now. From the looks of things there might be guests or at least some kind of activity going on. At this point, Alwynne neither knew nor cared. She wanted to be there, part of something, with people and hopefully finding someone she could fuck and would fuck her back.

  This damned craving for sex was nearing untenable dimensions. Most of the time, Stephen fulfilled her, but at times like this, she was alone—and in desperate straits.

  Almost without realizing it, she donned her thick outer garments and struggled into boots that remained unlaced. It was only a short walk, after all. The snow quickly seeped through the gaps and chilled her feet, but her focus was on the lights and the noise coming from the Dower House. Down the path, across the lawns and under the arched trees to the road leading away from Harbury. It seemed further than she remembered, and soon her feet were icy cold. She hurried, the lights beckoning and luring her with their promise of warmth.

  Finally, panting and with the hood of her cloak soaked through, Alwynne reached the sheltered porch. There were horses, several horses, and a carriage or two.

  She could clearly hear men calling to each other and—once—a sharp scream, followed by a burst of laughter. Her curiosity was stronger than her need to thaw her feet, and she crept to a window to try and see inside. It was a small parlor, apparently empty at the moment but with the door open to the main hall. Suddenly a man walked past and she could see him clearly.

  He was naked. And hard. Oh so lovely and hard.

  Licking her lips, Alwynne returned to the porch and tried the front door.

  It opened onto the brilliance of a well-lit foyer, rich with the scent of candles and wine. It was also warm, and Alwynne heaved a sigh of relief as she divested herself of her wet cloak and threw it over a chair.

  There was no butler, or what looked like any staff. But that was to be expected, since the house had been disused for so long. At least it was clean and the chimneys worked.

  “Tally ho.”

  The hunting cry came from the top of the stairs, and a young man rushed down them toward her, brandishing a riding crop.

  He was also naked, his cock shining and bouncing happily beneath its nest of reddish brown hair.

  “Fresh prey, lads.” He hooted again and ran to Alwynne, who backed up a little.

  “Good evening. I’m…”

  “Don’t give a fuck, dearie. You’ll get paid like the others. Now strip.”

  “What?” She blinked. Certainly she wouldn’t mind having this young fellow on top of her using some of that energy to make her come a time or two. But she was a little more used to being asked.

  “I said strip.”

  Two other naked men had appeared from somewhere. Both erect, one with what looked like blood on his thighs.

  Alwynne started to feel less hungry for sex and more apprehensive for her person.

  Their hands reached out and she jumped as they started removing her clothing, hurrying, clawing at her body, ripping and tearing without a second thought.

  It was oddly exhilarating to have three attractive young men treating her like this. Something primeval in her personality responded, and she heated beneath their rough treatment.

  “Upstairs with you, woman.”

  One picked her up off the floor and tossed her over his shoulder, administering a vicious smack to her buttocks.

  She cried out even as she felt herself dampen with pleasure. Her breasts were crushed and the two other men fell in behind them, teasing her, touching her, telling her how they were going to fuck her all night long.

  Her fear mixed with her arousal, and she knew that sexual greed was going to overtake any other concerns. Even as she trembled, her nipples hardened and her lower belly ached.

  Stealing a quick glance at their faces, she noted their eyes—brilliant and dark, the pupils almost filling them. At the same time she sniffed and detected something strange about the rooms they were passing through.

  Once again the room swirled as she was tossed roughly onto a bed, and here the scent was very strong. It wasn’t unlike her vapors, but there was something harsher beneath, an undertone of something she didn’t recognize.

  The bed moved and she turned her head…and gasped.

  A man was fucking a girl right beside her. And on the far side of the room a second girl, identical to the first one, hung by her wrists from a large clothes hook while two men fucked her, one from the front holding her legs against his hips and the other from behind, making her bounce as he thrust into her arse.

  Their lips were peeled back from snarling teeth and their faces distorted with some kind of perverse lust.

  Beside her, the man groaned and slapped the girl hard across the face. “Wake up, bitch. I want to see you come again. I want to see your face when I soak it with my spunk.”

  Again and again he hit her, the sound of his hand alternating with the grunts of the other two men using the hanging girl so brutally.

  Before she could fully absorb all this, her three captors were on her. She was lifted and then bodily dropped on one of them, the tallest, who viciously pulled her legs wide and forced himself between them.

  “Fuck, you were ready, weren’t you, cunt?”

  “I…”

  “Oh goody.” A laugh from behind her preceded the weight of a bare chest and another cock, this time pushing hard at her arse as rough hands spread her buttocks. She shouted loudly as he thrust past her tight muscles into her darkness.

  This wasn’t right.

  She wanted to make them stop so that she could tell them who she was, tell them how she wanted to be fucked. It wasn’t like this.

  But she had no chance because her head was grabbed firmly, twisted around and before she could say a word her mouth was filled with a third cock, nearly choking her.

  They had her, every hole, every last place they could pinch or pull or squeeze or violate.

  I am Alwynne Harbury, Lady of Harbury Hall…

  The words were there, she just lacked the ability to scream them aloud.

  They fucked her, long and hard, spending inside her but for some reason failing to soften, just going at it time after time.

  She came too, several times, from the strange sensation of two cocks inside her and the taste of another.

  But it was too much, too often, too violent. She was finally losing her arousal and finding her fear.

  A woman’s voice broke into the grunts and groans. “Let her up for air, boys. This one knows what she’s doing by the looks of it.”

  Alwynne gratefully took a deep breath as the cock in her mouth pulled away.

  “Don’t bother to thank me, bitch. I don’t know who you are, but it’s glad I am you’re here. I ain’t going to let one of these drunk fuckers anywhere near me.” Her red hair shone beneath the hot light of the candles. “Pity it had to be you, bu
t then again, I can see you’re up to it and then some.”

  “My name is…”

  “Who gives a shit? You’re just another whore. And you’ve picked a good night. They’ll pay you plenty. Just let ‘em fuck you for a while. Like always.”

  She laughed, an empty and derisive sound devoid of humor. Then she walked to the other side of the bed.

  Alwynne turned her head, ignoring the man beneath her still rooting in her body, and the one behind her who had spent and even now was spilling out her arse.

  “Cut that one down, idiot. You’ll break her arms and then where will you be?”

  The redhead glanced at the girl next to Alwynne and reached over to touch the slim neck. Then she shook her head. The young man on top of her was sweating and barely noticed when a handful of his hair was grabbed. He did notice when the redhead pulled it, and his head, backwards. Hard.

  “Owww.”

  “I bet that hurt, huh? Well, not as much as she’s gotten hurt.” She nodded at the girl, lying still and silent. “Stop fucking her, your stupid lordship. She’s dead.”

  “In that case I’m going to need someone else, aren’t I?” It was Somerly.

  With what seemed like extraordinary speed, he grabbed the red head and ripped at her clothing, ignoring the struggle, the curses, the kicks and scratches. In fact he almost seemed to welcome the fight. He pushed the cold body of his first victim off the bed, pulling the other woman into her place.

  His strength won out and she was on her back half naked before she’d finished cursing him.

  He took her, hard, forcefully, thrusting and then lifting her legs high to get even deeper. “You’re Eldon’s bitch, aren’t you? The whore from London he always used to rave about. Well, you don’t feel much different to me. Perhaps by the time the night’s out…”

  She struggled again, shrieking profanities at him.

  Somerly hit her hard and blood spurted from her nose and lip.

  Alwynne froze, unable to believe what her eyes were seeing. Then her head was cruelly forced back onto that damn cock. “Ignore it, bitch. We’re alive. And we’ve got you. You’re going to get the fuck of your life tonight. Let’s see if you can survive it.”

  Cheers erupted as his words echoed around the room.

  Alwynne’s courage began to fade as the reality of the situation dawned. This wasn’t some orgy for her to enjoy. This wasn’t a group fuck amongst people who knew how to play the game.

  Something was happening here, some strange element that had stripped all civilization away from these young aristocrats. Their speech was proper, but their behavior wasn’t.

  And she was at their mercy. It was dangerous, as dangerous a moment as she could ever imagine experiencing. She prayed she had the strength to survive, that her instincts would help her find a solution to keep her alive.

  It went on, the continual fucking, which was turning into a long sequence of violations more than pleasure. She was in pain, possibly bleeding, and exhausted. Any thought of sexual pleasure had flown after the first hour or so.

  Just when she thought it could get no worse, a new voice made itself known.

  “Well look what we have here. How perfect.”

  Alwynne’s skin chilled to ice and her heart leaped into her throat.

  “Thissss isss sssoo wonderful. You have my wife.”

  Chapter 15

  Devon Harbury staggered as he took his first steps as a free man. Fortunately a pair of strong arms caught him before he took a header into the snow, and he gratefully hung on, realizing he had pretty much no strength whatsoever.

  “Easy lad.”

  The man was talking to him. Devon gulped in frozen air and coughed.

  “I’ve got a blanket here. Hold on.”

  Sure enough something soft wrapped itself around his shoulders. It was softer than anything he’d felt in longer than he could remember; stupidly his eyes filled with tears.

  “Thank you.” His voice was rough, rusty. He coughed again.

  “I’m Burke. James Burke.”

  “I guessed as much. Portia talks about you a lot.”

  “Let’s get you away from here.”

  “Portia?”

  “She’s fine. Just a bit dizzy there. Came around a few moments ago and gone already with Charlotte back to my place. It’s a bit of a walk for you, though, I’m thinking.”

  “I can make it.” Devon straightened, took a step forward and nearly buckled again.

  “Wait, lad. I’ve an idea. Here. Don’t fall over.” He gave Devon a shovel to lean on, which Devon did, gratefully.

  But he closed his eyes as Burke returned. “You are jesting?”

  “Oh come on. Swallow your pride. You need food, warmth and a whole lot of sleep. You don’t need frozen feet, knees bruised any more than they are already, or a cracked skull from falling down. You’ll survive. Get in.”

  Devon looked at the wheelbarrow and sighed. “You’re right, damn you.”

  Burke chuckled and they were off.

  Cocooned in his blissful soft wool, Devon absorbed the amazing sensations of being beneath starlit skies rather than in his cell. It had been so long since he could look up and see the night in all its glory.

  He’d forgotten how bright the stars were, and even though there was no moon, the snow was still sparkling beneath his inelegant mode of transportation. There were sharp black silhouettes, branches looking strange against other shapes he’d probably recognize in the daylight, but now…now they were oddities to be marveled at.

  A bump made him gasp aloud.

  “Sorry. I tried to miss that one.”

  “It’s all right. Really. I’m just…”

  “I know.” Burke’s voice was calm and reassuring.

  Devon wondered why he was responding to it so eagerly, then realized it was the first time in too long that someone had actually spoken to him, not at him.

  “Almost there.”

  Devon looked ahead and could see lights. “You live here?”

  “For now, yes. It’s Lord Southfield’s property. He’s loaned it to me.”

  “So close to Harbury.”

  “Yes.”

  “Good for Portia. It was a good thing you were here on several occasions, I understand.”

  “She’s very special to me. I have no children, no wife. She’s the daughter I would have loved to have.”

  Devon nodded. “She is special to me too.”

  “I know.” Their pace slowed and James heaved a breath. “Here we are. Time to get you on the road to humanity again.” He helped Devon out of the wheelbarrow.

  The door opened and an older woman held out her arms. “Come on in, poor dear. Kettle’s on, so you’ll soon have a hot cup of tea. Just the thing to set you to rights.”

  Devon tried a smile, even though he could feel his throat closing with emotions too strong to hide. “Thank you, ma’am.” It was the best he could manage as he stepped inside.

  She was there. Portia. Pale and grubby, but there. Just as he’d remembered her from the one time they’d actually been face to face. “Portia.” He spoke her name.

  She looked at him, her eyes full of joy. “Yes. I’m here Devon. Um…I probably should say how pleased I am to meet you, Lord Harbury.”

  Then, unable to restrain herself, she ran to him and put her arms around him, blanket and all. “We did it. We really, really did it.”

  He hugged her back, the urge to sob so close he dared not speak for a little while. He was just content to feel her warmth seeping into bones that had been cold for so very long.

  Then he pulled back a little and looked at the two smiling faces beside him. “How do I thank you all for what you’ve done?”

  “You have a cup of tea, with a shot of that good brandy James has in the kitchen, you have something to eat, and then you sleep. Tomorrow will be soon enough for anything else.” The older lady grinned at him. “By the way, I’m Charlotte Howell.” She curtseyed. “Your lordship.”

  H
e rolled his eyes. “Please. You’ve just rescued me from what felt like eternal hell, and brought me here in a blanket and a wheelbarrow. I do believe that negates any need for formalities, don’t you?”

  “That’s my Devon.” Portia hugged him again. “Come into the kitchen. There’s a good fire going and food as well.”

  “Is it a horse? I think I could eat a horse.”

  “Hah.” Portia snorted as she led him to the warmth.

  James and Charlotte looked at each other. “There was something in that tunnel.” He frowned. “Did you see it? Smell it?”

  She nodded. “I smelled something…odd. Sweetish. I couldn’t tell you what it was.”

  “Neither could I, but it wasn’t there when we opened it this morning. Nor when Portia went in.”

  Charlotte shrugged. “They’re here now. Whatever it was, they seem to have survived it. Perhaps it was just some odd fumes from an old compost heap. Who knows? We can ask Devon when he’s himself again…”

  “He’ll do, don’t you think?” James put his arm around her affectionately.

  “Oh yes. Cleaned up and with a bit of meat on his bones, he’ll do nicely. Good looking lad, I should imagine.”

  “Matchmaking?”

  “I don’t need to, dear. You know which way that wind is blowing.”

  “I do.” He grinned. “And I suddenly feel quite old.”

  She grinned back. “Walk me home tonight and I’ll make you feel young again.”

  “Stay here and start now. Somebody has to chaperone those two.” He dropped a kiss on her nose.

  “Do I dare?” She tilted her head to one side. “Oh hell. Who is going to care what I do? Nobody really knows me. I haven’t any kind of reputation. Perhaps it’s time I got one.”

  “That’s the spirit.” He lowered his head to hers.

  Portia popped her head out of the kitchen. “James, did you move the brandy?”

  “And there goes that moment.” James sighed.

  “There will be others.”

  “Yes. There will indeed.”

  *~~*~~*

  As the restoration of Devon Harbury began in a small cottage, the wanton destruction of his aunt continued in what was turning into a torture chamber at the Dower House.