Snatched

by Ashley Hind

  The gag was removed and Leah waggled her aching jaw from side to side and tried to salivate to wet her parched throat. A series of instructions followed and she was compelled to unroll her sleeping bag and place it properly on the mattress, kick off her shoes, don the single sock on her right foot and then stand against the far wall. The woman went to the cannonball and for the first time Leah realised that it was in fact a ball and chain, the thick links curled around beneath the body of the sphere and leading to a lockable cuff. The woman bent and fastened the cuff over the towelling sock, clearly in place to prevent chaffing, fed a padlock through two eyes in the metal and clipped it shut. The woman straightened up again and looked right into Leah’s eyes.

  ‘This isn’t strictly necessary,’ she said, ‘since there is nowhere to run to. However I know that the temptation will prove too much and so I am doing it for your own good, as any disobedience on your part will prove very painful.’

  As she spoke, the woman at last removed the handcuffs and then turned and exited the stall, leaving Leah alone with the pony, which whinnied in derision and loudly broke wind. It was difficult to quantify her current position, but it was clearly not a good one. She felt wretched and unclean, slightly nauseous from the smell of the stable on top of her hunger, and absolutely desperate for water. There was sweat at her brow and underarms. Her puss felt hot and agitated from her earlier unresolved titillation and from having her thighs pressed so tightly together on the long journey. She was knickerless and her dress was beginning to cling uncomfortably to her skin, plus she was wearing a ridiculous stripy sock along with a medieval contraption designed to prevent her from running away.

  Her meekness was also troubling her. She had hardly spoken a word since the abduction began and had offered precisely no resistance whatsoever. The woman exuded an unremitting menace that Leah was simply unable to counter. Every time a thought of escape occurred it was accompanied with a vision of her detection and the subsequent suffering of Mrs Davies’s vengeance. The punishment she envisaged was always of a sexual nature - a harsh thrashing on her bare buttocks perhaps, or maybe even having her quim spanked scarlet and then repeatedly shocked by some hand-held electronic device. It was probably these thoughts that kept her away from panic and persisted in sending little teasing jolts to her already prickly sex, although they were derived more from her earlier fantasy of Miss Pierce rather than from any specific threat this woman had issued. However, when her underwear had been taken down back at the house, she had seen the woman’s eyes and they carried the unmistakeable look of lust.

  There seemed little else to do but sit, so she tugged the chain and moved the ball to the foot end of the mattress and sat down. She had often had fantasies of being pushed to the limits of endurance by a Mistress, but fancy was no match for fact and the reality was that her thirst was becoming intolerable, and the more she pondered her situation, the more nervous she became. After maybe another half-hour, during which she considered several times calling out for attention only to be silenced by the memory of her earlier gagging, she heard footsteps in the courtyard and then the outer door in front of her stall was thrown open and she was bathed in sunlight.

  Gwendolen Davies stood at the entrance, her suit now swapped for the more appropriate riding trousers and T-shirt, both still in black. Instead of heeled shoes she now sported a pair of shiny leather riding boots that brought the images of Miss Pierce flooding back. She was carrying a tray with a plate of sandwiches and possibly the most beautiful thing Leah had ever seen: a whole litre bottle of cola, dripping with condensation and obviously straight from the fridge. She approached and set the tray carefully down upon the stable floor.

  These were no meagre rations. The crusty bread was thick cut and fresh, possibly home-made and covered in bright yellow butter. Inside were fat slices of carved ham along with lettuce and cucumber. Next to the plate was a jar of English mustard, a knife, an empty glass and a serviette. For a P.O.W. it probably represented everything they needed in order to fashion a release, bribe a guard and construct a glider to get them over the border. To Leah it simply seemed like one of the most sumptuous feasts ever, and she wasted no time grabbing the bottle and gulping down great mouthfuls of the cold, gassy liquid. The woman watched her with something like scorn, but offered no admonition.

  As the captive set about the sandwiches, the captor slowly paced up and down as if running things over in her head. Leah couldn’t help but notice the woman’s behind looked even more inviting in the trousers than it had in the skirt. It stuck out in a fulsome curve and looked muscular and shapely rather than just fat - perhaps testament to the riding she obviously did. As Leah bit into the delicious thick meat of her sandwich, she couldn’t help but think of the woman displaying her lovely rump in front of her and forcing her to gorge on her buttocks as hungrily as she attacked her meal. Mrs Davies seemed to be waiting to speak, so Leah set down her sandwich and offered her full attention.

  ‘By now your husband will be aware of our demands and instructions. I hope for your sake that he does precisely as we ask. As you can see, we are completely isolated here. We get very few visitors, and most around these parts are either old friends or family, so do not expect any rescue attempts. We will communicate with your husband again tomorrow, when Huw is in the village and can get a signal from his phone. It is pay-as-you-go, by the way, so it is untraceable.’

  The woman seemed to be smugly enjoying her taste of power and Leah realised that the attention to detail of the plot certainly made her own position more precarious. Without warning, the air from her fizzy drink and scoffed sandwich suddenly made a re-appearance and she surprised herself with a little involuntary burp. She went red and clapped her hand to her mouth, whispering an apology. The woman glared at her for several withering seconds before resuming her spiel.

  ‘Your instructions are simple: do as I say and nothing else. If I see that you can behave, I will allow you into the house. I will do my best to ensure that you are looked after and protected, especially from Huw. He has a fondness for pretty girls and especially their nice tight backsides. He likes to take what I won’t give him, you see. Anyway, I will attempt to keep him away from you, although he is a crafty bastard and sometimes slips the net.’

  Leah knew she was gawping at the woman but the sudden threat had sent a shiver right through her. Even flaccid, Huw’s member had looked painfully difficult to accommodate within any passage, let alone in a rigid state and up her little bottom. Until now her panic had always been tempered with the sexual undercurrent, real or imagined, of being under this woman’s power. Now the real risk loomed of being forcibly buggered by the husband and his huge cock, and Leah could feel her most private place nervously drawing in on itself. A second sudden burp caught her before she could block it with her palm, even louder this time, punctuating the woman’s last sentence. In any other situation it would have been funny. The look of thunder spreading over Mrs Davies’s face suggested it was now anything but. She waited maybe ten stony-silenced seconds before resuming.

  ‘As I was saying, I will attempt to keep you safe. The twins will be here soon. They will be in charge of your hygiene and overseeing your day to day chores. While you are here I will expect you to work and -’

  A third involuntary burp popped from Leah’s mouth before she had even begun to recover from the shame of the last. The interruption was clearly the last straw for the woman and her face darkened once more and she moved forward menacingly as Leah cowered.

  ‘Pick that up!’ she yelled, pointing to the black iron ball at the side of Leah’s mattress. She mutely complied, having to gather the weight in both hands and hold it to her tummy. As soon as she had a grip, she felt a sharp tug on her hair, and the woman lifted her bodily so that she was standing. She was then dragged by her hair down the corridor to the end stall, where the door to it was unbolted and flung open. Leah was greeted with the sight of the brown pony’s lar
ge rear end. The occupant neighed but remained static as Leah was pushed into the stall. The woman was beside her, taking the animal’s tail and lifting it so that Leah could now experience the rather unpleasant sight and smell of its thickly rimmed oval back passage. Squealing as her head was thrust forward to give her a closer view, she tottered about, struggling to maintain her balance and still keep hold of the iron ball, fearing she may fall face first against the animal’s backside.

  ‘If you interrupt me again, you gassy little bitch, I will shove your face right into this horse’s arse. Do you understand me?’

  ‘Yes!’

  ‘Yes what?’

  ‘Yes - I understand!’

  ‘No, you little slut- what do you call me?’

  ‘Yes, Mrs Davies.’

  Leah yelped and jerked precariously forward as the woman delivered a sharp slap to her buttocks.

  ‘You are to call me “Mistress”. Do you understand?’

  ‘Yes, Mistress!’

  Despite her current position, Leah felt an involuntary tingle between her legs at the word. There was no disguising the sexual connotation to it, or the measure used for censure which was still fizzling across the surface of her bottom. Mercifully she was dragged back out and the hand on her hair released its grip and instead gave her a shove in the back to propel her towards her own stall once more. She stood chastened, still quivering from the woman’s words and from the close encounter with the danger end of the pony, the ball fast becoming too heavy to hold. She was only dimly aware of the sound of hooves clopping on the courtyard as she was put back into her quarters and ordered to sit down.

  There were sounds of creaking doors and then new light burst into the interior of the stable and the noise of the hooves amplified. Leah could hear the soft snorting of horses and the clipped Home-Counties accent of a chattering female. The woman turned and disappeared from view as she moved to greet the arrivals, and from what Leah could gather there were two new females present, although it was hard to tell as the voices sounded the same, and one seemed for the main part to be speaking for the both of them.

  There was no mention of their captive as the horses were put back in their boxes and their tack removed, just a chat about the ride and how the mounts had behaved or misbehaved in one case. Then the Mistress was speaking in lower tones and she suddenly reappeared, along with a very pretty blonde in her early twenties, whose face split apart with a sneering smile of delight as she caught sight of the wretched prisoner.

  ‘So this is her,’ the blonde said, the smile retreating and her teeth gritting as she eyed Leah up and down with something between lust and amused contempt. ‘She doesn’t look rich. Her husband is going to be able to pay up, isn’t he?’

  ‘It’s not his money we are after,’ replied the Mistress.

  Leah remained silent as the two regarded her. The younger girl was very pretty and doubtless knew it. Her hair was pulled into the seemingly compulsory pony tail of country girls, but apart from that she could easily have been mistaken from the neck up for a modern city-dweller. Her eyebrows were neatly plucked and jet black, indicating her natural colouring. She wore make-up, giving her skin a soft and slightly glittery appearance. Her eyes were dark brown with long lashes and Leah had noticed that her earlier smile had exposed a set of very white and very straight teeth, the upper canines slightly elongated, giving her a sexy but sinisterly wolfish grin. Her nose was probably the feature that most defined her face. It was almost L-shaped, with a thin, barely protruding bridge that ran into a long and straight nib. When she had smiled the tip had turned up slightly, adding to the appearance of a snarling carnivore.

  She wore a very tight, bright red top that clung to her smallish breasts and allowed the points of her nipples to show through. Her beige leggings were equally tight on her trim legs and particularly over her little mound, even hinting at the split there. Leah was keenly aware that the sight of females in tight trousers and riding boots was beginning to drive her to distraction. The two spectators were then joined by a third female, who drifted in behind them for a look at the prisoner.

  Leah was struck instantly by the newest girl’s looks. She had shiny raven hair, as black as her clothes, and her flawless skin was a pale contrast and lacked make-up. She had thick dark eyebrows set in a frown and these seemed to be mirrored by a faint shadow beneath her eyes, adding to her intense look. She shared the same nose as the blonde, although possibly slightly shorter at the end, and the mouth was equally wide and thin-lipped, although it stayed shut and offered no view of the teeth behind. Leah looked back and forth between the two girls and slowly realised that they were in fact identical, despite initial appearances to the contrary.

  Mrs Davies did the necessary introductions.

  ‘This is April and May, my best friend’s daughters. They practically grew up on the farm and essentially live here now that their mum’s emigrated to Australia, mainly to get away from them. They might call me “Auntie” but believe me, if they were mine or had even a single drop of my blood, I would have spanked them to death long since for the way they misbehave - especially this one here.’

  She indicated April, the bold, blonde one, who looked very pleased to be described in such disparaging terms.

  ‘My sister and I might look the same,’ said the blonde, ‘but I assure you we are very different.’

  There was almost a hint of scorn in the words and the dark-haired May flashed a warning look at her twin but did not respond, letting her sister continue.

  ‘I was born at ten to midnight on April 30th and then she came along half an hour later on May 1st, so you see we share different birthdays. You could say I’m a whole day older, or even a whole month, and that’s why we differ so much.’

  Leah couldn’t fail to notice the sense of triumph in these words. There seemed to be some truth in them too, at least outwardly. April was quite obviously the more dominant of the pair and even looked bigger, although as Leah studied them she saw that May was actually no different in either size or stature. She imagined that most men would venture that April was the sexier of the two, at least in their current guises, but there was something about May and her unstated intensity that Leah found more attractive. She lacked the haughty look of her elder twin and replaced it with a brooding seriousness. She seemed more fragile, sensitive and genuine - all this without having uttered a single word in Leah’s direction.

  May stayed silent as Gwendolen and April discussed the girls’ responsibilities in regard to the captive, her eyes occasionally flitting to Leah’s, who was also trying desperately to stop staring at the younger twin. There was a moment when there was just a flicker of a smile aimed at Leah, but before it could register it disappeared, May’s attention suddenly drawn to her surrogate aunt’s raised voice. April had begun to get boisterously argumentative about her duties and Gwendolen had sharply reminded her who was in charge. Leah wanted to say something to May, to illicit some kind of response even if it was just a simple greeting, but she never got the chance. Gwendolen signalled that it was time for them to leave and the twins obediently filed out behind her, leaving Leah alone with the horses.

  It was around teatime before she received another visit, April alone this time, bringing a plate of fruit and a bag of crisps along with a jug of water and a fresh glass. The girl offered no words of solace, simply taking up the other tray and peering into the tin bucket, which Leah had been forced to use just once during the afternoon.

  ‘Try not to pee too much,’ she said coldly, ‘I’m buggered if I’m mucking you out all evening.’

  With that, she turned and left. Maybe an hour later, as Leah was dozing, she came to and found May silently standing over her, with arms full of papers and magazines. Her hair was down now and spread over her shoulders, giving her a softer look, although her brow was still slightly knotted in her concentrated observance. She spoke; the fi
rst time Leah had heard her voice, which thankfully was quieter and less clipped than her sister’s.

  ‘They got these out for you to read but they’re all old, so I put in a few of my books to read as well. I don’t know what type of books you like, so...’

  She set her pile down and Leah thanked her, sincerely. Then she turned and made to leave the stall. She was still in her black leggings and Leah caught her first real view of the shapely bottom within them; narrow-hipped but with a nice cute curve. Before May exited she looked back and must have caught Leah looking at her behind. She stopped, hesitated, gave a brief smile that vanished in an instant and then she too was gone. Before the door shut, Leah heard a click that sparked a weak bulb above her stall into life - not required now but certainly later, if she wanted to read.

  She put the papers and magazines to one side and looked at the choice of books. There was a Jane Austin and a couple of pulp romances, plus a few newer books with snazzy covers. One was bookmarked so she went straight for it. Reading the blurb and then digging in to the book itself, it seemed to centre on some kind of female equivalent of Indiana Jones; a swashbuckling adventurer on the trail of ancient artefacts. The more she read, the more it became obvious that the heroine was a lesbian, or at the very least partial to intimate female company. This set Leah’s heart racing. Was the younger girl gay? Was this the difference between her and her twin that the elder sister had so scornfully referred to? And why, unless of course she had taken a fancy to her captive, had May felt the need to impart the information?

  Digging into the book in earnest, Leah read as fast as possible, as if the text would somehow divulge the very nature of the girl who gave her the book. She stopped and opened the page that was bookmarked, hoping it might offer some further clue. It didn’t have to. The bookmark displayed a photo of a white diving board from above, stretching out over a turquoise blue pool. Lying on the board face down, completely naked, was the hour-glass figure of a beautifully tanned woman. Her right buttock was branded with the red lipstick mark of another girl’s kiss.