by Alia Bess
She turned away from the window and inspected her prison. It was a small room. There was a fireplace at one end and a bed at the other. A low table was against the wall and contained a pitcher and basin on top as well as an unlit tallow candle, underneath the table was a chamber pot. The bed was heavy wood with four posts with a rope suspension. A thin straw mattress was spread over the ropes and a few blankets and a pillow were stacked at one end. This room was well used. She made a face. How many young women had found themselves here at some point on their lives? Probably half the village. She wondered how many of the village children who called their fathers ‘Da’ were really Brigayne’s.
She sat on the edge of the bed. She pointed at the corner and said, “Jasper!” Nothing. She pointed everywhere and called every name she could think of. Nothing. Even “Albert Magnus” got no response, though she did feel a little vibration in her chest as she said his name. She tried again and got the same sensation, but no old man materialized. It felt as though the magic was weakened across the centuries, or perhaps he could not help her. Or maybe this was like a dream and she could not wake up until it had been played out.
It was about to be played out now. The door burst open and her two abductors strode in and had her on her back on the bed with surprising speed. Her wrists and ankles were bound and strapped to the head and foot posts, and then after lighting the candle, the men left with as much speed as they had entered. She lay there staring at the ceiling, breathing hard with surprise. Their movements had been so practiced and coordinated that she had not had time to speak to them or even put up a useless fight. She blinked.
The door opened some minutes later. She turned her head to see Lord Brigayne enter. No surprise there. He took a long step forward as he stripped off his riding gloves and slapped his thigh with them.
“Maggie,” he said with a sly smile. “Welcome to Thornhurst.”
Victoria wrinkled her nose. He smelled like sweaty man and dirty horse. “Not much of a welcome,” she said and pointed her chin toward her wrists.
He laughed. “Most of the ladies who visit are not welcomed with straps, but I knew you were different. They usually lie there still as stone and take it. I knew you would fight, and I have no intention of coming out of this with a black eye or festering scratches. He rubbed his chin with the gloves. “But on the other hand, that might be fun.” He took another step closer and ran his eyes over her body as though figuring how much effort it might take to restrain her. Victoria knew that Maggie’s body was much smaller than her own, barely over five feet. Victoria was five-eight. This little body was stronger, though, from years of lifting those heavy baskets of laundry and kneading mountains of bread. She tugged at the tethers on her wrists. She might not be able do any serious damage, but she could hurt him.
He laughed a little again, but with less humor. “I can see it in your eyes, Maggie. You would be a handful.”
He turned and closed the door, and locked it with one of the iron keys in his belt. He sat on the edge of the bed by her right foot and tugged at his boots one by one.
“Jack will know you have taken me,” she said in a low voice.
“I’m sure of it,” he answered and dropped the boot with a thud. “So?”
“He will be angry.”
“Yes, that is to be expected. He will get over it. They all do.” Brigayne chuckled. “Some bring their wives back for more. I can be generous if they are comely.”
Victoria grit her teeth and reminded herself where she was and who she was. Brigayne continued, “But none are as pretty as you, Maggie. You have been the village’s pride and joy for some years now. Your beauty will last a few more years before it is eroded by hard work and too many babies. Little Martha Mulligan looks to be your successor. She has the golden hair and big blue eyes of her mother. She’ll be ripe in two, maybe three years. About the time I will begin to tire of you.” The other boot dropped. “Then John the Smith can have you all to himself.” He leaned forward, hands on knees and smiled at her before working the buttons of his vest.
She watched him undress, trying to think of what she could do. She kicked, making the bed jump a little, but her traces held her fast. Brigayne looked up. “Oh ho!” he cried as he dropped his vest on his boots and tugged his shirt over his head. “It begins! Excellent.” When he was completely naked, he leaned over the bed and started on her clothing, talking all the while. “This is delightful. I like unwrapping them, like little packages of pleasure. What is underneath? There is always a hint. Some are buxom, others have little buds with exquisite nipples. Some have wide hips, ready to receive my bonny thrusts, others are more delicate and need gentle handling or else they cry and scream. Which are you Maggie? Let’s see.”
“I’m pregnant,” she said. There. Trump card. He has to stop now.
He paused at the laces of her dress and eyed her suspiciously. “Well then, as I said. Let’s see.” He was skillful with all the ties and folds of cloth. His nimble fingers had peeled what he could from her without untying the bindings. He put a smooth hand over her belly and felt it all around, pressing just hard enough to be clinical.
“Maybe. Maybe not. Certainly this is not an impediment, Little Maggie. Perhaps if you were far gone it might.” His eyes took on a faraway look. “That might be interesting though. I have not taken a woman swollen like that.” She watched as his cock rose with the thought and her stomach turned. She had believed this revelation would end this encounter. Now she was left with nothing. Brigayne was immune from all threats. He was the law in this county. There was nothing else she could say…
“I have the French disease,” she snarled at him.
He laughed loudly. “You are a clever one. I know you lie, for you were a virgin on your wedding night, and John is clean. I check with the leech before snatching a man’s wife. I certainly don’t want to foul myself.” He smiled at her. “Jack would not have taken you if he had come back from France with the rot. Try again, little one. You are clever and amuse me.”
He ran his hands over her breasts, which were smaller than Victoria’s and flicked the nipples until they betrayed her by standing erect. His cock grew larger. Victoria pulled at her bindings again. Would she have to suffer through this? She bit her lip in the off chance that she was dreaming and now it was time to wake up. She thought of the lake house and her bird feeder and the espresso machine. I am finished with fantasy.
Brigayne climbed between her spread legs and knelt there. He pulled at his cock while he looked at her half naked body. “Maggie,” he breathed. “Finally. I have waited so long.” His eyes rolled up with pleasure as his hand worked his cock until it was as large and hard as it could get. “I used to watch you in the market with your mother when you were a little girl. I knew I would have to wait for you. You were so small. Sometimes the little girls are ready at eight, but you…even at twelve you were still so little.” His cock was fully engorged. “I didn’t want to break you.” He leaned forward, exploring her cunny with one finger while slowly stroking with the other hand. “But you are a woman now.”
He continued. “Ah. Still nice and tight. I wondered. Jack is such a big man. He might have loosened you up in these last few months. God knows he must be on top of you every night pumping you full of his seed. I would be.” He moved his hips to touch her with the end of his cock. “He sticks it in just like this, doesn’t he?” He looked up to meet her eyes.
Victoria frowned. This constant verbal blow by blow was annoying and would make this rape last longer than necessary. His allusions to Jack suggested he was getting off on thinking about her husband as much as about her body. “Get on with it, you perv,” she snarled.
His eyebrows went up and he sat back. “Perv? What kind of word is that?”
“Pervert. Any man who takes women and children like this is sick in the head,” she kicked a foot again for emphasis.
He closed his eyes and his hand was on his cock again. “Hmmm...pervert...”
He used a thum
b to spread her nether lips and pushed his cock halfway inside. “A little dry, Maggie.” He pulled it out again and went to the table where he spread some kind of oil on his cock. “I thought talking about John would slick you up a bit.” He returned and entered her again. There was less resistance with the oil but she squirmed away from him just the same. He was not as large as Jack but his dick was unwelcome. She twisted as far as the tethers would allow and bucked her hips hoping to dislodge him. She glared at him for good measure.
He just laughed and pressed harder. Her tweaked her nipples and squeezed her breasts but she was grateful he did not try to kiss her. He pressed in and out of her in a monotonous way that was not the least arousing. To her, anyway. His eyes closed as he enjoyed himself. She could feel his cock getting harder and as he increased his rhythm she knew he would finish quickly.
He did. He came with a little gasp and a sigh. He opened his eyes and smiled at her. “Good job, Maggie. Next time you will off the chain. That will be a lark.”
He withdrew his cock, now limp and dripping and wiped it with a twist of the sheets from the bed. He dressed without another word to her and went down to his supper. She lay there for some hours before his men came in and unbound her. They brought her some bread and a hard cheese and a full tankard of ale before locking her in. The night was long and cold and she did not sleep a wink.
She waited at the window, wondering. Jasper had implied that something terrible would happen to Jack on the day he sold the sword. Her cheek twitched. That had been some months ago. I suppose the events were set in motion that day. Here I am in the lord’s hunting lodge. Jack must know I am here. Katy had to have told him. She imagined the girl dropping the bucket of creamy milk and running to the forge. She imagined Jack throwing the hammer down and running to the barn for a horse and then pounding the road with Katy pointing the way.
That is what would have happened in a movie or a romance novel. Victoria pushed a lock of Maggie’s hair from her eyes. But this was real. Jack might not be in pursuit at all. The lord was the lord. She would not be returned until Brigayne was finished with her. Jack had told her as much, and Maggie’s memory confirmed it. Only the homeliest of village girls were spared Brigayne’s lust. Jack might just be sitting at the empty table, waiting for her return. Her stomach clenched, imagining that reunion. How could she apologize? What could she say?
Jack may never forgive her for disobeying him. The pregnancy had not stopped Brigayne. She allowed herself to shed some tears of self-pity. Her happiness, earned with so much effort was too quickly quenched, like the metal at the forge. He may not want her back after he knew Brigayne’s dick had fouled her. This thought brought on a new tide of tears and she sobbed so loudly she didn’t hear the door open behind her.
Chapter Sixteen
She hadn’t heard it open but she heard it slam shut and get locked. When she turned around she saw immediately that the table and candle and chamberpot and dirty crockery had all been removed. There was a moment of confusion before Victoria realized that anything that could be used as a weapon was gone. Brigayne stood before her in a soft robe, what used to be called a “smoking jacket”. He let it drop to his feet and she saw he was naked and ready. She moved from the window and circled the room, eyeing him warily.
“Little Maggie. Let the games begin.”
“Oh no,” she murmured.
“Oh yes. You shall be the white hart and I shall be the hind. My antlers are here,” he shook his erection at her, “and John’s cuckold antlers are secure on his forehead.” He laughed at his joke. She did not. She leaped for the bed but he caught her midair and ripped at her dress. He held her down with one knee while he tore at the laces and jerked at the sash. “Usually we skin the deer after we have stabbed it.” He had her naked now. “But tonight I will skin the doe before running her through with my staff.” His cock grew larger with every word. He had her by the wrists so she kicked at him.
“Kick my little doe. Kick and buck. The hounds will bring you down.” He made a baying sound like a beagle and laughed again. He lay on top of her and bit her neck. Victoria struggled. She was able to get her hand on the headboard and used it as a fulcrum to twist her body against him. She rolled out from under him and fell to the floor.
She was able to get to her feet before he did and ran in a helpless circle. There was nowhere to go. Nothing to grab and threaten him with. He sat there on the bed, his dick in his hand now. His face was flushed with exertion and she could see how thoroughly he was enjoying himself watching her panic. His eyes glittered and his lips were wet and parted. The dick in his hand glistened with its readiness. He smeared the lubricant that oozed from the tip around the head and pushed the wrinkles of his foreskin back. “Come little doe. The stag is in rut and will not be denied.” He stood and came after her.
She darted under his arm and made to duck low and roll under the bed, but he was correct. She could not escape him. He had her by the ankle. He lifted her easily under her arms and bent her face down over the edge of the bed, buttocks high in the air. He slapped her round mounds twice and then she felt his cock ram itself up inside her folds. He grunted like an animal and she heard the sharp slaps of his thighs against her buttocks as he thrust again and again. He roared like a bear and snorted like a stag. He panted like a dog and blew hard through his nose like a stallion. Her face was pushed over and over into the mattress. She turned her head to clear her nose and mouth from the bedding so she could breathe.
Her arms and hands were free, but in this position all she could do with them was flail them on the bed. He was enjoying her desperate struggles and she realized she was crying and gasping. Her own voice sounded like the cry of a prey animal being ripped apart and eaten. His thrusts had started to hurt and the edge of the bed pressed into her belly with every jerk of his hips.
He was panting now, forcing himself in and out quickly, faster and faster. She heard him mutter under his breath, “oh, oh, oh” with each plunge. He gurgled and groaned. She cringed and dug at the bedclothes, praying for it to end soon.
“Ha! Little doe!” he cried, and his big hand came down to slap her hard on her thigh like he was riding his horse. He did it again. The bed began to side on the floor with the force of his pounding stabs. He increased the tempo and his cries of pleasure became shrill. She felt him come as his hands closed on her shoulders with a painful squeeze. He drove himself far up inside her and the pain made her gasp with every forceful thrust. He roared with every spurt and his fingers tore at her skin. He finished with a wheezing moan. She felt him bend over and bite her between the shoulders as a stallion bites a mare when he mounts her.
“Ah, God, that was good,” he panted as he withdrew.
Victoria was too sore to move right away. She had felt his soft dick slide out of her and the familiar drooling of cum down her inner thigh. She stayed bent over the bed, afraid to move, feeling the sore spots where he had grabbed her and hit her and bit her and pinched her. She would be bruised all over. Jack would see this abuse and be furious. Lord Brigayne’s cum continued to dribble down her thigh.
He murmured, “Oh. Well then. Oh shit.”
He must have had a lot of cum, she thought, for now her ankle was wet with it. Too wet. With great effort she used her arms to push herself up from the bed. She heard him putting the robe on behind her. She heard him unlock the door and heard it close behind him. She staggered to her feet, holding the bed’s footpost for balance. That is when the cramping started and she felt the gush of warm blood flow down her thigh and her calf and her ankle and soak her left foot.
Chapter Seventeen
She didn’t have to fall asleep this time. This time she fell from the ceiling. She landed with a bounce on her bed in the lake house. It was broad daylight and the sounds below told her that Sharon and the boys had finished lunch and were getting ready to go to the park. She knew this because Richard was screaming “Park now! Park now!” and Sharon’s calm voice replied, “We will get in the
car when Eric’s shoes are tied.”
She looked down at her body half expecting to see the homespun wool dress and a wide apron. But no. She was dressed as she had been what seemed months ago: jeans and a tee shirt and sandals. She heard doors slamming and then Sharon’s minivan start and back out of the driveway, but still she was afraid to move. She put a hand tentatively over her belly.
“Oh my fucking God,” she breathed. Little chill bumps raised up and down her arms and the hairs on the back of her neck stood up. Her whole scalp tingled. She blinked several times. She didn’t have to be in a long ago century to imagine what would happen next. She swung her legs over the side of the bed and put her head in her hands.
Jack would be furious that she had been taken. He would be sickened and hurt that Lord Brigayne had used her like his whore. But when he discovered that she had lost the baby…Victoria felt dizzy. This was when Jack had earned his scar. She put her hand to her throat and she knew he had confronted Lord Brigayne. She knew he had killed him. She knew it had not even been a dual, but a fierce pummeling fist fight. She saw it in her mind, for she had not been there when it happened. She had been lying back in their cottage, bleeding on their bed and weeping, weeping for days. She saw this. And she saw Jack hanging from a gibbet. Executed for murder.
“Do you want to see it now?” She looked up. Jasper stood by the bed looking up at her with sad eyes. “I need to take you back. You brought yourself back too soon. It wasn’t over yet. Once you start you have to finish. I warned you not to start. But now…”
