Victoria's Demon Lover (18 page)

     She stumbled as
she made her way to the single window set high in stone walls and barred with
thick iron rods.  She looked out some three stories up in an impressive house. 
Not the manor, though.  This was a country house alone in the middle of a great
forest.  This was probably what the lord referred to as his hunting lodge. 
Yes.  She was certain of it.  Below her she could see two more low stone
buildings and heard the baying of hounds.  The stable and the kennel.  This
was
his hunting lodge.  He was probably out there now shooting helpless animals,
and tonight after he ate them she would be the sweet pudding.  Jack had warned
her.  Jasper had warned her.

     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 thumb
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.

     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.