12 comments/ 37317 views/ 15 favorites There Once Was a Highwayman By: ronde “M’Lady Elaine, it’s time to leave if we’re to make Barkley Hall by nightfall. The coachman is tending to the horses and will be ready to leave in an hour.” The young woman stirred, then stretched and slowly opened her eyes. “Oh, Millie, why must one wake before the cocks when traveling? This straw tic is hard as a board, and it seems as if I fell asleep only a short while ago. Why can’t they have feather tics in these inns? “Feather tics be a pretty penny at the market. Innkeepers don’t part with their silver easily, especially when most travelers don’t mind the straw. Just consider yourself fortunate you didn’t get carried away by bedbugs. My cousin, Ruth, said this was a clean and proper inn, but I checked last night just to be sure. Now, get up so’s we can get you dressed.” The young girl swung her feet to the floor and reached under the bed for the chamber pot. Millie turned away as Elaine lifted her nightdress and squatted over the plain, clay vessel. When the soft trickling sound ceased, Millie asked what Elaine would wear that day. “I’ll wear the green today. I think it goes well with my hair.” “Aye, Miss, those red curls will look nice against the green. There must be a bit of Irish in you somewhere along the line, I think. Now, out of your nightdress and into your underthings.” Elaine pulled the soft linen garment over her head, and Millie silently nodded her approval at the young woman’s lush body. She thought of the years she had spent with this daughter of the Earl of Bekesbourne. Her first task had been wet nurse. Elaine’s mother had died bringing the tiny little girl into the world, and the Earl had gone in search of a woman to nurse his daughter. Millie had suffered the opposite fate. The child she carried as a result of the naive liaison with her master’s son was stillborn. Her breasts were tight and painfully full of milk, and they constantly leaked through her undergarments. It was a match forged by destiny; The Earl had made negotiations with her former employer, and she came to live at Balmore Grange. Tiny Elaine nuzzled Millie’s turgid nipple for only a second before wrapping her lips around it and beginning to suckle. The relief from the painful fullness was nearly as nice as the feeling of a baby’s soft cheek against her breast. Through the last twenty years, Millie had watched the tiny baby begin to walk, had seen her through the normal childhood illnesses, and had been the one to tell her the ways of women when her time came. The baby who nursed at her breasts had matured into a woman of full, sensuous curves sculpted under milk-white, satin skin. Only one issue caused Millie a moment of concern. The Earl had never re-married, and Elaine had become both the daughter he had and the son he desired. While Millie was teaching her the finer points of etiquette and poise, the Earl was teaching her to ride and the skills of the foil and saber. It was at least fortunate Millie had convinced the Earl that girls simply must ride sidesaddle. It would never do to have Elaine ride astride. What would people say? Elaine had become a woman with spirit and a fearless outlook on life. If she rode as a man, men and women alike would question her femininity. “I hate these pantaloons.” Elaine slipped one slender leg into the light garment, then the other and pulled it to her waist. She tied the drawstring, and then adjusted the overlap between her thighs to cover herself. “They are so hot this time of year, and they make me itch.” “But, my Lady, you simply cannot be undressed in public. It is not ladylike.” “Who would know? My dress covers me to the ground. I don’t wear them at home, and I do not see why I should be forced to do so today.” “I should die of embarrassment were the coachman to see your ankle when he helps you into the coach, and so should you. Now, hurry. We must be on our way.” The coach made it’s way from the inn just as the first rays of the sun were peeping over the giant oaks that lined the road. Larks sang to the two women in the summer morning, and Elaine reflected on the reason for the trip. She was to meet the man who would become her husband. The union with Percival, the eldest son of the Earl of Dunmore, had been arranged by her father. The marriage was to insure her future security. The Earl’s lands stretched for a day’s walk in any direction from Barkley Hall, and sheep, cattle, horses, and field crops flourished on the rich soil. When her father died, his more meager estate would pass to Elaine’s husband, and the combined land holding would make her husband a very rich man indeed. Elaine would not want for anything, nor would her children. Elaine was excited by the prospect of marriage and children, but apprehensive about her future husband. Percival was fifteen years her senior and they had never before met. Would he be a kind husband and good father? Elaine knew of many women who lived a life of submission to their husbands, and knew she could never be happy in that role. Her heart desired the love of an equal partner and a place by his side in the affairs of life. Millie had snorted at these girlish ideas. “Most girls would consider themselves fortunate to marry into such a wealthy family. Your father is only looking to your future. He will not be able to provide for you forever, you know, and since he has no heir, he must also look to the future of Balmore Grange. By marrying Percival, you will be well cared for, and will pass your childhood home to your oldest son. If Percival does not grow to love you, it will not be such a loss as you believe. You will have your children, and I will be there to serve you. It is not such a bad life to think of.” Still, Elaine had listened to her father speak of her mother in endearing terms, and dreamed of a husband who though of her in the same way. Since becoming a woman, her thoughts had been of sharing life with a man who treated her as a treasure, and upon whom she could lavish the gift of her own love. Elaine sighed. By late afternoon, she would meet Percival and would know to which life fate had directed her. These daydreams had taken her away from the rough jouncing of the coach until their forward motion ceased. Elaine peered from he window to determine why they were not moving. A sleek chestnut stallion stood in the center of the road and blocked the way. The sight of the rider caused Elaine to catch her breath. He was tall, muscular, and dressed in the trappings of a nobleman. Only the brace of pistols he pointed at the coachman, and the mask that covered his face indicated he was anything but a fellow traveler. The sound of his deep, rich voice caused a tingle to race through her body. “Good coachman, please dismount from your perch and open the door for your passengers, for I would do business with them on this fine morning.” Old Eric’s voice quavered, but he tried to be brave. “Aye, and no doubt that business is relieving us of our silver. Be gone, you bastard son of a feral bitch, and let us pass, or-“ “Or what, old man? Would you draw your sword against my pistols? I assure you that your life will last longer if you do as I say. I mean none of you any harm. I only seek to make my living.” Eric wrapped the reins around the brake lever and slowly climbed down from the seat. “We have nothing of value, sir. My passengers are but a girl and her servant.” “Well, trot them out. If you are indeed bare of valuables, at least give me the pleasure of a beautiful sight on this morning.” Millie was flushed with fear and cautioned her charge against any rash acts. “Mistress, do not attempt to resist. These highwaymen are ruthless in their quest for riches. They think nothing of killing everyone and then robbing them at their leisure. They have been known to rape women travelers and leave them naked on the highway.” At that moment, a masked face peered through the window of the coach. “Ah, the mother hen and her little chick. Do me the favor of exiting your coop that I may have a better look.” Millie and Elaine were soon standing on the grass of the roadway and looking up at the tall stranger. Elaine’s heart fluttered, whether from fear or from the appearance of this man she could not tell. He had seemed so tall on his bay horse. Afoot, he was still tall, his body, strong, and his voice resonated deep inside her when he spoke. The mask that covered his face only added to his excitement and mystery. “Well then, let’s have a look at you. I see the old hen is not so old, and would give any young cock a twinge. Yes, you are a woman fair to the eyes, and if my guess is correct, an able companion between the sheets. And the chick, well, were that I had time to enjoy your company. We might find ourselves compatible in…certain ways. But, alas, I have an engagement this evening, and must be quickly on my way.” Elaine’s trepidation turned to anger upon hearing his lewd proposition. “Sir, I am young, but not so young as to misunderstand your meaning. When my intended learns of this, he will make short work of you, I am sure.” “Ah, so the young chick is soon to join a rooster. ‘Tis a pity, a pity indeed, that I must pass such beauty to another without sampling her pleasures. Alas, such is the life of a man of His Majesty’s roadways.” Elaine thrust out her chin and her chest heaved in anger. “You mean such is the life of a common thief. I would die before I allowed you to touch even one hair of my head, much less let you to have your way with me.” “Tut tut, do not worry yourself. Your innocence is safe from me. Still…, it would be a shame to go away without something to remember.” The highwayman drew a gleaming dirk from the scabbard at his belt. “Perhaps I have time to appreciate some small part of your beauty.” A chill shivered through Elaine’s spine when the shining blade slipped under lacing of her bodice cover. She felt the coolness of the metal through the thin material of her dress, and shivered again. With one quick flick of his wrist, the highwayman severed the tie. With another equally casual stroke, he cut the garment from her shoulders and tossed it to the ground. The tops of Elaine’s breasts shone milky white in the sunlight. Only the neckline of the bodice prevented the man from seeing her nipples, but Elaine felt them tighten and press against her chemise. She thought it odd that a reflex she normally associated with her most secret daydreams should be brought on by this stranger. “Such a bosom should be seen by one who may appreciate the sight. Your husband-to-be is a fortunate man, indeed. I shall not rob him of his pleasure in making you a woman. I shall, instead, be satisfied with this locket.” The blade of the dirk lifted the chain at her throat, lightly pulled, and the locket settled into the satin cleft between her breasts. The highwayman lifted it from the soft nook with a gloved hand. “I think I shall not sell this bauble. I shall keep it to remind me of our meeting, and of my great loss. My morning has not been profitable in a worldly sense, but I carry away a vision to treasure always. I bid you good day, and a safe journey.” In a second, the man had leaped to the back of the horse, wheeled the beautiful animal, and thundered down the road. Millie fairly exploded when she finally let out the breath she had been holding. “Lady Elaine, I feared for your life when he drew his dagger. Surely the angels were with us today to have him leave without doing any mischief.” “Millie, you’re as timid as a mouse. If he had even begun to lay hands on me or you, I would have given him a taste of this.” From the folds of her dress, Elaine produced a small dagger. “Mistress, ladies do not carry daggers secreted in their clothing. Haven’t I taught you that?” “I suppose you would rather be one of the women of which you spoke lying naked and fouled on the roadside?” “Well, no…, but it just is not something a lady should do.” ‘No harm has been done, except for the loss of my locket, and it can be replaced. Let us be on our way.” The coach trundled along the roadway. Millie dozed while Elaine thought of the highwayman. She had not been so afraid as angered that the lout would accost them. Had she been as terrified as Millie, Elaine would not have been able to examine the situation so carefully. It was of her impressions of the man that she pondered. The highwayman had been imposing, to be sure, but his demeanor had intrigued her. He seemed to hold her in high regard; at least it seemed so when Elaine considered the tales of other travelers she had heard. His only untoward act had been to expose her bosom, and his words had been flattering rather than crude. She wondered what had led him to this station in life, that of a common thief, when he obviously was educated and his clothing and mount indicated a certain amount of personal wealth. Where did he go? Did he live nearby? Mostly she wondered at her reaction to his appearance and voice. She would have consulted Millie about these feelings, but Elaine knew the woman would only begin blustering again about their fortunate escape. The coach rolled under the roofed entrance to Barkley Hall at dusk. Elaine and Millie were both glad to stretch their legs after being confined to the narrow vehicle. They had not stopped, except to water the horses, since the robbery. They were greeted by a young servant girl who introduced herself as Rebecca. Elaine thought Rebecca was pretty, and wondered why she kept her head down as if in disgrace. Even when she asked the woman if Percival would receive them, Rebecca did not look up to answer. “Not at this time. The master is working in his study, but he will see you for dinner. He has invited a few guests, that you may meet the other people of high station in this area. I will show you to your rooms now, that you may rest after your trip.” Rebecca ushered them through the massive oak doorway, down a gleaming wood-planked hall, and up a grand, spiraling staircase to their room. When another servant brought their luggage, Millie began unpacking Elaine’s things. Elaine gazed out the window at the rolling fields of sheep and waving stands of oats and hay. “Millie, does it not strike you as odd that neither the Earl nor Percival came to meet us? Father does not invite guests and then ignore their arrival. After all, I am to become Percival’s wife. Would it not be proper to greet us? And why should he invite other guests on this night of our first meeting.” “My Lady, don’t let your imagination carry you away. I’m certain they both have much to do to run this estate, and Percival probably wishes to impress his friends with his betrothed. They will see us at dinner, and you will see your good fortune.” At the appointed hour, Rebecca tapped on their door. They followed her down the staircase to the dining hall. Elaine had grown up in a wealthy household, but had never seen the likes of this table. Fine porcelain, crystal, and silver made up the place settings, while the table itself was a massive slab of polished walnut that would have easily seated thirty. They walked the walls of the room gazing at the portraits of the ancestors of the Earl and at the swords and shields bearing the family crest. Two servants brought in several bottles of wine and giant silver bowls of fresh fruit. This will prove to be a feast beyond my experience, thought Elaine. She was examining a suit of steel armor attached to a stand in the passage to the sitting room when she heard a man’s voice. At last, Percival had come to meet her. “That such a fair lass should be interested in such a harsh instrument of war is amazing indeed.” Elaine turned toward the sound. “Percival?” She didn’t offer her hand, but he lifted it anyway, and held it while he spoke. “Yes, and you must be Elaine. My father sends his apologies. He shall not join us tonight, for he is away on pressing business. And please forgive me for not granting you audience upon your arrival, but matters of the estate kept me working in my study. The servants are all such ninnies, and I must make all the decisions else the whole thing would come to a stop. I also need tell you I must leave early in the morning to inspect some of the far away fields. We will not see each other again until tomorrow afternoon.” It was disconcerting to Elaine that Percival did not look at her face. His gaze flitted back and forth from her bosom to the swell of her hips. She gently withdrew her hand from his. “I know the affairs of gentlemen can be pressing at times. No apology is needed. As for tomorrow morning, I should appreciate the time for rest after my journey.” “Well, then, would you care for a glass of wine while we wait for my guests?” The other guests began to arrive, and Elaine was deluged with names and titles that she forgot as soon as the person left her vision. After the third Baron of something or other released her hand and walked to the wine table, Elaine realized none of them knew her name. Percival introduced her only as “my bride-to-be”. She reasoned the first time could have been an oversight. Three had to be intentional. So it continued until the wine table was surrounded by men talking in low tones that erupted into the occasional bout of soft laughter. Elaine thought it odd that none of the men brought their wives. It was unthinkable that Percival should have excluded them from the invitation, yet none were present. She had no time to ponder this observation. An elderly servant entered the room and announced that dinner would be served. When all were at their designated chairs, servants brought silver platters piled high with venison, pheasant, and thick slices of ham. They left, only to return with more silver bowls of various vegetables and wood breadboards bearing fresh baked loaves. Percival inhaled the fragrance of the first wine cork, sampled the deep red liquid, and smiled. The servants quickly filled the crystal goblets at each place setting. Elaine was seated at the very end of the table; Percival occupied the Master’s place at the other end. This was proper, as her chair was always reserved for the lady of the house, the station to which she would enter in a short time. At Percival’s side, as if ready to do his every bidding stood Rebecca, her eyes downcast as when she greeted Elaine and Millie. To Elaine’s left sat the Baron of Brampton. The portly man of about forty had already drunk more wine than he could handle. He kept bumping her knee with his. Elaine noticed that, although he apologized profusely with each intrusion upon her person, a wicked gleam shone in his eye. That gleam made her shudder. On her right was a man far more interesting, at least in her opinion. He appeared to be a little older than she, and Elaine was taken by his countenance. He was tall, even when seated, and had broad, muscular shoulders. His size was notable, but his face would be forever impressed in her memory. The man seemed to have no expression other than a pleasant smile, and his eyes - she had never seen such eyes. They were steel-grey and piercing, and seemed to touch her very soul. They spoke of intelligence and laughter, but from time to time, when Percival’s voice rose above the clamor of conversation and silver utensils clinking on china, they went as cold as the ice on a winter-frozen pond. Elaine was also impressed because this man was the only one of the six present who bothered to ask her name. “I have a dreadful memory, I’m afraid, and it shames me greatly to ask this question. I’m certain Percival gave me your name, but, alas, I’ve forgotten it. Would you please allow me the pleasure of knowing the name of the beautiful creature with whom I’m enjoying this feast?” Elaine felt her face flush. His voice was as penetrating as his gaze. She felt his words deep in her chest. There Once Was a Highwayman “I am Elaine, daughter of the Earl of Bekesbourne, and you, Sir, have no monopoly on short memories. Everyone was introduced so quickly that I’ve forgotten most of the names and titles. I know not to whom I speak any more than you did a short while ago.” The smile beamed to show even, gleaming white teeth. “My lady, I am but the second son to the Duke of Weyburn, and thus, I have no real title with which to clutter your pretty head. I have only my name. I am Ashton.” His eyes locked on Elaine’s for only a second, but she felt a tingle race down her spine. “I am very pleased to meet you, Ashton. You are the first of the guests to speak to me other than to exchange greetings.” “Yes, and I fear you shall be disappointed further. The lot assembled here have much to discuss amongst each other. It is not likely they will burden you with any conversation.” “So I am learning. Percival seems constantly occupied by the affairs of his estate. I would suppose the others have similar issues with which to concern themselves. It would only be natural that they should gather to gain from their common experiences.” Ashton looked down the table at Percival. The chilling glare of his eyes returned. “Yes, I think they shall all share a common experience on this night, just as they have on other nights when the Earl is absent.” “And why, Sir, do you not join in their discourse? Surely even the second son of a duke has responsibilities in the family concerns.” The icy glare changed immediately to the same gaze that pierced her very soul. He smiled again, and Elaine felt her heart flutter. “As a matter of fact, I make my living from the leavings of my father and brother. They bestow upon me the more bothersome of their tasks, and it is just such a responsibility I fill by sitting at this table and basking in your beauty. My father and brother are occupied with some matter of the livestock, and I represent Weyburn Manor at their request. I must admit I had reservations about attending. Percival and I have, shall we say, some differences of opinion about certain matters of conduct. I would have been content to sip my soup in front of the fire and retire to my bed with a good book. Father would have none of that, so here I am. Had I known Percival would introduce such a lady at the festivities, I should have begged to come.” Elaine felt a warmth rush over her face and shoulders and knew she must be blushing. Few men had ever had such an effect upon her as this man. It was wrong of one already betrothed to have such feelings, this she knew, but Elaine could not deny her attraction to Ashton. She wished the dinner would be over that she might slip away to the refuge of her room. As she talked with Ashton, Elaine began to feel at ease in his presence. From time to time, she looked to Percival for some sort of recognition, but other than one short moment when his eyes met hers and his mouth formed a strange sort of smile, her future husband seemed oblivious to her presence. As the servants cleared the tableware, Percival rose and tapped a spoon against his crystal wineglass. “Friends, neighbors, fellow landowners all, we have had a fine feast. You have met my lovely bride-to-be. I would now invite your company in my gaming room. I have made special preparations for your enjoyment. Bring your glasses and we shall continue our festivities.” Chairs scraped on the planks as the men rose to follow Percival back to the main hall. As each passed, they bid Elaine good night. Only the fat and very drunk Baron of Brampton paid her any other attention, and Elaine did not relish his actions. The Baron lifted her hand to his lips and kissed it, then slurred out, “’Tis a pity you’ll no’ join us. Ne’er mind, they be oth’r times aft’ yur th’ lady of th’ house. We’ll injoy yur comp’ny then.” Elaine waited until he turned and then quickly wiped the spittle from the back of her hand. After she became Percival’s wife, there would be much less wine served at her dinner parties, and the Baron of Brampton would find himself spending those nights alone. Such a man would not cross the doorstep of her home. “We men speak of our livestock as dumb creatures with no intelligence and no morals, but the swine in my father’s sty put that man to shame.” Ashton’s voice startled her. She had thought he would join the others. “Ashton. Why do you not follow the rest for a night of gaming?” “Well, as I said, I am but the second son of a Duke. Percival invited the landowners of the group. I own nothing save a few animals and my clothing. Besides, their games are contrary to my beliefs.” “I can understand you may have strong principles, but what harm could come from darts or some game of chance?” “Perhaps you should ask Percival to explain that to you. In any event, I must be off. I will, no doubt, be called at an early hour for some task that should befall a servant. Father believes I must learn to earn my keep, as I shall not inherit his wealth. I bid you good eve, and pray I may enjoy your company again one day.” Elaine had gone directly to bed, but only tossed and turned on the thick down mattress. She was unable to sleep, and unable to stop the thoughts that kept jousting in her mind. Why had Percival ignored her so? Did he not at least feel obligated to entertain her on her first night on his estates? Other than his introductions, he had not been within three arm-lengths of her the whole evening. He had been more attentive to Rebecca, the timid servant woman who stood at his side throughout the entire meal. And that twisted smile. Was Percival merely drunk, or was that a sneer of dislike? No, Percival was just very preoccupied with the affairs of the estates, just as her father usually was. There was always some crisis with the crops, the livestock, or the servants that demanded his immediate attention. Such must be the case with Percival. Since his holdings were far larger than her father’s, his responsibilities much be also far greater. And yet, though her father was a very busy man, he would always stop for at least a moment to ask how she felt this morning, to converse with her at meals, and to wish her a good night. If she were sad, he would stop his current task or delegate it to some underling, and sit with her. If she was happy, he was happy, and would spend an hour or so to hear of the experience that gave her joy. She was being no better than a foolish servant girl with all these expectations. As Millie had said, the love Elaine dreamed of would not come until she and Percival had lived together for some time, and might never come at all. She should be thankful her father had arranged this marriage that she may never want nor worry. If she considered herself so fortunate, and was willing to accept this life, why had Ashton made her feel as he had? A proper woman would surely not have been swayed by a rich voice and piercing grey eyes. She would have been pleasant, but distant, out of respect for her future husband. Yet, Elaine’s thoughts always came back to the tall man who had asked her name, and who had shown disgust for the conduct of the other guests. These thoughts raced around and around in her mind as do the horses in their frozen gallop around a carousel. After a half-hour of this fretting, Elaine decided to go outside for an evening walk. Perhaps the cooler air of the night would drive these worries from her mind and she would be able to sleep. She wrapped herself in a light robe, donned her bedroom slippers, and quietly slipped out the door. Her small feet made no sound as she walked down the carpeted stairs and into the main hall. She was almost at the great oak door when she heard the low moan and the murmur that followed. The sound had come from down the hall. Elaine could not conclude a reason for such a sound other than that someone was ill. Percival’s study was down that hall, and she feared the sound might have come from him. She silently crossed the polished wood planks to the first door and listened. Another sound, an even quieter moan, traveled from somewhere further down the hall. At the next door, Elaine again listened. Another moan came, closer, but not from this door. She stopped at the door at the end of the hall just as the murmur began. The sounds were coming from this room. She could not open the door. What if Percival were in some state of undress? It would not do for her to see him unclothed before their wedding night. Yet, Elaine felt she must investigate. Percival could be in distress and in need of assistance. If she could just ascertain his condition, she could summon a male servant to attend to his needs. Elaine knelt at the keyhole and peered through the small opening. With great effort she stopped the gasp that threatened to burst from her throat. Through the keyhole, Elaine saw a sight that smashed her sensibility to smithereens and caused her mind to reel in disbelief. The room was small, and lit by many candles placed along the walls. In the center was a large table the likes of which she had never before seen. It was of sturdy oak planks with two other planks extending in a “V” from one end, and had ringbolts attached to each leg. From the ceiling beams above the table hung several ropes and cords that ran through wooden rings to hooks on the wall. Upon this table lay Rebecca. The young girl was completely naked save for the heavy leather straps that encircled her wrists and ankles. These straps were attached to the ringbolts in such a manner that the girl was stretched out on the surface of the table with her hips at the point of the “V”. Her most private parts were exposed to the leering eyes of the men who had attended the dinner. They were also completely undressed, and each was holding his stiff shaft in his hand and stroking it slowly. Percival stood at Rebecca’s side, naked as were the rest, with a riding crop in one hand and a burning candle in the other. As Elaine held her breath, Percival tipped the candle and allowed the melted wax to drip on Rebecca’s large, full right breast. As the hot droplets splashed upon her skin, the girl moaned. Elaine saw the reason for the low volume of her cry. Rebecca wore an apparatus that held a large leather ball in her mouth. Percival tipped the candle again, this time over Rebecca’s other breast. The searing droplets splashed over her nipple and the girl arched off the table. Elaine silently cursed Percival for such treatment of his servant girl, and was about to burst open the door to stop his cruelty, when Rebecca opened her eyes. Those eyes told Elaine more than a thousand words, for their expression was not one of pain and suffering, but one of the most exquisite pleasure. The girl was almost smiling around the gag. She arched off the table again and thrust her large patch of private hair at Percival. He tipped the candle a third time, and the wax dribbled onto the soft lips that protruded from those soft curls. The moan was louder this time, and Elaine saw Rebecca’s chest begin to heave. Percival’s voice was breathy, as if he had just been running. “Ah, my slutty little servant girl, you like that, don’t you.” The answer was a sensuous thrust of the hips from Rebecca and a low groan. Elaine saw the men were stroking their organs more quickly than before. “Perhaps my little mare would enjoy a breeding. Here, little whore, is your stallion. Careful what you do. He bites when aroused.” Rebecca opened her eyes wide and again thrust up her hips. Percival quickly brought the riding crop down against her satin smooth thigh. The slapping sound startled Elaine, and she nearly fell over. The effect on Rebecca was quite different. She began rolling her hips against the table top and a constant stream of low, guttural sounds issued from her plugged mouth. The riding crop fell upon Rebecca’s other thigh and left a long red welt that matched the first. “See, bitch, I warned you. Now you will feel your lovers touch on those udders.” The crop swiped across first one nipple and then the other, then across both again. The dark brown nubs grew long and rigid. One of the men stepped forward, took Rebecca’s nipples in his fingers and lifted her heavy breasts from her chest. As he pulled them into pointed cones, Percival barked at him. “Damn you, leave this slut to me. You shall have your chance at her soon enough. She needs to be disciplined now.” The man quickly released her nipples, and Rebecca’s breasts fell back into soft mounds that bobbed twice and then lay still. “Now, bitch, your lover is will enter that greedy cunt of yours and fuck you like the whore you are.” Percival turned the crop in his hand and extended it toward Rebecca. The braided leather handle pressed against her open lips and began to slowly disappear inside the woman. Rebecca’s reaction was a muffled cry, and a lurch upwards. Elaine assumed she meant to drive the instrument deeper into herself, but Percival chuckled and withdrew it. “See how she craves the crop. She hunches it like a bitch in heat. You like that, don’t you, my little whore. Here, feel your lover again.” Percival quickly plunged the handle into Rebecca and wiggled it with his fingertips. The girl’s reaction was one of pure animal lust. She cried out and began rocking her hips to move the crop in and out of her body. Her hands strained against the binding straps in an attempt to reach her breasts. “Yes, hump away. Fuck your lover. Now, stop. That’s quite enough. I said stop, damn you.” Rebecca did not stop until Percival yanked the riding crop from between her thighs. He held it to his tongue. “Such a lovely taste from such a disobedient servant. You shall be punished more for your lust. Sir Harold, the clamps and vise if you please.” Elaine watched as the aging Baron of Tillingham released his stiff organ and walked to the table. He picked up two wicked-looking pincer devices and attached one to each of Rebecca’s swollen nipples. Elaine saw him reach up for a small cord suspended from the ceiling. The Baron tied this cord to one clamp, reached up for a second cord and tied this to the other clamp. At his signal, one of the other men pulled on both cords, and the resulting tension stretched Rebecca’s breasts into long cones suspended from the clamps. The Baron then picked up two flat slabs of oak joined at each end by a wooden screw. He unscrewed one end, slipped the planks around Rebecca's extended breasts, and then screwed both attachments together. The force of the screws mashed Rebecca’s elongated breasts flat. As the Baron gave each screw a final turn, Rebecca cried out through the gag, and began thrusting her hips at Percival. “You see, gentlemen, a properly punished servant is a willing servant. Watch how she begs for her lover. See how the juices flow from her cunt in anticipation. Even her small rosebud begs for a good fucking. She wants a stiff prick in both holes. This crop will fill the nether passage, while I, of course, shall be the first in the bitches cunt.” So saying, Percival wetted the crop handle in Rebecca’s glistening sex and then slowly pushed it into the puckered opening between her rounded hips. Rebecca shuddered and attempted to force herself over the leather phallus. Percival stepped back. The riding crop protruded obscenely from Rebecca’s hips and bounced in the air from her exertions. Percival wiggled the waving riding crop, then stepped between her thighs and straddled it’s quivering shaft. After lifting his organ and stroking it to increase it’s stiffness, Percival plunged it into the girl's sex and began stroking himself in and out through her glistening velvet lips. Elaine saw Rebecca’s eyes tip back as the girl began lifting herself to meet Percival’s thrusts. Occasionally, he reached forward and gave a tug on one of the cords by which the girls flattened breasts were suspended. Soon, Rebecca was moaning continuously and her hips shook in little shudders. Her face contorted into a mask of ecstasy, and she began to writhe under Percival. The girl finally cried out and lifted herself high off the table. Percival groaned and pumped furiously at her dripping lips, groaned again, and collapsed on top of the girl. Elaine saw that two of the other men had moved to Rebecca’s face and were stroking themselves rapidly. She gaped as they groaned and shot streams of white fluid from the tips of their organs to splash on Rebecca’s cheeks and hair. The others continued to stroke themselves slowly, she supposed to maintain their arousal without spending their seed as had the two. “Who shall be next to mount my randy cow?”, chuckled Percival. “She’s good and wet now, and spread wide open for you. You, Winfred, won’t you breed this slut for me?” By now, Elaine was sickened at the sight before her and did not wish to see further activities. She could guess that each man, in turn, would penetrate the girl and thrust away until he had spent himself deep inside her body. As she turned away from the keyhole, the words of the Baron of Brampton came back to her and caused a chill to race down her spine. “There’ll be other times after you’re the lady of the house. We’ll enjoy your company then.” At once it was clear. Percival meant to have her strapped to that same table, to have her firm, tender breasts stretched by wicked clamps and bound in oak planks. He meant to share her with the rest of these perverted “gentlemen” when they played the “games” he said he had so carefully prepared. That could be the only explanation for the way his eyes wandered over her body at their first meeting, and for the twisted smile he gave her at dinner. Elaine would not truly become his wife. She would be only the vessel in which Percival would sow his seed, the mother to his heir, and the object of demeaning pleasure for him and his cohorts. It was evident that Rebecca enjoyed this perverted treatment. Elaine would sooner end her own life than submit to such depraved acts. She vowed to leave this place of horror as soon as Percival went to inspect his fields the next morning. Elaine did not sleep that night. As the cock crowed to greet the morning sun, she sat at the window watching the stable. Soon, she saw Percival stride from the house, take the reins of a white gelding from a groom, mount, and ride toward the East. She prayed he would be gone at least until the mid-day meal. The coach could not travel so quickly as a man on horseback. Millie was flustered and attempted to convince Elaine to remain. Not until Elaine had related her experience of the past night did she run to rouse the coachman. While Old Eric hitched the team to the coach, Millie threw their clothing into the luggage and they carried it down the stairs. Rebecca stood between them and the door. “My Lady, why do you leave?” “Millie has become ill, and we must return to Balmore Grange as quickly as possible.” “‘Tis a pity.” Rebecca put her hand on Elaine’s waist and stroked gently. “I was to entertain you this morning while Percival is away in the fields. I’m certain you would enjoy my company.” “Be that as it may, I must get Millie home.” “But, Percival will be upset by your departure. He will surely blame me. I shall be whipped and cast out to work in the fields.” “Tell Percival of my decision and that my father will contact him about a future meeting. Now, we must go.” At that moment, old Eric opened the door to inform them they could depart. In a few minutes, the coach was moving with as much speed as Eric could coax from the horses. Elaine and Millie sat for half an hour before either could speak. ‘M’Lady, what will you tell your father?” “I’ll tell him the truth about Percival and his depraved habits. If Percival is fortunate, Father will only shame him into seclusion. If he chooses to press for marriage to me, Father will have him bound and whipped.” There Once Was a Highwayman “But, if you don’t marry Percival, you risk losing your home and estates.” “Better that than to end up stretched on Percival’s table like a slaughtered bullock, and to be violated by him and his foul friends.” The day passed slowly. Elaine kept looking back out the coach window for any riders. She believed Percival would be upset by her absence, and she believed Rebecca would be whipped for allowing her to leave. She also believed Percival would attempt to stop her. Elaine was not wrong in her estimation of the man. The sun was dipping toward the treetops when she saw the lone rider approaching at a gallop. She first recognized Percival’s white gelding, although logic had already told her it must be him. He soon was beside the coach, then at the reins of the team, and the coach quickly stopped. Elaine was proud of the bravery in old Eric’s voice. He was but a feeble old man, but she knew he would defend her to the death if necessary. “Sir, let go my horses and let us be on our way, or you’ll taste my lash.” “Shut up, you shriveled old wart, or I’ll stick you like a pig on the gambrel. Now, turn this coach around and drive it back to Barkley Hall.” Elaine opened the coach door and stepped to the ground. “Do nothing of the kind, Eric. We shall proceed home.” Percival kneed the white gelding toward Elaine. “Hah! My future bride thinks she can negate her father’s agreement. You will soon learn, girl, that women do not meddle in the affairs of men. Once I get you back to Barkley Hall –“ “You’ll do what? Strap me on your table as you do Rebecca?” Percival attempted to remain aloof, but Elaine saw the little grimace. That expression confirmed her supposition about Percival’s true aims toward her. He did not even attempt to deny her accusation. “Once I have tired of pleasuring myself with you, yes. My friends are anxious to make your acquaintance in a…, more intimate setting.” “My father will –“ “Your father is a blustering old fool who will be pleased when he receives word that we fell in love and were married the day after you arrived. Should he come to call, you will do nothing to hint otherwise or you’ll feel my riding crop on your back. Now, get in the coach.” “Are you man enough to put me there? I think not.” Percival swung easily from the saddle and strode toward Elaine. He grabbed her roughly on the shoulder, and was surprised as her arm slipped around his around his neck and grasped his hair. His surprise was greater when he felt the needle sharp point of a dagger slide beneath his codpiece and lightly prick his organ. Percival sucked in his breath and froze in place. “Now, Percival, can you put me in the coach before I turn you into a gelding, or will you leave us to our journey?” “Surely we can work out some sort of an agreement. I was only distraught at the thought of losing you. I meant you no real harm.” “So said the cat to the sparrow. Now, unhand me. Eric, fetch a rope from the boot and tie him to the wheel. We’ll see how he feels when trussed up like a holiday goose.” As she was checking Percival’s bonds, Elaine heard the clop of hooves and a deep chuckle. She turned to see the highwayman from yesterday shaking in mirth. “I thought I might have caught a real prize this time, but I see it is only my poor hen and her chick again. How is it I find you with a man tied to your coach wheel? Have you taken to robbing fellow travelers?” “This pig was my intended husband. Now, I’m trying to decide what to do with him.” The highwayman laughed. “Sir, it is no business of mine, but I fear your romance has taken a turn for the worse. Be of good cheer, however. It is better this happen now than after you were wed. No man could live happily with a woman who ties him up at the point of a dagger.” “When I get free, I’ll show her how a man treats a disobedient wife. I’ll –“ Elaine ripped away Percival’s codpiece, exposing his cock and balls. “I didn’t think it looked so big when I saw it through that keyhole. Millie, look at the wool padding which fills the sack. Can you believe a man could be so vain?” Percival was nearly frothing at the mouth. “You little bitch. I’ll flay the hide from your ass and then hang you from the ceiling beams. We’ll fuck you in every way possible until you lose consciousness.” Elaine slipped the blade of the dagger under Percival’s cock and lifted the flaccid organ with the flat of the blade. “What do you think, Millie? Should I dock this lamb’s tail? It is becoming quite a nuisance.” Percival whimpered and began to beg. “Don’t. Oh, please don’t. I’ll leave you to your return. My father will send word that I have changed my mind about the marriage. Just please don’t move that dagger.” The highwayman slipped from his saddle and walked to Elaine’s side. “M’Lady, if I might make a suggestion? Send this coward on his way with his shrunken cock still attached. I have no concern for his ability to sire an heir, for such a dastardly fiend should not be allowed to reproduce his kind. It is only that, without a spigot, he would soil himself at the toilet, and would then be an odorous coward as well as a sniveling one. I’m certain your father will be pleased to inform the nobility of this cad’s behavior, and he’ll not be able to show his face again. He shall live his life alone, for no moral woman would have such an animal as a husband. Upon his death, his estates will return to the king, and the lineage will die with him.” “If I let him go, he will only follow to do us harm.” “I shall ride with you to your destination, M’Lady, if you permit. He will not dare face my pistols or my sword.” As the coach trundled away from the site, the highwayman watched Percival cautiously mount his white gelding and start off in the opposite direction. It would be several days before Percival would care to dip his wand into Rebecca again. The small nip Elaine had taken from his foreskin would be painful until it healed, although it would pose no serious threat to his health. The highwayman admired the fierce courage of this woman. If only there were some way…. Eric drove until he was exhausted and stopped the coach. The highwayman tied the stallion to the back of the coach and instructed Eric to sit inside and sleep. He would drive the rest of the way. As Eric opened the coach door, Elaine stepped out. “There will be more room for Eric if I ride with you. Please help me up.” The highwayman offered Elaine his hand and helped her to the driver’s seat. With a quiet click of his tongue, the horses leaned into the harness and the coach began to move. “Sir, what is your name?” “And why would a lady wish the name of…, what was it you called me? Ah, yes, I believe you called me a common thief.” “Yesterday, you were a thief. Today, you saved me from Percival’s wrath. I wish only to know the name of the brave man who came to my rescue.” The highwayman looked at Elaine, and slowly removed his mask. “You already know my name.” Elaine had only a brief moment to gaze into the steel-grey eyes before he pulled her close and kissed her. In a heartbeat, her arms were around his neck. She was overtaken by sensations of warmth, security, and love such as she had never before felt. Her lips hungrily moved against his and she inhaled deeply. The sensations of his touch, his scent, his presence set her body atingle. When he gently pushed her back, she slackened her embrace. “Ashton, is it truly you?” “Oh, so you kiss just any man who takes you in his arms, and confirm his identity afterwards? I believe I’ve fallen in with a trollop.” “But how did you know?” “I feared for your safety, so I rode back to Barkley Hall this morning. It was my intention to convince Percival that sending you away would be more pleasant than tasting my steel. When I arrived, he was stamping around and cursing the house servants for allowing you to leave. He summoned his horse, and galloped down the road to intercept your coach. Fortunately for you, in my sort of employment it is convenient to know of shorter routes to various places. I came upon you just as he ordered Eric to return.” Ashton chuckled. “When you stepped out of the coach, I started out of the trees to stop him. I quickly saw you had things well in hand, so to speak, so I sat quietly and watched. Your method was interesting, to say the least. I think he will not forget you very soon.” “If he comes to my fathers house, I’ll do worse than that. That man is a disgrace to all men of good character.” “Percival is a whimpering coward at heart, but he is not a stupid man. His father is of the same ilk, but would do anything to preserve the honor of the family name. He would quickly disown his first-born son should Percival embarrass him. Percival would lose title to the estates, and be forced to live out his life as a commoner. Besides, Rebecca welcomes his sadistic attentions, so he has no need of another woman for that. In time, he may even find a fat, ugly hag who will turn her head to his indiscretions and bear him an heir. You are free of him, free to seek another more suited to your beauty and, if I may say, to your spirited nature.” “I think I have already found that man, Ashton.” It was early afternoon the next day when the coach stopped at the entrance to Balmore Grange. Elaine’s father walked from the house to greet his visitors and was surprised to see Elaine and Millie accompanied by a stranger. “Hello. What manner of thing is this? My daughter returns early from her journey, and she brings a young stranger to my house instead of her future husband?” “Father, this is Ashton, the man who saved our very lives. Do not think unkindly of him, for without Ashton, unspeakable things might have befallen me.” Ashton smiled. “Your daughter was quite in control of her situation when I came upon them. I merely assisted in driving the coach after Eric became tired.” “Even so, you must be my guest for the night. I would reward you for your chivalry. Now, come, Elaine, and tell me what happened.” As Elaine related her experience at Barkley Hall, her father’s mood changed from disbelief, to anger, to disgust. “Percival is not fit to sweep the stalls of my draught horses. I have friends, friends close to the King, who will hear of this. No man may expose my daughter to such goings-on without reprisals. We’ll see how he fares during his next visit to court. And now, young man, what reward could possibly be worthy of the safe return of my only child? I am not a rich man, but I would be much poorer indeed without her.” “Sir, you have only one thing I would wish for, but it is I who am not worthy of that treasure.” “I have offered you anything I have. What is your wish, and why might you think yourself unworthy?” “I would wish for the hand of your daughter, but I have no title to match her status. I am only the second son of the Duke of Weyburn. “ “My daughter says you are brave. I say you are also a bit a bit of a dunderhead. It is true that titles are inherited by first-born sons. It is also true that titles may be conferred, bought, or inherited by marriage. Elaine, would you have such an thickheaded man as your husband?” “If it pleased him to have me, Father.” The wedding was an elaborate affair attended by nobles from far and wide. The Earl of Dunmore and his son, Percival, were conspicuous by their absence. That invitation had been returned with the explanation that Percival was ill and would be confined to Barkley Hall for an undetermined period of time. A handsome set of silver tableware was included as a gift for the couple. That night, Elaine led Ashton, the newest heir of Balmore Grange, to the main bedroom of the house. Her father had moved to a smaller room on the ground floor. “The big bedroom is too cold at night.”, he had explained. Ashton closed the door and turned to find himself enveloped in Elaine’s arms. “You once told me you were a simple gleaner of the leavings from your father and older brother. How does it feel to have fields and livestock of your own that others will glean for their living.” “Not so nice as the feeling of you in my arms. I never told you, but I’ve loved you since I stopped your coach that morning. I thought you a treasure beyond my reach. To think I am standing here, in a house that will someday be ours, with you as my wife, is still somewhat of a dream.” Elaine sighed. “I suppose you will become as busy as Father, and I shall be forced to spend everyday listening to Millie’s chatter. The responsibilities of a noble are so great.” She stepped away from him, unbuttoned her wedding dress, and let it fall around her feet. “One of those responsibilities is to sire an heir. Do you think you will find time for that task?” Ashton lifted Elaine into his arms and carried her to the huge canopied bed. With the care he would have shown to a fragile porcelain vase, he laid her on the sparkling white sheet. “’Twill be no task at all, M’Lady. I intend to give that responsibility my utmost attention.” Little Ashton was born ten months to the day of the wedding. In her latest role, that of midwife, Millie brought him into the world, cradled him to her breast, and crooned away his first cries. “He’s a fine boy, M’Lady. A fitting heir to Balmore Grange. And look, he’s mouthing for a meal already.” “Please, Millie. Give him to me, and go tell Ashton he has a son.” As Millie scurried away with the news, Elaine lay contentedly nursing the tiny baby. She gently stroked his pulsing cheeks and felt the milk flowing from her swollen breast. “Well, little Ashton, your father will be so very proud. He’s a very brave and good man, you know. I shall tell you all about him, how we met, and how he came to be your father. You see, there once was a highwayman…” *********************************** Thanks for reading this work. Please vote to indicate how much you enjoyed it, and leave comments if you can spare the time. Your votes and feedback are the only way I will know how much you enjoyed my effort, and furnish the only means to improve my writing. Thanks again, Ronde.