Becoming AbigailbyNakod Apa©
My Darling Thomas,
I must confess. You must know the truth about me before it is too late.
I want so much for you to love me - not just to enjoy my body but to have an abiding affection for all of me. So I must confess to you that which I have told no one.
Abigail was a malicious, spiteful, manipulating monster, concerned only with her own pleasures.
But wait, I sense your confusion, for am I not Abigail. My darling, you know me as Abigail, the world knows me as Abigail, but I am an imposter. What you need to know is how I became your Abigail.
In age and appearance we were very much alike, the true Abigail and I. Which I suppose is not so strange for in any large city there must be many who resemble some other. But what is unusual is that two, apparently unrelated yet so similar, should become closely acquainted. Particularly when, as in this instance, she was from a rich factory owning family while I - well I had no family except my unwed mother with whom I lived on the edge of poverty.
Looking back it is clear my mother and I were not quite so desperately poor as others; or as I had supposed. As with all who were born when Victoria was still Queen, and were dependent on the dark satanic mills - how I now realize what a great description that is - we seemed perpetually at risk of becoming penniless outcasts, yet there was always just enough money to feed us and keep a roof over our heads. Clearly someone was helping my poor mother.
It had always been understood that when I left school I would have to follow my mother into the mill. But no, when that day came she took me to be personally inspected by the owner of the factory who, without hesitation, engaged me as maid companion to his daughter - his daughter who was the real Abigail!
Nothing was said but, given the similarity of my appearance to his daughter, I often wondered whether he was my missing father and that Abigail was my half-sister. After all it has long been the practice for the wealthy to arrogate to themselves an employee's favours and my very existence demonstrated that some man had claimed my mother's virtue.
Despite my being untrained all at first went well in my employment as maid to Abigail. Oh, she was dominating and demanding as most born with a silver spoon are toward servants - nowadays we would say she abused her position. But not as badly as she was to misuse me later, when we approached maturity.
Two, three, four years passed; together we grew nubile. Our breasts developed and our hips widened until men looked upon us with favour, and many were the veiled propositions cast our way.
Abigail delighted in the attention and clearly wished to accept many of the offers but was of sufficient intelligence to refrain from the dangers of unrestrained dalliance and determined to avoid lying with any man until she was wed - she would go to her marriage bed a chaste virgin. Well, technically a virgin. For while she could be said never to have known a man in the biblical sense, she had split her hymen with a toy almost before she was old enough to know she had one, and subsequently her virgina had furnished her with much rapture.
No, her prudence was intellectual, not emotional, and did not mean she was apathetic toward the practice of love. On the contrary she was consumed by it, was almost a nymphomaniac and owned a cupboard full of toys and dildos which she played with at every opportunity. Inevitably she commanded me to assist. Almost as a matter of routine I was required to eat her out and frequently to fist her.
While I was not wholly enamored of these duties her body was sufficiently attractive for me to take a modicum of pleasure from them - not to say pride when I took her to the heights - and to convince myself they were a small price to pay when the alternative was working in the dirt and danger of the mill.
Then we came of an age to marry and it was decided that Abigail was to become a debutante and be presented at Court. The Great War having now been under way for several months the ceremonies were low key that year, especially since many of the most eligible men were away fighting the Hun. However sufficient males remained to pursue and flirt with my mistress.
She encouraged their advances while consistently refusing them fulfillment, which led to her becoming known as a prick-teaser and to a sharp waning of her popularity. This she found intolerable. She determined that something had to be done. And what was done was me.
Constrained by an importunate young admirer she would arrange a tryst - which I was then commanded to attend in her place, and there to provide the fellow with all his lust desired. To most I did not greatly object since they were young and, if not always handsome or particularly skilled and adept at satisfying a woman, by and large gave me sufficient pleasure that I mostly enjoyed being used in this way. Soon I was having as much intercourse as a woman could reasonably desire.
Occasionally though Abigail found it politic to acquiesce to the solicitation of some older, influential man and arrange that I should provide him satisfaction. These men I found to be more exacting in their demands and not as easily or quickly satiated, as well as having a tendency to indulge in perverted and unnatural practices. On numerous occasions what had been intended as a routine encounter degenerated into an all night sex fest.
However life continued and who was I to complain at a time when the daily papers were full of accounts of the war and contained lengthy casualty lists. On more than one occasion I was saddened to read of the death of a man to whom, at Abigail's behest, I had given myself.
Then, unexpectedly, Abigail's mother died. The reason was obscure and she was certainly too young, being barely forty. Abigail's father was distraught and immersed himself in running his factories, adding even more to the riches the war was bringing him and his fellow armament manufacturers.
Abigail herself, apart from growing somewhat remote, seemed unaffected at first but gradually her behaviour became wilder and wilder - forever seeking out parties; often returning home in the small hours, refusing to say where she had been; picking rough, unsuitable men for me to service. I was also beginning to suspect she had abandoned her decision to cling to her virginity. In short a scandal was brewing.
Just when I had decided I could take no more and would volunteer for the Army Nursing Yeomanry her behaviour came to the attention of her father. His response was immediate. Abigail was consigned to the care of a distant cousin in the Mid West of the United States of America and I was bid to accompany her.
Transport across the Atlantic was boring and slow, though not too dangerous this far into the war, the tedium being somewhat relieved by the younger ship's officers. When we arrived in the city of New York Abigail wanted to stay and take part in the social whirl that still continued there. Fortunately her father had foreseen this probability and by restricting the money available forced us to continue to her relative's abode - a large ranch.
Abigail hated the place from the start. We were miles from the nearest town - and even that had little of the social scene to which she was accustomed. The males in the family with which we were staying, cousins of the first, second, or umpteenth degree, were either too old or too young, so the only men available for her capricious eye were the hired hands, the wranglers - hard riding men who were not inclined to suffer the games she had played back home. Flirt with one and she was expected to deliver forthwith - and personally. Sending me as a substitute was not accepted.
For myself, I welcomed the change in routine though, since I am being honest, I must admit that after a month or so away I was beginning to feel a need to spread my thighs for a well endowed male or two. Being introduced to horse riding helped - the feel of a strong animal between my legs gave some relief.
Riding was an activity we had never practiced and I doubt if Abigail would have taken to it then if we had been restricted to the customary side saddle, but with an introduction to divided skirts came the freedom to ride astride and thus enjoy the rub of the leather on our private parts, which in turn encouraged her to the habit of an early morning canter - mostly, nickerless I'm afraid. This also led me, some weeks after our arrival, to wander into the stables to check on the horse I had been assigned - and so I met Hank.
Oh, Thomas! I now know that what I felt was lust. The affection that I feel for you, and that must exist if love is to last, was not there. But forgive me for I was still young and when he smiled at me I felt a thud in my heart and a thrill between my legs.
Tall, lean, weather beaten he was the leader of a trio of restless, itinerant, young wranglers who would hire out at a ranch for a month or two then move on to pastures new. This, I immediately determined, was the man for me. Within days we were spending every available moment together - mostly in the hayloft.
That first time we just looked at each other - forever it seemed - before he came close and ran his finger tips up my neck and into my hair. He gave me a small kiss on the cheek then leaned back and looked into my eyes. I opened my lips inviting him to taste them. He smiled and kissed me full on the mouth. Oh, the fire that kiss lit in me. My stomach was fluttering, my pussy tingling, I gave a small moan.
Pulling away he took my hand. 'Come,' he said gently leading me toward the ladder and up into the loft.
Lying in the hay, his arms wrapped round me, pressing me close, I felt happy and elated. His hands caressed my hair, stroked the back of my neck, slid down to cup my yearning breasts, smoothed my dress against my thighs. As he kissed and licked my throat the ache between my legs intensified. He eased my dress up above my hips. I lifted my back and his hands slipped round the band of my knickers and pulled them down. He cupped the soft curves of my buns and pulled me up. His fingers circled my wrists and held my hands above my head.
I could smell Hank all mixed up with the scent of the hay, I could see the lust in his eyes, I could hear our heavy breathing, I could feel his hardness pressing against my mound seeking my entrance. With a moan I raised my head and kissed his mouth. 'Yes! Please! Hard!' I told him spreading my thighs. And he slid inside, stretching and filling me.
Deeply, slowly, strongly, with the intense rhythm I needed, he thrust into me until I could take no more and came with a sharp cry. He smiled down at me and his thrusts became faster, deeper and harder than before. I snatched my hands from his grasp and clutched him around the back, clawing my nails into his muscles. I wrapped my legs around him arching my body into his until only my shoulders touched the boards. He paused then savagely drove deep. I screamed and together we came. Afterwards I lay contented in his arms feeling his seed hot within me and his manhood slowly softening.
Did he just take me or did I give myself to him? It matters little. We were as one. He was the best I ever had - until you, darling Thomas.
It took about a week amongst the bales of hay to quench our initial obsession with each other and begin looking toward the future - to making a life together. However any plan we devised had one major shortcoming - no money. Then we - I think it was originally my idea - put together a scheme. Hank and his colleagues would kidnap Abigail and hold her to ransom. Provided the demand was not excessive her rich father would be sure to pay.
We toyed with the idea of my being the go-between but decided it would look better if I were abducted along with Abigail. Later, when we were released her father would probably order us back to England - and if not I could give my notice. Whatever I did Hank would follow and, using the ransom money, we would together set up a small business which he and I could run.
He put the plan to the other two, who agreed to help in return for half the money and the chance to play with Abigail while the negotiations were in progress. I wasn't too sure about the last but reasoned that perhaps she deserved to experience a little of what she had so often required from me.
At the end of the following month the three men resigned and apparently disappeared from the locality. Then another week or ten days sluggishly passed until one fine morning Abigail and I set out on our regular ride. Nothing untoward happened until as usual we paused, at the furthest point of our circuit, to water the horses at a stream which ran in a small valley edged with trees and shrubs. It was from this cover that the trio emerged to capture us.
'What do you here?' Abigail demanded.
'Off your horse!' Hank commanded.
'What on earth for, my man,' she said.
'Off! I said!' Hank edged his horse close and leaning over grasped Abigail's wrist. One forceful pull and she tumbled from the saddle.
'My God, what is the meaning of this?' She was not yet aware of any danger.
'Donk hold her.' One of the other two dismounted and caught Abigail, pulling her arms behind her back. She tried to wriggle free but his strong arms gripped and held her.
'The maid-servant can ride behind me. Donk, you can throw that one across your horse. If she struggles put your hand to her arse - hard. Judd you take the ransom demand and stick it on the saddle of her nag, then turn their horses free. Make sure they head back to the ranch.'
'Release me at once. How dare you touch me,' Abigail was still struggling, ignoring me were I stood ready to mount behind Hank.
'We will make the demands, Mistress Abigail. You will do as you're told.' Hank told her.
'What are you going to do with us?'
'Hold you until we are paid. Maybe have a little fun while we wait. I hear you are partial to a man between your legs.'
'That's a filthy lie. Let me go you brute. You'll not get away with it.' She was beginning to panic. '
Donk produced a rawhide tie, moved her wrists to her front and fastened them together, then threw her across his horse.
To make tracking difficult Hank led the horses in single file up the middle of the stream. After covering nigh on two miles we left the water at a stony outcrop and made for the nearby hills. It was well past midday, the sun high and hot, before we arrived at a ramshackle cabin and barn set in a small hollow.
'This, I'm told, has been deserted for some years, most people have forgotten it exists,' Hank informed me as, rather unsteady on my feet after the long ride, I let him shepherd me toward the buildings. 'We've been using the place for the last week and haven't seen a soul.
'We'll store them in the barn - that roof's in better shape,' he called to Judd and Donk. 'I'll have this one, you two can share the boss bitch.'
He looked at me. 'Stop squirming.' A quick squeeze suggested I play up to him. We didn't want Abigail to get the idea I was part of the plot.
Donk lifted Abigail over his shoulder and carried her inside the barn. Hank took me by the arm and we followed. The light was dim, coming mainly from the open door, but as my eyes adjusted I could see there was a passage down the middle with open stalls each side and a space at the far end with a plank table and two rough chairs. They had covered the floor in the stalls with fresh straw. Carelessly Donk dumped Abigail into one of the stalls and turned to help Judd stable their mounts.
Wildly Abigail looked round. The only escape route was through the doors. She started a stumbling run for freedom, her balance somewhat upset by her bound arms. She was nearly at the door when Judd handed his horse's bridle to Donk and grabbed her in tanned arms. Lifting her off her feet he carried her back to one of the wooden columns supporting the roof. There he looped her roped wrists over a hook conveniently situated for hanging halters and feed bags. It was of a height which held her stretched up on her toes.
The animals settled, Judd and my Hank disappeared into the cabin and I made myself comfortable in the stall nearest the door. Donk lifted Abigail down and tossed her onto a pile of straw.
'You know what happens now?' he said to her.
Selfish and immoral she may have been but she wasn't short on courage. 'I am a virtuous woman. I may not be able to prevent you having your way with me, but I shall never willingly submit. Do what you will.'
'Strip,' he told her ignoring the fact she was bound.
'No. I said I wouldn't co-operate and I will not.'
He raised his hand and she drew away apparently fearing he might strike her, but all he did was run his fingers down her cheek before leaning forward to unbutton her shirt and tug it free from the waistband of her skirt. She struggled so he stopped and pulled a hunting knife from its sheath on his belt. As he touched the flat of the blade to her cheek she gasped.
'If you don't want to be cut I suggest you keep very, very still.'
Not bothering with the remaining buttons he slid the blade down the front of her shirt and sliced it to the waist. The material fell away to reveal her white, cotton chemise. Roughly he pulled her to her feet. Another rip and he was inspecting her naked breasts, running his hands across their generous flesh, squeezing their soft fullness, rolling and tweaking their points. Confused, Abigail trembled. Later she confided that she was afraid, but that his touch was arousing her need, hardening her nipples and sending joyous messages to her centre.
'Like that, do you?' He again grasped the knife and cut the waistband of her divided skirt. The material fell around her ankles revealing the absence of any panties.
Just then Judd entered clutching a half full bottle of liquor. 'My, oh my. I'm going to enjoy this one. Get on with it Donk. If you're going to hang around I'll have her first.'
Totally naked except for the rags hanging from her bound arms, Abigail stood before them trying to maintain a little dignity. Her ample breasts thrust out high and firm, her mound and slit showed plump and ready below a sparse blonde bush. I'm sure any red-blooded man would have felt an urge to take her.
'No, please no,' she begged.
'No rush. There's plenty of time; be days before they come up with the money.' Donk cupped her bare breasts and rolled their nipples between calloused fingers.
She moaned. Bending his head and putting a hand on her back he pushed a tit forward into his open mouth, briefly sucking and biting her bud. He ran his other hand down her side and round to stroke and squeeze her buns. Even from where I was I got a whiff of his masculine sweat, the grease on his hair.
His rough hand slid between her legs, found her damp slit and pushed in a forefinger. She shivered. It was clear she was both scared and excited. He looked around, 'On the table I reckon.'
I had to peer around the edge of the stall to watch as he picked her up and carried her to the end of the barn, where stood her facing the foot of the table. One hand on the back of her neck pushed her forward until her lips were touching the rough surface. Her bosom flattened against the wood as he placed her still bound arms above her head, extending them to the table's far edge. Bent over her neat buns were invitingly raised. He pushed her feet apart with his spurred boot.
'Spread 'em wide, bitch.' His spare hand unbuckled his belt and jeans. He pressed up to her backside, sliding the largest cock I've ever seen between her thighs. Momentarily he let the broad tip rest against her wet entrance.
Judd took a gulp from the bottle and joyfully told her, 'Now you know why we calls him Donkey.'
Slowly he thrust his hips forward. Initially the tightness of her hole resisted his entrance but, bit by bit he forced his way in. Ignoring her yelps and groans he made her take all of him. A moments pause and he was energetically plunging in and out. At first she just gasped, moaned and panted, but soon she was pushing her hips back to meet each thrust.