Being the Maid Ch. 06

WHAP! Scream. Bridget shuddered and Garrett's mouth tightened, he stepped forward faster than she could back up and caught her up in his arms, holding her still against him as he covered her ears. She shivered against him, comforted despite herself. It was hard not to feel safe and protected in Garrett's arms, even if it was a lie.

Despite his care though, she could still hear the beating and fear was coursing through her. It took every ounce of willpower not to try and run from the terrible scene, even knowing that she could never escape and that it would only result in her taking the Princess' place. After all, if Patrick was willing to treat a member of the royal family so brutally, how would he treat a simple maid?

She knew it was over when Garrett finally let her go and turned around. Perhaps he thought that she wouldn't peek around his body, but of course she did. Even though part of her didn't want to see the damage, she couldn't stop herself from looking. Patrick was standing to the side, breathing heavily, with a large bulge in his breeches and the belt hanging down to the ground from his hand. Lust was clear on his face as he looked at the Princess' beaten backside, her entire rump and upper thighs covered with red welts. Samuel looked just as lustful as Patrick, now standing and holding the Princess down so that he could watch the beating. Only Blaine wasn't paying attention, he'd sat down and was eating.

"Damn slut enjoys it too much," Patrick said in tones of disgust. "It can't even be considered a punishment. Let her up Samuel."

What? Bridget gaped at him and then turned her head back to look at the Princess. Really look at her. Her hips were moving up and down in an unmistakable rhythm, her moans eagerly erotic. Most telling were the slick juice coating swollen nether lips and upper thighs; somehow Bridget hadn't even noticed that detail when she'd first looked

The Princess had enjoyed the beating? It seemed impossible but the evidence couldn't be refuted. Princess Eleanor stood and turned to Patrick, giving him a noble glare worthy of a basilisk as her skirts fell back down to cover her. Any doubts Bridget might have had about the Princess' arousal were immediately wiped away when the Princess spoke.

"Shut up and fuck me."

The bandit leader laughed uproariously. "Well I have taught you all the proper words, but you are not in charge Princess."

She glared at him. "I know you want to." And gave a pointed look to his breeches.

"I want to fuck, aye, but it need not be you. Obviously you do not appreciate me as you should. Tonight the men may have you and I will take the maid and tomorrow we'll see whether or not you've learned your lesson."

Princess Eleanor gasped at the same time Bridget did, although the Princess' gasp was outraged and Bridget was terrified.

Immediately Garrett turned around and pinned Bridget in place with his eyes, which were darkly stormy, drowning out the Princess' indignant protests. "Don't worry, he won't treat you the same way he does her. I promise."

Somehow she believed him. The expression on his face was almost as terrifying as what she'd just seen. Emotions roiled in her. Terror, uncertainty, and an overwhelming desire for Garrett to be something other than a bandit who had captured and used her. The more he took care of her safety and comfort, the harder it was to remember that he was not truly her friend. That he used her in the same way the other men did. For a moment she almost hated him for the confliction that he aroused in her.

"Do no lasting harm," Patrick ordered from behind Garrett. "Otherwise use her as you will. We'll deal with the nobleman's house tomorrow. The difference of a day won't matter."

The Princes shrieked as she was picked up over Samuel's shoulder, struggling and hurling curses at Patrick as the grinning Samuel carried her over to the tent, Blaine already following. Feeling rooted in place, Bridget watched as Garrett approached Patrick and the two men talked in low tones that she couldn't hear, and she was too afraid to try and move closer to listen. She could already hear the cries beginning in the tent where Samuel and Blaine had taken the Princess and she couldn't shut those out either. More than anything, today had driven home how abnormal her circumstances had become, how dependent on these men and at the same time how frustrating. There was no control over her life or her wellbeing other than at the whim of whatever man happened to be ordering her around at the moment.

Even Garrett did so, as if he knew what was best for her! If he really wanted what was best for her then he would have helped her escape before this. He'd made it clear on the first day of her capture that she was there to serve the men's needs, and she'd almost forgotten that until now. While he might promise to keep Patrick from beating her the same way he had just abused the Princess, Bridget remembered his words about how keeping her healthy and sane was to the benefit of the men so that they could have use of her longer.

Lowering her head she gripped her hands in her skirts and stared at the ground to keep from glaring at the two men across from her. The fragile stability that she'd found since being captured was falling apart around her. Surely the men would be doubly on their guard against escape attempts now that the Princess had already been caught trying; and Patrick had obviously seen Bridget's desire to escape as well. Now what did she have to work towards?

Closing her eyes she tried to buoy her sinking spirits. So it might take longer. She could do this. Deal with it. Lull them. Patrick probably wouldn't care if she tried to escape... and she'd learned from the Princess' failure. Take a horse. And food. Know exactly where her destination was and how long it would take to get there. And no need to factor the other woman into her plans anymore. Bridget felt quite cold as to the Princess' fate now. Obviously the Princess felt no need to help her and perhaps it was selfish of her to adopt the same morals.

The biggest obstacle to escape was also now obvious. Garrett. The first man that Patrick had called for when he realized that the Princess was gone. The man who had easily tracked the other woman. Looking up at the two men she was struck again by how handsome they both were. Patrick was sunshine and light with his light hair and eyes and Garrett was twilight and shadows. Tall, muscular and tanned, authoritative men who knew far more than she did about life in the woods. How could this possibly work?

But what other choice did she have?

Bridget looked down again as they both looked over at her, breathing hard with fear. Why did Garrett have to confuse her so? She had to remember that the feeling of safety she had around him was a lie. So he might have seduced her rather than forced her last night... she felt a wash of shame for her wanton behavior. But was it so wrong to want a companion, a friend, in this lonely world of hers? As long as she didn't get attached, as long as she remembered that he was really the enemy, then hopefully it wouldn't matter if she pretended otherwise on occasion just so that she didn't always feel so alone.

Right now she was perfectly willing to feel grateful that he was attempting to convince Patrick not to treat her the same way he did Princess Eleanor, although her gratitude didn't extend very far because she knew it was to Garrett and the other men's benefit if Patrick didn't damage their toy. After all, Patrick was truly only interested in Bridget for one evening, from his words he fully intended to take a much chastened Princess back into his tent tomorrow.

"Come maid," Patrick said and she looked up at him. He wasn't watching her, just gesturing imperiously as he turned towards the tent with the men and the Princess. Garrett was looking at her though, his eye dark and his expression almost angry. Had Patrick refused to treat her well? As she moved towards Patrick she looked questioningly at Garrett, but he just watched her as she followed Patrick towards the tent. He looked almost angry.

Thoughts about Garrett were driven from her mind as they entered the tent and she saw the activities the three were engaged in. The Princess was on top of Blaine in much the same position that Bridget had been on Garrett last night when she 'rode' him, but Samuel was behind her, wedging the Princess' soft white body between the two hard, muscular ones. The Princess was wailing and cursing, although she was also moaning in enjoyment as the two men used her simultaneously, Samuel's hands gripping and digging into her abused buttocks as he thrust energetically into her back hole. Bridget swayed, feeling faint. She hadn't even known that was possible!

A hand gripped her and pulled her over, she stumbled as she practically fell against Patrick, still watching the shocking tableau in front of her. The bandit leader reached into the top of her bodice and squeezed her breast, obviously enjoying watching his two men take the Princess in such a rude manner. His fingers pinched her nipple and she bit back a moan as she shuddered. Samuel looked over and grinned at her, his eyes alight with hot fire and Bridget immediately looked away, feeling exposed. It was almost like he was telling her that he wanted her in that debased position, trapped between his and Blaine's thrusting shafts.

Movement caught her eye and she found herself looking at Garrett, whose expression was almost fierce, like he was glaring at her.

"Gawd she's noisy," Patrick said laughing as the Princess turned her head to hurl epithets at him even as she moaned louder with pleasure. "Garrett, give her something to shut her up."

It was shockingly hard to watch as Garrett walked around to the front of the Princess, undoing his breeches and shoving his own rod into her mouth, one hand in her hair to hold her head up. Like the strapping, she wanted to look away but she found that she couldn't. Something sick and jealous churned in her belly, but that wasn't possible was it? Why should she care where Garrett found her pleasure?

Watching him thrust his cock into the Princess' mouth, she realized that she did care. She barely even noticed as Patrick moved behind her, his erection rubbing up against her skirts as he took both of her breasts in his hands, toying with her body as he watched the Princess take man meat in all three of her available holes.

Feeling nauseous from her traitorous emotions, Bridget looked up and away from the Princess' stuffed lips and found herself meeting Garrett's eyes. He wasn't watching the Princess pleasure him, he was watching Patrick's hands on her breasts. Although his face was blank, she somehow got the impression that he was angry. Certainly he was being far rougher with the Princess' mouth than he had ever been with hers.

Or was she only fooling herself to make herself feel better about the inexplicable possessiveness that came over her as she watched him use another woman for pleasure?

Unable to take it anymore, Bridget turned her head up towards Patrick. "Can we go to the other tent?" she whispered to him. While she might not be able to stop him from using her body, hopefully she could at least stop watching Garrett with the Princess. If it caused her this much turmoil to see Garrett in her mouth, how much worse would it be later when he used her in other ways?

This was only because he had been the kindest to her, of course she felt a bond with him. And if she had ever needed to know exactly how fake that bond was, this was the definitive proof. But that didn't mean she wanted to watch it any longer.

"Eager are you?" Patrick asked loudly with a laugh, and Bridget blushed and looked at the ground in shame again. That wasn't what she had intended him to think but better than that him realizing the truth. That she had inappropriate feelings about Garrett. "By all means, let us seek some privacy."

She couldn't help but glance at Garrett one last time as they left, but his eyes were closed and his head thrown back. Not looking at her at all. Hardening her heart, she knew it was good for her to have seen his uncaring. She was nothing more than a body for him to use and of course he wanted that body to be in good condition. Like Samuel and Patrick he had his preferences about how he wanted a woman to behave in his bed, and just because it was a pleasurable experience being there it obviously didn't mean anything.

Now it should be easier to remember that.

**********

Bridget was eager to go pleasure Patrick? What was her game? Was she trying to gain some leniency from him? But Garrett had already promised her that he wouldn't allow Patrick to harm her. And he wouldn't. Patrick was quite aware that Garrett would not countenance harm to the little maid. It hadn't been hard to convince the other man to tread more easily with her, after working his anger out on the Princess' soft ass.

She had a talented mouth too, the humming moans working their way up his cock and spine with ripples of pleasure. Gripping her hair he thrust harder, opening his eyes now that he no longer had to watch Patrick fondling Bridget, because with his eyes closed all he could think about was what might be happening in the other tent. He truly did not want to think about Bridget in Patrick's tent. But even more than that, he didn't want to examine why he felt that way.

Staring down in to the haughty face beneath him, attractive as it was with his dick sheathed between her lips, he couldn't stop himself from picturing another's.

*******

The inside of Patrick's tent was smaller than the tent than the tent that the other men shared but not by much. His bedroll was in the center and his saddlebags off to the side. Bridget went and stood by his bedroll, looking down at the ground with her heart pounding. The scene in the other tent had unsettled her, not just because of the perverse sexual act that she'd watched, but because of her own emotions surrounding Garrett's involvement in it. As if she'd needed more proof that she'd forgotten he was also the enemy.

At least with Patrick there was little chance of forgetting. The large man pulled off his shirt, revealing his muscular chest and shoulders, a thatch of blonde hair curling in the center of his chest, although his stomach was almost completely bare of hair. His body hair was a darker blonde than the corn silk gold of the hair on his head.

"Strip," he ordered as he went over to the saddlebags. Bridget divested herself of her clothing, letting it fall to the floor. When Patrick approached her again it was with a length of rope in his hands. "Hold out your hands in front of you."

Trembling, Bridget obeyed. Fear coursed through her as he twined the rope around her wrists, securing them together and leaving her even more helpless than before. There had been no real need to bind her, it was just another way for him to assert his power over her and to make her even more vulnerable. Despite his words about liking the Princess' fight, he seemed to be taking a completely different approach with Bridget... unless he'd hoped that she might try to fight her bonds?

"Lie down," he said, smiling almost as cruelly as Samuel, as he pulled out his belt knife. Bridget obeyed immediately, her legs feeling too weak to hold her anyway. "Put your arms above your head."

It was incredibly hard to obey that command, stretching her arms up and over her head as he stood over her with that knife, exposing her stomach and breasts. She was panting, unable to slow her breathing as she struggled not to panic completely. There was no hope of wrestling the knife away from him and stabbing him with it, no matter how much she might want to.

"Spread your legs."

Patrick knelt between them, his beautiful blue eyes practically glowing. He looked like some kind of demented angel, sent to torment rather than save her. With the knife turned at an angle, he slid the cold steel down between her breasts and over her stomach. Bridget whimpered in fear. It was just enough pressures that she could feel it tracing her soft skin, but not enough to actually cut. Instinctively she pulled in her stomach, trying to move her flesh away from its edge. The knife seemed to fill her vision as it traced a path back up and around her breasts, until he pressed the cold flat of the blade against her nipple and the little bud pebbled beneath its touch.

Then Patrick was leaning forward and Bridget's breathe caught in her throat, the knife still pressing down on her soft breast flesh, as he licked a tear off of her cheek. "You wouldn't like pain, would you little maid? Not like your mistress. But fear... fear is almost as arousing."

He leaned into her, allowing her to feel the bulge in his breeches as it pressed against her sex as he licked another tear away from the other side of her face. Some of the panic faded, although the fear remained, as he seemed to hint that he wasn't going to actually hurt her. But of course, there was always the chance. Pulling back, Patrick watched her face as he trailed the blade sideways across her chest, circling the tip around her nipple as it slowly hardened, pricking it enough to sting without actually piecing her skin. Trying not to breathe too much, to keep her chest from rising and falling while the tip of Patrick's knife was threatening her, she couldn't stop herself from whimpering. Which he obviously enjoyed.

"You're so much easier than the Princess," he said in a low, almost gleeful, voice. "So wonderfully docile. I think I'm enjoying this change of pace." She stared up at him, confusion warring with her fear, and he laughed as he slid the blade back down her stomach, scraping delicately against her skin. "Spread your legs further, little maid."

Closing her eyes against his penetrating gaze, she obeyed, trying to stem the rising panic as he began to traced the knife over her creamy thighs, teasing the curls on her mound with the deadly instrument.

"Don't move an inch," he whispered, his voice hoarse with lust. Bridget opened her eyes to see that he was no longer watching her face, but staring between her legs as he began to tease her feminine folds with the blade. A scream caught in her throat as she froze, her muscles trembling with the effort of not moving, afraid that any movement would mean harm.

The blade had warmed slightly against her body but it still felt cold to her heated folds, which were surprisingly slick, as if the terror that had filled her had somehow spurred her body into readying itself for a sexual assault. It slowly warmed as Patrick slid it up and down her slit, coating it with her juices. His gaze was raptly fascinated, watching the steel parting her pink nether lips, the arousing combination of a weapon and sweet female flesh.

When he finally removed the threat of steel from her sex, Bridget's muscles felt like they were suddenly made of water, the tension leaving her body with a rush of relief that she had not been harmed. Patrick leaned over her again, bringing the blade to her lips, his face hovering above hers as he leaned on his arm to the side of them.

"Lick it clean."

Almost relieved, Bridget immediately lifted her head and began licking her juices off of the blade. The musky sweetness with its hint of bitter rolled around her mouth, her scent filling her nostrils. How could her body have become aroused under such circumstances? Patrick pressed the length of his body against hers, warm and hard, apparently enraptured as he watched her lick her own honey from his knife.

Suddenly he pulled back and swiftly undid his breeches before falling on top of her again. She gasped as his weight hit her, his muscled body pressing her into the ground as he stretched out over her. Both of his hands pressed against bound wrists, the knife still clasped in his grip, pushing her arms up further and stretching her underneath him. The blunt head of his cock probed her folds and then he began to move his hips, pushing his thick tip into her body. Groaning, he pushed harder, spearing her beneath him and she spread her legs wider as she cried out, her back arching as he opened her core.