Bellway Ch. 07: Abducted

Author's Note: All characters are adults, which in this context means they are at least twenty-one years of age.

*****

Dearest Emily,

You must be quite frantic! You all must be, as would I if our positions were reversed. I wish I could reassure you somehow, that I am alive and well, at least for now, though what tomorrow will bring I know not. I know not either when this missive may be sent, if indeed ever, and it is folly indeed to bare my soul to you when this paper might be stolen at any moment.

And yet I would go quite mad without this intimate correspondence we share. I simply must tell you what has transpired, and pray that one day we will read these words together and perhaps laugh. "Do you remember that time I was kidnapped," I will say, and you will frown and reply, "Why yes, that was the summer I seduced sweet Justine and discovered the joy of bringing a blush to pale cheeks."

Ah, but it is my cheeks that have been most ferociously spanked, so that it is a torment to sit here and write. It is a donkey that writes these words, dear sister, my carrot being pen and paper, my stick being a cruel hand against my tender cheeks.

But let me return to the beginning. There is a short stretch between Bellway and the village that is hidden from view of both by the eaves of the forest. Often there are others walking there, as you know, and always before it has been safe. It is there that Charlotte and I, enjoying the sun on our way to have cake and tea, were waylaid and most roughly handled.

We were gagged, sacks put over our heads, our wrists bound, and our feeble cries and struggles were for naught.

We were carried for what seemed hours over uneven ground. Our captors did not talk to us, and seldom to each other - and then only in terse, quiet remarks. It is strange, but just being carried like that was exhausting, and the bonds and the gag bit into my flesh, or at least it felt like it.

Until at last we were dropped like sacks of potatoes to the ground and our heads uncovered. We were deep in the forest, beside a long abandoned water mill. The sun was low in the sky, though the sky was bright enough that we could see clearly.

Eight men sat around us, examining us. Ruffians all. I doubted any had had a bath in weeks, if indeed ever. Two of them were dark-skinned, clearly of African descent, but my attention was drawn to another man, one who seemed to be the leader of this gang, for it was he who spoke to us first.

He removed my gag and smiled in a friendly manner. "Do you remember me?" he asked. "Though of course the last time we met I wore a mask."

Yes, dearest sister! We have been kidnapped by the same men who accosted us so unforgivably on our journey to Bellway. My voice trembling, I said, "What are you going to do with us?"

He acted surprised. "Do with you? Why, we have rescued you! Bellway is infamous. A house of sin. None stay there who are not soon corrupted by the pleasures of the flesh. Tell me, pretty lady, has any other man claimed you as I did?"

What a question to ask! My cheeks were burning. "No," I whispered. And indeed, for all that I had experienced at Bellway, no other man had taken me as a husband would his wife.

He shook his head. "Never trust a woman." Raising his voice, he commanded, "Strip 'em, lads."

Though we screamed and fought, our bonds were cut and our dresses savagely torn from us, until we stood exposed, I in my iron corset, Charlotte with her horse's tail. I at least was protected. Charlotte had no way to defend herself from the hands that mauled her breasts or that penetrated between her thighs. She did, however, after a brief reluctance, seem willing to surrender to this mistreatment.

To my shame, I felt a moment's jealousy that Charlotte had the attentions of seven men, and I only one. "Well, now," he said, "I suppose I could crack this shell and devour the nut within. Would you like that?"

"No," I lied.

"No," he echoed, and grinned slyly. "I like that mine is the only cock your sweet cunny has known."

I thought I would die of embarrassment! Forgive me, dearest Emily, for such language, but I have been torn from polite society, and have become swiftly accustomed to words of shocking vulgarity. Of them all, I find 'cock' and 'cunny' least objectionable, and they will give the flavour of what I am now subjected to.

It is a sad truth that masked bandits are not as glamorous when unmasked. Somehow in my imagination, the one who robbed me of my innocence had grown handsome and refined, but instead he is just a man named John with dark, straight hair tied back in a messy ponytail, blue eyes that are admittedly quite piercing, and a face that would scarcely merit a second glance.

He is an intense fellow, and very determined. Not cruel for cruelty's sake, but certainly ruthless. When he looks at me, I know he will have me whether I will it or not - and I do not have the strength to deny even one man, let alone eight.

Tell me, Emily! What choice do I have? Should I take my own life rather than submit to idle whims, and thereby condemn my immortal soul for all eternity? Should I scream and fight against every demand made of me, or do as Charlotte does and embrace this new life of whoredom?

Tell me instead, how long will it be before I am found and rescued? A day? A mon[--]ear? When wi[--]ver see you again?

Ah, see how my tears erase my words.

John held me tight by the corset as he kissed me with brutal lips, his unshaven cheeks scratching me. "Get on your knees," he growled.

There was little point arguing. Beside us, Charlotte was bent over, her mouth working one man's proud member while another sought entrance from behind, and swiftly found it. My own mouth was soon employed too. I wondered if mine was the last cunny - ah, what a word! - this cock had known.

I should have been furious. I should have fought harder. But I was exhausted and without hope, and it was nice to surrender to this simple, familiar act of pleasure, even though it meant reawakening the coiling hunger within - within my cunny that is like a wild animal caged.

Out of the corner of my eye, I watched as one of the Africans took his turn, plucking the tail from Charlotte and using that same entrance for his own pleasure. As I watched that dark cock thrusting into her, I could almost feel it in me. How cruel that the key that would open me was far away. How cruel that the maidenhood this corset protects is long lost, taken by the very man who now chooses to keep me caged.

A fire of desperate need burned within my imprisoned cunny, and all I could do was focus on the cock in my mouth, so hard with urgent desire, using all the skill that Bellway had taught me, until it erupted joyfully between my lips. Like the harlot I am, I drank down every drop of that sweet essence.

*

The Africans are brothers, twins even, though not identical. Both are well endowed, James blessed with outstanding length and Will with formidable girth. This inheritance they owe, no doubt, to their father. "Sir Eduard brought my mother here from Africa," James explained as I tried to master the full length of his cock. This endeavour made it quite impossible to speak, but I encouraged him with my eyes.

"Not as a slave," he said. "She loved him, and believed he loved her." James shrugged. "Maybe he did." He sighed delightedly as my nose pressed into his belly. I know, dear sister, you have no interest in this matter, but I felt such a pride at that moment. It is strange how well the cock fits the throat, as if God made us for this purpose, so that if one's cunny is cruelly inaccessible, one's mouth with take its place.

Of course I would have preferred him within me there. Even knowing it to be quite impossible, my fingers scratched at the narrow slit, seeking a path to that terrible itch. I was dripping wet!

"We were born at Bellway, my brother and I," James said. "Sir Eduard kept our mother as a mistress, and liked to show her off to his guests at his orgies. He taught her to enjoy his perversions, but then he married Lady Grey, and broke my mother's heart."

James held my head still, his fingers coiled tightly in my hair, and began thrusting into my mouth, into my throat, and it was all I could do to catch a breath now and then. "Lady Grey took against her, and sent her away from Bellway. We were given a little money, but not enough to survive on."

He stopped talking, becoming too intent on finishing. I could feel he was close. I was no longer a participant. I was just something he was using. I wondered if I'd still be able to talk afterwards. After one last deep thrust, I felt him stiffen inside me.

James moaned with relief as his cock pulsed powerfully, pouring its essence into me. "My mother was a whore," he said. "So are you."

He pulled out abruptly, and left me kneeling there, gasping frantically for breath. I was still panting when his brother's thick cock stretched my jaw to the limit.

*

Sam and Rob are lovers. I keep telling myself that a man may love a man, just as a woman may love a woman, and yet it baffles me to see them kiss. They are circumspect in their affections for each other, their kisses furtively bestowed only when they think themselves unobserved.

And yet their ardour with Charlotte and me is the equal of any of the men. They presented their cocks to me together, each demanding the greater affection. "See how she devours your beautiful cock, Sam," Rob said.

"As it should be, Rob. Lady Grey herself had great pleasure of it, and you know she's not stuck for choice."

"She had great pleasure of mine too. Come, wench. He's had quite enough."

I switched obediently, and hoped they would say more. "Enough?" Sam cried. "She barely started! Go have a turn with the other!" But he was laughing as he said this. "It's a shame to lock someone so gifted with their mouth in an iron corset."

"She nearly had me in it once."

"Was that before she realised you were a man?"

"I'm more a man than you'll ever be... God above - she's taking my whole length!"

"She'll never manage that with mine. Leave him, lass. You're neglecting me."

I switched back. In truth, there isn't much difference in size. Sam's is perhaps a whisker longer, but he is also circumcised, which gives a man's cock a very different appearance. Not so different, however, that I couldn't take his full length the way I had Rob's.

I even managed to get both in me at the same time, their soft heads pressed together between my wide-stretched lips, and they gazed down at me with adoration as first Sam then Rob finished, and I almost choked on their combined essence.

"She's well trained," Sam said.

Rob nodded agreement. "Practice makes perfect."

*

Of them all, only Henry (pronounced the French way) is educated. He carries around with him a journal and miscellaneous papers, and makes notes about the people he meets. He has drawn a sketch of me that makes me look a model in an advert for French corsetry.

"Sir Eduard hired me to translate for him," he said as I made acquaintance with his slender cock, which was fresh from Charlotte's well used cunny. "His French is adequate, but he was in need of a native, one who could not only read but remember well enough to write every detail later."

He tapped his head. "I remember everything. It is a curse. The secret scroll that I was shown was a work of pure evil, though the hand that wrote it was masterful. It was a tale of four wealthy libertines who delighted in all manner of vice and corruption, and who married each other's daughters that they themselves had used most incestuously."

Henry shuddered in recollection. "I was persuaded to read the entirety of it, but refused to write it later, for which I was punished most severely."

When I sensed him at last to be near his end, I paused my adoration of his quivering member. "May I have some of your paper?" I asked. "I wish to write to my sister."

He laughed at that. "Oh, you will have to offer me more than that sweet mouth of yours." His eyes gleamed wickedly, and I guessed his mind.

But I was not to be so easily seduced! "Not that, sir. Never that."

"Then let's make a deal. If you promise that I will be the first, should you ever change your mind, I'll supply you with ink and paper."

Oh, Emily! It seemed such an easy promise to make, for I was fixed in my intention, but now that the image is so firmly in my mind, I find myself wavering. I am indeed a whore, to be swayed so easily into sinful desire.

*

Dear sister - if you have not disowned me as you ought - no doubt you imagine me, on my first day and night of captivity, on my knees in undiscriminating service of my captors. Sadly you are correct. I cannot excuse my behaviour, I can only beg your understanding.

Within the cold metal exterior of my iron corset I burned with a fierce heat. The constant torment that arises from being denied your own touch erodes all inhibitions in time. Being called a whore and used like one, far from waking me up from this vulgarity instead fueled the fire. Every 'cock' and 'cunny' - and other such words that I will not utter even here to you, sweet Emily - was a fresh log thrown onto the flames.

Though the orgy continued into the night, Charlotte and I were fed well, and given potent wine to drink that made us quite dizzy. Charlotte was given privacy to do her necessaries but all the men insisted on watching me. Why exactly they found it so exciting to witness my further humiliation I don't know, but I was given no respite. Barely had the flow finished than I had another cock thrusting into my mouth.

Andrew is the oldest of the group, and like a father to the others. He is a coarse Scotsman who has no patience for refined pleasure, and he used my mouth with indifference, as if my throat were my cunny. I could have been anyone, it mattered not to him. He left me choking and gasping for air, and in such a state you would have believed me fit only for the gutter.

But do not be confused into thinking I objected to this treatment. My very wretchedness brought me to a state of fulfilment that I cannot explain at all. His son Iain, who can be no older than myself, used me similarly, but pulled out at the last instant and made such a mess of my face and hair that Charlotte's face was a picture of horror. What mine must have looked like I cannot think.

*

They've made a den in the old water mill, where a fire is kept for warmth and for cooking. Andrew is in charge of that, skinning rabbits, chopping vegetables, adding various herbs, and although the resulting stew would be considered too unappealing for our more sophisticated appetites, it fills an empty belly well.

Despite my profound weariness, that first night I could not sleep. In part because the memories of my excessive behaviour kept stirring the embers of my lust, but in part also because of a growing horror at what I had done - and worse, what I might yet do.

"What is it like?" I'd asked Charlotte, gesturing awkwardly to my rear.

"Wonderful," she'd replied with a mischievous grin. "And made all the sweeter by knowing how sinful it is."

I'd been hoping for a more dissuasive answer, but what with Henry's entreaty and Charlotte's endorsement I found myself instead contemplating this further dissolution.

I had to escape! I had to get away before my debauchery was complete.

I alone was awake. I dared not try to wake Charlotte, for she was entwined with Will and James. I promised myself that I would find someone to rescue her, and crept out alone into the cold, dark night.

Alas, that was as far as I made it. John dragged me back inside, into the light of the fire. The others were quickly awake, watching with interest as John bent me over. "You belong to us now," he said, his hands caressing my behind. The corset that is such effective armour elsewhere does nothing to protect me there. "If you serve us well, we will reward you." His finger pressed for a moment at that tight, forbidden entrance and I tensed up unhappily. "If you disobey, or if you try to run away, you will be punished."

The flat of his hand smacked against my right cheek. The sharpness of it, the indignity too, forced a cry from me. "Besides," he continued, "punishment is good for one as wicked and lustful as you." Again he spanked me, this time on the left.

Again and again his hand descended. Tears rolled down the cheeks of my face, while my other cheeks raged with the offence. And just as I thought my punishment over, John yielded his space to James, and I cried out again at a fresh agony. There were six more men after, all delighting in my cries for mercy.

Thus my present discomfort, sweet Emily. I have been most severely punished, though from the wetness of my thighs you would think I had been pleasured instead. Though the punishment itself seemed unendurable and has left me acutely sensitive to any touch, the aftermath is an intense and welcome heat that has left me inexplicably grateful.

I hope one day to give this letter to you, dear sister, but I dread it too, for you will learn how utterly I have abandoned my principles.

In wretched misery, your lost and loving sister,

S.