The Lady and The Highwayman

In her position over his shoulder her head was hanging down and her face was pressed against his back. It was hard and muscular, and she could smell his masculine scent. Charlotte lifted her head to try to look around, hoping for some sign of help. As they crossed in front of the house the door opened and two men stepped out onto the front porch. They would save her!

"Help! Help!" she yelled to them. "Please help me, I am being kidnapped!"

She expected the bandit to drop her and run, but instead he stopped and put her on her feet. He took both her wrists in one of his hands and held them behind her back. The combs had come out of her hair, and long black tendrils hung over her face.

"Yes, by all means," he called to the men on the porch. "Come and help the lady."

Why was he doing this? Was he not concerned that he had been discovered? The men walked over showing no sign of urgency, and it began to dawn on Charlotte that they knew him.

"A very nice one this time, Jack," said one as they approached, and her heart sank.

"Yes, a beauty indeed, no mistake about it," said the other.

The men stared at her, their eyes traveling boldly over her from her face to her feet. She was not used to being regarded so rudely, and she realized with a shock that her nipples were hardening as if she had been caught in a draft.

"I'm taking her to the barn," Jack said. "Give me some time and then join us. Meanwhile, take the lady's maid into the house and lock her in a room."

Charlotte was horrified. What did he mean when he asked them to join him in the barn? What was going to happen to her? She swallowed and tried to maintain her composure as she spoke sternly.

"I warn you, sir. My husband is Lord Huntington and he will have half the British army looking for me," Charlotte said, in a desperate attempt to dissuade him.

"Well, that will be an improvement, as presently the entire British army is looking for me," he laughed, and the other men joined in. They seemed to have no fear of the power of the Crown. "Besides, we left your men well tied up in the woods behind the inn. By the time they are discovered we will have traveled far from the main road."

She noticed for the first time a scar on his cheek, as if he had been wounded in a sword fight. It added to the cruel cast of his handsome face, and only increased her anxiety. As the two associates walked off toward where Betsy was being held, Jack Hudson lifted Charlotte off her feet and tossed her over his shoulder again, bottom up. Her dread of the unknown fate he had in store for her made her forget her fear of the well, and she struggled to get free.

"Stop squirming," he scolded, and he brought his powerful hand down hard on her raised rear. Even through the padding of two skirts and the pantalets, she felt the sting of the blow.

"OH! You struck me! How dare you?" she screamed.

But he ignored her cries and continued to land harsh smacks on the outraged lady's round behind until her eyes filled with tears and she stopped struggling. Charlotte could feel the heat rising in her chastised bottom-cheeks, and felt her hardened nipples pressing against the bodice of her chemise. She was outraged beyond words, and yet she felt an excitement that she quickly pushed from her consciousness.

At the barn the highwayman used his foot to push open the door far enough to carry the frightened girl inside. Although the light was subdued inside the barn, several windows and openings in the upper walls allowed enough daylight in so that it was not dark. As her eyes adjusted to the lower light, she saw that although most of the floor of the barn was dirt covered with straw, there was a slightly raised wooden floor in the center of the space. Around this platform were several pillars with iron rings to which ropes were tied and in the center a long wooden table with a thick post rising up from the middle of each side. He placed Charlotte on her feet on the platform and went to close the barn door. She considered attempting to escape, but there seemed to be no place to run.

Jack Hudson approached the lady and stood looking down at her upturned face. When he raised his closed hand and brought it near her face she flinched, thinking he might strike her, but instead he stroked her soft cheek with the backs of his fingers. She was somewhat surprised by the gentle touch, and felt a flutter in her stomach like butterflies. The mixture of fear and forbidden excitement was confusing to the aristocratic woman, but she was still horrified when he said,

"Remove your dress, my lady."

She hesitated, then refused firmly with a vigorous shake of her head.

"I can do it for you if necessary," he threatened.

She remained unmoving, then spoke in a near-whisper.

"I am a woman of virtue, sir. I may not be able to prevent your evil intentions, but I shall never submit willingly. Do what you must."

"Very well, I shall enjoy this," he said as he pulled her over to one of the pillars with the iron rings.

Taking both of her hands in one of his, he raised her arms over her head and tied the rope around her wrists. When he finished, the rope was securely fastened to the ring and allowed little movement. Raising herself on her toes to relieve the pressure of the rope, she pulled at the bonds, but they would not yield. She tried one last time to dissuade him.

"Please, don't do this. Lord Huntington will pay a large ransom for my return."

"Ransom is of no interest to me, my lady. You are a very beautiful woman, and a treasure in yourself," he answered, shattering her last hope.

He then bent over, and reaching into the side of his boot withdrew a large dagger. Charlotte could not suppress a sharp intake of breath when he brought the blade up and laid the cold steel against her cheek.

"I suggest you refrain from any further struggles, lest you get cut," he warned.

The terrified aristocrat held her breath as he pulled the collar of her dress away from her slender neck and sliced down the front about six inches. The highwayman replaced the blade in his boot, then took the cut pieces of her bodice and effortless ripped her gown down the front. The fabric parted from top to bottom, revealing her cotton chemise and the upper swells of her tightly laced breasts. He brought out the razor-sharp blade again, and she watched in horror as he used it to cut open her sleeves all the way down, until her beautiful velvet travel dress fell to the ground, a worthless rag.

Charlotte was breathing rapidly as her captor stood close to her, looking down at her upturned face. He placed his hand on her waist, and she tried to recoil from the touch, but there was nowhere to go. She felt his hand slide down, tracing the womanly curve of her hip and causing a tremor to ripple through her belly.

She looked down and saw that her hard nipples were obvious now, raising the cotton fabric at the front of her chemise. She could feel the stiff tips throbbing, and hoped he wouldn't notice. But he did, and he reached up to brush the front of his open hand over them, his fingers bumping along like a washboard. Charlotte gasped at the feeling, at the same time embarrassed by this intimate liberty. No man, not even her husband, had ever handled her breasts.

"Please, don't," she whispered.

Jack Hudson walked over to a table on which sat several bottles of Madeira and goblets. He pulled the cork from one, poured some wine and drank deeply, then refilled the glass and returned to stand in front of his captive.

The front of her white cotton chemise was laced with a pink ribbon, fastened in a bow. As Charlotte stood trembling before him, the highwayman took the end of the ribbon and pulled, untying the bow and causing the top row of lacing to relax. He pulled the ribbon out of the eyelets, and continued down the front, removing the pink ribbon one row at a time. Finally the bodice was completely unlaced, her generous breasts just barely covered by the fine cotton.

"Oh, no. You mustn't. Please, please," she pleaded, but to no avail as he pulled aside the fabric and her naked breasts were revealed.

Lady Huntington was mortified, blushing furiously as a strange man looked at her uncovered bosom. Her nipples were terribly stiff, and she told herself it was the cool air and nothing more. Dipping his finger in the goblet, he transferred a drop of wine to her erect nipple, and then repeated it with the other. Hudson ran the tip of his finger over the puckered aureoles, spreading the dark liquid over the sensitive ends of her breasts, causing the poor girl to whimper softly. He bent his head and kissed her nipple, then placed his lips over the wine-soaked flesh and sucked gently.

Charlotte's whimpers turned to moans as her captor stimulated her breasts as no one had ever done before. He placed his hand on her back and pressed her forward, pushing her into his mouth. As he suckled on the sensitive tips his hand slid down her back and over her round, firm bottom. He cupped and squeezed the globes of her behind, stimulating her through the skirt and pantalets.

Charlotte tried to resist the feelings that were raging through her body. God help me, I must not submit, she thought. I am a married woman.

"No, no, stop, please," she begged him, but he paid no attention.

The handsome bandit released her over-stimulated nipples and stood up, towering over the helpless aristocrat. With no warning or hesitation he seized the open front of her chemise in his powerful hands and tore it asunder in one movement. He then easily ripped the sleeves and flung the ruined tatters aside.

Clad only in her ruffled pantalets and shoes, Charlotte stood before the cruel bandit naked from the waist up, her arms bound above her, her lovely bare breasts firm and high on her chest. He cupped the generous mounds and rolled the erect nipples between his fingers, bringing more moans and protests from the helpless beauty.

She knew what was coming next, but she had still harbored some shred of hope that he would leave her last bit of dignity. Of course it was not to be. He roughly pulled her flimsy cotton pantalets down to her ankles and off her feet, removing her shoes at the same time and throwing all onto the straw-covered ground.

Horrified, trembling with fear and shame, the lovely young Lady Huntington was completely naked before this heartless beast. She pressed her silken thighs together to protect her womanhood, trying desperately to preserve some modesty. She watched, confused, as the highwayman picked up a three-foot long wooden rod with a small iron ring on each end and knelt before her. She was mortified by the proximity of his face to her sex, but he seemed to ignore this as he seized one of her feet and wrapped a strip of rawhide around her slender ankle several times before tying it to the ring in the end of the rod. When he took her other ankle and similarly secured it to the other end of the wooden shaft her feet were forced apart in a most unseemly manner.

Now, with her bare feet bound to the spreader bar, she could not close her legs, and her arms pulled on the rope above her head. She was helpless and naked and so embarrassed that a deep rosy color spread from her scalp to her upper chest. As if her nudity were not humiliating enough, her long shapely legs were forcibly spread so that she could not protect her delicate sex. As the cool air wafted between her thighs, she could feel that she was moist, and this was even more distressing. How disgraceful it would be if she became aroused and he found out. Her mother had said that only a 'common strumpet' would allow herself to enjoy carnal pleasure with her husband, so what did it mean if she was becoming stimulated by this horrible man's shocking abuse?

Charlotte closed her eyes as Jack Hudson ran his hands along her sides, reaching around to stroke her back and then squeeze her bottom cheeks, allowing his fingertips to rest in the deep crevice between them. Her face was against his shoulder, and she could smell his masculine scent, his leather vest, the smell of the outdoors and the roads he traveled. His hand caressed her hip and slid over her naked belly, and she gasped as his fingers moved between her legs. Her mound was covered with a patch of silky fine hair, and below that the lips of her sex were almost bare. He stroked the tender soft inside of her upper thigh and then touched her pussy, his fingers stroking along the dewy crease. God help me, she thought, I am wet and he knows it. His finger slid through the cleft, not just wet but soaking. Her juices were flowing freely, coating his fingers and lubricating the violation of her body.

"No, please stop. You must not...must not...must not..." she chanted as his finger slid between her the plump petals of her innocent sex and stroked the slick inner flesh. He found the erect nub of her clit nestled at the top of her crease and rolled it around under his fingertip. She gasped and moaned, her eyes still tightly closed and her head thrown back. She had never felt anything like this before, had never imagined that such sensations dwelt within her own body.

"You can't...I never...I had no idea..." she whispered as he played with her pussy like it was an instrument, drawing beautiful music from her throat.

The highwayman pressed one finger inside her, moving it around and rubbing the snug inner walls of her canal. He slid deeper, stimulating her secret core and making her cry out. By the time he stopped exploring her pussy, her juices had trickled down her thighs in little glistening trails all the way to her knees. She had never been touched like this, both literally and figuratively. She had some time ago lost the strength to stand on her spread and bound feet and simply hung by her arms from the ropes.

When she felt her captor lift her around the waist with one arm, Charlotte opened her eyes and looked up to see him untying her hands. She had regained some of her senses and tried pleading with the handsome bandit again.

"Please, I can't let you. Please release me, stop this, stop this, please," the dark-haired beauty begged.

As he held her off the ground with one arm, the highwayman reached between her thighs and stroked her moist slit. He made her feel that her most private place belonged to him, was his to do with as he wished.

"Can you say that this does not please you? That you truly want me to stop?"

"It's not my fault, please, I can't help it," she whimpered. "I don't want you to touch me!"

"Liar!" he accused her, as he wiped the evidence of her arousal on the side of her breast and carried her over to the table with the posts on the sides. The hardwood top was several inches thick and the surface was smooth and polished.

He placed her on her back and lifted her hands over her head, tying each wrist to a ring at the corners of the table so that her arms were once again bound. He then untied the spreader bar from her feet, dropping it to the floor. He lifted her legs and bent them back until they were straight up in the air, then tied each foot to the corresponding post on the side of the table.

Lady Huntington, accustomed to being treated with the utmost respect and deference, was now doubled back and bound to the table in the most appalling, obscene position imaginable. Her naked crotch was spread wide open, and her behind was elevated, exposing her tight bottom hole. Her pussy was soaking wet, cream running down to coat the little pink ass pucker and then collect in a little puddle on the polished wood tabletop.

"Oh, God, please, what are you doing?" she moaned.

She was completely helpless, more exposed and open then she could have ever imagined possible, and utterly at the mercy of this cruel, depraved outlaw. He walked around to stand at the foot of the table, facing her spread crotch. She looked down over her heaving breasts and through her elevated legs. The hard face that looked back terrified her, his long hair tied back, his cheek deeply scarred.

Jack Hudson stroked the backs of her thighs, then ran his fingers over her open pussy, sliding up and down the center of her slit. He rolled her clit around and then slipped a finger inside her again and removed it, tormenting the poor girl with conflicting feelings. But in her wildest imagination she could not have expected what he did next. The wicked man bent forward so that his face was almost touching her most secret and private place, and gently kissed her on the sex!

"Oh, no, no, you mustn't! What are you doing?" she pleaded.

But he ignored her and used his tongue to tease her throbbing slit, licking along the center and finally flicking the tip over her hard, twitching clit. This was beyond all decency—rude, obscene, vile—and the most wonderful thing she had ever felt. He continued to lick her, traveling from her clit all the way down to probe her pussy hole and even tease at her bottom pucker, then back up to Charlotte's twitching clit again.

The noble lady was moaning continuously, tossing her head from side to side, beyond shame, beyond caring that this was so wrong, just melting with the incredible sensation of having him use his mouth on her. When he stood up she didn't want him to stop, and was momentarily bold enough to say so.

"Oh, God forgive me, don't stop. I never imagined, never."

"There will be plenty of time for that later, my lady," he said with a triumphant chuckle. "I have other plans for you right now."

Charlotte was more confused than she had ever been. The depraved act he had performed on her helpless body should have repelled her, but instead it had felt intensely pleasurable. She knew she must fight that reaction, she must preserve her virtue in spirit even if she was helpless to stop the ravishment of her body. She could be forgiven for what she was powerless to prevent, but not if she surrendered to base carnal urges. Then she would become, as her mother had warned, a common slut.

While she had been resolving this, her bandit captor had brought over a leather bag, which he hung from a hook on one of the pillars. Opening it he removed some small metal objects and came to stand beside the table. Charlotte felt dreadfully vulnerable. Her legs were bound in the air with her most private area forcibly spread open. She pulled at the ropes that held her arms, trying to get loose and perhaps be able to cover herself with her hands. But it was pointless—she knew that even if she did manage to free a hand the beast would just tie her up again.

Jack Hudson opened his hand and Charlotte saw that he held two pieces of metal, their purpose a mystery to the helpless lady. He placed one on the table and took one in his fingers. When he squeezed it at one end a pair of metal jaws opened at the other. It was a small silver clamp!

"What...what is that? What are you doing?" she asked desperately.

But the highwayman ignored her question as he took the tip of her breast between his fingers and placed the tender flesh inside the jaws of the clamp, releasing it to close on her nipple.

"Oh God, no! Stop, stop, what are you doing?" she cried as the metal device pinched the delicate end of her breast. She was staring wide-eyed at her nipple, near panic as she anticipated the most excruciating pain. It did hurt, but not as badly as she expected, and he waited while she calmed down a bit.

When he repeated the brutal offense with her other nipple she was less agitated, but still alarmed. While Lady Huntington was pleading with him the remove the clamps, she was not aware that her exposed pussy was pouring forth a stream of juice. Jack Hudson put his hand between her legs and patted her soaking sex, eliciting a whimper from the tormented woman.

"What is this all about, then?" he taunted her. "You protest, my lady, while your precious little pussy tells a different story." And he punctuated the accusation by slipping a finger inside her and stirring it around.