The Devil's Surrogate (22 page)

'Aye,' Crawley
mused, 'more than I expected to see offered.'

'Maybe there's
more still?'

'As like as
not there is,' Crawley said, 'but to waste time even thinking about
that would be foolish. No,' he tapped the parchment with his
knuckles, 'this is well worth our time as it is, and we'll not risk
losing that for sheer greed. I am not a greedy man, Silas, am I?'
He stared at Grout, who dutifully shook his head.

'No, Master
Crawley, you ain't a greedy man. So, you'll give them the
girl?'

'Yes, but
they'll not enjoy her company, nor she her freedom, for long. You
see, I fear I may have been a little careless in her hearing.'

'Ah...' Grout
looked sympathetic. 'We can't risk leaving a wagging tongue in our
wake.'

'Indeed not,
though it'll be a while before that particular tongue wags again,
in any case. Now, let's think this out. You'll have to go to the
inn, of course, and say we're agreeable to the terms of the
bargain.'

'And what will
you tell the village people?' Grout asked. 'They're out there now
gawking at the wench and waiting to see me drop her.'

'I'll tell
them,' Crawley decided, straightening his shoulders, 'that I have
been praying in here for her soul and that my prayers have been
answered by her wishing to salve the last of her guilt before she
goes to meet her creator.'

'Her guilt as
a witch?'

'Her guilt as
a murderess,' Crawley said. 'You go out and have her fetched back
in here. Tell everyone that I wish for her to be given one last
chance to pray before the altar with me, and afterwards we shall
say she confessed to the murders of several travellers and agreed
to take us to where she buried the bodies. We'll tell them the
hanging is postponed until dawn. They'll not mind that too much,
even if it means they need to be out of their flea-ridden beds
earlier than usual to see it. Our fine new friends will make sure
none of the villagers follow us so we can take her out to the
agreed meeting place unobserved. Then all we need do afterwards is
swear it was an intended trick on her part, and that the old woman
and the miller's son tried to surprise us and take her. Of course,
after a brave but brief skirmish, we managed to kill them, and then
brought the girl back here to be executed in the proper
manner.'

'What if the
old woman and the lad are indeed armed?' Grout sounded worried.

Crawley smiled
at him. 'Oh, I anticipate they will be,' he said, 'but they'll not
be able to shoot at us for fear of hitting the girl, and by the
time we come up to them and produce our pistols from beneath our
capes, it'll be too late. Of course, we'll need to discharge their
weapons and perhaps put a ball hole through your sleeve to show how
close you came to paying the price of their treachery. That
innkeeper and the pretty soldier boy captain are sure to ask
questions, so we'll have their answers ready for them.'

She stood
before him now, legs astride, head held high, as she reached down
to pry apart the lips of her desire. He stood watching quietly, a
gentle smile playing across his usually cruel lips, one hand
holding his erect passion, the other stroking his chin as if he
were lost in thought.

'Master, do I
please you?' she asked quietly. Between her fingers she could feel
the engorged stiffness of her clitoris jutting defiantly.

He nodded.
'Yes, slave fawn, you do please me,' he said. 'But first I must
cleanse your soul and purge all the ill spirits from you. Fetch the
implements to me.'

She released
her grip on her moist lips, and then turned gracefully and padded
across the thickly carpeted floor to the gold-covered table. Her
breathing was shallow but also slow and rhythmic as she picked up
the things he would need.

Back before
him once more, she sank slowly to her knees and placed her hands
dutifully behind her back, lowering her shaven head while he moved
behind her to secure the golden cuffs around her wrists. The golden
collar followed, and the dull clicks as he secured each of the
items in turn were like a clock marking the passage of time into
her new self.

'You are mine,
fawn slave,' he whispered, bending close to her ear.

She nodded
almost imperceptibly. 'Yes, master,' she answered in the same
reverent tone, 'yes, I am yours, and you should make me deserving
of your ownership.'

He picked up
the golden-handled whip and paid out the nine long tails hanging
from it. Then he bent again and offered the end of the handle to
her lips. She parted them, sucking it into her mouth, and then
drawing back from it to place a gentle kiss upon it. 'Thank you,
master, for the punishment I am about to receive,' she said,
raising her eyes to his.

He smiled,
nodded, and then moved around behind her.

'I love you,
master!' she cried, and the first crack of the whip's fiery tongues
across her back sent shivers of delight throughout her entire
being. Between her legs the hunger had begun again, and she
screamed because she could not move her hands to it. Her master
would not want her to, she knew, for only he was permitted to
satisfy and fuel it.

The whip fell
again, this time the thongs curling around in front of her and
wrapping themselves around her hanging breasts, drawing lines of
red across her pale flesh and plucking at her bulging nipples. She
screamed again, wanting to touch them, to knead them, to offer her
full globes the better for him to punish them.

'Patience, my
fawn,' he said, as if understanding her desire. 'Patience and
contrition and you shall be fulfilled.' He reached down and pinched
each of her swollen teats in turn, and then he stood back and the
braids whistled through the air once more. Three more times the
whip lashed out and she was singing now, calling her surrender to
him in words she did not know she understood. And then it was the
time and she rose unbidden, turning to where he now sat upon a
golden stool, hands at his sides, his member jutting up from his
lap. She smiled and shook her head to flick away tears of joy as
she approached him. Straddling his knees, she opened herself to
him, lowering herself down onto his full length in one impaling
thrust.

'Master!' she
cried, and his teeth bared as fangs descending into the soft flesh
of her neck. He took from her as he gave to her, and she gave
herself completely and unreservedly to him...

The wagon,
although smaller than the one Sam Hawkin used to bring the slave
girls from London to the Hall, was still barely able to pass along
the narrow tracks that ran through the woods of the Grayling
estate. Daniel Portfield had to concentrate to prevent the wheels
from straying off into the softer ground at the edges. The lone
horse knew his territory, however, and between them they were able
to affect a comfortable progress.

Daniel chewed
reflectively on a thick stem of wild grass as he drove. He had
hoped not to be chosen as one of the collectors today, for the job
would take until it was all but dark and the opportunity to avail
himself of any of the captured bird-girls did little to compensate
for the boredom in between. After all, he reasoned, back at the
barns there were scores of females from which to choose, and all
without the penalty of having to guide this damned old wagon along
the winding maze of mud tracks he was now on. At least he had been
lucky so far; he had barely covered half a mile when the black-
garbed hunter emerged from the bushes and hailed him. The girl he
had caught lay securely trussed not twenty yards from the track,
and between them they hefted her up and carried her over to the
wagon. The hunter thanked Daniel, pressed a shilling coin into his
hand as a reward, and set off back towards the Hall.

An hour later,
however, and he still had not added to his cargo. He passed two
other hunters, but neither of them had so far made a 'kill', and
after giving him vague salutes of acknowledgement, they had
disappeared back into the woods to continue their quest. Daniel
peered up through the trees towards the sky, noting the position of
the sun. The afternoon was drawing towards evening now. Soon it
would be time to consider running down any loose bird-girls
himself, not that they could come to any harm or get into any
mischief from being left out all night. As his cousin had said,
they would make their way back soon enough when they grew thirsty
and hungry, but the more of them that were returned for the evening
festivities, the better it would go down with the guests. It would
also save Adam the trouble of preparing too many substitutes from
amongst the girls who had been left behind.

He sighed,
drew back on the traces to signal the old horse to stop, and
dropped lightly down onto the grass beside the track. Why waste all
this time looking for something when you had it in your hands
already? These stupid nobs who spent their time running around
after a bunch of dim-witted wenches dressed up in feathers would
scarcely know whether they were fucking something they had caught
themselves, or whether they had their cocks inside a girl who had
spent most of the afternoon chained to a wall in one of the holding
pens. But then again, if he missed one that had been caught and
trussed up already, she would hardly be able to make her own way
back. Then it would be up to the keepers to scour the grounds for
her and Grayling would be down on Adam like a ton of stone blocks.
Daniel sighed again. He would continue on, as he knew he must, but
first no one would blame him for taking a short rest. And the girl
in the back of the wagon would probably be grateful to have the use
of her legs again, even if only for a few minutes, and at the
expense of having them wrapped around him while he ploughed her
furrow.

He saw her as
he was about to lower the tailboard. She wandered slowly out from
between the trees away to his right and began walking unsteadily
towards him. He leaned against the wagon and grinned, for even at
this distance there was no mistaking those magnificent mounds
bobbing up and down before her. It was the girl who had arrived
with Sam's last but one consignment, the girl all the lads had
nicknamed Titty Kitty. By all accounts she was quite something, and
she had been tamed and trained quicker than most. But such had been
her popularity, in particular the demand for those magnificent
melons, that Daniel had so far not had the opportunity to sample
her for himself.

And now here
she was, all neatly parcelled up in her bird costume, limping
slightly and obviously no longer interested in running. He looked
over at the back of the wagon and at the bird-girl lying hunched in
her tight and excruciatingly uncomfortable bondage. 'Just you lie
still a bit longer,' he said, 'while I catch our little friend over
there, and then I'll loosen the ties on your legs for a bit while I
loosen a few things for her.' He chuckled at his quick wit, and
taking up one of the coils of thin cord from inside the wagon began
walking towards the approaching Kitty.

Adam Portfield
stood motionless in the doorway of the barn room for a few moments
considering the scene before him while listening intently for any
sound of movement from outside. The girl, Sarah, lay on her back,
her legs open, her hands between her thighs. She was groaning
quietly, but her eyes were closed and she appeared not to be aware
of his presence. In fact, Adam realised as he stepped further into
the chamber, she did not seem aware of anything at all except
herself.

Leaving her
for a moment, he went and knelt beside the prone figure of Ross.
The young handler was completely unconscious, but not dead; Adam's
expert probing quickly established a pulse in his neck. He frowned.
It was possible Ross had been careless and the girl had managed to
hit him with something while his back was turned. Yet even if it
was she who felled him, Adam doubted she had been the one to truss
him as securely as he was now. The knots showed expertise, and the
manner in which his bound ankles had been drawn back up to double
his legs behind him, and then tied off to the cords about his
wrists, suggested the person responsible knew a thing or two about
immobilising prisoners.

He took his
knife from his belt and quickly sliced through the web of lashings.
Ross was unlikely to regain consciousness for a good while yet, but
at least when he did so he would not have the added discomfort of
recovering circulation. With a grunt of annoyance, Adam stood up
again and moved over to the girl.

Despite her
shorn head and the grimy stains now streaking her face, he
recognised her. This was the girl the women had taken from the
coach the other night, the prim and proper little miss who had
protested her abduction in such haughty tones. A virgin upon her
arrival, she had been passed on to Ross for her induction into the
world of slavery. Well, Adam mused, it seemed the lad had done a
good job, for not only was she still completely unaware of him
looming over her, she was now steadily masturbating. Her sex was
swallowing her fingers and her clitoris was jutting from between
them, shining a deep pink.

He scratched the side of his jaw and took a half pace
backwards. Yes, she would fetch a fine price all right if this
exhibition were anything to judge Ross's progress by. In less than
forty-eight hours she had transformed from frozen maiden
into
this
. He
grinned, but then quickly frowned again.

Later perhaps,
he told himself firmly. First there were things to be done and
questions to be answered. If the girl wasn't responsible for Ross's
predicament, then someone else was, and that someone would hardly
have happened upon the pair by accident. Adam's gaze scoured the
room and quickly lit upon what he needed. With a muttered oath, he
strode quickly to the corner and picked up the water bucket.