Authors: Jennifer Jane Pope
Thyme II Thyme (25 page)
'Well, you can't stay here with her, Andy. Once we get the carriage sorted out we'll need to get going straightaway, before someone hears us. Those things aren't exactly quiet, you know, and horses make a lot of noise all by themselves.'
'No, I shan't stay here,' he said, 'but
she
will, only we won't let Erik know that. You and he will go on ahead and let him think I'm bringing the bitch along just close enough so I can make sure everything's going smoothly. If you can grab one of the maids, and get everything sorted on the food and clothes front, I'll do a quick scout of the stables and make sure the coast is clear, but I'll keep out of sight until everything is hitched up and ready to go.'
'And we just leave Megan here?' I asked uncertainly.
He nodded. 'We take Erik along, but Megan stays here. It might just win us a bit of extra time, especially if she takes your place.'
'My place?' I echoed. 'How do you mean?'
'Well, she's a bit bigger than you, but I reckon that doggie suit thing will fit her well enough, and on all fours she won't look as tall as she is. We do her up as if she were you, complete with the gag thing, and let her stay here. If anyone comes looking for her in the morning, they'll find the doggie girl they expect to see and assume Erik is somewhere about his business. And if we're really lucky, they may not realise the carriage is gone. If someone does realise it's missing and Erik's not about the place, they might assume he's taken it to go somewhere on one of Meg's errands.'
'Maybe,' I said dubiously, 'but they'll realise the truth soon enough.'
'Not soon enough for us not to be twenty or thirty miles up the road from here.'
'But where are we going to go?'
Andy shrugged. 'Who cares? Anywhere has got to be an improvement over this place, although I must say, this is a very cute body.' He giggled.
I shook my head. Some things never changed.
'Anyway,' he went on seriously, 'once we get in the clear we can stop and think properly. Right now, we don't know how long we're going to stay like this, so the sooner we get out of here, the better for Angelina and Indira when they get their bodies back again.'
'Okay,' I relented. His plan made sense. It was unlikely that Angelina would act and react like me, and Indira, even though she was apparently capable of killing, was not Andy, with his surprisingly quick wit and the total irreverence which was his best weapon in adversity. 'Yes,' I said with more confidence, turning back towards the door, 'let's do it your way.'
And so it was that less than an hour later a new bitch dog took up her residence in my former kennel, and it was obvious that she was no more enamoured of the situation than I had been.
She stood on all fours, her discomfort registering plainly on her face, for not only was the leather dog suit tight on her but I had made sure Erik laced it as cruelly as possible. Now he waited to fit the gag, but Meg was determined to have one last word.
'I'll find you no matter how far you run!' she cried. 'I'll find you, Angelina, and I'll make this look like a child's nursery game when I do.' Her eyes glared madly up at me, fury at her helplessness making them gleam brightly in the lantern light.
I laughed and patted her on the head, wondering if I shouldn't have Erik shave her hair as he had been instructed to shave mine. 'Down, Fido,' I said. 'Be a good doggie or I'll have Uncle Erik here give you another bone.' I nodded to Erik, who moved forward to press the steel gag mechanism into place. He then held up the padded dog mask. 'Quite an ugly bitch, really,' I murmured. 'Say woof, there's a good girl.'
Outside in the darkness, Erik stood a little ways from us holding a lantern. He was just far enough away that he couldn't hear us talking, but not so far away that he would risk doing anything stupid. Besides, with Andy holding the pistol, and me gripping the knife, and mad Meg now helpless and silent, he had little option but to go along with us.
'Just watch yourself,' Andy whispered. 'I'll be close by, but in the house you'll be on your own, so don't take any risks.'
'You neither,' I urged. 'Keep well back, and if it comes to it, run like hell. One of us has to stay free, whatever happens.'
'We'll see,' he said. 'I wouldn't leave you, not now, not after what we've just done to her.' He jerked a thumb back to indicate the blockhouse. 'She's gonna be madder than hell. I reckon it would be kinder to shoot you than let you fall into her clutches again.'
'Yes, I reckon you could be right,' I muttered grimly. I looked towards Erik, who was standing with his back to us. 'Ready?' I whispered.
Beside me, Andy took my hand and squeezed it. 'Yep,' he said. 'Let's see what the past has in store for us now, shall we?'
And there, dear reader, the story must end - this part of the story, at least. I should like to describe to you how we managed to get clothing, money, food and another pistol from the house, and tell you about our flight in the carriage past the gate as we clattered away into the night. Unfortunately, I don't know any of the details myself, for we were only halfway to the house when I suddenly found myself back at Anne-Marie's place, still astride Andy and very close to coming.
Andy beat me to it but it was a reflex action; he came out of his own trance as the tremors faded. He lay there for several long seconds, bemused and stunned, trying to come to terms with what had happened and with the fact that he had now experienced the same incredible phenomenon I had. We lay together and talked about it for hours, and then, when the sun had driven away the morning mists, we woke Anne-Marie and related our story to her.
We were to go back in time again shortly, together once more, but by the time we arrived in our borrowed bodies our coach was already well on the road to London, with Erik up on the driver's bench. We could have asked him how things had gone, of course, but then that would have given our game away completely and neither of us felt so wise, not at that point.
It was not to be the last we saw of Mad Megan Crowthorne or her supposed master, Gregory Hacklebury, for I had awakened in her a dreadful need to be avenged and she was not a woman to take an insult like that lying down - on all fours as a doggie girl, yes, but not lying down, not once she was free again to do something about the indignities I had made her suffer.
But all that will have to wait, at least for the moment, as the adventures that followed our nocturnal carriage ride are enough to fill at least one more volume.
Did we finally solve the mystery of Great Marlins and the apparent disappearance from the scene of Meg and Greg? Well, that's for me to know and for you to wait to find out, I'm afraid, for it is now close to bedtime and tomorrow I have a very important appointment with Bill... Bill Shakespeare, that is. I've promised to help him with a plotline that's giving him a bit of trouble, and it's either me or that dreadful Bacon fellow who's a terrible bore, farts a lot, and insists on making much ado about nothing. And, oh yes, he also keeps staring at my breasts, which I think you'll agree is very rude of him and not at all the behaviour of a fellow some scholars still try to insist was the real bard. If you ask me, Bacon couldn't write his way out of a paper bag and Bill should put him on his bike once and for all. Not that he ever listens to my advice, mind you, but we live in hope.
So, it's goodbye for the present everyone and much love now, in the future and in the past,
Teena.
-oOo-
Enjoy more of Teena's damsel in distress, time-travelling
erotic
adventures, also
exclusively
published
as eBooks
by us
...
Teena
Thyme
I nodded and opened my mouth to say something, but immediately it was filled for me, as Anne-Marie pressed a soft rubber ball between my teeth and buckled a retaining strap at the nape of my neck to prevent me spitting it out again.
'Oh, sweet,' she trilled. She came around and knelt down, so that she was looking up into my face. 'I'll have to let you see yourself gagged,' she said. 'A gag does make a girl's face look so gorgeous, I've always thought; makes those big eyes look even bigger.'
Born in the fifties, a child in the 'Swinging Sixties', Teena Thyme comes to adulthood in the even more outlandish seventies, a self-possessed eighteen year old with the ability to see the funny side of most things. Little does she know, when she inherits the estate of a great-great-great aunt she never knew she had, that she will need all her wits, resolve and downright bloody-mindedness in order to survive the trials of time travelling and the perils of being a woman in an age when men ruled - either with a rod of birch or a whip of leather.
Whisked back through the ages, Teena finds herself as the very unwilling pawn in the power games of the black hearted Sir Gregory Hacklebury, who is determined to marry another of her previously unknown ancestors and seize her inheritance, even if to do so means that he must kill the unfortunate Angelina Spigworth, whose body Teena is now inhabiting - a body constrained by corsets, abused by everyone she comes in contact with and finally, it seems, destined to be left to rot in a forgotten prison.
Teena - A House of Ill Repute
I sucked on the gag and managed to swallow with some difficulty, breathing in through my nose as deeply as the stringent corset permitted.
Inside my rubber costume I felt hot and clammy. Suddenly my fetish garb did not seem so exciting and I wanted to pull it all off and simply go and lie down for a while, but I knew there was no chance of that happening. Gagged as I was, there was no way I could convey my wishes to Anne-Marie and any physical show would only be interpreted wrongly.
1839 - Having escaped from the clutches of the wicked Gregory Hacklebury and his insane 'maid' Megan Crowthorne, the youthful an supposedly innocent Angelina has been re-united with her own former maid, the beautiful Indira, but cast out into a world with only her jewellery and a few pounds.
1975 - Teena Thyme, now back in her own body, knows that it is only a matter of time before she will find herself back as Angelina, for there is unfinished business which her ancestor will not be able to take care of herself.
From a world of hot pants and kinky boots to one of corsets, garters and silken mysteries, Teena/Angelina becomes mistress of an early Victorian brothel for the well heeled - and none are as well heeled as Angelina and her girls!
-oOo-
And as mentioned in the intro pages of this
book
, if
you're keen to write erotic fiction and would like our guidelines, or you're
a published author and have existing work, the eBook rights of which remain with or have reverted to you, we
'
d
be delighted
to
h
e
ar fro
m
y
o
u
.
Connect with us online:
