Wages of Sin (5 page)

She groaned in humiliation at the reaction of her treacherous body. Despite her fear and loathing, tendrils of excitement began to spiral through her and she felt herself moisten beneath his exploring hand. Heat from her beaten bottom radiated through her lower body, intensifying every tiny sensation. She moaned again, this time in reluctant pleasure.

‘Whore,' he murmured. ‘Randy as a bitch in heat, aren't you?' Eyes fixed on her face, he began to move his hand, sliding his fingers in and out, revelling in the hot silky wetness beneath them.

It was all too much to bear. With a groan he withdrew his fingers, slick with her juices, and began to untie the points of his hose, letting them fall to his ankles. Jane's eyes widened with horror at the size of his male member. It jutted, long and thick, its head the size and colour of a ripe plum, a bead of moisture leaking from its swollen red eye. She writhed in a futile attempt to free herself, her head turning from side to side in denial of what was to come.

He knelt between her legs, one hand gripping his member, then snorted with dissatisfaction. Pulling a pillow from the head of the bed he thrust it beneath her hips, raising her up so that her sex gaped even wider, offering easier access. He leaned forward, pushing his rampant cock against it, and she whimpered as it thrust into her, splitting her open. There was a moment of agony as the last vestiges of her maidenhead were torn away, then his weight crushed down on her and he slid completely inside her, his hot length filling her. It was like being impaled on a bar of molten steel.

Grunting like a rooting pig, he began to thrust himself in and out of her helpless body. Her breasts bounced and quivered with every jerk of his hips, their hard points rubbing against the coarse material of his doublet. She groaned again and, only partially against her will, her hips thrust upwards to meet him. He grinned savagely down at her, his buttocks clenching as he redoubled his efforts, and she could feel the unbearable tension mounting in her loins.

Finally he gasped and shuddered his release, his prick jerking and spasming inside her, and she shrieked aloud as it brought her own climax with it. He collapsed on top of her, crushing her with his weight. She felt his member shrivelling and leaking against her thigh and a shiver of revulsion ran through her. She hated him - and hated herself even more for her animal response to his attentions.

He raised his head and grinned into her eyes. ‘Well, slut. Are you satisfied?'

She gathered the bitter saliva in her mouth and spat straight in his face.

He jerked away from her, spittle running down his cheek. ‘You little bitch,' he hissed, raising his hand. ‘You'll pay for that.'

She cringed to avoid the blow, then froze. What was that? A slow smile crossed her face as she recognised the sound of hooves clattering in the courtyard below. Rescue at last!

‘I believe we have visitors, sir,' she said, laughing triumphantly up at him. Her expression became bitter. ‘And even your poor reputation would suffer, were you to be discovered forcing yourself upon your stepdaughter.'

With a snarl he flung himself away from the bed, frantically pulling up his hose. ‘I'll be back,' he muttered over his shoulder as he hurried from the room, still tying his points and tugging down his doublet.

She stretched her tortured limbs, trying to ease her bindings. He might be back, but with someone else in the house he would have no option but to set her free. She grimaced, feeling his cold dribblings on her thighs. And once she was free, he would pay for his wicked violation.

The minutes lengthened and anxiety began to set in again. What was taking him so long? He should have been back by this time. Her hands and feet were beginning to lose all sensation, becoming heavy and lifeless. Where was he?

She sighed with relief as she heard the sound of footsteps coming along the gallery towards her room. At last!

But her relief turned to dismay as she saw him lounging against the door, an expression of satisfaction on his face. Her mouth went dry with fear as he smiled at her maliciously.

‘Are you ready to receive guests, my dear?' he purred, raising one eyebrow in a quizzical expression. ‘We have a visitor.'

With difficulty she lifted her head and stared past him, then let it fall back with a hopeless moan as she saw the figure standing behind him. Sir Harry, Ralph's father! The man she had scorned to take as her husband. As he took in her naked body, spreadeagled across the bed, his beady eyes almost popped out of his head. Then a slow, lascivious smile crossed his lips. As a potential wife he would have had to treat her with the respect befitting her position - at least until they were married. Now, a proven slut, she was fair game.

‘Come now, mistress,' chided her stepfather mockingly. ‘You are remiss in your duties. You must entertain your guest. A glass of wine and a little refreshment, perhaps? Or a tune upon the lute, to lighten the weary hour?' He strode across the room and leered down at her. ‘Or perhaps we could find another way to amuse our visitor and pass the time?'

He bent over and took her breasts in his hands, squeezing and kneading as if he was judging fruit. ‘A pert whore,' he said conversationally to Sir Harry. He trailed a hand over her shrinking flesh until he reached her open vulva and thrust his fingers rudely inside her, then held them up, glistening. ‘And a juicy one, too. Would you care to sample her wares?'

Sir Harry nodded eagerly, already fumbling at his clothing. Divested of his doublet and hose, he was not a pretty sight. His chest was scrawny, apart from a pair of hairy tits bigger than her own, and his belly curved out like that of a woman eight months gone with child. Beneath it his male member dangled flaccidly against his balls. The whole sorry edifice was supported by a pair of skinny legs that would have done credit to a chicken. Jane was unable to prevent herself from giggling hysterically. It was a mistake.

‘So you find me amusing, do you, madam?' he snarled, his lips white with temper. ‘First you refuse me as a husband and now you have the temerity to laugh at me. Perhaps you need a lesson in manners.' He turned to her stepfather, his face vicious. ‘Untie the wench so that I may teach her.'

Hands fumbled with the knots at her wrists and ankles and she gasped as the blood rushed back. Ignoring it, she grasped the coverlet and tried to conceal herself, wriggling to the far corner of the bed as far away as possible from her tormentors.

It was useless. Sir Harry leaned over and wrenched her back. He was stronger than she expected and, despite her frantic struggles, he pulled her over his knee and held her in a grip of iron. Beneath her writhing body she felt the first stirrings in his member and froze, frightened to move in case she roused him more. He raised a hand and brought it down with a crack that made her gasp. The smooth skin, already flushed from her previous beating, turned scarlet immediately and she writhed again.

‘Not so saucy now, wench, eh?' Sir Harry panted, his hand rising and falling, each blow making her squirm with pain. She moaned, tears staining her cheeks as she felt his cock, rigid now, pressing into the soft flesh of her belly. Would this torture never end? She closed her eyes against the picture of her stepfather, lounging comfortably on the window-seat, avidly watching her humiliation.

At last Sir Harry flung her from him. She whimpered as he stood over her, legs spread, his straining prick peeking out from beneath the mound of his belly. ‘And now, madam, unless you wish to feel the weight of my palm again, you will pleasure me, like the whore you are.'

In front of her horrified eyes, he stretched himself out on her bed and pointed to his rampant cock, jutting upwards from the folds of flesh at the base of his belly. It was the same angry red as the wattles of the cockerel that strutted round the courtyard, but this time she felt no desire to laugh.

‘Well, girl?' he leered, indicating it with a wave of his hand. ‘To your work. Put those sweet cherry lips of yours to better use than insulting your betters.'

She staggered to her feet and stared at him blankly. What was she supposed to do?

‘Get on with it,' he snarled impatiently. ‘Suck it, wench! Suck it!'

She recoiled in disgust, shaking her head in denial, but a hard push from behind propelled her forward and she fell on her knees on the bed, her face coming into contact with Sir Harry's sweaty belly. With a groan of satisfaction he grabbed her hair and thrust her face into his groin, the swollen head of his prick pushing against her tightly closed lips. He grunted impatiently and gave a warning jerk that almost pulled the hair from her scalp. Reluctantly, she opened her lips.

With a moan he raised his hips and his cock slid into the soft warmth of her mouth. She gagged as the thick rank flesh filled it, the bulbous head touching the back of her throat. Guided by his hand tugging her hair, she began to bob her head up and down, sliding her mouth the length of his swollen shaft and running her tongue round the rim, while his free hand toyed with her breasts, rolling each of her nipples in turn between his thumb and forefinger.

A movement behind her made her freeze, and a wave of sick horror washed over her.

Her stepfather, excited beyond endurance by the sight of her sucking Sir Harry's cock, was ready again. She heard his heavy breathing and felt his hands pawing at her bottom and between her thighs. She struggled to break free, but Sir Harry pulled her back down, grunting as his member moved faster between her lips.

The hot weight of her stepfather's prick pressed against the soft crease of her bottom and she flinched as it slid down until it was nudging against the tight pucker of her anus. Her eyes widened in terrified disbelief as she grasped his intention. She tried to resist, unable to believe he wished to take her there. Pain jabbed through her as he pushed harder, the tip of his penis beginning inexorably to penetrate her most dark and secret place. She moaned as, inch by slow inch, he forced himself inside her. His hips jerked and his full length sank into place.

She parted her lips to scream as he thrust, but her shriek was muffled as Sir Harry's cock slid even further into her mouth. He was gasping now, bucking like a stranded fish as he watched his friend take her up the arse while she was forced to suck him off. With a final groan he exploded, making her gag again as he flooded her mouth with the salty taste of his come. For a few moments more her stepfather thrust and groaned. To her horror she felt her treacherous body react to the relentless pounding with excitement of her own, then he, too, spasmed, his hot seed spurting into the forbidden recesses of her body, and he withdrew, leaving her humiliated as she gasped with frustrated desire.

Released from the grip of her abusers, Jane collapsed whimpering on the bed, her eyes closed in a vain attempt to blot out what had just happened. She felt the bed move as Sir Harry rose, and listened to their cruel laughter as they dressed again after their merry ‘sport'. At last she found the strength to raise her head and glare her hatred at them.

‘I shall tell the priest,' she spat, calling on the ultimate sanction.

Her stepfather was on her in a moment. ‘I wouldn't do that,' he hissed, pulling her head back by the hair and snarling into her face. ‘Not unless you wish your lady mother to pay for it.'

She groaned. It was no empty threat - and how could she condemn her mother to suffer even more? Her head fell. He had won. There was nothing she could do.

‘Get dressed,' he ordered, ‘while I decide what to do with you.'

Apathetically, she did as she was told. Once she was clothed again she stood, head drooping, in front of the two men, waiting to hear her fate.

‘A pity we can't keep her,' said Sir Harry. ‘She makes a pretty little whore.'

‘True,' agreed Sir Thomas, ‘but she is a lady, and even if she does not tell the priest, there are always those who will. It is too dangerous. Your namesake, King Harry, has a conscience, even if it is a convenient one. And what he gave he can just as easily take away.' He thought for a moment, then grinned and snapped his fingers. ‘I have it,' he crowed, smirking, ‘and a merry jest it is, too. Where's the best place for a whore?'

Sir Harry looked at him. ‘A brothel?' he ventured.

‘No,' chuckled Thomas. ‘A convent! We'll send her to repent her sins.'

They were still chuckling as they left.

Jane pulled the coverlet from the bed and crawled beneath the sheets, curling into a ball as the slow tears trickled down her cheeks. She dashed them away, angry at her weakness. A convent wasn't such a bad place, when she thought about it. The nuns would be kind and highborn ladies could live almost as well in a nunnery as they did at home.

Laughter in the courtyard below told her that her mother and the servants were returning from the fair. She began to drift into a healing sleep, secure in the knowledge that her stepfather would not dare return now. Her last conscious thought was that at least in a convent she would be safe.

 

 

 

The rain beat down, turning the highway to a mass of treacherous mud. Spring had retreated under the last dying onslaught of winter and even the jaunty new buds were cowed and beaten. The villages they had passed through had been rain-swept and shuttered, with scarce a person venturing out to brave the unseasonable storms.