Worlds of BBW Erotic Romance - Box Set (6 page)

“Run ahead—NOW!” he shouted. “That’s what your exiled knight commands. Now!”

She hesitated a moment, as if about to say something else …

He pushed her roughly with a growl, and she sprang into motion, running.

Ed clambered after her in futile pursuit, aware that at any second his pursuers would catch up with him in his crippled gait.

Then, Julia reached the tunnel.

Ed saw her enter the shadowy opening just as someone tackled him from behind, sending him crashing to the cold floor. The letter opener flew from his grasp and skidded off across the stone.

“Bastards!” he screamed. “You rutting mad demon worshipping bast—UNNF!”

Someone kicked his side, hard. Then the man holding him down was moving aside while someone else hauled him up.

The Rector!

He dragged Ed roughly to his feet, handling him as if he weighed nothing at all.

“What have you done to my child?” he bellowed. “Master forgive me … But I’m going to crush your skull with my bare hands!” He clamped his hands on either side of Ed’s head.

Just then, a girlish shriek echoed from the dark tunnel. “HELP!!!” the voice pleaded.

Julia!!!

The Rector jerked his head in that direction, startled.

“Edwinnnnnn!” she screamed. “Help!”

“She’s in trouble!” Ed said. “The demon—Croatoan, dammit! He’s in there!”

The Rector wrapped his arm around Ed’s waist and half-carried, half-dragged him towards the tunnel. Ed’s crippled and recently burned right leg skidded across the floor, sending stabs of pain through him.

They entered the tunnel and plunged into blackness. Ed struggled to raise his head to see where they were going. A hundred paces or so ahead there was a faint yellow glow.

“NOOOOOOO!” Julia screamed, and Ed felt cold fear grip his chest.

“You bastard, he’s got her!” Ed shouted. “Call him off, do something!”

But the Rector didn’t answer, just kept dragging him forward.

As they got closer, Ed saw that the light was cast by a heavy lantern set on the floor of the tunnel. It illuminated the rough fieldstone walls of the earthen-floored passage, which were supported by wooden beams. This tunnel was man-made, built recently by the looks of it. The silver cord ran down the length of it through the dirt, disappearing into darkness at the other end.

Ed caught a glimpse of something moving at the far edge of the light.

It was Julia! She was grasping at the dirt, thrashing and crying as something dragged her backwards down the tunnel, into the shadows.

“Help!” she sobbed.

Ed thought he could see a pair of lambent red eyes glaring from just behind her in the deep shadows.

“Dammit!” Ed cried. “Croatoan has her!”

The Rector stopped for a moment, as if confused. Ed twisted in his grip, trying to get loose. He had to do something!

“That thing has her!” he yelled. “Has your daughter, Julia. He’s going to hurt her, you rutting idiot!”

“He … he shouldn’t do that,” the Rector said. “I’ll have to talk to him.”

The Rector suddenly dropped Ed, who fell face-first into the dirt. Ed quickly picked himself up, only to have his arms grabbed by two servants who’d come up behind him.

“I have to go help her!” Ed snarled, trying to get loose.

The Rector had now disappeared down the tunnel, out of the range of the lantern-light.

Mr. Starks came forward to stand in front of Ed, placing a grimy finger to Ed’s lips. “SHHH!” he whispered. “The Rector is talking with his Master now, lad. We can’t bother them.”

“JULIA!” Ed cried.

“Shut up!” said one of the men behind him. “Or I’ll stab ya!”

“Better be quiet, lad,” Starks advised, and now placed his whole greasy hand over Ed’s mouth.

It was no use struggling; they held him tight.

The silence was killing Ed; he strained to hear something from down the tunnel, anything. He thought he heard whispering, and crying—not screaming, but a girl sobbing. Then she was still alive? She might be all right?

All he could do is wait and hope that the bastard of a Rector valued his daughter over his demon Master.

After what seemed like an eternity—but was probably only a minute or so—someone entered the field of the lantern-light. He saw the Rector’s preacher’s robes first, then the frills of Julia’s stained dress.

Thank God!

She was coughing, and her face and clothes were streaked with dirt and soot, but she seemed to be uninjured. When she saw Ed, she let out a little cry and made as if to run forward—but her father grabbed her arms and held her back.

“Mister Bolt is not going to bother you again, child,” he said. “Stay here.”

The Rector strode towards Ed, his hands outstretched, fingers clenching rhythmically.

“Father, no!” Julia suddenly doubled over, her hands on her head, as if the thought of his death caused her physical agony.

“He is disruptive and violent,” the Rector explained, “and the Master wishes him to be … put out of the way.”

“NO!” Julia ran to her father, beating her tiny fists on his chest, her face streaked with tears. “You can’t, not
him
!”

He shook his head, bent down to touch her chin. “I am sorry. I would have spared you this, my child. I should never have let you even talk to him …”

“But you promised!” she wailed. “You told mother and you PROMISED!”

“I do not understand. What does that—”

“Because! We are …” She leaned forward to whisper something in his ear.

Suddenly, the Rector’s red eyes went wide, and he jerked upright, stunned. “But daughter, this will not be easy to … the Master will not approve the lad’s continued … Hmm.”

She pulled away, looked her father in the eyes. “You
promised
. To me
and
mother.”

“Very well.” He patted her head, then walked over to where Ed was restrained by the two servants.

The insane bastard was
smiling
now, though his lips quivered as if the effort of it was a strain on his muscles.

“My loyalty to the Master runs deep,” he said. “But I have a father’s weakness towards my child and I cannot go back on my word. Just promise me you’ll be good to her in the time we have left, yes?”

Ed nodded, unable to speak properly as Mr. Stark’s hand still covered his mouth.

Of course he’d be good to her! She was pretty and respected him and made him feel things he hadn’t dared to feel since his crush on Constance Clement years ago.

Although the best thing for her would be to get her out of this hell-hole …

And I still intend to try! I just wish these thugs would let go of my arms …

But what had she said to her father to keep him from killing Ed? The Rector had been ready to turn his head to pulp a few minutes ago, and now the man was giving him gentle advice?

The Rector walked back to Julia, resting his hands on her slim shoulders. “We’ll have to get your mother’s old dress ready. Mrs. Starks can clean and press it, alter it if need be. There’s not much time, but I’ll do everything I can to make things beautiful for you.”

Finally, Mr. Starks removed his hand, and Ed was able to speak.

“What dress?” Ed gasped, perplexed.

“For our wedding,” Julia whispered. Her big eyes darted to his face, and then she shyly looked away, blushing.

Had she really said
wedding
?

Rutting hell!

“I can’t move in this rutting bag!” Ed thrashed on the bed, the tight linen sack around his body making him feel like a trussed goose.

“It’s a bundling bag,” Julia explained.

Facing him on the bed, she was similarly restrained. Her flaming hair spilled out from around the top of her own bag, which was drawn and tied tightly below her chin. “Father thinks an engaged couple should slumber together, but not be tempted to do … things.”

“I know what the bag is for,” Ed gasped, “but who would be tempted with
him
watching?” Ed could feel cold, dead eyes on his back. “I’m sick of this mad bunch of shite. Your father is a rutting bastard, you know that?”

Julia whimpered softly, and he immediately regretted his words.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “It’s not your fault. But I’m sick of being trapped here. And I can’t stand
him
watching us!”

Ed heard a splintery sound of movement, then a sickening crackle. There was a presence over him, like a foul weight in the air. When the thing breathed, it sounded like a dry wind through a burnt forest.

He rolled onto his back and looked up.

Mott stared back down at him, the wrinkled prunes of his eyes peering down from his scorched face. The flesh that still clung to his skull was crisped, hanging off in strips, and his skeletal grin was now blackened into a demonic leer.

He raised his arm, the roasted flesh rustling, tendons creaking as the pulled taut over charred bone.

“Thhhosssse whooo conssspire againssst God,” he hissed, “sssshall feel his wrrrrath in t-t-time!”

“I wish he had burned up!” he heard Julia sob.

“Get away from us, charcoal face!” Ed yelled, thrashing, trying to smack Mott with his legs.

Mott just stood there, grinning, the fading orange light of the sunset like a memory of the fire on his flesh. Watching them, always watching.

Rutting bastard.

In addition to the bundling bags and Mott’s presence, the Rector had taken other precautions to insure that the young couple did not “get into trouble,” as he put it. They were locked into Julia’s bedroom now, and anything that might have served as a weapon had been taken away. They didn’t even have a lamp, the dying sun providing their only light.

Earlier, they’d been let out of the bags in order to eat dinner in the room—but Mrs. Starks and two male servants had watched over them the entire time. The old woman had stared at Ed’s hands while he cut his meat with his fork, as if afraid he might stab her; they hadn’t been given any knives.

When the meal was finished, all had been taken away and they’d been bundled back in.

Now, Ed’s leg itched fiercely. Mrs. Starks had said he was lucky, and the burns weren’t bad. But the tingling ointment she’d applied made him want to scratch, and that was impossible to do while inside the bag.

Their last visitors had been many hours ago. Before then, servants had peeked in every half-hour or so; but all had been quiet for some time. Since then, they’d had only Mott’s ghastly company. 

“Let’s pretend he’s not here, please?” Julia whispered. “We’ll just talk softly and pretend we’re alone. I want to be with you and talk with you.”

Behind him, near the door, Ed heard a crackling like dry leaves, a bony crunch as Mott moved around.

There was the creak of the door opening… More crunching sounds… It sounded like Mott was walking out. Then came the sound of the door locking behind him.

“He’s gone outside now,” Julia said. “Please talk to me, Edwin.”

“I can’t believe we’re getting
married,
” Ed said.

She closed her eyes, looking embarrassed. “I’m sorry. I know I put words in your mouth …”

“Hey, you were trying to save my life. That’s … I’m not upset. Just surprised, I guess.”

Ed didn’t really understand why people got married. His own parents had met in church when they were young, and their parents had thought it a good idea for them to wed. But then his parents had always been utterly miserable together, as far as he knew.

He tried to think back to his own romantic ideals as a youth. Well, there had really only been Constance Clement. Sure, he’d wanted to be with her, hold her curvy body close to him, smell her soft skin …

But did he ever think about getting married?

“When my mother was ill a few years ago, just before she died, she made my father promise some things—about me,” Julia said.

“Things?” Ed asked.

“She said he should give me a lovely life and keep me away from ugliness if he could. And also, that if I found a nice man that I wanted to marry, he should give his blessing.” 

“Was your mother very pious like your father?”

“My mother was the daughter of a wealthy village squire,” Julia explained. “Her parents didn’t want her to marry a poor parish preacher, as my father was at the time. But they ran away and got married. She said she never regretted it, even though she had to give up so many things. She made my father promise that I would never have to run away, that he would let me pick my own husband.”

“Your father made her happy?” Ed asked, incredulous.

Julia nodded on her pillow. “He wasn’t always like he is now. Mother said he was handsome and had a fiery charm, that when he talked about God or about her own beauty it made her weak in the knees. She said you could see the power in his eyes. But he was gentle with her, and she said she could settle for no one else.”

“Well,” Ed said, “I guess
you
have to settle. For me, I mean”

“Why?” she asked.

“Because you had to tell your father you wanted to marry me to save my life.”

“But … I do love you,” she said.

There was such surety in her voice! The statement had been crystal clear and confident.

“I’m crippled,” he protested. “You saw my foot when Mrs. Starks bandaged my burns? It’s a clubfoot. Ill-formed, they call it. All twisted and… and… everything.”

Indeed, he had been greatly embarrassed, sure that he would see disgust in her lovely face, that it would be the end of her respect for him.

He’d been surprised when she’d seemed only concerned about his burns …

“So?” she asked. “What does that matter?”

“I’m a burden,” he said. “Flawed … you know.”

“I’m flawed, too,” she said, nodding earnestly. “I know I’m not exactly petite. I know that I’m quite a bit… heftier… than most gentlemen would desire. I’m no beauty.”

She thinks she’s ugly?,
Edwin thought, incredulous.

He certainly had a sure opinion on that! In fact, just feeling the soft contours of her body against him now… even through the bundling bag… sent warm desire through him, from his chest down to his loins.

“I have devoured every inch of you with my eyes and I wish… Well,” Ed sighed, “I wish my hands could touch all of it, every lovely creamy inch of your flesh. It’s all beautiful to me.”

She was smiling at him, her big blue eyes wide. Even in the dimming light, he thought he could see his own face reflected in those pale eyes, as if he were her entire universe.

“Do you love me, Edwin?” she asked.

“Yes,” he said, surprised at his own lack of hesitation.

She made him feel powerful, as if he might rip his way out of the bag and carry her off the estate right now, striking down all who opposed him.

For her, he might just try it …

“I wish we had more time together,” she said, and then he heard her softly sob. “Father was saying that the end is coming sooner than he planned.”

The end …

The image came into his mind again, the memory of seeing that thing Croatoan dragging her out of the circle of light, down that dark tunnel. Whatever had happened in the darkness, between her and that thing and her father, she didn’t want to talk about it.

“We have to get you out of here,” Ed said. “I’m not going to quit now.”

She nodded. “But what can we do?”

His mind was churning, turning over every tidbit of information he had about the Rector and Croatoan and their situation, over and over …

“The wedding,” he said. “Your father will want to have it here, in the house?”

She nodded again.

“But we won’t be in bags, or tied up. You’ll tell him we can’t be. It has to be special for you, right? So that’s our chance …”

He whispered his ideas to her, watched her nod and blink to acknowledge what he said.

#

The sun was setting now, the faint orange light in the bedroom dimming.

Julia listened to Edwin as he told her his plan. It was desperate, insane… But yet she put her faith in him, as he had, she knew, put his faith in her.

Tied up in the bags as they were, at least she could still be close to him.

His breath was warm on her cheek. She turned to him, and then his lips were on hers, the scratchy softness of his beard on her face as his lips moved, then his tongue slipped through her teeth to explore her mouth…

He was much more assured now than the first time they had kissed in the basement cell. His insistent tongue did a little dance around her own, as he sucked at her lips as if savoring the taste. 

She felt her desire growing: a tightness deep in her belly, and a warmth turning to a pleasantly hot itch of need between her thighs.

That wasn’t the only thing growing.

She could feel Edwin’s maleness against her leg, jutting at her through the fabric of the bags and all. She thought she felt it jerk and grow even larger, and she moaned.

“Are you all right?” Edwin asked.

She sighed. “I just wish the bags weren’t between us. We may not get the chance to be alone together again. Depending upon how the plan works out…”

“I know,” he said. “Damn rutting bag… I don’t care if Mott or Croatoan or anyone else would be watching, I’d still just like to hold you a while.”

“Hold… and maybe do other things?” she giggled. “Edwin, I would offer myself to you completely.

He seemed a little flustered by that. “What… really?” he gasped. 

She knew what he was thinking. That she was innocent, pure, virginal.

Well, she WAS innocent… mostly.

The one time she’d given herself to a man before—with Richard—it had been painful, awkward, and over quickly. Nothing like the sweet bliss of surrendering to a man that she’d sometimes heard the servant girls talk about.

But Edwin… he truly cared for her. He’d be different, she knew. And she longed to experience what she’d been missing.

Then, in the fading light, she saw it…

A loop of thread near Edwin’s shoulder, where the seam of the bundling bag was loose...

“Edwin,” she whispered. “The seam near your right shoulder is coming out.”

“Really?” he struggled for a moment, shifting his powerful shoulders in the confines of the bag.

“Damn!” he swore after a moment. “It’s no use. My arms are pinned too tightly down below, I can’t move enough to rip the seam.”

Julia giggled.

“What’s so funny?” he asked her.

“I have an idea,” she said. She bent and grabbed the loose thread of the seam in between her teeth, jerked her head until…

RRRIP… The seam was opened a few inches.

“My mother always scolded me for ripping out seams with my teeth,” she explained. “I used to do it all the time when we were mending clothes.”
“She scolded you because it was unladylike?” Ed asked.

“No,” she laughed. “Because she didn’t want me to uproot my teeth!”

With the seam ripped, Edwin was able to move around enough to rip it further open… Soon he had one arm out, loosened the knot on the bag, got out his other arm… And was climbing out.

He wore a simple cotton shift underneath, which was sweat-damp and clung to the contours of his tightly muscled chest.

He moved over to Julia and undid the knot on her bag. She wriggled free; clad herself only in a cotton shift just as he was. She knew that the sweaty cloth was clinging revealingly to her ample breasts. Edwin’s eyes widened as he took in her bosom…

And then he was leaning forward, his hands running through her hair, his lips on her neck, sucking and biting there.

He pulled away, smiling… Though his dark eyes darted away shyly for a second.

“I’d like to… umm… see you,” he said.

“What do you mean, Edwin?” she asked. She too wished she had more light to see him better… Though on the other hand there was something about the warm sunset glow that was soothing, and allowed her to concentrate on her connection with him.

“I mean… umm… see you unclothed. I don’t know if we have much time and I’d… I’ve been wanting to admire you that way for a while now.”

She giggled. “This shift is awfully sweaty, isn’t it?”

Wriggling on the bed, she started to pull it up and off…