Sir David Cassen was decidedly ill at ease. This was not a condition in which he often found himself, but the reason was grave enough. Lady Marion was missing, and missing in such a fashion, that it was extremely difficult to make too many inquiries.
Contacts were being established with a man in the French embassy that could prove invaluable. It was essential that Sir David would not be connected in anyway, and it was even dangerous for him to use Robert as a courier. He had debated every possibility with himself, but the contact was much too valuable to risk. The only person whose discretion could be relied upon completely was his wife. She had no really clear idea of just what or who he was working for, and asked no questions, but she had carried delicate messages before, and it seemed that she would have to again.
She had left the house three days ago, for London. She should have been back the night before, or at least that morning, but as the soft greys of twilight darkened into night she had still not appeared. Since they had told no one that she was going to London, she certainly wouldn't be staying with any of their friends there. Nor had she sent a messenger, which would have been the logical thing, had she been delayed in any normal way.
As he paced the floor of his massive study, Sir David's uneasiness increased. In as far as he was capable, and years of rigid control had tempered his nerve to fine steel, he was thoroughly worried. The two things dearest to his heart, his wife and his work, should never have come in contact. He now damned the necessity that had brought them together this time. If word leaked out of his work for Walsingham, his usefulness to that gentleman and to his country would be ended. On the other hand, if anything happened to Marion, he would raze all London in his grief and rage.
The servants had long been abed, and he was debating the possibility of sending Robert to London to make what inquiries he could, when he heard the French doors in the morning room open and close.
Walking quickly down the hall he pulled open the door to the cheerful little room and stepped inside.
The room was dark, but Sir David could hear soft breathing. Lighting a candle, he looked around, being careful to keep his back to the wall. At first he saw nothing. The French door still swung back and forth in the chill breeze, and for a moment Sir David thought that whoever had entered had slipped out again. Then he heard the breathing again and looking down saw his wife lying beside a chaise lounge, just to the right of the door. Her eyes were half closed, and she was dressed in some ragged garment that he had never seen before.
“Marion! My God, are you hurt?”
As he kneeled and took her in his arms, she rested her head against his shoulder. He lifted her up and carried her into the study, then lay her down gently on the broad couch.
She smiled up at him, brushing her wildly disordered hair out of her eyes.
“I'm not hurt. Just weary. I got the message through. Robert will be sent a gift of wine. There will be a message inserted in the cork.” She stopped, her heavy breathing choking off the words.
“Rest first, my darling. The news will wait.” He brought her a full cup of brandy and held her head while she sipped it. Her breathing slowed, and she seemed to grow a little stronger. “Where have you been? What in God's name happened to you?”
“A dream. The wildest nightmare any woman could ever have.”
She leaned her head back against the pillows and started to talk.
Arriving in London, Marion had taken a room in a quiet, but fairly large inn. When evening came, she had dressed in the clothes of a middleclass London woman, perhaps a small shopkeeper's wife, and gone out into the city streets.
She kept the arranged appointment in a busy tavern near the French embassy, but it had taken much longer than expected. Her man had been exactly on time, but they had been joined by two friends of his before they had a chance to exchange messages. Since, obviously, nothing could be discussed until they were alone, it had been quite late before Marion had been able to complete her business and start back to the inn.
The streets were crowded and no one seemed to take any notice of the woman hurrying along with the crowds. Two people, however, had taken notice.
As Marion passed two filthy beggars standing in a doorway, one of them looked up. Her plain attire made her look less prosperous, but it did little to dim her seductive beauty. The men leered after her.
“'Ow'd ya like t' wet your bone in that, hey?”
He was tall and thick set, his matted ginger hair falling almost to his shoulders. A rag, covered the gaping socket of his left eye, and a scar ran in a livid, half-healed track from high up on his cheekbone to just under his chin. He might be anywhere be'ween thirty and forty, and color and smell would indicate that it had been as many years since he had bathed.
His companion was much older, a gaunt, tattered, relic of a human being. His twisted leg and humped back probably assisted him greatly in his profession, but they added nothing to what was already a wretched, disgusting appearance.
“Righto, Big Red. It's been such a time since I 'ad my prick up a bit like that, that's it's not much more 'n a memory.”
They started walking after the hurrying figure, watching the quick nicking of her hips and the arch of neck and shoulder. She bore little resemblance to the Lady Marion of Elizabeth's court, but she still looked a high cut above her present surroundings.
She turned down a side street, and Big Red quickened his pace, his friend half-running to keep up.
“Maybe we'll snatch her, eh? I bet those tits are white 'n soft as bread dough.” His eye burned hot and his breath quickened. “We could take 'er t' Freddie's, an' when we 'ad all we wanted of 'er, we could watch the other boys 'avin' a go.” He laughed. “Nuffink, I like much better than watchin' chicken get done over by a crowd. Gives me a right 'orn. Throw it up 'er again afterwards, I would.”
“Cor, me cock's just wastin' fer it, but I don't know about snatchin' 'er. She looks the sort someone might come lookin' for.” He slowed down. “Get us inta real strife.”
Big Red shrugged. He knew Gimp had little stomach for anything that might bring the authorities down on them, but by now he didn't care much. He had been drinking all evening, and wine and lust were making him reckless.
“Well, we'll wait 'n see about the snatch, but we can 'ave a bit of a giggle wiv 'er, anyhow.”
By this time they were almost abreast of her, and in a couple of long strides, Big Red was beside her. She looked up as he spoke.
“Out a bit late, ain't ya, lady? Better let me 'n my mate walk along wiv ya. Wouldn't want ya t' come t' no harm.”
Marion said nothing. The huge, leering man sounded sincere enough, but the look in his eye told a different story.
As she hurried to out pace him, he caught her arm.
“'Ere now, don't rush off. Why not be friendly?” Marion was really frightened now. She screamed and tried to break away. The inn was only a short distance further, and if she could get loose, she had a good chance of making a run for it. Big Red grabbed her in both arms, and when she sunk her teeth into his chest, he slapped her across the head so hard it made her ears ring. Half crying, half dumb with panic, she tried again to get free, but he held her fast, his filthy hand elapsed tight over her mouth.
“Like t' put yer mouth on rings, do ya? Bitin' bitch! I was jus' gonna give ya a tickle, but now yer for it. You'll suck my cock off fer that. Suck it so soft n' pretty I'll shoot my spunk all over yer bitin' teef.”
Gimp was cringing behind them, torn between lust and fear of the consequences.
“Blimy, Red, ye'd better get 'er off the street, or we'll get nabbed certain. 'Ere,” he peeled off the filthy cloak that hung by a string around his neck, “wrap 'er up in this an' we'll pull 'er up the lane.”
Marion felt the thick, stinking wool being thrown over her head, then she was lifted from the ground and carried. She tried to scream, tried to squirm loose, but the giant beggar held her firmly.
They had only walked a short way, when she felt herself being dumped unceremoniously into wet felt like a heap of rubbish. Before she could pull off the garment that blinded and nearly suffocated her, Big Red was beside her, pressing her down.
“Now, you jus' lay off that, lady. One peep out o' you, and I'll do fer ya. Be a good, quiet little doxy, an' I'll treat ya real nice.” He turned to Gimp, who had crouched beside them. “Don't squat there slobberin', ya stinkin' hound. Get the cart. We'll take 'er on out t' Freddies and have some time to fiddle before the others get in.”
The deserted cul-de-sac to which they had dragged their victim put heart into the cowardly old man, as darkness and concealment always put heart into those dedicated to villainy, and his lust had risen with the decline of his fears.
“Ow, mate, that's the fing, but gimme a look at 'er before I go. I just want a little look t' quicken my journey, like.”
Big Red laughed coarsely and grabbed the hem of Marion's skirt and yanked it to her waist, revealing her white thighs and buttocks. As she wriggled frantically, trying to escape this outrage, Big Red hooked his leg over hers, holding her still and spreading her open with the same motion.
“Cor.'“ Gimp leaned forward, saliva running from the side of his mouth. “Look at that arse. I'm gonna ram my bird right up that arse, I am.”
Big Red pulled the cheeks wide and looked at the tight, curled anus. He laughed again. “Not wiv your monster, ye ain't. Ye'd split 'er right down t' the cunt. Half yer weight's in yer cock, boyo, and that little arse hole wouldn't hardly take the nob.' Marion sobbed, struggling with renewed vigour as she felt Big Red's finger poke deep into her behind.
He continued to poke her for a moment, then, spreading her legs even wider, he spoke to Gimp again. “Go on, take a feel, then get the cart. Stick yer thumb up 'er arse. She'll like that.”
The old man sniggered, prodding at the opening till the muscles relaxed enough to let his thumb sink it. He pivoted it round and round, then pulled it out and grabbed the lips of her vagina between his fingers, twisting cruelly. Marion's scream was muffled, and the two men paid no attention. After squeezing her thighs and buttocks, Gimp pushed his hand into her vagina, lifting sharply as he did so in such a manner that Marion had no choice but to lift her bottom high in the air.
“Look at that arse liftin'. I fink she wants a doin' right now.”
Big Red pushed him away. “Get that cart, or ya won't even get t' watch, ya buggerin' old pervert. I'll keep the pig happy while you're gone, 'op it now!”
Reluctantly, Gimp stood up and started out of the alley. Big Red watched till he was sure the man was gone, then flipped Marion over on her back. The cloak fell from her head, and she looked at her abductor, the tears streaming down her face.
“Please. Please let me go. You'll be well rewarded, I swear it.”
Big Red lay down on the refuse heap beside her, holding her flat and rummaging in her blouse for her breast.
“Sure. Rewarded wiv the rope.” He found the satiny globe and yanked it out of the neck of her gown, tearing the material almost to the waist. “I'll get all the reward I want outa ya, an' it won't be the rope-nor coin, either.” He pulled her breast, squeezing and fondling. “Cor, I like tits! Think I'll work on ya a bit while we're waitin' fer Gimp.”
He bent his face over her, and took the darkened nipple between his teeth. Marion gasped as he started to suck, teasing the nipple with his tongue and drawing hard with lips and cheeks. His hand went up under her skirt and she felt him fumble between her legs, pulling the curled hair gently and prodding his fingers into her. His matted hair fell over her white skin, and the stench of his filthy rags and carcass almost overpowered her. She tried to pull away, but thought better of it when she felt his broken teeth nip sharply on her tender breast.
He lifted his head, pulling his lips away from the distended nipple with a sharp report.
“Ya might as well stop tryin' t' flit. Yer not goin' anywhere except where I take ya.” He rolled on top of her, pushing her legs apart with his knee and pulling at the leather lace that held his trousers together. “I'll jus' give ya a little taste while we're waitin'.”
Marion rolled her head away as the vile reek of the man's breath filled her nostrils. She started to whimper as she felt him force his hard, eager erection into her body. He pumped quickly, breathing hard and pounding into her in a steady, workmanlike fashion.
“Move on it, girlie, or I'll stick it in your arse. Yeh, that's better. Yer twot's pullin' good now.” His strokes came quicker and Marion knew that it wouldn't be long before he reached his climax. Although her relationship with her daughter would certainly lead one to believe that there was little left in the sex line that could shock her, this was by no means true. She had gone into marriage a virgin, and had never had any man except Sir David. The thought of this grimy half-beast filling her with his sperm revolted and horrified her.
“Not inside me, Oh God, do anything else but please don't do it inside me.”
Her pleading only seemed to heighten the man's lust, and he put his hands under her bottom, pulling her up so that he could drive in even deeper.
“Not inside ya? Lady I'm gonna put my shot so high up yer snatch it won't drip out till mornin'.” He jerked forward, squeezing her buttocks and ramming the full length of his penis in and out. “Now. Yer gonna take it now, lady. Right up yer cunt.” He grunted like a boar, and Marion felt his penis twitch in heavy, violent spasms as the flood of semen poured into her belly.
Big Red lay panting for a moment, resting his full weight on her slender body. She gasped for air and he rolled off.
Wiping his dripping member on her skirt as an added indignity, he adjusted his clothes and stood up, pulling her to her feet. The sound of wheels could be heard and in a moment, Gimp appeared at the entrance to the cul-de-sac, pulling a deep cart of the sort used by rag pickers.
Big Red leered at her. “Just in time, 'eh?' Wouldn' want 'im t' fink I was interferin' wiv ya while 'is back was turned.”
Marion turned away, hoping frantically that an opportunity to escape would present itself while they were occupied with the cart. Unfortunately, Big Red was taking no chances with her. He had Gimp tear some rags into strips and tied her hands tightly behind her. He then pressed another handful of rags into her mouth for a gag, stretching it cruelly and almost choking her. She was dumped roughly into the bottom of the cart and covered with the wool cloak.
For nearly an hour Marion was pulled through the streets. Her body was soon covered with bruises from being banged against the sides of the wooden cart, and the filthy gag had been pushed so far down her throat that she was almost unable to breathe. At times she lay in a semi-swoon, half dead from lack of air. Even that was better than the other interminable moments when she lay, buffeted and stiff in her pitch black prison, and tried to imagine what was going to happen to her. That she was to be raped, not only by these two vermin, but by others as well, was something she had been made all too aware of. But what then? They certainly wouldn't let her go-wouldn't dare. Would they kill her? It seemed the only possibility, but perhaps she would be glad to die by the time they were through with her.
Half fainting, she became aware that the cart had stopped. The thick cloak was lifted from her and rough hands pulled her out of the cart. She was too weak to stand and would have fallen if Big Red hadn't grabbed her around the waist and thrown her over his shoulder like a sack of malt. In this fashion she was carried up a steep flight of stairs and into a high loft where she was deposited on a wide, self-like couch attached to one wall. She lay very still, eyes closed, only vaguely aware that the nightmare of a journey being over, a much worse nightmare was about to begin.
The two men stood beside the bed and Gimp was again looking worried.
“What's wrong wiv' 'er? Cor, she don't 'alf look done up. Don't fink she's dead, do ya?”
Big Red snorted. “Nah. She's just a bit bashed from the ride. We'll strip 'er off then give 'er a spot o' gin t' bring 'er 'round. I want 'er t' know what she's gettin'.”
Through the grey fog that dimmed her senses, Marion felt the two men pulling at her clothes, taking off each garment carefully. She wondered, in a rather detached fashion, if they were being so careful not to tear them so that they would be more readily sold after she was dead. She heard Gimp question the ripped bodice, but he accepted Big Red's explanation that it had happened when he was putting her into the cart.
“Bring the candle nearer and get the gin. I could do wiv' a nip meself.”
Gimp's shoes shuffled across the bare boards of the floor and Big Red sat down on the bed beside her. Lifting her head, he forced the neck of a bottle into her mouth and poured a great splash of cheap, fiery gin down her throat. She coughed and spluttered but her head cleared a little and her eyes opened. She looked around her.
She was in a huge, high-ceilinged room. It appeared to be the whole top floor of a building, and much the worse for wear. One section of the roof was missing, leaving a gaping hole open to the sky. There were several shelves like the one she was lying on, a large table made of boards set on a trestle, and a few broken chairs. Heaps of rags and bits of broken furniture completed the contents of the dreary room. The light from the lamp splashed the wall with eerie shadows and although a fire was smoldering in some sort of makeshift stove, the room felt damp and cold. The sharp chill on her naked body did more than the gin to revive her, and she was now completely awake.
Big Red dropped her head and tilted the bottle to his own lips, taking a long swallow. He forced her to take another deep drink, and although the stuff tasted loathsome, it warmed her and took the edge off her terror, so she didn't complain. Gimp reached for the rapidly diminishing bottle and Big Red started stroking her bare breasts and belly.
“Let's work 'er up a bit. A female's always better at fuckin' if ye get 'er 'ot.” He spread her legs and started titillating her clitoris, manipulating it gently between his fingertips. Marion tried to close her legs, but Gimp grabbed her by the knees and held her open. His watery eyes gleamed and his toothless mouth hung open. He could feel life in his crotch, and his great organ filled with blood as he watched the beautiful body in front of him twist and shiver under the mauling hand of his mate. In spite of herself, Marion's vagina began to moisten, and she cursed her body for betraying her.
Big Red moved his hand from her clitoris and he pulled the heavy lips apart with both hands, exposing the damp, pink flesh and the hard, pointed button.
“'Ow'd ye like t' 'ave a lick o' that, Gimp? Go on, put yer tongue t' the doxy. She finks she can 'old off, but we'll make 'er like it.”
He laughed coarsely and the hideous old man bent his head down and ran his heavy tongue up her sex from the opening to the thick brush of hair that grew over the high mound of her pelvis. He licked avidly, lapping at her like a dog, taking her burning clitoris between his lips, and slurping up the clear fluid that ran out of her. Marion writhed on the bed, trying to get away from that monstrous mouth. She was humiliated, terrified, disgusted, but she could not control the heat that was beginning to mount in her belly. Unable to stop herself, her body arched slightly to meet the tongue that was working over her.
Big Red was breathing hard. He reached down and squeezed the bulge that had grown in his pants, rubbing it with his hand.
“She's feelin' it now. Ye like the taste o' that fancy cunt, don't ye, mate? Take yer pants down an' show 'er yer cock. That oughta please 'er.”
The old man stood up and pulled his pants off hastily. When he turned around to face them, Marion saw that indeed half his weight was in his member. Jutting in front of his skinny, shrunken frame like a club, was the biggest penis she had ever seen. More than ten inches long, the giant head would have filled a tea cup. Big Red beckoned the man closer. “Stand 'ere. Now, girlie, what d' ya fink o' that? Take it in yer hand and give it a tickle. Go on, ya bitch, do whot yer told or I'll bash you good.” Marion reached out and put her hand around the swollen purple mass. Her fingers would barely enclose it and she thought with horror of what it would feel like inside her. “Pull on it. Make it good an' 'ard fer yer cunt.” Red's eyes were bright with lust and his breath was coming in quick pants. He pulled and fondled her breast while he was talking, continuing to rub himself with his other hand while he did so. “Do it nice, now.”
Gimp felt the fire burning up his old legs as Marion's slim white fingers moved the skin up and down his erect cock. Fluid started to drip from the head and he thrust against her hand, muttering with passion.
“Cor, but she jerks it good. Ohhhhh, me prick's fair burnin'. Lemme stick it up 'er cunt before she pulls the juice right out o' me.”
Big Red pushed a thick wad of old clothes under Marion's behind, arching her body sharply. Frantic with passion, Gimp squatted on the bed between her legs and aimed his huge cock at the opening to her body. He leaned forward and Marion screamed as she felt the monster push into her, stretching her hole almost to the tearing point. Gimp leaned again, and the great shaft pushed further. Big Red, watching, was getting more and more excited as the gigantic shaft worked in and out of the reddened hole. Gimp was going slowly, wanting the exquisite tingle in his groin to last as long as possible. He could feel the wet walls of Marion's channel clasp his organ like a vice, and the heat that spread through him made it harder and harder for him to control his strokes. Mouthing obscenities, he groaned as he pushed the full length of his cock up into the woman's sex, ramming her cervix with the dripping head.
Marion was almost frantic. The pain caused by this gross invasion was coupled with a most unwanted desire. As the great cock pounded into her again and again, she found that her movements were no longer an attempt to escape, but dictated by a need to take all the man could push into her, to feel herself filled to bursting with hard, pulsing cock. She whimpered and moved her hips in a slow arc.
Big Red stood up. “She's likin' it now, the slut.” He reached inside his pants and pulled out his stiff, red cock. “Now she'll pay fer that bitin' she gave me.” He moved back to the bed, and kneeling beside her head he grabbed her hair and twisted her face around, pushing his wet prick at her mouth. “Suck on it, ya pig. Suck on it till it shoots in yer throat.” Even though she was being driven to distraction by the great cock between her thighs, Mario balked at the thought of taking the man into her mouth. It was different with Sir David, but she just couldn't force herself to let that dirty, gross thing between her lips. As she tried to turn her head away, Big Red yanked her hair cruelly, landing a ringing, openhanded blow across her soft cheek. The tears ran down her face, and in a moment she felt her mouth filled as Big Red thrust in. “Suck. Suck real pretty or I'll give ya a bashin' yer won't never forget.”
Terrified, Marion started moving her head up and down, running the inside of her cheeks along the length of the throbbing machine, and she felt her passion growing again. Finally, her aversion to the thing in her mouth changed to a terrible urge to shame herself, to wipe out all the horror in an orgy of disgrace and pain, and thick, hot come. Her mouth drew lovingly on the cock and she licked the head with her tongue. Big Red was breathing hard, the wet, young mouth and white body driving him to frenzy. His eyes were slits and saliva ran from the corner of his mouth as he turned his head from side to side, alternately watching the delicate, dainty creature being fucked by his friend's huge prick, and looking down to see her sucking so hard on his own cock.
Gimp was pounding frantically, driving to the hilt into the liquid fire that teased his sensitive pillar.
“Chris', Red, I'm gonna 'ave t' do it. Me nob's so full o' spunk it's like t' burst.” Marion jerked and twisted her pelvis in a wild lust-ridden dance. “Ohhhhhh, I can't 'old it! 'Er cunt's fair yankin' it out. 'Ere it is, girlie, 'er it is. OHHHHHH!” With a loud moan, the old man's body stiffened, and Marion felt burst after burst of thick, hot juice shot into her. Finally the old man moved back, his penis falling out of her as limp as his exhausted body.
Big Red moved back from her, and pulling her head back sharply with one hand, he took his rigid joint in the other, jerking it up and down quickly.
“Ye can take a load in yer mouth later on, but this one yer gonna get on your face.” He jerked harder, bending forward till he was directly over her. Marion watched through half closed eyes, wanting him to do what he threatened, yet dreading it. “Play wiv yer tits, ya bitch. Rub yer cunt while I'm jerkin'. I wanta watch y'.”
Marion's hand went to her breast and she started fondling herself, tweaking and rolling the dark pouting nipple. Molten lava ran in place of blood through her belly and thighs, and her hole felt gaping and empty without the huge cock in it. She reached down and started rubbing herself frantically, desperate to stop the itch that was driving at her desperately.
“Go on and rub yerself, ya hot bitch.” Just as Marion felt the dam break and the warm juice of her climax poured down her thighs, soaking the rags beneath her, a hot shower splashed on her throat and mouth and cheeks, and she heard Big Red roar like a bull as, for the second time that night, he pumped his juices onto her body.
He moved away and Marion turned over on the bed, wiping her face off on a rag. She lay with her face to the wall, eyes closed tightly and let the deep sobs of despair wrack her body. Shame and self loathing were so great that she felt nothing more could ever affect her. Little did she realize that this was but a mild beginning to what she would have to endure before she saw her home again.