The Bible has been the basis of so many stories that it makes the writer's head spin. From the Bible have come novels, titles of books and many songs. And once again we have a tale based on a story from the Old Testament. There is no denying that the Old Testament was full of erotic stories, and supplies material for many works of today. Dog Tired by Marta Sumner is based upon the story of Sodom and Gomorrah, the well-known cities of "wickedness" in the Old Testament. In the story of Sodom and Gormorrah the "pure" are saved by the angel of the Lord and the cities are destroyed by fire and brimstone. The "pure" in Dog Tired are Nathalie, Roald, Astrid and Hedda, but basically this is the story of Nathalie, the daughter of the recently dead minister of a poor Swedish village. Being alone in the world, Nathalie goes to live as the ward of the master of the wealthy manor on the hill, Arne Bjorn-son.
It is the manor on the hill that is symbolic of Sodom and Gomorrah. For within the manor exists the "wickedness" of the two biblical cities. The reader is exposed to all forms of sexual deviations that have existed from earliest times: rape, bestiality, Lesbianism, voyeurism, orgies, whippings.
Forcible rape is a crime in every state of the U.S. and almost all other Western countries. However rape is not a modern idea. Rape must have commenced in the times of the cavemen. Certainly the caveman choosing his bride by clubbing her and dragging her off to a new home would not fit today's standard of romantic love. One of the first recorded incidents of rape is in the Bible in the book of Genesis, Chapter 34, Verse 2;
And when Shechem the son of Hamor the Hivite, prince of the country, saw her (Dinah), he took her, and lay with her, and defiled her.
Thus, in Biblical times it was not long after God created man and woman that rape came into being.
Perhaps the most famous case of rape was the Rape of the Sabines by the Romans about 290 B.C. Supposedly, Romulus told his women-less men to help themselves to Sabine virgins after he had lured away the male population. The legend has become the source of many famous paintings, in particular, that of Rubens. In modern times the popular motion picture musical, Seven Bridges For Seven Brothers, was based on this same story.
Bestiality seems to be a subject about which there is much interest but very little statistical knowledge. Bestiality, by definition, is the impulse to attain sexual gratification by intercourse, or other close sexual contact, with animals. Again the Old Testament of the Bible contains the first writing about man and animals. In Leviticus, Chapter 18, verse 23, it states:
Neither shalt thou lie with any beast to defile thyself therewith: neither shall any woman stand before a beast to lie down thereto: it is confusion.
The Bible does not cite any cases of bestiality, but merely gives rules against it and defines the breaking of such rule to be punished by death of both the individual and the animal.
In the 11th, 12th, and 13th centuries, books containing accounts of habits and peculiarities of animals and the legendary lore connected with them became quite popular. These books today are known as bestiaries.
Havelock Ellis writes in his Psychology of Sex that:
In the Middle Ages and later its frequency is attested by the fact that it formed a favorite topic with preachers of the 15th and 16th centuries. It is significant that it was thought necessary to fix the periods of penance which should be undergone respectively by bishops, priests, and deacons who might be guilty of bestiality.
During the middle ages, especially in France, there were cases of bestiality involving men and sows, men and cows, men and donkeys, and women and dogs. Also according to a legend of the ancient Hebrews, the goat was often the companion of a woman. In the 18th century Voltaire wrote of this:
I shall ask in justification of the Jewish ladies who wandered in the desert, that they could not wash themselves owing to the lack of water. They could not change either their clothes or their shoes; they had no chemises. So the he-goats of their country could very easily mistake them for she-goatj on account of their smell, and that similarity might very well have given rise to some gallantry between the two species.
However wittily Voltaire may have written of bestiality, in our present day society it is a taboo with strict laws against it. In Sex Offenders, a study conducted by the Institute of Sex Research, they had only five cases of individuals legally punished for sexual behavior with animals. The degree of the taboo of bestiality is indicated by the fact that all five cases not only denied the offense, but denied any other animal contact. Despite these denials however, in 1948 the same group reported in Sexual Behavior of the Human Male that over 17% of rural boys admitted to animal contact.
Dr. Anthony Storr in Sexual Deviation stated that bestiality is often associated with voyeurism as the practice is rare except in the case of exhibitions put on by prostitutes to entertain their clients. He further states that "to the imagination, the animal represents sexuality freed from the restrictions imposed by civilization and humanity; and both men and women envy the abandon with which an animal may be supposed to satisfy its erotic needs."
Lesbianism, or female homosexuality, is one of the few sexual deviations that does not excite a great deal of controversy. Today, there are many major movies that are being released that deal quite frankly with female homosexuality, such as The Fox, The Killing of Sister George, and Secret Ceremony. Today, psychiatrists are still battling the problem as to whether the phenomenon of homosexuality is physical or mental. Everything dealing with human relationships varies from person to person and opinions depend a great deal on the researcher's own personal biases.
Orgies have been present in civilization since the time of the Greeks, who were devoted to Hedonism, and orgies are quite often symbolic of religious celebrations. In earliest times they were associated with the worship of fertility. However, in the 20th century this does not hold true, as sociologists are more concerned with overpopulation than with fertility. But with the passage of time many of the original festivals for fertility worship have coincided with modern day celebrations such as Mardi Gras or the Fausching festivals, and these are becoming very popular with tourists. Thus, the modem day celebrations which were actually taken from phallic worship become sexual in overtone, obvious or covert. In A History of Orgies, by Burgo Partridge, an orgy is denned as an organized blowing-off of steam. Orgies are usually thought of in sexual tones only, but Mr. Partridge points out that many actions such as wars, cocktail parties, and feasts are in themselves orgies or releases from tension. As long as restraint produces tension man will engage in orgies, and the attitude of society will determine what form they will take.
Whippings are a form of sadomasochistic relationship. The term sadomasochism comes from two men who made famous such tendencies. Sadism is from the Marquis de Sade, who delighted in subjecting others to pain, and masochism from the Chevalier Lepold von Sacher-Masoch, who wished to be beaten and subjugated. Both men wrote volumes of papers and letters concerning their deviate interests. In Sexual Deviation Dr. Anthony Storr wrote that: ". . . sadomasochistic relationships are recreating childish patterns in which one partner is acting the child while the other is assuming the role of parent." Dr. Storr goes on to state that the masochist desires the situation of being overpowered and forced to comply. Thus the masochist "cannot help it," and can enjoy the sexual thrills without incurring either blame or responsibility.
In Dog Tired the author has used all these forms of deviate sexual behavior to represent the wickedness of Sodom and Gomorrah, which in the story is the manor where Nathalie is held prisoner and subjected to these manifestations. However, because these actions are forced upon her, she remains "pure" in soul. Whether or not she enjoys these sexual thrills is immaterial, as she does not seek them out herself. As with Sodom and Gomorrah, the manor house with all of its sexual innovations is destroyed by fire and the "pure" escape. Thus, we basically have a story of good triumphing over evil.
Dog Tired will undoubtedly come under the fire of certain critics because of its heavy use of erotic realism, but this is precisely the story the author has set out to tell. And by using the Biblical tale for the pattern, the author is in fact creating a satire on an age-old legend. The approach, however, is not actually satirical, and the author is really presenting a modern day version of the conflict between man and his sexual nature.
While it is doubtful that Dog Tired will become a classic in modern literature, the work does have much to offer for the student of modern behavioral patterns. We can see here every sexual deviation and its affect on the individual characters. One wonders if the heavy emphasis on bestiality here might not be the author's slap at the impersonalization taking place in our contemporary society. As a matter-of-fact, there is much between the lines for sociologists and philosophers. And that, after all, is the purpose of good writing, to challenge the mind and intellect while providing entertaining reading.
-Dale Gordon, Ph.D.
CHAPTER ONE
It was not a pleasurable time for anyone in Sweden that year, nor had it been for some time, what with the crops failing year after year. Those that could find a way were heading for the promise of the New World. For Nathalie Aronsund it was a particular trial, for within the space of a fortnight, she had lost both her mother and father. As she trudged back from the cemetery through the slush of early spring, her mind cried out in anguish at the gross injustice of it all.
Why me? her thoughts kept repeating over and over. What can I do? How can I exist?
The men trudging grimly ahead of her were bickering over this same problem.
"I think it is wrong," the oldest whispered. "We owe the good reverend and his wife something better than this."
"Ja, but there will never be another parson to come to us unless we honor the wishes of our only benefactor. Without him, there would not be a krona left in the collection plate. How then could we accomplish any good?"
"Besides," sided his friend, "what do we really have against Arne Bjornson or his wife? Nothing but a lot of gossip! No one has ever produced a single shred of substantial evidence. I say if he is willing to take the child as a ward, let us be glad of it. I will be honest with you. There is not a scrap of bread left over at my table to feed an extra mouth."
"It is settled then?" the old man asked. "We accept the offer of the Bjomsons to take the child as a ward?"
The men nodded and trudged in silence. The funeral had been a drab one, what with the season being too early for flowers. Not even a crocus had popped through the slush. The entire village had attended and many had been deeply grieved over the demise of the good parson. Coming so soon after the death of his wife, there was not even a suitable casket for the man who had done so much for his village.
As the elders turned to re-enter the church, the old man stopped to look up at the huge gray manor house that hung over the village, clinging precariously to the gray granite cliffs. Somber clouds hung like a pall over the high dreary walls. The old man shuddered and then hurried into the church.
The girl had shown much restraint and dignity for one so young. At sixteen, she had already acquired some of her father's best traits. Her long pale blonde hair was primly knotted and tucked beneath the cheerless black bonnet. Although she was small and fine boned, like her mother, she had the long methodical plodding steps of her father and her feet were perennially shod in shapeless black brogans. The bodice of her black mourning gown was shapelessly loose and her skirts hung drearily, without the many starched petticoats favored by other girls of her age. The delicacy of her features was overshadowed by the pinched, puritanical expression, and even her mother had more than once called her the old-maid type. On this day, her back was ramrod stiff as usual but her shoulders drooped at the terrible burden she carried within herself. As she was passing the church, Elder Gustav Thorvaldsen stopped her and could not help noting the swollen condition of her eyes.
"We will keep you only a moment," he promised. "The elders wish to speak with you."
She nodded gravely and turned in. The men were in her father's office, standing about uncomfortably. She looked around but none met her eyes, all seemingly intent upon studying the worn flooring.
"Yes?" she said impatiently when none would take the initiative.
At that moment, the old man hurried into the room and the others seemed greatly relieved.
"I am sorry, my dear. I am finding it impossible to fill even half of your father's shoes," he said.
Nathalie nodded.
"Ja, Papa Henrik, there always seemed much to do."
"Ja, well, that is the way of it. But," he said, forcing a more optimistic tone than he felt, "I have good news for you, my dear. The honorable Arne Bjornson and his wife, Sara, have magnanimously expressed an interest in your concern. They have agreed to take you as their ward. Quite a jump up in the world, is it not? I hope you will not forget all of your common friends."
Nathalie stared at the old man as the words sank into her brain. She felt nothing. Oh, most certainly, she knew about the great manor house and the checks that arrived each month to make it possible for the church to continue. She had seen the big square-boned man riding on his stallion in the hills, and always he was followed by eight or ten of the huge great Danes he kept. She had seen his tall, angular wife visiting the dressmaker or picking out her vegetables at the farmer's stand. She could not recall having ever spoken to either of them. They did not attend services and she could not imagine how they had even learned of her existence.
There had been one time, she remembered, not too long ago, when she had almost been spoken to. She had been in the fields so it must have been last fall, and he had ridden past within a hundred yards of her. One of the monstrous dogs bad bounded up to her and, loving animals as she did, she had forgotten all caution and reached out to pet the huge beast. He had immediately whined and rubbed up against her. She had not realized the man had stopped and ridden back to investigate until he laughed.
"Too bad, Duke," he had snorted. "She does not seem to frighten easily."
Nathalie felt at home with animals. She had smiled at the sight of the friendly beast but at the sound of the man, she stiffened, acknowledging his presence with a curt nod.
He had said no more but laughed and whistled to the dogs. Then he was gone. The girl was ashamed that she had not spoken to the church's most benevolent donor. It was simply that she could never speak easily with people, most especially strangers, and this one far above her station, at that!
And now they had agreed to take her as ward. In such a great house, there was sure to be a library with more books than she had ever seen-and the animals. There would be plenty of them about. The only obstacle she would have to face was people, and she fully knew that she would have that mountain to climb wherever she was sent.
"I thank you," she said, "and please thank the Bjornsons. I shall gather my things and be ready by mid-afternoon."
The old man sighed. "It is just as well. Better not to stay alone in the parsonage. If Gustav will give me the loan of his buggy, I will take you up myself."
Gustav quickly agreed.
"I have very little," the girl admitted.
"But everything that belonged to your mother and father belongs to you now, Nathalie," the old man reminded her.
She looked up at him and her eyes welled up with tears in spite of herself.
"They had nothing, either," she told him.
The elders shook their heads. They all well knew that it was so, for the good Reverend Aronsund had given everything that he had to the people.
And we repay him like this, the old man thought sadly, delivering his only child to a den of wolves.
CHAPTER TWO
Nathalie was horrified by the size of the huge manor with its high gray outer wall looming ominously before her. She had lived beneath the shadow of this monolith all of her life, but she had never been up the mountain to approach it on its own terms. The prospect was frightening. The old man had climbed down from the carriage to ring the bell, and Nathalie sat looking up at the tremendous doors that were barring their path. Then a small wicket within the massive gates opened and the doorkeeper peered cautiously out at them.
"This the girl?" he asked.
"Ja," answered the old man.
"Wait here," he was told. "I shall fetch men to unload you."
The little door closed and the old man frowned. All of the servants within were total strangers in the village save for an old close-mouthed crone who did the shopping, and several foreign-looking men that went about their business with never a word or greeting to anyone. No one from the village had ever gotten past the main gate. Every time a newcomer arrived and was carried to the door, they were never seen in the village again. It was as though they were swallowed by the massive mound of masonry.
Papa Henrik shook himself, driving the black thoughts from his mind. The circumstances alone were enough to cause the ominous gossip that had always surrounded the manor. There was probably not a word of truth to any of it. The very fact that no one had cracked the impenetrable wall of security was proof enough that they could know nothing of the goings on within. He was beginning to feel better when the little door again opened and four strapping young men scurried out to unload the cart. With a jerk of the head, they motioned Nathalie to follow and the door closed sharply behind her, leaving the old man alone with his cart.
"Come see me!" he called after the girl, but he doubted that she could hear.
In point of fact, Nathalie did not hear. As she stepped into the slate courtyard, the immensity of the inner buildings rising loftily about her cowed her completely. It was like a small city, so huge were the dimensions and so haphazardly were the buildings arranged. There were low, flat stables and work rooms next to turrets that rose perhaps a hundred feet into the air. There were round buildings and square buildings with jutting protrudents at the oddest places.
Everything was built of the same gray stone, and though the outer walls and the main house were very old, other portions seemed to still be under construction.
Nathalie had to be reminded several times to follow her guides, so engrossed did she become with various curiosities. Finally, she entered the main building and was led up a series of stairs to a room on the fifth or sixth level, she could not be sure which.
How pleasant, she thought, finding herself in a cozy turret room with a friendly fire already burning in the hearth. She slipped out of her cape and, once the men were gone, gave the room a thorough inspection. Though it seemed snug and homelike, it was some bit larger than the entire cottage used for the parsonage. Had she not been so recently bereaved, she certainly would have been in a buoyant mood. As it was, she at least felt better.
Her window overlooked the whole of the valley below, and she watched as old Papa Henrik rode the twisting trail down the side of the mountain in his empty cart. So hypnotized did she become, watching the old man's tortured progress, she did not hear the door open.
"Now let us look at you, child," came a low, feminine voice, and Nathalie jerked about to see both Sara and Arne Bjornson standing by the hearth.
"Come here, Nathalie," Arne said, and she quickly obliged.
The long-limbed woman shook her head and sighed.
"What a neglected flower," she told her husband. "The basic material is adequate, but it will take a good deal of labor."
Arne smiled. "A labor I am sure you will enjoy thoroughly, my dear," he said with a touch of irony.
Nathalie did not understand a word, but the total effect sounded alarming to say the least.
"I thank you for your magnanimous gesture," she said. "I should like work to do about the place, if you please. I am most handy in the kitchen."
"That would be a disastrous waste," the man said. "I intend to occupy some of your time usefully, but I have something far more suitable for your talents than working in a kitchen. You appear to have a way with animals. I would like you to help me train my brutish little beasties."
"The dogs?" Nathalie asked. "I should like that very much, sir."
"Fine. Then you may come along with me now, it you are settled."
"Certainly," she answered, snatching up her cape.
"Just one moment," Sara said coolly. "Come here, child. Do not be afraid. I shall not bite you . . . yet."
Arne laughed as Nathalie steeled herself to approach the large woman. Sara reached out and jerked the bone stays from her knotted bun and the hair fell down, cascading across her shoulders and tumbling to her thighs.
Nathalie's hands flew to her head, trying to shield herself from their view.
"Ahhhhh," sighed the woman. "Lovely, is she not? It is amazing how loose hair can soften the face. I do not want to see this hair pinned up again, young lady. I shall just take these stays along so that you will not be tempted."
Nathalie's cheeks were crimson with embarrassment. It was like being caught in one's nightwear to go about with the hair exposed.
"Please," she pleaded, "I could not bear to go about in this condition."
"You will bear it. . . and like it, I dare say," the woman answered curtly, and without further argument, she turned and left the room.
"She is right," Arne said, and his smallish eyes were mere slits as he grinned at her. "Come along. Let us go visit my pets."
CHAPTER THREE
The din of the dogs as they entered the kennel was deafening. They all began lunging at then-gates in a frenzy to reach their master. The two men that lumbered out of the adjoining quarters perked up when they saw the host had brought company.
"This be the girl?" one asked.
Nathalie did not appreciate the way the man looked at her. His roving eye made her decidedly uncomfortable.
"Ja," Arne answered. "This is Nathalie. Child, meet my keepers, Sven and Edvard."
"How do you do?" she said stiffly as the younger, bolder buck sidled around her, openly staring at her body.
"Anything under all that wrapping?" he asked.
Arne snorted. "I have not as yet opened the package," he answered.
"Sir," Nathalie said, backing instinctively toward the entrance, "I believe I should not be here. If you.. . "
"Nonsense," Arne cut in, reaching out to stop her.
He caught her by the arms and firmly forced her back until she was standing beside him. In her confusion, she hardly knew what she should do. She did not want to seem ungrateful and she well knew of her fault of shyness. Yet her knees shook and her breathing was far from even as she strained away from her benefactor.
"The men are going to help you prepare to train the dogs," he said evenly; and then, nodding to the men, he handed her over to them.
They each grabbed a shoulder and forearm and began walking her down the aisle. Before she had time to object, they stopped. One man stepped behind her and pulled her arms tightly back, locking them together so that she could not move at all.
"What are you doing?" she demanded. "Stop this at once! Master Bjornson!"
Her objections turned from words to screams as the other man reached to feel her breasts and then began unbuttoning her dress.
"Eyiiiiiiii!"
Her piercing wails cut through the barking of the dogs to rise shrilly in the early evening air. Blind, screaming terror clutched at her as they pulled her bodice down over her shoulders and began unlacing her chemise.
"My God! What a loud one!" Sven yelled at the master. "She should indeed be lusty as all hell!"
Arne grinned and then his mouth dropped open as the chemise was freed and spread to reveal the girl's full, ripe mounds-so seductively virginal that even Arne had to moan his approval.
"Would you look at that!" Edvard laughed, lifting one experimentally as if to weigh it. "She has a lot more than appeared in that baggy sack."
"Ahhhhhh!" sighed Arne. "Sara will go insane. My lord, those are tits to end all tits! Did you ever see bigger nipples, and as pale as a pink lily? The aureoles seem to puff out at you. Ahhhhhh, I could suck upon that for a fortnight or more."
"There is enough there to fuck yourself with," Sven groaned.
"Hurry man!" his master urged. "Get to the meat! I want to see her meat!"
They no longer bothered with buttons but ripped savagely at the cloth as the girl twisted miserably in their grip. Faint with the all-consuming effort of her screams, she did not even realize that her body had been totally bared until Arne jabbed his hand into her crotch.
Her screams were cut short as she gasped with shock at his invasion of her privates.
"No!" she cried out, and then began twisting and writhing in a frenzy to free herself. It was a battle of hopelessness, but she was too dazed with shock to realize it. She no longer had energy to voice her terror, her entire being focusing on the desperate attempt to flee. Silently she struggled, and the men laughed and taunted her body with hands and lips, and she could bear none of it.
With a violent convulsion she began to retch, and she vomited out her terror, puking all over Sven, who jumped back, cursing vehemently. The other two roared with laughter.
"Quick," said Arne. "While she's retching, she will not put up such a battle. Let's get her fastened."
She was heaving now with nothing left to puke as they dragged her back to a plank tilted against the wall and secured with lashings. Her arms were tied behind the plank and her legs stretched out and pulled around it. It strained her body and would have been miserably uncomfortable, had she not been so sickened by having her legs splayed open that she could not feel the pain of it.
"Ohhhhh please!" she pleaded. "Let me go! I can't bear it! Please!"
When they paid her no heed, she began to wail-a low, mournful keening wail of absolute hopelessness.
Take me, dear Lord, she prayed silently. This is a cross too loathsome for me to bear.
"Which one shall it be?" Sven asked his master.
Arne put his hand against the plank and leaned over to touch her pudenda. His finger jabbed about in her meat and she grunted at each painful violation. Then, with no warning whatever, he stabbed his middle finger into her cunt.
"Ayiiiiiii!" she screamed as the pain seared clear through her being.
Arne jerked his finger away.
"The young one we operated on yesterday," he said. "Anything else would kill her until she has opened up."
He sniffed at his finger and then sucked it into his mouth.
"That's sweet young juice she has," he said, licking his lips tauntingly.
Edvard had slipped away and now returned with a dog straining at the leash. His prick was a scarlet, slimy-looking saber hanging several inches out of his sheath and already stabbing and jerking about.
"How large is his knot?" the master asked. "Have you checked?"
Sven grinned.
"About the size of an apricot," he judged.
"Better get him in then before he begins to swell. He'll hang up for sure. She's awful tight," Arne said. "All right, little beastie, you are about to get your first human piece."
Nathalie could not believe what her ears told her. Surely there was no man as depraved as this. She had read of the orgies in early times but never, even in the blatant descriptions of the Bible, had she ever read of such a thing as this. Her mind had twisted such words as bestial into the conception of man behaving in a beast-like manner. As Arne jerked the leash up and pulled the dog onto her she could not accept the reality of their carnal act. She could feel the point stabbing frantically about her loins, and her screams began afresh as Arne leaned over and grabbed hold of the jerking saber.
"Take it easy, boy," he whispered gently, and then he was guiding the slimy dirk into her tight cunt.
"Eyiiiiiiii!" she screamed as an agony of pain washed over her. She twisted and strained away from the animal but she was tightly bound and all she succeeded in doing was to burn the ropes into her wrists and ankles.
"Oh God!" she wailed. "Let me die! Let me die! Let me die!"
Arne never took his hands away from the humping prick, pressing his fist tightly against her puffy furred lips. His free hand squeezed at her breast, his fingers gouging hungrily into her soft, spongy flesh.
The animal was moaning though one could hardly hear it for the terror-stricken screams of the girl. His strokes were getting shorter and shorter and finally, Arne released her breast and, still pressing his other hand against her cunt, he mounted the violently humping animal. Now he leaned over and felt of the connection with both hands, seeming to drain their fire into his own writhing body.
"Ohhhhhhh!" he moaned. "That is so good. Oh, that is sooooo good! Like it, boy? Like fucking a nice tight cunt? God, what a cock this animal will have. Ohhhh! Sven! His knot is a goodly size. Get it in there, boy! All the way! Jaaaaaaaaa!"
He was in a frenzy, his body working with the animal's as he felt of the action itself.
Sven and Edvard were rubbing their own bulges miserably, aching to join in the flesh pleasures of their master.
"Ohhhhhhh! It is coming! Oh, sweet Jesus, it is a load!" he moaned, and then he and the animal stiffened as though they were one, and he felt the dog disgorge his cum into the bleeding cunt of the girl.
"Ahhhhhh!" he wailed as his own release washed over him and he stepped away and leaned heavily against the wall.
Nathalie did not scream as the dog jerked and twisted, trying to pull away from her. Several moments before, she had, mercifully, fainted.
CHAPTER FOUR
When Nathalie awoke, she was back in the room where it had all started. She looked about, wondering if it all had been some kind of terrible nightmare. Jerking awake so quickly that she was still somewhat dazed, she looked about and shuddered at the dim recollection that quickly swelled into a searingly painful memory.
There was a pain in her loins-no, more an ache, but it was intense. Her skin felt peculiar, and with a start, she realized that she was entirely naked.
She scanned the room carefully but could not see her valises. Jerking off the top coverlet, she wrapped it tightly about her and scurried across to the wardrobe. As she pulled the door open, a cold chill swept over her. There was nothing there.
Ohhhhh, dear Lord, she moaned inwardly, what has happened to me?
She rushed to the chiffonier, but it too was barren. Frantically, she checked beneath the bed and behind every stick of furniture, but her clothing had absolutely disappeared. Once she was convinced of this fact, she returned to the shelter of the bed, rewrapping the top coverlet as tightly about her as she could and then pulling the covers up about her neck.
She propped her head up so that she could keep her eyes on the door, and then her brain was left to function overtime and the horror of the memories of dogs and men swelled about her until she could not breathe for the terror that convulsively gripped her body.
I cannot go through such an ordeal again, she told herself over and over. I. would rather be dead. Whoa, there girl! Get ahold of yourself. There has to be a way out of this. Think!
She began wondering about different things that had to be investigated. Yet, she could not bear the thought of getting out of bed again. She stared at the door. Was it locked? Was she a prisoner or not? And the window. Was there a way out from there? She tried to remember what she had seen that first time she had looked out of the wide pane, but all that came to her was the old man riding down the side of the mountain on the little cart.
Forcing herself out of the bed, she gripped the coverlet tightly about her and began her investigation. The door, very definitely, was locked. There was no budging it. From the window, she looked down to the outer wall some twenty below. It formed a ledge no more than two-feet wide, at most, and from there it was another forty-foot drop down the wall to the side of the mountain. The mountain itself was faced with a cliff, and although there were fissures that looked negotiable, the drop was nearly a thousand feet to where the mountain began sloping down more gradually toward the valley below. It was a hopeless vista and Nathalie felt a letdown in spite of the little hope she had before. Nothing is ever quite nothing until it becomes hopeless, and then it becomes a bottomless pit from which there is no escape.
She was climbing back beneath the comforters when she heard a loud click. Her eyes saucered and she held her breath as she pulled the comforter up tightly about her neck and stared at the door. Slowly the knob turned. Nathalie stifled a scream as her blood churned with apprehension.
okay, dear God, please-it was all she had time to pray.
The door opened and the two pleasant-looking young women stood behind a large wooden cart which they proceeded to push into the room.
"Hello!" one said cheerily as she approached the bed. "I am Astrid. This is Hedda. Please, don't look so frightened. We have only come to make you ready."
"The only thing I shall ever be ready for is to get my clothing and return to my home!" Nathalie snapped.
Astrid smiled patiently. "I know how you feel, my dear," she said. "We both do. We were once brought to this room just as you have been. You will live through it."
"I don't want to live through it!" she hissed. "I should far rather die!"
"I said that once," Hedda said, speaking for the first time. Her voice was low and filled with compassion, "I even tried it, but it is quite impossible, you know."
Nathalie pulled the coverlet tightly about her as Hedda turned to lock the door.
"I imagine there is a way," she warned ominously.
Astrid laughed, and her voice was a soft, melodious one, filled with good humor and warmth.
"Of course, there are ways," she answered cheerfully. "Many ways, for the morbid or sick at heart, but you are a normal, healthy young woman. That is the way they always pick them. You could not possibly burden the Lord with such an infamous act any more than Hedda could. Be glad for that, Nathalie. Life is very precious."
They knew all about her. They knew her name. They knew of the depth of her religious convictions -or were they only guessing at that? Nathalie was sure of nothing now.
"And what did you do?" she asked Hedda, and her tone was more curious than irate now.
Astrid pulled the comforter away with a quick jerk as Hedda pushed the girl gently but firmly back down onto the bed.
"Lie back and relax, dear," Hedda said.
"Please," Nathalie pleaded, "I must know. How much will I have to endure? How can I possibly live through-" She shuddered but could not say the words.
Hedda's eyes misted with compassion.
"I will tell you all of it as we work," she promised. "Just relax. You will find that it helps to have a friend. Astrid and I will be your friends."
CHAPTER FIVE
"Good heavens," Astrid said. "What is this? Would you look at her! She has herself wrapped into a coverlet!"
Hedda snickered. "A regular little mummy," she observed.
"No!" Nathalie cried sharply as they tried to unwind the cumbersome wrapper from around her shivering body.
She pinned her arms tightly against herself, locking her wrists in front of her defiantly. Astrid and Hedda grinned across at each other and Hedda shook her head in mock wonder at the girl's ridiculous prudity. Reaching down below her thighs, they grabbed the comforter and pulled it apart. In spite of Nathalie's grip, the material slid slowly away from her, leaving her vulnerably exposed.
"No! No! No!" she cried desperately, clutching for any cloth to cover herself.
"Nathalie!" Hedda scolded. "We are not going to hurt you! Now, please lie back and behave!"
But Nathalie was fighting them almost as frantically as she had the men She strained to sit up-to cover herself-to roll over onto her belly where she would not feel as revoltingly exposed, but they held her down. She lashed out at them with both arms and legs, flailing as helplessly as a pinned butterfly. She was no match for their combined efforts but struggling with her was not getting the job done either. Astrid snatched up a comforter and threw it over her. As if by magic, Nathalie's frenzy calmed. She stared up at the two pretty Norse women for a moment. They looked no older than she.
"Thank you," she whispered gratefully.
"That is better," Hedda answered with a deep sigh. "We have our job to do, Nathalie."
"We will help you all that we can, pet," Astrid promised, "but please do not get us into trouble."
"I'm sorry," she mumbled apologetically. "I am so terribly frightened after-"
Her voice trailed off to nothingness. She could not speak of her ordeal.
"Then turn over onto your tummy, dear," Hedda ordered, "and let us get on with it."
Meekly, Nathalie rolled over. Astrid pulled her arms out and Hedda lifted the comforter up to expose her legs. She was grateful enough having her torso still covered that she did not object.
Each took a flask from the cart and poured sweetly scented oils into their palms. Setting the flasks aside, they rubbed their palms together briskly. As Astrid began to knead Nathalie's shoulders and arms, Hedda started working the fragrant oil into her feet and ankles.
"You have nice skin," Astrid commented. "It is of a fine texture and grain. A bit pale perhaps, but lovely."
"She has certainly never worked in the fields or gone barefooted," Hedda agreed.
"My father was the parson in the village," she told them. "I buried him only yesterday, and my mother a fortnight before."
"A pity," Astrid murmured.
The soothing hands of the women calmed Nathalie's pounding heart and soon she became drowsy. As Astrid rubbed the warm oil in beneath her arms, she sighed and gave herself up to them completely. The fingers touched the swelling edges of her breasts but stopped before she could become alarmed, and a warm, voluptuous feeling overcame her-soothing and warm but not dangerous or erotic. Momentarily content, the aches and pains that lingered seemed to dissolve under the kneading palms, and the glistening fingers healed the rope burns on her wrists and ankles.
"Before long," Astrid told her softly, "this will all be over. They will find another and tire of you.
Then you will be moved down to our quarters, and life is not at all bad there."
"Is there no escape possible?" Nathalie asked, and though the question was of much importance to her, the words came out slowly and lethargically.
"Perhaps," Hedda told her. "We have thought some about it, but no one has ever managed it alone."
Hedda's hands moved to Nathalie's upper legs, sliding higher and higher with every stroke. The fingers worked nearly to the thighs, but it was the thumbs, curled around to the inside of her legs, that began to worry the girl, for they stopped just short of touching her privates at the top of each stroke. As her natal lips began to tingle and burn, her heart speeded rapidly and again she was afraid.
It is wrong! her inner self accused. You should feel nothing. Nothing!
Annoyed with herself, she began to squirm, shifting about restlessly. The two women glanced across at each other and smiled. Hedda's hands drew farther and farther away from the danger zone and Nathalie relaxed, although the tingling sensations in her loins would not be stilled. She tossed and turned, chiding herself for her lack of self-control. Then Hedda raised the blanket and, taking fresh oil, she began rubbing the girl's sweetly rounded rump.
Laying the blanket aside, Astrid started down the girl's back and soon the two women's fingertips were overlapping as they worked across her flesh.
"There," Astrid said, stepping back to study the girl. "That side is done nicely, I think."
"Yes," Hedda agreed, and together, they rolled the girl over onto her back.
"Please," Nathalie whispered. "Could I have the blanket back?"
"No, dear," Astrid answered as gently as possible. "Just relax and it will be over soon."
"What is to happen to me when it is over?" she wanted to know.
Hedda shot Astrid a quick, warning glance.
"Nothing so bad as what happened before," was all that Astrid would say on the subject.
Pouring the oil directly onto the girl's cleft, Astrid began to massage the shining liquid into her full, spongy breasts.
Nathalie turned her head to the side. She could not bear to look at what was being done to her. The feel was too erotic-too sensuous. It carried clear to her loins, where the tingle soon burst into a flame.
"They are beautiful," Astrid commented, but though her tone was calm and matter-of-fact, her touch was not. The fingers grazed across her flesh, leaving trails of gooseflesh. Nathalie moved about restlessly as the masseuse twirled the perked nipples.
Hedda had worked up past Nathalie's knees, her thumbs again coming dangerously close to the heated flesh. Nathalie was fairly certain the girl would not actually touch her, since she had been that close once before and moved away, yet she held her breath, her loins aching with the heavy thump, thump, thump of her throbbing pulse.
Over and over, they almost touched the fiery flesh, only to slide away and attack again. Then they touched and Nathalie jumped with a start as the fire shot out through her body to every extremity.
"No!" she whimpered.
"Hush," Hedda whispered huskily. "Spread your legs and you won't feel it so much."
Nathalie did as she was told, and Hedda began working down the valleys between her puffed lips and the inner leg. It helped very little and she could not bear having her legs parted-her scarlet slit gaping before the woman.
"Unnngh," she moaned, and moved her legs back together. All she succeeded in doing was to trap the girl's hands hard against her loins, and the fire washed hotly across her body.
"Ohhh," she whimpered, and parted her legs with a start.
Astrid had worked down to her belly and now she poured oil into Nathalie's mound and began pulling the hairs gently, working the glistening oils in until her forest of hair shone.
"Enough!" Nathalie gasped, but the woman paid her no heed. Instead, Astrid poured oil slowly into her gaping meat and Nathalie sucked desperately for air as the fluid trickled down her hot, moist inner flesh.
"Snuggle her tits," she whispered to Hedda as she lowered the ball of her finger to work the lubricant into Nathalie's throbbing meat.
"No! No! No!" the girl cried as Astrid beat out a light staccato against her throbbing bud.
Hedda moved up to caress the ripe breasts, reaching down to quiver her tongue hotly against a hardened nipple. Nathalie writhed miserably as the terrible aching sensations threatened to engulf her completely.
"Ohhhhh! Dear God, make them stop!" she moaned, but the delicate finger continued its erotic massage. With one last desperate effort, she jerked away from them and managed to roll over onto her stomach, tightly locking her arms and legs against her.
"Friends!" she spat. "You are no different than they. You are vile animals, all of you!"
"We are just doing our job," Astrid answered innocently. "We are done now."
Nathalie raised herself up onto her elbows and stared at them. "You mean it?" she asked.
"Yes, dear," Hedda assured her. "We are finished."
With a deep sigh, she allowed Astrid to pull the blanket up about her and then watched them replace the various oils in their proper place on the cart.
"Just one more small thing," Astrid said, and before Nathalie could object, the older girl slipped a leather bracelet around her wrist and locked it into place.
"What is that?" the girl demanded.
"You must wear wristlets and anklets while you are in this room," Hedda explained as she snapped one onto her ankle. "They are not uncomfortable. You will soon forget you have them on at all."
"My clothes!" Nathalie suddenly remembered. "What am I to wear?"
"Your pretty pink skin, for the present," Hedda laughed, and Astrid locked the last wristlet in place.
"No!" Nathalie cried. "I could not bear it. I must have clothing!"
Astrid smiled. "I imagine you will have clothing by nightfall, my dear. Yes, I am certain of it."
Hedda nodded. "It will not be long, for you, though I doubt that you will enjoy what they bring you. Try not to fight quite so much, my dear. It will only make things harder."
"What do you mean? What will they do to me?" A million questions were racing through her brain now, demanding to be answered. Already, it was too late. The two girls had the door unlocked and were pushing the cart out into the hall.
"Come back!" she cried, but they were gone. Her loins ached and her body was totally miserable. Even worse, she felt lonelier than she had ever felt in her life.
Why did I not start asking questions the instant they entered? she asked herself angrily. I should have demanded the answers-insisted upon some sort of an explanation.
There was too much fear, her other self answered. They will come again. Now is the time to think how best to put their next visit to good use!
She wrapped the coverlet around herself again and went to sit at the edge of her hearth. The fire was warmly refreshing. Perhaps, now, she could think.
It was already too late, for at that moment, Nathalie heard another click at the door.
CHAPTER SIX
Nathalie held her breath as the knob turned.
"Astrid? Hedda?" she called apprehensively.
It was neither. Sara Bjornson herself pulled the door open as Nathalie scrambled awkwardly to her feet in the tightly bound coverlet.
"You!" she hissed, her eyes flashing with accusations.
Sara only smiled. It was a cold, evil leer that made the girl shiver convulsively. The tall angular woman turned back toward the hallway and nodded curtly. Two husky men lumbered in and, at another silent command, turned and started for the girl.
"Stay away from me!" Nathalie cried, edging back toward the hearth. She could feel the warmth of the fire getting hotter through the layers of blanket but she kept backing, oblivious to all but the brutes who plodded menacingly toward her.
"Go away!" she screamed as she pressed against the stones of the hearth. There was no place left to retreat. She turned to flee to the left and one man snorted with laughter as she jumped past him. He stamped his foot down on the coverlet skimming along on the floor behind her and held it firm. Nathalie did not realize what had happened until the cold air rushed about her as she ran out of the coverlet's protection. The horror of exposing herself brought her to a dead stop and she hugged her arms quickly to her body to try to shield herself, then lunged toward the bed to grab another covering.
But the second man had outguessed her and was waiting. His hand snaked out and closed about her leather wristlet. Before she could react, he had whirled her around and pulled her body to him, her backside hard up against his body. As she struggled, he clamped a huge paw down over her breast and dug his fingers mercilessly into the tender, spongy flesh.
"Eyiiiiiiii!" she screamed, and it was a scream of absolute panic. Her legs and arms flailed helplessly in the air-her eyes were pinched closed; her screams were a total commitment allowing no other senses to function simultaneously. She did not know when he picked her up and carried her to the bed. She did not realize that chains were being hooked to the eyelets of her leather bracelets. Not until they spread her legs across the width of the bed did she realize that she was being chained down, spread-eagle, on the bed.
Her eyes snapped open and filled with horror as she looked down at her body.
"Nooooooo!" she wailed, jerking her head back and forth in a frenzy of fear.
The legs! If only they would allow her to keep her legs together. There was something insidiously vulnerable-wholly vile and nauseating to have the legs parted, the privates exposed.
So frustrated were her frenzied efforts, being absolutely useless in their effect, that she did not notice the men finish or leave until the door clicked shut behind them. Then she waited, her eyes tightly shut for long moments before she dared to see if she were really alone. Heaving a labored sigh, she peeked hesitantly and saw that they were gone.
Thank God! she thought, but as she turned her head toward the fire, she saw that her ordeal was far from over. Sara Bjornson was pulling the sash from her dressing gown as she walked toward the bed.
"We are quite alone now, love," the older woman whispered huskily. "I am sorry to have to tie you down but after you find how heavenly a woman's love can be, we will have no need for these chains."
"Go away!" Nathalie hissed. "God will strike you dead if you touch me! My father was a minister. Only yesterday, I buried him. How can you be such vile ghouls as this?"
"Oh, it is quite easy," Sara answered casually.
"My, but you have a nice body. To think how you looked before. What a terrible waste!"
"My body belongs to God!" Nathalie screeched.
Sara burst out laughing, her long, yellowed teeth giving her an eerie look. Her face was heavily powdered and her low, throaty cackle raised the hackles of Nathalie's hair.
Oh God, don't let her touch me, the girl prayed. Her touch would be more loathsome than that of a serpent.
As the laughter subsided, the woman's eyes narrowed and a sensuous smile spread across her wrinkled face.
"Now, dear," she said in her most seductive tone. "Feast your eyes on pure sensual splendor."
As the last word slid from her lips, she pulled the lapels of her gown aside with a flourish, allowing it to drop off her shoulders and slither to the ground. She posed there for a long moment, her chest arched out and her belly sucked tightly in as she displayed herself wantonly.
Nathalie shuddered. It was ludicrous. The woman was a sad, middle-aged shell of what, perhaps, had once been a lush young girl; but there was no way of telling that now. Her skin was slack and wrinkled. Her breasts hung pendulously like two monstrous fried eggs-the sacks limp against her chest, the nipples clinging precariously like old yolks about to break. Nathalie turned her head aside. She could not bear to witness such a disgusting spectacle. Obviously, the woman was quite mad, for the proud smile on her face bespoke a beautiful body, which was not the case at all
"Am I not beautiful?" Sara demanded.
"No," whispered the girl. "You are old-and not gracefully old at that. I feel only pity for you."
The woman's face became pale as she stared at the girl. Her mouth fell slack and then her cheeks began to redden as the stare turned into a glare of absolute rage.
"Never speak this way to me again!" she snarled, "or I shall have that pretty little ass of yours flogged so soundly you will wish you were dead! So I am not to your liking, eh? I shall make you eat those words-and me, too!"
"Please!" Nathalie whimpered, the woman's fierce countenance badly frightening her.
"No! One day soon, you will beg for me! Do you hear, girl? Your lush little body will hunger for me! You will be insane for my caress, mad for my tongue to lap the juices from your meat! Ahhhhhhhh!"
The spark of madness was in her eyes and in the contortions of her face and body as she threw herself upon the girl. She mounted her exactly as a man would mount a woman, grinding her mound down into the girl's tender privates and wiggling her tits on the soft, creamy mounds of Nathalie's breasts.
"Unnnnngh!" Sara grunted at the feel of the youthful, taut flesh. "Now, does that not feel heavenly, child?"
Nathalie shuddered. The hot, furred lips crushing down against her, splaying open as the woman rubbed her meat into the girl's slit, were impossible to ignore. Her loins still carried the glow of Astrid and Hedda's caresses.
"Answer me!" Sara demanded.
"No!" cried the girl. "What could be heavenly about such a vile act? You nauseate me!"
Sara raised herself up on one arm and slapped her hard across the face.
"Ohhhhh!" cried Nathalie at the sharp sting.
Without a word more to her, Sara leaned down and sucked in a puffy, pastel nipple. She wallowed it about in her mouth a moment and then began to suck, milking the breast compulsively with her hands.
The slap brought tears to Nathalie's eyes and, once started, they flooded down her cheeks and into her hair in a torment of misery. Her chest trembled and then began to heave with the convulsions of her sobs.
Sara tried to press her mouth down upon the girl's lips but Nathalie shook her head violently and would not allow it. It was the only defiance she could manage other than words, since her body was stretched tautly by the chains. For a time, she was able to dig her little rump down into the mattress to lessen the pressure of the loins against her. Sara tried pulling her ass up with both hands but found it took too much effort.
Grabbing a pillow, she doubled it and rammed it beneath the small ass.
"Noooo!" cried the girl as her legs and arms were pulled mercilessly by the added pressure.
"Yesssss," sighed the woman as she lowered her slit down onto Nathalie's arched, widely gaping meat.
"Ahhhhhh," she moaned as she ground her meat around and around on the girl's hot privates.
Oh God! What can I do? Nathalie thought frantically. The feel is so hot-so erotic and wild. I can't let her suspect. Oh God, help me hide this terrible thing inside me!
"That is nicccce," whispered the woman in a low, animal guttural. "Yessss, so nicccce!"
Sara was wallowing in lust, rubbing her meat wildly against the splayed, scarlet slit, and her brain was so fogged with her ardor, she did not feel the throbbing bud of the girl pounding out its need against her. Her mouth was open wide as she trailed her saliva around the girl's breasts, pausing to nibble here or suck there. Her hands now milked her own slack tits in a frenzy of desperation as she neared the peak. She began slamming her body down against the girl, slapping her pudenda into the girl's with bruising, crushing force that sent cascades of fire through both bodies.
Nathalie gasped for air, her chest heaving with her efforts, and the pounding of her heart within that cavern was so great that she feared she had given herself away. There was no way whatever to control it. It was all she could do to keep from crying out loud or thrashing against her bonds.
The urge to arch her loins was almost a compulsion now, but with a Herculean effort she managed to stay motionless. Every muscle and tendon in her body was braced for the effort.
"Ahhhh!" Sara grunted. "That is woman fucking, Nathalie. Screwing it in-and grinding it down. Ahhhhhh!"
The bursts of fire were coming faster and faster, and each was hotter than the one before. Nathalie's body screamed for release and the ache in her loins was almost unbearable. Her jaw was clamped tightly together as she held back the moans that pleaded for release. Slowly, she began grinding her teeth together.
"Ungh!" grunted Sara. "I want to-eat it-and rub it-Ungh! I want it all at once. Christ, I'm so hot!"
"Be still!" whimpered Nathalie. "I can't bear the vile words. Oh God, make her stop!"
They were not the words she wanted to say but they sufficed, for breaking the silence gave her release. With a shattering sigh, she felt her loins and her brain explode into a wildfire of sensations that left her breathless. It was all she could do to keep from crying out as her body was convulsed with wave after wave of flaming release.
Sara never knew, for at that moment, her own lust overcame her.
"Eyiiiiiiii!" she wailed, arching out her slit in one last, powerful thrust.
Nathalie could feel the throbbing explosion of her meat as she soared through her own quivering peak.
It will soon be over, she thought gratefully.
As Sara's body slumped down over hers, she sighed and let her own muscles relax. The woman's foul breath nauseated her, the feel of her paper-like skin made Nathalie shudder with disgust. She remembered what Hedda had promised.
"It will not be so bad as before," she had said.
Nathalie wondered. Between the dog and the woman, there was very little difference. They were both animals!
CHAPTER SEVEN
Within the hour, Nathalie had more visitors. Astrid and Hedda returned to unchain her.
"How are you, my dear?" Astrid asked.
Nathalie shuddered. "It was awful," she answered.
"But now you have clothes. See!" Hedda said brightly as she dumped an armload of things onto the bed.
"Oh, thank heaven!" Nathalie cried.
She grabbed up the garments and was about to slip into them when she stopped, a perplexed frown crossing her brow.
"What sort of things are these?" she demanded, examining them closely.
"They are rather special," Astrid admitted.
"They are meant only for the occupant of this room. Here, we will help you dress."
"No!" Nathalie snapped. "I want my own clothing!"
Hedda shrugged. "I am afraid all of your things have been burned, Nathalie. It was their first order after you arrived."
"Then I must wear these or go naked?" she asked.
Astrid nodded. "Yes, dear. These are called the 'Conditioning Clothes'. You will have to wear them as long as you occupy this apartment."
"And how can they accomplish that, since I do not want to learn?" she demanded.
Astrid picked up the dainty panties and held them for Nathalie's inspection.
"See? These panties are satin. Inside out, they are still satin. Everything that touches your body is made of satin. It would take a very strong constitution indeed to feel nothing in these."
"Well, I cannot go about naked," Nathalie snapped, and grabbing the panties from the girl, she quickly climbed into them.
"I shall feel absolutely nothing," she promised.
Hedda shook her head dubiously. "It would be a monstrous joke on the Bjorsons, would it not, Astrid?"
Astrid snickered. "It is impossible," she said wistfully, "but it makes for delightful supposing, at any rate."
Nathalie shivered at the feel of the satin against her flesh. She took a deep breath, forcing back the sensations that crawled across her flesh. With more hesitancy, she slipped into the bodice. There were no stays. The darts had been sewn in with exaggeration until the slippery satin cupped her mounds firmly, allowing them to jiggle about as she moved, but holding her breasts cupped rather than allowing them to rest against her body.
The gown was a long, flowing affair of the sheerest gauze-like silk. It seemed to cling to her at times, then billow away from her only to float back to rest lightly against her. When she was completely dressed, even down to the satin-lined slippers, she stood before the mirror and shivered as she saw her sensual-looking reflection.
"How long will I have to be here?" she asked thoughtfully.
Hedda shrugged. "Who knows? Some, they have tired of within a few weeks. Some are kept months. One erotic little beast from Asia lasted nearly a year, but she died within a month of her release. She was such a pig with lust that she killed herself trying to get enough to satisfy herself."
Nathalie frowned. "How long do you think I will have to stay here?" she wondered.
"That depends," Astrid said. "How can anyone fathom the minds of the Bjornsons? They are.. . "
"I know," Nathalie answered quickly. "They are really quite mad. I angered her this morning and she was insane for a time with anger."
Hedda giggled and quickly covered her mouth.
"How did you manage it?" she whispered.
"She displayed herself wantonly before me and asked if I did not think she was beautiful," Nathalie said simply, but then she shuddered at the memory. "I told her she was old and ugly and I did not like looking at her at all!"
The two girls' eyes had grown very large, the hands flying to their mouths in shock.
"You are making it up!" Astrid gasped.
"No. Truly, that is what I told her," Nathalie said.
"What did she do?" Hedda asked.
"She slapped me-quite hard, but it was worth it, nevertheless."
Astrid turned to Hedda. "Have you never heard of anyone so bold?" she whispered.
Hedda shook her head. "Nathalie, you might never come out of here at all if you are not careful. Both of them have vile tempers. Be careful!"
"I am not afraid," she told them. "I should rather be put to death than to be debased as I have been by those two."
"Do not say that, please," Astrid begged. "It is not so bad below. You must think strongly and hold your tongue until she sends you to us."
"And then what happens?" she demanded.
Hedda had gotten to her knees and now she lifted Nathalie's skirts and snapped a short chain onto one of the anklets.
"You asked about escape," she suggested. "We have been thinking about that ever since."
Hedda snapped the free end of the chain to the other anklet.
"What is that?" Nathalie demanded.
"A hobble," Astrid explained. "It will keep you from taking such long strides when you walk."
"Do you have a plan for escape?" she asked.
"My brother, Roald, does," Astrid said. "He works in the kitchen and is allowed to move freely throughout the estate. He will think of something, you may be assured."
"We must leave now," Hedda urged her friend. "We have been here far too long already."
"Now that I am hobbled, I suppose you will not be locking the door?" Nathalie asked hopefully.
Hedda shook her head. "That is not the purpose of the hobble, Nathalie," she explained. "It is to force you to take short little steps that make the satin rub against your flesh. The door will always be locked so long as you are here."
"Please," Nathalie pleaded. "Do not leave."
"We must, sweet," Astrid said, leaning over to pat her cheek. "We will return every chance we get until you are with us."
"Couldn't we escape now?" she wondered out loud.
The two girls shook their heads as they reached the door and turned around to smile their farewells. "Be patient, Nathalie," Hedda called. Patient! she snorted as the door closed behind them. What a preposterous thought! Only the enfeebled could be patient with such circumstances as these!
CHAPTER EIGHT
Nathalie was not at all sure that she would not have been better off without clothing. The feel of the satin sliding back and forth across her sensitive flesh was much too erotic to be borne for long. She shuffled over to the window and stared down at the village so far below. She tried to focus her thoughts, concentrating on the little valley that had been home to her for so long, but it was extremely difficult. Her breasts and belly slid about in the satin with every breath, and her privates prickled with sensations.
It was easy to pick out the cottage that had been her home, in spite of its tiny size, since it nestled beneath the shadow of the white clapboard church. The tall shingled spire rose above all-the center, GO the hub of the village. Her eyes lingered longingly upon the cross that crowned the proud steeple.
In reverie, she allowed her eyes to trail down the main street, pausing to greet this resident and that, until she reached the end of the village and turned toward the cemetery on the hill. Slowly, she trudged up the path. The small graveyard was outlined with a whitewashed picket fence that crowned the summit. In her mind, she could even see the single evergreen wreath on each of her parent's graves, though the graves themselves were obscured by the distance.
She wondered about the villagers. Could they possibly have known-could they have even guessed the terrible things that were going on atop the huge bluff that overshadowed their village? She remembered the shiver that passed through many of them when they looked up at the gray mass of stone and granite. The place had never struck her as ominous at all. It had even seemed a bit exciting perched at the edge of the high cliffs. Why, then, had others found it so frightening? Could they possibly have known? If they had even an inkling even the merest shred of evidence or gossip, then this was an infamous act, sending her to the Bjorn-sons. Her father had done more to help the people of the valley than any other individual. They certainly owed his memory something! The more she thought about it, the more she remembered the looks that had before seemed meaningless and the more she became convinced that she had been dumped here for the sake of expedience alone.
Tears welled up into her eyes and she leaned her forehead against the cool pane as the valley dimmed into a misty, shimmering mirage.
How could they do this to you, Father? she asked miserably, and slowly her tears dried as the rage welled up in her. Pushing away from the pane, she started to pace toward the fireplace, but was jerked up short by the hobble.
Stop this foolishness! she thought. You have no real answer. It is much too easy to jump to conclusions when you have been reduced to such a low circumstance. Be careful! You cannot fight them unless you can control yourself!
They were brave thoughts-defiant thoughts, but they could not help with the real problems that faced her. Before she had taken more than a dozen mincing steps, her mind could not maintain the upper hand over her throbbing loins. She looked frantically about the room, searching for anything that would take her mind off the miserable ache of desire. Then her eyes caught and held on the huge, ornate bed in the center of the room. Quickly, she shuffled over to it and climbed awkwardly in beneath the covers.
I will not go naked and I will not put up with this revolting curse of sensations! she told herself firmly. I shall simply stay in bed and not move at all.
For the rest of that day, the night, and most of the day that followed, Nathalie stayed in bed. Food was brought and set by the fire and, when she was too hungry, she ate, but most of the time she lay as quiet as possible in the big bed. She recited as much of the Bible as she could remember, and went through nursery rhymes and Norse sagas, but it was hard work, demanding a great deal of concentration. Even the act of breathing caused her body to move against the satin, and when she dozed, she dreamed, and the dreams were erotic and sinful.
"Oh, no!" she moaned when she awoke aching with the hot fire that burned miserably in her loins. How could such thoughts come to me? I have never dreamed of such things before. Dear God, forgive me!
For what! her other self demanded. Is not the Lord himself supposed to watch over us when we sleep? Has anything that has happened been avoidable? How, in God's name, could I have stopped any of if?
There was no time to search for the answers, for at that moment, Nathalie heard the sharp click of a key turning in the lock of her door.
CHAPTER NINE
It was night. There was no light in the room save for the glow from the hearth, where the fire had burned itself down to embers. Nathalie cringed in the deep shadows of the draperies that hung about the bed. She had jerked up onto her elbows at the first sound and watched in horror as the knob turned in the dim light. Slowly the door opened.
She shuddered as she saw the outlines of the man and the dog. It was Arne. There was no way to mistake the massive stooped shoulders or the tremendous height of the man. Carefully, he turned and locked the door behind him. Then he tied the dog's leash to the post.
She did not move. She did not even breathe. He peered into the shadows for a long moment and then came around to the side of the bed and pushed back the drapes.
"I thought for a moment that you had vanished," he said quietly.
She did not answer. So sickened with dread was she that she could do nothing but stare up at the man.
"You might thank me for letting you have time to adjust," he suggested.
She shuddered at the words. "I shall never adjust!" she answered with disgust.
"Yes you will, my dear," he said. "Have Astrid and Hedda not told you how easy it all becomes? They are really quite content, you know, as are all the others."
"I shall never be content," she hissed.
"And I suppose you do not even like the lovely gown Sara had made for you?" he asked with a trace of sarcasm. "You cannot tell me that you have felt nothing, for I would have to call you a liar."
"You may call me anything you like," she said, raising her head proudly. "I am not a carnal, vile animal but a child of God."
Arne snorted. "We will see," he answered as though she had delivered an interesting challenge.
He pulled back the coverlet and drew her forward, pulling up the gauze-like gown so fast that she could not stop him. Then he stood and skinned it quickly off of her, and she clasped her hands defiantly about herself to protest any further denuding.
"I am afraid you are a bit puny for fighting, Nathalie," he scolded, and with a wry grin, he upended her and jerked down the satin panties. She had, of course, expected him to remove the chemise first, since she was sitting up, and she was surprised by his act and had no defense prepared for it.
"Nooooo!" she wailed helplessly, and before the panties had dropped to the floor, he began unhooking the eyelets of her chemise.
"No! No! No!" she cried, and when she could not cross her arms with his huge hands in the way, she stuck out and dug her fingernails into his cheeks, slashing with more will power than strength.
"Eyiiiiii!" he cried as three long red gashes appeared from temple to jaw.
With one jerk, he ripped open the bodice and plunged his hands into the soft flesh of her breasts.
"Wild little bitch," he growled. "Duke and I prefer wild bitches. Mmmmmm! Nice, warm tits!"
"Get away!" she cried. "Leave me alone!"
He laughed-a sneering, cold, scornful laugh as he stretched her arm over to the post and hooked the chain to her wristlet.
"No!" she wailed.
"Yes," he hissed, feeling the tautness of her breast now that her arm was tugging it upward.
He took her other arm and chained it to the other post, then returned to feel the two raised melons pointing skyward.
"Ahhhhhh," he sighed. "When a woman has big boobs, there is nothing like raising her arms to bring them to attention. Then they demand to be sucked. Yes!"
One hand slid down to her belly as he lowered his mouth to the large, puffy nipple. With his lips parted, he grazed back and forth, teasing himself with the tempting taste of her. His tongue lapped lazily for a moment and then, with a moan, he sucked her in.
The dog was beginning to whimper now, leaping in the air for attention. His prick hung low as it stabbed out from its sheath.
Nathalie twisted from side to side, trying to evade the wildly erotic mouthing of her master. Her breast was hard and throbbing from the slobbering lips, and the hands had moved down from her belly to press against her hot, furred lips.
"No!" Her lament of woe wailed on and on through the night.
"Yes," whispered her master over and over as he slowly sank his finger into her weeping cunt.
She managed to jerk away from him, throwing her body violently from side to side.
"Unnnngh!" he granted, and the low, animal guttural of his voice was filled with anger.
He reached down and grabbed her leg, quickly jerking it to the post at the foot of the bed, where he chained her. In another moment, the other leg was pulled apart and then fastened.
"Noooooooo!" Her wail turned to a scream as her legs were parted. This is the worst, she thought. This was the insult she could not bear.
But it was not to be the worst, for the second her legs were secured, Arne buried his head in her groin and sank his big flat tongue in her meat.
"Eyiiiiiiiii!" she screamed, but the fire that gripped her was too hot to fight. She instantly knew that she would succumb to it. There was no resisting the hot wetness, the slithering sublimeness of its quivering tip against her throbbing bud. The only defense possible was to hide her passion from him, to somehow fool him into thinking she was not feeling the fiery sensations that were coursing through her veins.
"Uugh! Uugh!" he grunted as he devoured the scarlet meat.
He burrowed his face into her slit, his head weaving from side to side as he wallowed in the woman-smell of her, the woman-taste, the woman-feel. His trapped cock screamed in an agony of need but he could not pull his face from the feast of sensations. His tongue burrowed deep and finally stabbed hungrily into her cunt. When he could bear no more, he moaned in misery and pulled away from her.
Nathalie had held. She had not allowed herself to writhe or twist with the wild feeling of his suctioning lips. She did not cry out. In silence, she bore the terrible fire, and almost from the beginning, she prayed only for release. When he pulled his lips from her loins, she was so very near to that release that she nearly betrayed herself in her suffering. Had he not moaned so loud himself, he could not have helped but hear the whimper that escaped from her quivering lips.
He rose shakily from the bed and stood looking down at her for a long moment. Then, with a sigh, he stepped to the foot of the bed and unhooked the whining dog from the bed post. Wrapping the leash about his wrist several times to control the lunging animal, he allowed the dog to sniff the girl's gapping slit.
Nathalie jumped with a start as the cold nose burrowed into her throbbing meat. It brought bursts of fire that she could barely control. The cold, wet feel of him as he explored the length of her slit and burrowed into her cunt was a torture of sensual delight.
Then came the tongue, coarser, but somehow more delicate, the tip quivering and undulating with heady abandon. It curled into a tube, stabbing at her, sliding into her smoldering cavern, then flattening and riffling to sip of her juices.
Keep me quiet, she prayed. Just keep them from knowing.
Then the master pulled the dog away and commanded him to he low on his haunches and inch forward.
"Ahhhhh, good boy," he coaxed. "See how well trained he is, Nathalie? Here, I will guide his marvelous prick into you myself! You are a very lucky girl, my dear. The fine ladies of France would pay a fortune for a dog like this."
Nathalie knew that to speak would mean to betray herself, so she held her peace. Instead, she showed her defiance by closing her eyes and turning her head away.
Arne reached around the dog and slowly slipped his hand around the stabbing prick, allowing it to continue in its frenzied motions. His other hand reached down to spread the girl's privates. Then he leaned down and carefully guided the wildly stroking point to pierce her tight meat. She stiffened, arching her body violently as the slimy, scarlet dirk thrust its tip in a trauma of flurried jabs.
"Ahhhhhh!" Arne sighed as he watched the impaling lance punch into her cove.
The dog inched forward with agitated, restless jerks, but he stayed on his haunches and was not allowed to hump. Arne held his breath as the agitated prick slowly punched its way deeper and deeper into the tight cunt. When, at last, the insertion was complete, Arne quickly peeled off his tights and moved onto the bed, splaying his knees as he lowered his cock to the dog's rear.
"Unnnnnngh!" he groaned as he took his swollen organ in hand and teased it around the dog's asshole.
Nathalie did not watch. Her head was strained as far away from her body as she could manage, as though her brain refused to accept any part of the action being forced upon her body.
"Ohhhhhh!" her master moaned as he slowly sank his throbbing cock into the dog's puckered tunnel.
The dog, now trapped between cunt and cock, spasmed his own prick frantically into the girl as Arne reached down to feel the erotic connection.
"Fuck her, Duke," he ordered, and the prick instantly began stabbing with amazingly long strokes that brought waves of wild sensations to both girl and man at once. Neither moved at all, allowing the dog to carry the fire to them. Nor was the dog only an instrument of their lust, for Duke was panting in a convulsion of fire.
"Lick her tits, boy," the man ordered, and the dog began its slobbering ministrations mechanically, its tongue obeying the command while its brain remained fogged with its own private passion.
Nathalie's body was no longer a part of her. Even her brain was in a fever and, lost in throbbing hunger, she clamped her jaw tightly shut to hold the moans that desperately sought escape. The dog's soft belly pressed against her meat, never actually pulling away even for an instant. It quivered, jerked, crushed against her while the prick stabbed away on its own power.
The strokes were coming faster and shorter, the cum leaking from the tip to diffuse into her own weeping juices. The heat of his prick was like a fire branding her.
"Ohhhhh! Go Duke! Go Boy!" her master cried, and she could feel the bed vibrate as he humped into the frenzied animal.
She no longer cared. As the lust washed over her body, she felt herself slipping-drowning in the sea of inflaming lust, and as the crescendo swarmed up to engulf her, she heaved a huge sigh as she soared over the crest and began her throbbing, convulsive descent.
"Ahhhhhhhh," she whispered, praying they would not hear, but unable to contain the all-consuming conflagration that gripped her.
Arne did not hear, for as he felt the dog's cum spurting through the swollen, belching tubes, his own passion crested and he pounded out his release in a spurting frenzy into the dog's ass.
"Eyiiiiiiiii!" Arne cried.
Then he collapsed over the top of the animal, trapping him so that he could not rip free of the girl until the huge knob halfway up the length of his prick had dissolved.
CHAPTER TEN
Nathalie prayed that her master would leave, but he seemed in no hurry. When he finally got up and pulled the dog oS of her, he ordered her to rise and dress herself.
"Go away," she begged. "Leave me alone."
"I give the orders," he reminded her sternly, and there was nothing for her to but comply.
She took as long as she could, but he would not give up or leave. He stood by the door, the great dog held tightly on the leash, and watched her clean herself and slip back into the horrid garments. When she sat down at her dressing table to brush her hair, he grew impatient.
"Come now," he chided her. "I cannot be expected to wait forever!"
"Oh, that you would," she sighed.
Remorsefully, she laid down the brush and got to her feet. Setting her jaw, she raised her head high and turned to face him.
"I am ready," she said firmly.
"Then come along with you," he answered, and, opening the door, he led the way down the stairs and out into the courtyard.
She fought the churning urge to shrink back when he opened the door to the kennels. She had hidden her feelings from him once. She would not let him best her now. Head still high, she marched on into the bedlam of barking animals. She looked neither to the right nor the left, but stood stonily, waiting for him to lead the way.
"Now," he said proudly, "I am going to show you how very special these animals are. It is not an easy matter to prepare a dog for this special purpose. Edvard! Sven! Are you ready?"
Nathalie braced herself as she marched along behind him. When they reached the rear of the building, the slab she had been strapped to that first, terrible time had been turned up to form a table, and a young male dog was bound to it.
He was lying on his side, his hind legs stretched back, his forelegs forward. Sven was rubbing the large prick vigorously, one hand on the prick itself, one sliding back and forth on the sheath. The dog was panting but motionless. He appeared to be enjoying it immensely.
"Is he fully extended?" Arne asked.
"Yes, sir," Sven answered.
"Has the knot become full blown?" he wanted to know.
Sven shook his head. "Not completely," he admitted.
"Skin him back," the master ordered, and Sven pulled back the loose skin as far as it would go.
Nathalie shuddered at the sight. It was a hideous, immense weapon, slimy and scarlet.
"Now, my dear," Arne said, turning to the girl, "I am about to give you your first lesson. Listen well. I shall not repeat."
He made no move to touch her, and relief flooded through Nathalie as she nodded that she understood.
"The animal's cock has three distinct sections. Come here," he ordered, and taking her hand, he ran it up the length of the sack.
"This first section is never seen except for the small portion during the final thrusts. See how thick it is? Yes. Now, the knot which hangs a dog up is in the center section and when the dog is at rest, it looks not different than the surrounding areas. It contains far more erectile tissue, however, and this is why it becomes so much larger. Here, feel it. See how hard it is?"
He rubbed her fingers about the slimy, angry meat, and she shrank from the touch.
"Now, the last and the best part is the tip. If you will note, it looks pointed, like a dirk from the side, because it is blunt and flat. Feel it? No, here! Ahh, yes. Formidable, is it not?"
He was staring down at Nathalie's face, waiting for her answer, but she only looked up and glared. His wild preoccupation with dogs nauseated her. He was no more than an animal himself.
"This is dog, as nature intended him," Arne continued. "See how his prick points parallel to his belly? For our use, this will not do."
Releasing her hand, he allowed her to step back as he held out his hand to Sven. The man laid a long knife in the master's palm.
"Now," said Arne as his hand closed around the handle, "I am about to perform a little operation. It is practically bloodless."
He pulled the animal's sheath down over the prick as far as he could and then began stretching the sack away from the body until there appeared to be only a thin layer of stretched tissue connecting the sheath to the belly. With a quick slash, he severed coalesced membrane, then rubbed the sheath back and forth across the throbbing prick so rapidly that the dog barely cried out before he was again whining with passion.
"Take it, Sven," the master ordered, and Sven leaned down and sucked the stabbing tip of the dog's prick into his mouth.
Nathalie closed her eyes. Her loins were damp, the satin soaked clear through, and she ached with need even in the midst of nauseating disgust.
"It comes!" the master called, and he pushed Sven away so that he might see the cum spurt from the dog's spasming cock.
Spurting its seed deal across the table, the dog moaned out its release as Arne sighed with satisfaction.
"The wrapping," Sven said to his assistant, and Edvard handed over a long length of sheeting some half a foot wide.
Sven, in turn, handed the material over to Arne, who carefully began wrapping it about the dog's middle, trussing the hanging saber and scabbard up against the animal's belly.
Carefully tying the bandage off, he stepped back and surveyed his work, "Have you learned something this day?" he asked Nathalie.
Her glare was filled with hatred. "I have already learned what a beast of an animal you are," she hissed, "but then, I learned that several days ago!"
Arne Bjomson smiled. "Tomorrow, you may begin in his training," he told her. "You should be honored. That's quite a piece of prick for a woman to impale herself upon."
Shuddering, Nathalie turned and walked back to the kennel door. Without a word, she opened the door and stepped out into the courtyard. Then, she began to vomit.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Nathalie was not left alone in her room more than twenty minutes when Hedda and Astrid came to her. Had she met the two girls on the streets of her village a few days before, she would not have given them a second glance. Now, in the misery of her terrible ordeal, she greeted them like long lost sisters.
"Ohhh! I am so glad it is you!" she cried.
Hedda laughed merrily and threw her arms about the girl.
"It has been bad then?" Astrid asked.
"Terrible!" Nathalie told them. "Simply fearsome! Please, you must help me!"
"How?" Astrid asked skeptically.
"Ohh!" Nathalie moaned, sinking into a chair by the fire. "I don't know! I really don't know!"
She buried her head in her hands and the tears began to flow.
"What is it?" Hedda whispered. "Please, tell us, Nathalie."
Valiantly, Nathalie raised her head and tried to dry her eyes, though the tears streamed down and she kept having to blot at them.
"I-I hardly know how," she said hesitantly. "It is a most distasteful subject."
Astrid smiled. "You feel," she said simply.
Nathalie nodded.
"I cannot bear to let them know," she said. "Somehow, I shall keep it from them."
"They have not guessed?" Hedda asked incredulously.
"No, they are not particularly observant at such times, and I have used much restraint, but it is horribly difficult," she observed.
"Beautiful!" Hedda exclaimed, clapping her hands together. "Impossible but beautiful to dream of. Ohh! What poetic justice it would be."
"I am not so certain that it is entirely impossible," Astrid said thoughtfully.
Hedda and Nathalie stared at the girl, waiting as she frowned thoughtfully.
"My brother," she said. "There is a salve he knows of. He offered it to me once, not realizing that his gift was a bit tardy. It is a mixture of-mmm, what did he say? Alum-yes and the pulp of a persimmon, and-oh, I don't remember it all."
"Think!" pleaded Nathalie.
"Why bother?" Hedda laughed. "Roald is here. He works in the kitchen."
"Then fetch the salve quickly!" Nathalie exclaimed. "Ohh! I shall show those horrid people!"
Astrid was shaking her head. "Not unless you are well satisfied before you are called to them. Walking about in a misery of need in such clothing as you must wear-well! No salve could stop that!"
"Do not say that! I beg you," Nathalie answered miserably.
"We can satisfy her," Hedda suggested.
"Oh no!" whimpered Nathalie. "I could not bear it."
"Better from friends than enemies," Hedda reminded her.
"I shall fetch Roald," Astrid said.
Hurrying to the door, she paused and turned.
"Do not speak of satisfaction before my brother," she cautioned. "He would not understand our offer, I fear."
Nathalie nodded, and the girl quickly left.
"I am sure Roald will help you," Hedda said. "We told him of your desire to escape. This has been his one dream since the beginning, but there are never enough to accomplish it his way."
"And what is his way?" Nathalie asked.
Hedda laughed and then threw up her hands. "It is not enough just to get away. He must have his vendetta. He wants to burn the manor to the ground!"
"Wonderful!" Nathalie exclaimed with such enthusiasm that she startled the older girl.
"Good heavens! Not you, too!" she said with an incredulous giggle. "Is it not enough to escape and report them to the authorities?"
"No! They are rich enough that they would find a way out of it. No, we must destroy the manor altogether and the Bjornsons with it."
"That is murder!" Hedda gasped.
"That is justice," Nathalie corrected. "They cannot be allowed even the remotest chance of bringing other innocents to ruin."
Hedda stared at the girl for a long, perplexing moment. Then she reached out and gently took Nathalie's hand.
"You do not believe you have been brought to ruin, do you?" she asked.
"Yes, of course," Nathalie answered in a matter-of-fact tone. "I despise with my mind what my body now hungers for. What could be worse?"
Hedda gripped her hand tightly. "God put the feeling there, Nathalie. You have fought well, and I am certain the Lord is well pleased with your struggle."
But the disheartened girl only shook her head. She was not at all pleased with herself. How in heaven's name could she hope to please the Lord when she could not manage to satisfy her own standards?
Then a light tap at the door announced Astrid's return, and she had her brother with her. He was very tall and straight and handsome. Nathalie doubted that he could be more than two score at most. He had hair even lighter than Astrid's, and eyes that were brilliant azure. His skin was ruddy and his chest broad.
"You are willing to try to defy them?" he asked even before Astrid could introduce them.
"I am," she said. "I must, for I could not bear to have them win."
"It is good," he commented with a nod of the head.
"He has all the ingredients but he will have to mix them here. If he were caught in the kitchen, they might guess."
"There is a wash basin and a pitcher on the bureau," she told him, and as he sat down by the hearth, she brought them to him.
The three girls sat silently watching him work. It took time but not one grew fidgety or restless. When at last he had finished, he handed over the paste and turned to Nathalie.
"I wish you good luck," he said, then turned to his sister. "Be careful to leave it on for no more than three or four minutes, and then wash it carefully away. It should last about an hour with each application."
Astrid walked to the door and let him out.
"Thank you, brother," she said.
He nodded. "I wish her well. It is a good idea," came his reply, and then he was gone.
"How long do we have?" Hedda asked.
Astrid shrugged. "Perhaps an hour," she answered.
"Before what?" Nathalie wanted to know.
"We are to deliver you to Sara's apartment when you are prepared," Astrid told her.
Nathalie shuddered. "Two women together," she said with disgust. "It is against everything that is right."
Astrid and Hedda smiled knowingly at one another.
"Not if it is done for a worthy cause," Astrid said, slowly sliding out of her tunic.
"We will all share the guilt if there is to be a guilt," Hedda said. "I would go through hell itself to teach the Bjornsons a lesson."
Hedda unlaced her bodice and pulled it aside, revealing two lovely, pert breasts. Nathalie's mouth dropped open at the sight of them denuding themselves for her.
"You are both noble, wonderful people," she told them with deep emotion.
She could not see Hedda turn to wink at her friend.
CHAPTER TWELVE
Hedda and Astrid watched Nathalie's every expression as they stood before the fire disrobing. The girl's inner conflict was obvious. Fidgeting nervously, she ducked her head forward, her chin dropping very low, yet her eyes remained fastened on the two women. She twisted her head to the side but the eyes would not swivel with it.
They should have their privacy, Nathalie thought miserably. Dear Lord, why do I stare?
Although they all were true Nordic beauties with the same blue eyes, the same glowing ivory skin and pale blonde hair, their bodies were each unique. Astrid was tall and full blown, with deeply plunging breasts that swung down and away like two melons slung from her shoulders with a kerchief. Her thighs were widely flared and pleasantly padded. Even her soft white belly was pleasingly rounded.
Hedda, on the other hand, was small-boned, like Nathalie, with bud-like breasts that reminded Nathalie of adolescence. Indeed, as she skinned off her clothing, her great blue eyes smiling at Nathalie, she looked younger by several years than either of the others. Her pale blonde pubic hair was so fine and sparse that it was barely visible, leaving her puffed lips vulnerably exposed. There was a virginal innocence about that little body that made Astrid look voluptuously sensual in comparison.
When the last garment fell to the floor, Astrid beckoned Nathalie to come to them, and mechanically, she obeyed. As they began undressing her, she closed her eyes and tried to blot all thoughts from her mind.
Once the gauze-like outer garment was dispatched, Nathalie's heart began to pound wildly as Astrid unfastened the slippery satin bodice. Her breasts tingled as the erotic material slid back and forth over her warm breasts. Hedda knelt before her and began working the panties down over her belly and thighs, and she whimpered at the ache already pulsing in her loins.
Delicate fingertips grazed across the flesh as the girls worked, trails of gooseflesh following their touch. Nathalie's breasts heaved with the effort of breathing, and when she stood bare before the fire, each girl took one of her hands and lifted them to press against their breasts as they walked her over to the bed. The feel of another woman's flesh was wildly intoxicating.
Hedda pulled down the covers and slid in. Astrid held Nathalie back a moment and, gathering her into her arms, her mouth slid down to kiss Nathalie's quivering lips.
"Ohhhhhhhh," whimpered Nathalie, surprised at the shower of sparks that attended the delicate caress. Her breasts, grazing and pressing against the large tits of the other woman, were hot and hard. She shivered convulsively as they rubbed against her.
"Mmmmmmmmm," Astrid sighed, and her arms slid down Nathalie's back and pulled her rump in tightly, one hand squeezing each of her cheeks.
Their bellies merged, and then Nathalie felt the hot mound pressing against her and she arched her loins hungrily.
"Ohhhhhh!" she whimpered as their lips crushed together.
"Beautiful," Astrid whispered. "It is so beautiful when you can let yourself go."
Releasing her, she spanked her across the fanny and laughed shakily.
"Now, climb in, love," she ordered, "for Hedda cannot lie there all alone in that big bed."
Nathalie hurried, her loins throbbing violently.
"On your back, pet," Hedda ordered, and the girl quickly complied.
Hedda rolled on top of her and eagerly buried her lips in Nathalie's mouth.
Her little body burrowed against Nathalie's soft flesh and her knees forced the girl's legs apart.
"A pillow, Astrid," Hedda begged, and Astrid grabbed up a pillow, doubled it and forced it beneath Nathalie's thighs as Hedda pulled her little ass up.
"Ahhhhhh!" sighed Hedda, worming her hot privates down tightly against Nathalie's splayed meat.
"Ohhhhhhh!" Nathalie moaned. "Ohhhhhhh!"
Astrid's hands slid in between their bellies and worked up to squeeze the girl's tits.
"Is she not delicious?" she cooed.
"Ohhhh, yes," sighed Hedda. "I could eat her up."
She lifted herself up on her arms, arched her loins down even harder against the hot, wet, feel of Nathalie's meat. Smiling down at her, she began grinding her loins around and around.
"My God," she moaned. "That is so good!"
"Unnnngh!" Nathalie groaned. "Please don't look at me."
She turned her head away, her conscience flooded with the shame of the terrible fire raging within her. Astrid wriggled up beside her and pulled the girl's face into the cleft of her breasts.
"Suck me, Nathalie," she ordered. "Chew my tits. Suckle my nipples while I wait my turn to love you."
A shiver ran through Nathalie's body. She reached up and pulled the huge tit to her lips as her ass began to rotate against the meat that crushed against her slit. There was no fight left in her. The fire of lust crumpled her will, leaving her only the terrible, compelling hunger.
"Ungh! Ungh! Ungh!" she grunted.
Every muscle of her body was strained as she rubbed the crushing intensity of her need up into the girl's lips. She could feel the throbbing of Hed-da's bud against her meat and she worked frantically to bring the buds together, to feel them throb and spasm together.
"Ahhhhhhh!" she cried out as it was accomplished. "Right there. Yes! Right there!"
Her mouth clamped down onto Astrid's big nipple and she began sucking voraciously.
"Mmmmmmm," she groaned. "Ugmmmmmm!"
Astrid looked up at Hedda, and through the fog of their passion, they smiled at the girl's open ardor.
She will never be able to hide as passionate a constitution as this, Astrid thought, but perhaps they will tire of her soon and give her to us.
"Ohhhhhhhhh!" moaned Hedda. What a pounding, hot little slit she has, she tought.
Grinding her meat into Nathalie's weeping slit, Hedda closed her eyes and thought how wonderful it would be to eat all that sweet honey. Her brain was fuzzy and filled with fire as she slapped her loins down against the splayed flesh. She banged against her with bruising, cruel force, and their surging, fiery meat seemed to merge and bond together, clinging as she pulled away-sucking together as though glued.
"Oh, Astrid," she moaned. "If only she were ready for all of it."
"Hush, love," Astrid cautioned.
"But Astrid," Hedda whimpered, "her bud throbs violently against mine. How it would explode if only.. . "
"No!" Astrid answered sternly. "That will come later."
"Mmmmmmm," Hedda moaned. "If I could only piss a hot.. . "
Gently but firmly, Astrid pushed the girl off of Nathalie. "Better cool a bit, love, or let me finish you. You are forgetting everything."
"Ohhhhh, noooooo," moaned Hedda as Astrid raised up over Nathalie's body and slowly lowered her mound into the girl's aching meat.
"Ahhhhhhh!" Nathalie moaned as the full, thick lips settled down against her and slowly splayed open as Astrid pressed them into her burning flesh.
"I shall die," Hedda moaned. "I am too close."
"Then spread it out where I can reach it, love," Astrid answered.
Hedda moved her ass up against Nathalie's head and splayed her legs wide. Nathalie could smell the hot woman smell of her, and she turned and watched Astrid's long tongue flutter down to settle on the weeping meat.
"Ohhhhhh!" she moaned as the memory of Arne's hot tongue lapping at her own throbbing bud filled her brain.
"Ayiiiiiii!" wailed Hedda as she tightened her legs about Astrid's head.
Nathalie's loins arched out grotesquely, jerking, stabbing to meet Astrid's wild thrusts. She dropped the tit and reached down around her thighs with both hands to grip the lovely bulging love-handles of her ass.
She ground up against her, rubbed against her, jerked against her. She could not get enough of the fire that coursed through her body in wave after wave of exhausting passion. She was panting for air, her heart pounding with such violence that it threatened to burst.
Still, it was not enough. Deep inside of her there was an ache that she could not reach.
"Eyyyyyiiiiiiii!" wailed Hedda, stiffening in a convulsion of release. Her legs shot straight in the air and held for a long moment, trembling with the fire that raced through her body. Finally, she slowly sank back into the bed and Astrid moved over and buried her mouth in Nathalie's.
The taste of her was now pure woman-lust, and though the mere thought of it was nauseous to Nathalie, the odor triggered an explosion deep in her brain. She felt her throbbing meat swell into a crescendo of fire, and as Astrid's tongue burrowed into her mouth, Nathalie's body was hurled over the brink into the all-consuming delight of release.
"Ohhhhhhh!" she screamed as her nerves and muscles tightened into a spasming, shivering convulsion. "Ohhhh! Ohhh! Ohhhh!" she cried over and over as the waves of passion washed around and over her, flooding and drowning her in an inferno of sensation.
Astrid let herself go. She had held through it all until she felt the pounding of the girl's meat and then she allowed her own body to succumb to the comfort of climax.
"Ahhhhhhh!" she sighed, stiffening for but a moment before she rolled down from the girl and savored the warmth and weakness of total contentment.
"Beautiful, is it not?" she asked lazily. "Heaven," Hedda agreed.
"Thank you," Nathalie whispered, and she rolled over on her belly and soon was asleep.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Hedda and Astrid quickly dressed and brought a basin to wash the girl before they applied the salve. Nathalie roused only momentarily when they rolled her over. She jerked awake with a start, however, as the salve began to take effect.
"Ohhh!" she cried. "It burns!"
"Can you stand it, or shall I wash it off?" Astrid asked anxiously.
"The salve! Is it the salve?" she asked groggily.
"Yes," Astrid answered. "You still want to try it?"
"Of course," Nathalie said firmly. "I can stand it."
Her jaw was tightly clamped, her eyes brimming.
"How much time do we have left?" Hedda wondered aloud.
"Not much," Astrid said.
"The persimmon smell is so strong," Hedda said. "Do you think we can wash away the odor?"
"Bring the oils," Astrid commanded. "They should do it if anything will."
"Am I not supposed to be oiled all over?" Nathalie wondered.
"Yes," Hedda said, handing her a bottle. "Oil as much of yourself as you can. It is very late."
"My privates burn something fierce," she complained.
Astrid nodded. "I am washing it away now," she said.
They worked silently, each concentrating on her own particular task. Astrid applied some of the gritty salve to the girl's nipples when she had cleansed her pudenda. While she waited for the medication to take effect, she slipped her finger into Nathalie's slit to test the effectiveness of the drug.
"Do you feel anything?" she asked.
"No," said Nathalie hesitantly and then, "No! No! It works!"
"Wonderful!" Hedda exclaimed. "Oh, if it really works, it will be such beautiful justice."
"Spread your legs wide," Astrid ordered and when Nathalie complied, she bent down and ran her tongue the full length of the girl's meat.
"I cannot feel a thing," Nathalie cried. "All I have to do is look away and I feel nothing at all!"
"Nor do I taste anything other than the oil," Astrid observed thoughtfully. "Hurry, before it has time to wear off! Cleanse the salve from her nipples and get her into the gown!"
The activity that followed was frenzied. Within minutes, they were leading her from the room and down the hall to the mistress' chambers. Astrid knocked.
"Come in," came the low reply.
Hedda opened the door and they pushed Nathalie through. Then she was left to face her mistress alone.
The room was quite dark. Nathalie glanced and, at first, did not see Sara Bjornson at all.
"Come here, my dear," the low voice beckoned and Nathalie turned toward the voice and saw the woman's nude body reclining on the large heavily draped bed. The deep magenta side drapes cast a shadow across her body, but even this could not hide the pastey whiteness of her skin. Everything within Nathalie cringed but she knew that the longer she prolonged the ordeal the more likely the numbness was apt to wear away. Taking a deep breath, she marched toward the bed.
Stopping near the head of the bed she looked down upon the older woman coldly and waited.
"Are you going to come willingly or should I call the guards?" Sara had one hand about the tassled cord that would summon help.
Nathalie shrugged. "The sooner it is over, the sooner I can leave," she snapped. "Shall I remove my gown or do you have other nauseating plans for me?"
Sara's eyes had bugged out almost from the beginning of the girl's insolent reply. Then, quite suddenly, her manner changed and she laughed, showing all of her long ugly yellow teeth.
"My dear," she tittered, "you are positively quivering to get on with it. What a foolish ruse! Now, off with your things and come to me, pet!"
Nathalie hurried out of her gown but the derisive sneer that curled her lips was calculated to inspire something less than confidence in the haughty mistress. When Nathalie was bare, she literally flopped down onto the bed, crossed her arms with a bored sign and said, "All right, get on with it!"
"Why you little bitch!" gasped the woman. "What kind of an act is this, anyway?"
Nathalie turned and stared blandly into her eyes.
"It is no act. These vile little games you and your husband play are loathsome to me," she said with a shudder. "Your touch turns me into a glacier of revulsion and when it is over, I must sit close to the hearth for several hours stoking the blaze repeatedly before I can warm the chill from my bones."
"You lie," the woman hissed.
"Why should I lie?" she asked. "Since I can, in no way, avoid these sessions it would be far easier if I could learn to bear them more easily."
Sara reached to caress the girl's lovely breast and frowned as the girl shrank from her touch. She leaned over and licked the soft, puffed nipple but it did not harden even when she sucked it into her mouth. Curiously, she drew away and stared at the girl, her hands roving nervously across Nathalie's belly and thighs.
"I do not believe there is such a thing as a frigid woman," Sara said coldly. "Perhaps we have pushed you too fast. I shall be more careful today, but I will not believe that you are incapable of feeling."
"What does it matter?" Nathalie asked coldly. "It is your pleasure that has forced me here."
"It is my pleasure to have a young girl such as you begging for me," she snarled and Nathalie saw her soul naked at that moment.
She was old-miserably, hatefully old, and it was a sentence she could not accept. As her body grew daily more ugly, her need to feel beautiful became more important. Any lithe, young body eagerly accepting her caresses would naturally make her feel more desirable. Nathalie could not understand why it should have to be a girl. She had never heard of such a thing before but the need itself she could plainly see in the woman's hateful, hurt glare.
Somehow, Nathalie had managed to prick that wound. She could not let up now. From what Astrid and Hedda had told her, there had been many girls that had been brought here to suffer these same indignities.
"I shall never beg," Nathalie answered. "You have absolutely nothing that I want other than my freedom."
Sara's hands had slipped into the fur of her mound and now burrowed into her slit. Raising both arms up to cross them beneath her head, Nathalie continued to stare curiously into the woman's face.
Sara's lips curled into a sneer. "I have much to teach you, yet," she said and squirming down the bed, she buried her face in Nathalie's loins.
"Spread those legs!" she commanded and Nathalie dutifully obeyed.
Sara's tongue teased back and forth across her furred lips and when she looked up, Nathalie was staring blandly at the ceiling. Determinedly, she renewed her effort, quivering her tongue down across the girl's meat as delicately as the wings of a hummingbird. No musky woman-scent appeared. No honey oozed from the girl's cunt. Sara rested her flat, broad tongue against the girl's tiny bud but she could not feel the slightest pulsation.
She could not believe her own senses. This had never happened before. The girl was absolutely unfeeling, a cold, emotionless statue. After a few more frenzied flurries with her tongue, she gave it up and crawled up to lie on top of Nathalie's body. Gripping her cheeks, she heaped kisses upon her lips and then bore down in a throbbing embrace. As her tongue stabbed out a staccato of hunger she reached down to pull the girl's ass up. Through it all, Nathalie remained completely passive and disinterested.
"See if this does not make you feel, little bitch," Sara growled.
Pressing her meat tightly into the girl's slit, she loosed a hot stream of piss. Nathalie could feel the heat of it. She felt the pressure as it spewed ir.to her and, for a moment, she had to concentrate to keep from responding to the wildly erotic act. Sara sucked hungrily at her nipples and Nathalie could feel them begin to respond.
Oh God, she prayed, don't let it wear off now.
"How much longer do you think it will take?" she asked out loud and then held her breath. She was sure the woman would hit her. As she raised up away from Nathalie's breast, her mouth hung slack, saliva still drooling down the side of her chin. Her eyes were fogged with shock.
She reached up above Nathalie and the girl braced herself for the expected blow but Sara only grabbed the cord and gave it two brutal jerks. Then she rose from the bed and grabbed up her dressing gown.
"Get out!" she hissed.
Nathalie heard a key turn in the lock and Astrid and Hedda entered.
"Get her out of here!" Sara screeched.
"Yes, ma'am," Astrid answered as Nathalie rushed to them.
Hedda pushed her through the door.
"And you two!" the woman called after them. "Come to me as soon as you have her locked in her room."
Astrid turned to smile at the mistress as she closed the door.
"A pleasure, ma'am," she said.
The three girls rushed down the hall to the safety of Nathalie's room. They dared not speak until the door was shut.
"It worked?" Hedda demanded.
"Yes!" Nathalie squealed. "Another five minutes and I wouldn't have made it. She made water on me!"
Hedda giggled. "Do not look so shocked, pet," she whispered. "It can be heavenly."
"We must get back," Astrid said. "She might suspect and I imagine she is a hot old bitch by this time."
"Thank you," Nathalie whispered.
Hedda kissed her cheek impulsively. "A pleasure," she said. "Just keep it up, doll. We're all rooting for you."
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Nathalie was in buoyant good spirits. She whirled about her room as she never had in her father's home. She was a captive. She had been subjected to terrible debasements and her body had betrayed her more than once. Yet, she had managed to accomplish a small but genuine victory. Her pride in this feat bubbled into a happiness that had long been foreign to her nature. Laughing out loud, she decided to do something more to better her situation.
Pulling back the coverlet and comforters, she pulled the top sheet off of the bed and sat down to create herself new clothing. She had neither scissors nor needle and thread but she could tie knots and rip the cloth into some sort of covering that would be less sensually annoying to her body.
Ripping strips the length of the sheet, she cut herself several large, bandage-type lengths some six inches in width. Slipping out of her gauze gown, she quickly unhooked the satin chemise and began wrapping the strip of cloth tightly about herself.
That feels better! she told herself happily. Now, how do I go about the other?
She held up the sheet and examined it thoughtfully. When the idea came to her, she hooted with delight, so simple was the solution. With teeth and fingernails, she carefully ripped out a one-piece, formed diaper. Slipping out of the satin, she tied on the new panties. They were really too loose, but it did not matter now that she had the scheme. Carefully, she pulled the satin panties back up and then retrieved the bodice and refastened it upon herself again. Stepping to the mirror, she smiled happily at her reflection as she noted the few spots that needed tucking in. After a few, slight alternations, the job was finished. She slipped back into the gauze gown and laughed out loud at her own reflection. Dancing about in front of the mirror, she delighted in being able to move without the slippery, vile material causing wild-fire sensations to dance across her flesh. When Astrid and Hedda returned, she was in such a cheerful frame of mind that she bounced to the door and opened it as soon as she heard the key turn in the lock.
"Come in!" she giggled.
"What has happened?" Astrid asked.
The change in the girl was startling. Her eyes shone and her body pranced around with a freedom never before allowed by the prudish being that inhabited it.
"I have outfoxed them, have I not?" she asked breathlessly. "And see? I made me a cotton chemise and diaper to line this vile stuff and now nothing shall bother me!"
"Ja, but what of Arne Bjornson and the dog?" Astrid asked mournfully. "We have forgotten that he comes and goes as he pleases. We cannot be here to prepare you."
The light went out of Nathalie's eyes quite suddenly and she slumped into a chair by the fire.
"What shall I do?" she moaned.
"Pshaw!" hooted Hedda. "We shall find a way!"
"How?" demanded Astrid.
"How can I know so suddenly?" Hedda answered defensively. "You have just now stated the problem. Surely, we can find a solution if we but put our heads together."
"Always the optimist," Astrid grumbled.
"Perhaps your brother knows one of the men at the kennels," suggested Hedda.
"I doubt it," came the pessimistic reply.
Nathalie's head jerked up at the suggestion. It was a straw to cling to. She badly needed some hope and she could not let it die this easily.
"Could you not ask him?" Nathalie pleaded. "Perhaps he would know of someone who could help us."
Astrid looked down at the girl and the desperate hope in her eyes was enough to wrench compassion from the hardest heart.
"I shall go ask him this moment," she promised.
"Tell him the salve works," Nathalie said, "and I shall defy them forever if need be but I must have time to apply it."
"Yes," Astrid smiled. "That will spur him to find a way."
After she had gone, Nathalie stared quizzically at the door a moment and then turned to Hedda.
"Why is the brother so much more opposed to these vile people than you or Astrid?" she asked.
Hedda shrugged, "He is a man," she said. "Most men feel that they should have all the passionate appetites. It rather riles them, I think, to have that appetite awakened in their little sisters. I imagine Roald is no different than the rest."
"But how can you tolerate being held captive and -and.. . "
"Fucked?" Hedda asked with a laugh. "I guess I have simply learned to like it. I could never get as much elsewhere. That is the way most of us feel eventually."
Nathalie shuddered.
"Oh, we are all rooting for you, Nathalie. We hat ethem. We even hate ourselves, sometimes, but one learns to live with whatever life deals them and before it be all pleasure than all pain. I knew of a master once who never fucked any of his women. He beat them. He chained them and then beat their bodies until he would fill his pants with his own cum. It was the only way he knew. No, this is far better than some."
"There is no dignity in bestial servitude," Nathalie argued.
"No, you are right," Hedda agreed. "But getting screwed, even by a man that is your husband, is not particularly dignified, my dear. Dignity is but a mask at best. My appetites have grown until I could not afford that mask even if they gave me my freedom. Here, I am with people of my own kind. It is enough. We are allowed all the liberties we care to indulge in. Our fiestas are like none anywhere, with men and women and beasts all in one lovely big free-for-all. Arne Bjomson holds these fiestas every month. I would not leave them if I could."
I wonder if Roald Erlander lowers himself to such a level at these fiestas? Nathalie wondered.
She was surprised to see Astrid return shortly with her brother in tow.
"Good work," he said enthusiastically to Nathalie.
"It was beautiful," she said. "I thought sure she would strike out at me but she was much too furious."
"Then you made it obvious that she did not bother you?" Roald asked.
"Oh yes! I was really horrid. The first time she came to me, I told her that she was old and ugly and this time, after I had said many cruel things, I simply asked her how much longer she thought it would take her. She was so enraged that she could do nothing but stutter."
"It is sad that you should have to be put through this but we are all rooting for you."
"Thank you," Nathalie answered softly, and for some reason she was suddenly quite shy.
"Can you help?" Hedda demanded.
"I think so," Roald answered with a nod. "The small window by my bed looks out on the courtyard, directly across from the kennel."
"Yes, I know," answered Hedda impishly.
Roald's face reddened.
"I shall keep a vigil," he said quickly.
"I should be glad to help," Hedda offered with a wide grin.
"You have helped quite enough," Roald answered pointedly.
Astrid laughed at the exchange. Reaching over, she put her arm about Hedda's waist and squeezed her in.
"Been roving again, pet?" she asked affectionately.
Hedda only shrugged.
"How can you let me know?" Nathalie asked.
"If there is time, I will send the girls. If not, I will come myself. Can you apply the salve yourself?"
"Yes, I guess so."
"It will be more difficult than before," he cautioned. "It must go all the way inside to be effective with the dog."
Nathalie blushed and turned away.
"I apologize," he said quickly.
"For what?" Nathalie asked but she kept her back turned toward him. "You are only trying to help."
"I should have let Astrid explain," he said awkwardly.
"Will there be time for all of it," Nathalie wondered.
The other three shook their heads. It would be difficult The more they thought about it, the more difficult it all seemed. Then Nathalie whirled about and clapped her hands together.
"I have an idea!" she said excitedly. "Could we not stuff the salve into a tube of gauze or-or even an old sheet? If I could but have a needle and thread, I could form a-a thing that would save much time!"
"A dildo!" chorused the girls.
"A what?" Nathalie asked, completely perplexed.
Hedda laughed. "Never mind, it is a perfect idea. I shall make it myself this very afternoon. I shall not only form a sausage for the inner flesh but a flat plane below that will numb the entire area at once!"
"You are geniuses," Roald laughed shakily.
"Then quickly," Hedda said, jumping to her feet, "let us get about our business!"
"Pray that he does not come this afternoon," Nathalie said fervently.
"He is out in the fields this day," Astrid assured her.
"By the time he returns, all shall be ready," Hedda promised.
"And our prayers will be with you," Roald said quietly.
It was the first reference to God Nathalie had heard since her long ride up the mountain side. Tears welled in her eyes as she looked up at the huge young man.
"Thank you," she whispered.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
It was two nights later that a soft tapping at Her door warned Nathalie that it was time to prepare. Groggy with sleep, she jumped up from the bed and staggered awkwardly to the door to return the tap.
"Thank you," she whispered.
"Hurry," came Roald's low reply.
Throwing the gauze gown over her head as she scurried to the dresser, she threw it across the chair back and slid down her panties. The inner diaper was loose enough to slide off at the same time. With a shudder, she raised her leg to the chair and slid the grotesque, drug-laden dildo into her cunt. Pinning her legs together, she hurried out of her chemise and began unwrapping the binding. It seemed to take forever.
Once the bandage fell away, she quickly wiped more grease about her nipples and gathered up the bindings and hid them in the dresser. There was nothing left to do but wait. Roald was supposed to knock again when he saw the master leave the kennel but should anyone step into the hallway outside Nathalie's door, Roald would have to flee and there would be no warning. Her ears strained for any unusual sounds in the hallway as she waited for the drug to take effect. Her eyes stung with tears as the salve burned into her tender meat. When she could bear it no longer, she again hoisted her foot to the chair and gingerly removed the hideous contraption. At that moment, another rap at the door made her freeze on the spot.
Oh Lord, there's no time, she thought frantically. Til be caught for sure!
She did not take time to use the syringe of oil the girls had left for her. Grabbing the satin panties, she scurried into them and then slipped into the chemise. As she shrugged her arms into the gauze outer gown, she heard the key scrape into the lock and she reached the bed and climbed back in just as the door opened.
Her eyes were tightly closed but her heart was pounding so wildly she was sure that he must be able to hear it clear from the doorway. Her cunt burned with the salve she had not had time to wash away and her nipples were beginning to itch.
She could heard the dog moving restlessly about as his master tied his leash to the bed post. Her muscles were so tense that her leg jerked spasmodically and there was no use continuing the pretense.
She rolled over and looked up at the big man. A peculiar thought struck her that seemed curious under the circumstance. He looked so much like Roald in a way. Both of them were such massive men and though Arne was older by far, he was much better preserved than his wife.
"Why is it that you must have an animal about to have passion?" she asked boldly. "You are not an ugly person as your wife is. Surely, many women would find you somewhat attractive."
Arne smiled.
"Are you offering me a proposition?" he asked.
Nathalie shuddered with obvious distaste.
"Certainly not. Frankly, the whole business nauseates me but I cannot understand why intercourse with a woman is not erotic enough for your tastes. Your wife must have girls and you like dogs. How utterly animal!"
Arne sat down at the side of the bed and stared down at the girl thoughtfully. How much more attractive she was after only a few days at the manor. In spite of the gravity of her frown, her eyes were more alive, her face and body more animated than they had ever been.
"Your purity fascinated me once," he said. "Now I see so very much more. You have come alive, Nathalie. Do you realize it? You are a beautiful woman."
"I am sixteen and I do not wish to be a woman yet," she answered, and the bravado failed her for her chin began to quiver.
Arne leaned back comfortably. "No, I am not sure that I should not have been satisfied with a woman like you, once. Beneath all that ridiculous prudery beats the heart of a very alive, warm young woman. Ah, and the fire of a snappish tongue tells me that there is spirit inside that small, delightful body. But my time with a woman has long since passed, my dear. It takes far more-and one day soon, I expect it will not be possible at all."
In spite of herself, she could not help asking, "Why?"
He smiled patiently. "My father wanted me to be a real man among men. He sent me abroad to learn the ways of the world at fourteen, and I had a tutor you would not believe-a simpering, sensual being that had tried everything and proceeded to show me the men and women of the world. I had them all. Before I was twenty, I knew every slut from France to Africa and on through India to China and Japan. Would you believe, I even had to send my father progress reports? Hah! And when I came home, bearing a bitch great Dane as a present for my dear pater, he allowed me the ultimate in erotic games, a night in bed with my own mother." Nathalie could not suppress a horrified gasp. "Is it any wonder that it takes a good deal of unusual stimulation to interest me any more? One woman! Bah! I've had a thousand virgins. For a time, the sight of two women wallowing in each other's flesh excited me and, since Sara was by far the t eager Lesbian I ever watched, I married her. e are well mated, Nathalie. Neither of us has the lightest urge where the other is concerned."
Nathalie had been conditioned to compassion since birth but she could feel no sorrow for the man who had caused the downfall of so many. Besides, she began to worry that the salve might lose its effectiveness if the man continued in his reverie for long.
"I hardly think any of this is worth boasting about," she said icily.
He stiffened and, for a moment he glared at her with pure hatred in his eyes but the hatred dissolved as quickly as it had come, replaced with scornful laughter.
"Ah!" he sighed. " 'Tis a pity you were born a prude. You have the sharp tongue of a slut for sure!"
He got to his feet and slid his pants down over his thighs as he smiled lazily down at the girl.
"Would you prefer to remove your own clothing or would you like me to rip it brutally from your body to give you that soul satisfied feeling of being raped?" His words taunted her but she took the challenge and slung it back at him.
"It matters little what you call it," she said, shrugging out of her gown. "It is all loathsome and detestable."
"And you love every minute of it!" he growled playfully.
"And I despise every instant. It fair chills me to the bone even to think of it!" she spat.
"Chill!" he asked unbelievingly. "We shall see."
"Cold as ice and snow. As cold as your very heart!" she answered.
At this Arne Bjornson grinned. "My heart again. Does the lass really wish to get at this black old heart?"
"Only with a knife," she hissed.
She skinned the panties down over her thighs and Arne paused to watch the operation. Her anger delighted him more than anything that had happened in a long time. He had not touched a woman in such a long time. Perhaps? Ahhhh, wait and see, he thought.
"Shall we strap you down now?" he asked, reaching for her ankle.
"No!" she cried. "I shall take your dog, but do not tie my legs apart. I cannot bear that."
"Very well, we shall see," he agreed. As she unhooked her bodice, he slipped from his waistcoat and shirt. Then he reached over and untied the dog's leash. His eyes never left the girl's breasts as the bodice opened and she shrugged out of it. The dog was panting with excitement, his prick stabbing air wildly as he humped his rear in a spasm of anticipation. Arne drew down the covers and commanded the dog to lie down on the bed. Patiently, he turned the dog onto its side facing Nathalie and it lay there obedient and quivering while he walked around and climbed into the bed on he other side. "Turn on your side," he ordered patiently. Nathalie hesitated. "Which side?" she asked finally. Arne laughed.
"Poor child," he said, and his voice showed obvious pleasure at the word. "You have yet to have a man. How thoughtless of me. Well, my dear, give Duke his pleasure and at the next festival, I shall see that you get your wish."
"I have no such wish, sir!" she snapped and rolled over away from him.
"That's a good girl," he said happily. "Now I shall teach you how to tease a dog. You will find the lesson helpful when you find a man that pleases you."
He slid one arm around beneath her while his other hand slid up her thighs, across her belly and over her breast.
"You have lovely tits, Nathalie," he said and she held her breath, waiting to see if the salve was doing its job. With a sigh that she had to bury quickly, she realized that she had felt nothing physically. It had been the soft voice and hand that caressed the length of her body that had made her heart pound faster.
Take care, her soul cried out. Watch out for this man or you will lose!
Taking her hands in his, he spread out her fingers and grazed them softly across the dog's slimy prick. The animal moaned. Nathalie shivered at the touch.
"A dog is like a woman, in a way," Arne said softly. "He is open meat, red and highly sensitized." He took her hand and pulled it around to touch his own hot cock. "You see how different the feel is?"
She held her breath. She had never touched a man before and she could not help but compare the texture of his skin to the satin she had worn the past few days.
"Answer me, Nathalie," he said sternly.
"What did you ask?" she asked and her breathlessness was obvious and blatant.
"Tell me the difference. Describe what you feel now," he said.
"It-it is drier, moist but not slimy," she said, and when he moved her hand more tightly against him she knew she would have to go on. "It is like a baby's skin, very smooth-and thicker, much thicker than the dog's."
He let her hand go then and she heaved a sigh of relief but it lasted only a moment.
"Now, taste of the dog, Nathalie," he ordered.
"No!" she cried.
"Do not make me tie you, child. Dogs are apt to go too far and gag you if I leave it to him."
"Noooooo," she whimpered, but the fight had gone out of her. The thought of again being forcibly splayed out while that horrid animal rammed his long organ into her mouth was more than she could bear. He was pushing against her shoulder now, forcing her slowly down to the animal's belly and though she cringed from the sight and the acrid smell, and the terrible feel of the animal, she knew full well that she would end up doing what he asked of her. Yet, with the prick pressed against her lips she shuddered and gritted her teeth together furiously.
"Go on," he said.
"I-I can-" but as she opened her mouth to speak, a nudge against her head and the quivering prick was in her mouth.
She jerked away convulsively.
"Nooooooooo!" she wailed, twisting about and climbing up against him. "Please!"
"I will have to tie you, I guess," he sighed.
"No! No! Just give me a moment to catch my breath," she pleaded.
Arne smiled to himself. The little bitch certainly has a horror of having her legs forced open.
"Get on with it," he told her gruffly.
She had not realized how tightly she had pressed against Arne's body until she pulled herself away. It embarrassed her. As she drew away Arne closed his eyes, savoring the sweetness of that embrace. It had been a very long time.
Again she approached the whimpering animal's scarlet prick. With a shudder, she looked at it. It looked like some horrible wound, bloody and festering. When she could bear no more, she closed her eyes and stuck out her tongue. A shiver of disgust ran through her at the feel of him.
"Now," Arne began, "pretend that it is a peppermint cane. You lick at it like a child."
Shuddering violently now, she obeyed.
"Yessssss! Yesssss, that is it!" he said excitedly. "Now, here is the tenderest spot. Feel the pulse throbbing against your tongue? Do you feel it?"
"Yes," she said, nearly gagging.
"Tap your tongue against it rapidly-gently, but faster-yessssss, now harder!" he moaned.
She could feel his own cock pressed hard against her ass, throbbing in the same, wild rhythm of the dog.
"Now suck it in, little bitch," he groaned. "Suck it in goooooood!"
Nathalie's loins were cold-unmoved, but her brain was in a fever at the words. As she sucked at the flat narrow tip, her brain seemed to fog with passion though she could feel none of it in her loins.
Oh, God help me! she prayed. I shall end up as depraved as he!
"Now compare! Compare!" Arne cried and she looked up completely at a loss over his words.
"What?" she pleaded. "What do you want?"
"Suck me, you bitch, just as you did the dog!" he ordered.
Anything was better than the dog. She pushed the slimy prick away from her and twisted about to face the huge, blunt cock of the man.
Wait a minute, she told herself. Make him suffer. Start at the very beginning. That is what he asked for, was it not?
Pulling back the foreskin, she began to lick. How much nicer he smelled. She taunted him with light, gentle laps that had him writhing about in misery.
"Get on with it!" he cried, but she ignored him.
She found the throbbing pulse in the cleft of his heart-shaped head and she beat out a wild seductive rhythm against his aching organ.
"Ohhhhhhhh!" he wailed miserably.
I will show this man, she thought as she nibbled her way up the silky head.
He was stiff with anticipation, but she did not suck him in. Slowly, she burrowed her tongue into his slit, then mouthed around and around him until he was squirming in an agony of passion.
"You slut!" he cried. "What are you trying to do? Kill me?"
Never had she known such power over another human being. Now, she was the master and he was her miserable, pleading slave. She licked the head with great laps, drooling saliva about until she tasted his cum, oozing out through the slit. With one, straining gulp, she sucked him in and wallowed the head about in her mouth as she milked the sepage from him.
"Ohhhhhhhh! My God!" he wailed. "Ohhhhh-hh!"
The power was a delicious thing. Her hands moved in as naturally as though she had been doing it all of her life, one hand kneading the balls and rolling them about in their loose sac, the other pistoning his foreskin as she had seen the man in the kennels do to the dog.
"Eyiiiiiiiii!" Arne screamed, his body bucking wildly into the air and then Nathalie felt his cock jerk hard and the cum began shooting into her suctioning lips. She gagged but she held. She'd finish the bastard off once and for all!
When the last drop was siphoned off and he fell back onto the bed, Nathalie leaped up and ran to the basin where she vomited copiously, puking up all that she had eaten during the entire day. When, finally, she caught her breath, she turned back to the splayed figure on the bed with vengeance.
"Now, get out!" she hissed. "You make me sick!"
Lazily, Arne opened one eye and smiled at her.
"Do not talk foolishness," he said. "Neither you nor the dog has had pleasure yet!"
Nathalie sunk to the chair and buried her face in her hands.
Dear God, I can stand no more, she moaned.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Nathalie sat beside the fire totally dejected for some time before she realized that Arne had not moved or spoken. Cautiously, she got to her feet and peered over at him. He was apparently asleep.
Perhaps! she thought with a sudden flush of hope. Perhaps I can still fool them.
Warily, she made her way to the dresser and carefully pulled open the drawer so as not to make a sound. Keeping her eyes on the bed every moment, she pulled the ugly dildo from its hiding place, closed the door, and returned to her chair. Stealthily, she inserted the dildo and looked about for a place to throw it lest he awaken quickly. Her eyes noted the slop jar beneath the bed. Could she get that far with it? she wondered. She looked up.
The dog was still whining and its head was turned over its shoulder to stare mournfully at her though he never left the position his master had commanded.
Again the salve began to burn. She prayed he would not decide to eat her meat, though she could not help but snicker to herself at how ludicrous he would look with persimmon juice puckering his mouth. It seemed that the salve bumed sooner than before and soon it was so painful, she could stand no more. Slipping it out of her cunt, she hurried back to the dresser and returned it to its hiding place.
This time, she thought, I shall not let it go so long. I very nearly did not make it before and I had not so much as been touched.
She walked over to the bed and nudged the master.
"Please," she said impatiently. "Can you not return to your own bed to sleep?"
Arne stretched lazily and then grinned up at her. Reaching up he pulled her down on the bed and rolled her over between him and the dog.
"Hello, little slut," he said tenderly. "It has been many a moon since a woman has managed to please me."
The words cut at her. She could not imagine why, but she tightened her jaw and glared into his eyes.
"I managed nothing, sir!" she snapped. "I was ordered, if you remember correctly."
"Abnhhhh, yes," he smiled, not at all bothered by her stiffness. "We must still play the game, must we not. You did not enjoy heaping kisses upon my cock, or nibbling, teasing, taunting me out of my mind. No, little bitch, much of what you did to me, I had no part in teaching you. God you are a wild one!"
"Oh, I am wild, sir!" she hissed. "I vomited for ten minutes after it. I thought if I pleased you, you would go away-leave me alone. I can bear no more."
"Ha! You are wild for more. It is not just the dog that bothers you," he laughed. "It is me you want, Nathalie. Why can you not admit it?"
"Because it would be a he!" she stormed.
Completely amused by what he thought was her proud front, he gently but firmly turned her over to face the animal.
"Poor Duke," he said soothingly to the dog. "You have waited so patiently."
He reached beneath Nathalie and pulled the dog's rump up between her legs. One hand teased her lips gently as the other guided the dog's prick into her cunt. It was weeping wildly, and though Nathalie's tunnel was very dry it slid in easily. When Arne's fingers slipped between the lips of her outer flesh, he felt her dryness and reached down to lather her with the dog's juices.
The dog was humping wildly, his ass jerking as he whined. Arne's fingers slid down into the girl's slit and began toying with her meat.
"Uuuuuuugh!" she grunted with a shudder.
The dog was whining and whimpering in a frenzy of misery.
"What's the matter, boy?" Arne asked. "He never has acted like that."
His voice was filled with concern, but his own cock had jerked back to attention and his mind was becoming fogged with his own hungers. He teased his cock in the crack of the girl's ass and when he pressed against the tight little asshole, his lust was inflamed. He had not thought of sticking the girl before. It had been too many years and there was little pleasure in it.
This tight little asshole was another matter. Suddenly, he had to feel that constriction squeezing into his cock. Harder and harder he pushed, allowing his mind to run rampant with anticipation.
Nathalie had not really noticed what was going on behind her. She was totally concerned now with the dog. He was whimpering and whining and Nathalie was well aware of the cause of his problem. The salve had rubbed off on him, and as hot as he was, his prick has started to shrivel. He was in a frenzy as he stabbed his prick into her but the harder he frictioned, the limper his organ became as the salve worked on his open flesh. She was certain it was beginning to burn.
The master is bound to guess, she thought, frantic with fear. If he guesses, I will lose the whole thing.
At that moment, Arne rammed his cock into her anus and the pain screamed through her, blotting out all other thoughts-and all other fears.
"Eyiiiiiiiiii!" she screamed and she could not twist or jerk away from him because to move even the slightest was to intensify the pain.
Only the head was buried so far but it was so agonizing that she could not even breathe.
She wailed out her misery and the dog wailed right along with her. His prick was now only a limp, shrunken penis, and he jumped down off of the bed and began running miserably around and around the room, howling over the burning pain in his organ.
"Take a deep breath," Arne commanded and Nathalie obeyed, praying it would help but he only rammed his throbbing cock deeper into her bowel until he was completely imbedded in her.
"Ahhhhhhhh!" he moaned with satisfaction. He reached around to feel of the dog and the girl but the dog was gone.
His mind was burning too hotly to worry about it. Slipping his finger into the girl's slit, he began to massage her meat as he pumped into her depths.
The pain was excruciating. Nathalie thought surely she would die of it. She prayed that she would faint. Arne's finger in her slit caused no sensation at all but the other hand, grazing up her belly, cupping her breasts, teasing her body from one end to the other was a terrible contrast to the hideous pain in her rectum.
"My God, what an ass," he moaned, grinding his loins about. "Feel it, Nathalie?"
"Nnnnnnnph! Nnnnnph! Nnnnnph!" she grunted, gasping for air and whimpering out her terrible misery.
She could feel him searching out her nugget, feeling for her pulse.
"It is horrible!" she screamed. "Dear God, please let me die!"
Arne jerked his hand away from her loins. She had shown him. Whatever happened next, he would know that she at least had felt none of his tender caresses.
Now he grabbed her almost brutally by the thighs and began slamming home his groin against her ass. Surely he would rip her and she would die of some terrible internal hemorrhage. Her wails filled the air, drowning out the whines of the dog and the grunts of the man.
She could smell the odors of his passion, feel the sweat running down off of his body onto her as he pulled her up on the bed until her ass was high in the air as he pistoned down into her.
"I hate you! I hate you! I hate you!" she moaned over and over in a wailing chant of pain and malevolence at this abomination. Nothing could be so contemptible or repugnant as to be impaled in this odious manner. Her head was buried in the mattress, her hands pulling at her hair as she jerked her head from side to side in a convulsion of sickening disgust.
Then his strokes quickened and she could feel his cock swell as he stiffened against her.
Get it over with, she prayed. Get it over with now!
Grinding his groin heavily against her ass, he shot his cum deep into her gut with long, powerful spurts.
"Eyyiiiiiuiiii!" he roared like a mighty bull, and he pounded out the last of his seed into her desecrated bowel.
She collapsed as he pulled out and lay sobbing hopelessly before him. He reached down and touched her shoulder gently.
"You really are frigid, are you not, Nathalie?" he asked.
She jerked up onto her elbow and stared up at him through her tears.
"My God, of course," she wailed accusingly.
He got to his feet and slowly dressed. The dog's pain had evidently stopped for he had gone over and laid down before the fire. Arne called him over and took the leash.
"I am sorry, child," he said regretfully. "You gave me something I had long forgotten. 'Tis a pity. We might have made it."
Then he was gone.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Nathalie hurt terribly, but she was triumphant. The second the door closed and she heard the key turn in the lock, she climbed painfully from the bed and went to the basin. Pouring water from the pitcher, she washed herself as best she could. She was bleeding badly and could not seem to stop the flow. The tears flowed as she worked. It was the first time since her ordeal began that she allowed herself to sink into self-pity. Her misery was interrupted by shock when she again heard the key turn in the lock.
I cannot bear it again! she told herself, sobbing frantically but when the door opened, it was Astrid and Hedda and Roald.
"Ohhhhh!" she cried and jumped behind a drapery.
"Nathalie, you are bleeding!" Hedda cried.
"Get in that bed!" Astrid commanded.
"Make Roald turn a-w-aaaay." Her words faded as she slumped slowly to the floor.
"That damnable modesty!" Astrid snapped. "Get her in bed," she ordered but Roald had already scooped the girl up into his arms. The girls followed, carrying the basin and pitcher. They turned her onto her belly and examined the rents in her anus.
"I shall kill him for his," Roald growled ominously.
"To hell with him, Roald," Astrid snapped. "It's the girl that needs our help now. We will have to pack the bowel."
Roald nodded and headed out for fresh linens. He was back within a moment.
"Poor baby," Hedda moaned. "That damn dog probably jerked out of her before the knot went down."
"I never knew he had a dog trained for assholes," Astrid snapped.
"Well, he's not trained very well or he would not have ripped her like this," Hedda observed.
"It was not the dog," Nathalie moaned.
"You mean Arne did this?" Hedda asked incredulously. "I never heard of him touching a woman."
Nathalie was still groggy but the fury of her anger was fully awake. Not realizing that Roald was there, she said, "He made me suck him, Hedda.
First the dog and then him and when that horrid stuff spurted into my mouth I vomited for many minutes. It was terrible, but still he would not leave me alone."
"He is a dead man," Roald said in an almost frighteningly lethal voice.
Nathalie's hand flew to her mouth as she heard his voice, and she was so ashamed that the tears again began to flow.
"Forget it, pet," Hedda whispered. "You cannot bury all this. We understand. What I cannot understand is what suddenly got into Arne. He would never touch any of the rest of us."
"And you certainly tried," Astrid said edgily.
"Well, he would beat the dog."
"Oh!" Nathalie cried. "The dog. Oh!"
"What did the dog do?" Roald demanded.
Nathalie looked up into his big gray-blue eyes.
"Nothing," she said. "I did not have time to use the oil, and the salve worked on it exactly as it worked on me, thanks to you."
"And Arne did not even notice?" Astrid gasped.
"No," Nathalie admitted. "That was whenwell, you know."
"What worries me is how long this will have to go on," Hedda said thoughtfully.
"What do you mean?" Nathalie demanded.
"Well, dear, you evidently have something none of the rest of us have. He's apt to keep you up here for a long time."
"No," Nathalie answered with a smile and on this she had confidence.
"What makes you so sure?" Astrid asked.
"He came to me after he was dressed. He said, You are frigid, are you not, Nathalie? Then he said, You gave me something I had almost forgotten. 'Tis a pity. We might have made it. He said he was sorry and he left."
"Sorry? My God!" Hedda whispered.
"I never would have believed it," Astrid admitted.
"Then you will be coming down with us soon," Roald said, "and we can plan our escape."
"Is it really possible?" Nathalie asked anxiously.
"It is a certainty as soon as you are well enough," Roald promised.
"I shall report them first off," Nathalie said thoughtfully.
"It will not be necessary," Roald told her. "I do not intend to leave the house intact when we leave."
Nathalie shivered at the ominous sound of his voice. He spooned some liquid into her mouth and told her not to worry.
"This will help you to sleep," he said.
"The bleeding has stopped," Astrid announced. "She'll be sore as the devil for a few days but she'll make it."
"Thank heaven!" Hedda said. "She could have bled to death."
"Thank you all," Nathalie whispered. "I hope we can all leave together soon. It is impossible here."
"The next fiesta," Roald promised. "We'll leave then."
"But that is far too soon!" Astrid gasped. "Nathalie may not be well enough then."
"She will make it," Roald said, "if I have to carry her all the way to the coast."
Gently, they tucked her in and slipped from the room. Nathalie's pain had turned to a dull ache, but she felt warm and loved inside. And soon she would be free!
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Sara was genuinely surprised to see her husband stride into her chambers the next afternoon.
"What a pleasant surprise," she laughed. "Goodness, it has been years!"
Arne laughed derisively. "I shan't bother you for long, my dear. I simply wanted to discuss a mutual problem with you."
"That annoying little brat, no doubt," she snapped. "Tell me, has Nathalie been shrewish about you, too?"
"She is frigid, Sara," Arne said coolly. "I believe she has been put through enough."
"Enough? Enough!" Sara's face was contorted with hate. "Why, Arne, I am truly surprised at you. Are you growing soft in your dotage?"
Arne shook his head with disgust. She really was a vile excuse for a woman.
"Frigidity is an illness," he said patiently. "The child cannot help it. She feels nothing, and it is an ordeal that will gain nothing for any of us. I propose putting an end to it immediately."
"No!" Sara hissed. "She has said things to me that I cannot forgive!"
"What has she said?" Arne asked quietly. "That you are old? The statement is truthful. That you are ugly? That, too, is true. You cannot hate a cornered, trapped animal that fights only with the truth."
Sara's face twisted into a deadly sneer.
"And what has suddenly filled you with pity? Oh, spare me! Do not tell me that you are suddenly infatuated with the child!"
"No," Arne answered evenly. "Please calm yourself, madam. We have never before happened onto a woman that could not eventually be trained to enjoy and partake eagerly of the flesh. Whatever we put them through, they eventually ask for more."
"I shall make the child beg," Sara grumbled.
"No. She is beyond help, woman, and we must accept this," Arne said firmly. "She is the first we ever took as a ward, and I propose to treat her as a ward should be treated. She will keep the room. We will prepare another for the next girl. She will have the run of the grounds and other than her freedom, she is to be denied nothing."
"I will not take this, Arne," Sara warned.
"You will take it, madam," he answered coldly. "I am still master here. You were nothing when I brought you here, Sara, and I can turn you back into nothing with no qualms of any kind."
Sara's mouth gaped as she stared up at him. He had never threatened her like this in their twenty years together, nor had he ever reminded her of the lowly station of her circumstance before that time.
"Very well, Arne," she answered quietly. "I cannot say that I understand it, but I will accept it."
"My apologies, Sara," Arne answered. "I did not intend to speak so brutally. I feel rather strongly about this simply because I know the bitter frustration of unfulfillment. The girl has her own private hell. We need not add to it."
"Whatever you wish," she answered lamely.
She could not touch the girl again. It would be dangerous to defy the master and Sara did not intend to take any chances with the pleasant life he had given her. She could, however, make Nathalie's life a hell in other ways. Smiling to herself, she savored the thought as she bade her husband goodbye.
It was a relief to Arne to get away from Sara. He had dreaded the visit. Lately, he wondered often why he bothered to put up with her at all. She certainly was of no use to him.
At Nathalie's door, he again paused and, taking a key from the ring, he slipped it into the lock. When he had finished, he knocked.
He could hear a scurry of movements and finally the girl opened the door cautiously and peered up at him.
"Ohhh!" she cried. "It is you!"
"Certainly," he answered. "And who else?"
"But you never knock," she answered. "When they bring the meals or wood for the fire, they sometimes knock."
She was completely flustered. Leaving the door ajar, she walked back to the chair beside the fire and huddled into it.
"What do you want?" she asked miserably.
"I have decided to unlock the door," he said. "That is all. Neither Sara nor the dogs and I will visit you again. Your malady is hell enough to live with. I shall not add to it."
She could not hide her excitement. Though she tried desperately to contain herself, it was evident in her tone as well as her eyes.
"And to what am I to be assigned?" she asked.
Arne laughed. "You have been checking with the help, I see. Well, my dear, you are to have no assignment This is your room. You are our ward. Other than freedom to leave the grounds, you have but to ask and it shall be granted."
"May I have my clothing back?"
"Do you really want it?" he asked, "or perhaps you would prefer a new wardrobe?"
She had been so sure. There was no question about it, but now she hesitated. Astrid and Hedda would certainly not like her in the old things. She could not decide how Roald would feel, if he felt at alL
"You may decide that at your leisure," Arne said with a pleased smile. "I shall have your things brought up and see if a few more-frivolous garments are about somewhere that you might find use for."
"Thank you," she said quietly.
After he left, she was overwhelmed by what had happened to her. She rushed to the door and tried it. It was not locked. She had a tremendous urge to rush out of the door and search out her friends to share the good news. It was the gauze gown that stopped her. She could not go rushing about among strangers in such attire.
Impatiently, she waited. Although it was less than a half hour before two women marched in with their arms loaded with clothing, it had seemed like an eternity. Nathalie was shocked as she looked at her old clothes. They were shabby and cheap. Even worse, they were the clothes of an old lady, not a young girl. Could she really have changed this much in so short a time? she wondered.
There were other gowns, not flamboyant, but far more becoming than her own tired frocks. One gingham particularly caught her eye and she was delighted when she slipped into it and found the fit perfect.
The neck was rounded gently but not at all revealing. The waist fit snugly and the skirts billowed out gaily. Tiny puffed sleeves covered the top of her arms and the soft, powder blue material made her eyes dance merrily. She found a dark blue shawl to wrap around her and small white slippers that were far more practical for dancing than for walking. She did not care. She felt like dancing this day. With her own staid bloomers and chemise, she felt comfortable and unpretentious.
Nathalie considered a bow for her hair but decided it would be too drastic a change-but she did not knot her hair as she had in the past. Her heart was pounding wildly as she stepped into the hallway to begin her exciting explorations. She had not taken more than a dozen steps when she literally bumped into Sara Bjornson.
Sara eyed her from stem to stern with a sarcastic sneer.
"Well," she said. "I see that you are taking advantage of your situation fast enough."
"Yes, ma'am," Nathalie said, careful to be polite in spite of her hatred for the vile woman.
"Frankly, I believe Arne is entirely wrong about you," she laughed cruelly. "You look like a girl rushing out to get herself screwed. Perhaps I shall be able to prove it, yet."
Nathalie sucked in her breath, holding back the rush of spiteful words she longed to utter.
"No, ma'am," she said finally. "I shall leave that pastime to you."
She brushed quickly past the woman and rushed down the stairs, knowing she should not anger her further.
"Slut!" she heard the woman spit as she reached the landing below. She clamped her hands across her mouth to keep from answering and rushed down the next flight of steps.
That sharp tongue will be the death of you yet if you do not take care, she scolded herself.
Then, pulling one of the great doors open, she hurried out into the courtyard. It was the first time she had smelled the fresh air of the great outdoors since her confinement. She filled her lungs till they were near to bursting. It was such a joy to be alive again. Then she stopped short as she realized this was exactly what had happened to Astrid and Hedda. They were so glad to be alive and have even a bit of freedom, that they asked no more.
J shall not make that mistake, he promised herself and gathering her composure, she began her search for Astrid and Hedda and Roald.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
Before Nathalie found her friends, she had collected a whole retinue of whistling young men. It greatly flustered her and when she tried to ask directions she was besieged by so many false instructions that she was ready to retreat to the safety of her own room when she saw, leaning easily against a far wall, Arne Bjornson watching the melee with a wide grin. Drawing herself up with all the dignity she could muster, she turned to face the all-male crowd.
"Gentlemen!" she chided them sternly. "I have had quite enough of this! I have asked a simple question. Kindly answer it and be gone!"
"Oooooo Eeeeee!" one lad laughed as he threw up his hands in mock terror, "Watch it, boys! She may swing at you next!"
"I am not one of your trollops," she said icily. "I am the ward of Arne Bjomson and I have been promised his protection!"
Her words carried such a tone of authority that it stopped their laughter.
But one of the men from the kennels was standing in the rear of the gathering and his laughter cut through the silence.
"Ward? Ha! You are the one we broke Duke in on, ain'tcha?"
At that moment, Arne straightened and strode toward them. Nathalie stood her ground as the crowd hooted and roared.
"She don' mind dogs," a man jeered. "It is just us men she is too good for."
Nathalie's cheeks burned but she stared back defiantly. Though she had not looked at Arne directly, she could see him coming out of the comer of her eye and she would not answer the men.
"What has this Duke got that I am lacking?" a burly bruiser asked, "except for the knot, of course."
He reached down and was about to expose himself when a sudden chill gripped the men about him and he paused and looked up to find the master glaring at him.
"Leave her be," the voice of authority said quietly. "She is just a child. You will treat her as one."
"I am not a child," she snapped.
"For the purposes they have in mind, you had better be," he said with a gentle smile. "Boys, this one is off limits unless and until she asks to have that status changed herself. She is my ward and shall be treated as though she were my own daughter. Come, child, I'll show you where your friends are, myself."
Laying his hand lightly on her shoulder, he guided her through the crowd and into a nearby building. Through the maze of hallways they went until they reached the great kitchen. Nathalie was awed by the tremendous size of it all. It was like a city unto itself.
Mouths gaped and eyes bulged as the master himself led the girl through the rooms. Everyone stood at attention. Several of the girls preened blatantly, hoping to catch his eye. He nodded to some of the older workers he had known for many years, but he spoke to nobody but Nathalie.
"How do you ever find your way about in all this?" she asked.
He smiled down at her but made no attempt to answer.
"And how do you know who my friends are?" she demanded.
"Astrid and Hedda have cared for you from the beginning," he said with a sly grin, "and I could not help noticing a shadow as big as my own in the hallway that could only have been Astrid's brother."
Nathalie flushed, praying he would not guess what the purpose of that visit had been.
"I guess," Arne mused, "that frigidity includes only the sexual excitations. I assume you are still quite capable of loving with the heart."
"I would not know," she answered too quickly.
"In a way, Roald would be very good for you, child," he said, enjoying the sport of prodding her a bit. "He is a bit on the prudish side himself. I doubt that your affliction would trouble him much."
"I am not interested," she answered sharply.
"No, of course not," he said with a grin, "but it would be well worth considering. I hear frigid women make excellent mothers."
The continual reference to her supposed malady irritated Nathalie fiercely. A short time ago, she would have considered it a compliment. Now, it was all she could do to keep from blurting out the truth, yet, she would have died before she could have returned to the terrible ordeal of the locked room. His almost tender attitude toward her was difficult to resolve after the debasement he had subjected her to.
Turning down a dimly lit corridor with small doors every six or seven feet, Arne stopped at the third door and tapped lightly.
"Who's there?" a masculine voice called.
It was Roald's voice. Nathalie closed her eyes and held her breath. If Arne made the same suggestions to Roald that he had made to her, she would surely die of embarrassment.
"It is Arne Bjornson," the master replied quietly.
The movements on the other side of the door were quick as he jerked to his feet and stepped to the door.
"Yes, sir," he answered.
His eyes widened as they took Nathalie in, standing there with the master's hand casually draped across her shoulders. Her gown was fresh and she was free. Had she sold out? he wondered.
"I have a favor to ask," Arne said easily.
"Yes, sir."
"I believe you have met my ward, Nathalie," he said with a wry grin and at the look of consternation on the boy's face he went on hurriedly. "Oh, I mean nothing by that, son. I saw a shadow in the hall last night that was as big as my own. At any rate, I have decided to give this child her freedom and to treat her as a ward should be treated. She will remain in her room but the door will not be locked and she has the freedom of the grounds. However, her first journey beyond that room ended in near disaster when the men spied her. When I chanced upon her, near bedlam was just about to break. She was searching for Astrid and Hedda, I believe, but I feel that she would be much safer with a male companion along for protection. I cannot follow her about, snatching her from one near disaster after another, so I am assigning you that enviable task. I want you to be her protector and henceforth, this will be your only duty."
"Yes, sir!" Roald said with grinning exuberance.
Arne reached and gripped the boy by the shoulder. "Guard her well, son, she is a tender little flower."
Roald nodded.
Arne turned and stared down at Nathalie for a long, painful moment. The sorrow in his eyes was very real.
"Good luck, my child," he whispered.
He touched her cheek and then turned and walked away.
Nathalie was stunned. The lion had turned into a lamb. The vile monster had actually become a matchmaker, of all things. What an obvious ruse.
"My God!" Roald whispered after the master had disappeared around the corner. "How fortune can turn to smile all of a sudden!"
"Yes," she answered absently.
"Whatever turned him into such a thoughtful bastard, I wonder?" Roald laughed.
"I believe," she whispered sadly, "that the master has fallen in love."
CHAPTER TWENTY
By the time Astrid and Hedda had finished their duties, they had heard all about the release and unusual arrangements made for Nathalie. They rushed back to their rooms to find Nathalie and Roald waiting for them.
"I am here!" Nathalie cried, rushing into their arms. "Is it not wonderful?"
The three embraced excitedly and there was much giggling and girlish delight. Roald sat quietly in the comer waiting for them to wear down and make sense.
"Do you still want to escape?" he asked finally.
Nathalie whirled around to stare at him incredulously.
"Why, of course!" she said emphatically. "What would change my mind about that?"
"Since the master seemed to lean so heavily in your favor.. . " He let the sentence trail off.
Nathalie's temper flared. "Because he patted me on the back and looked deep into my eyes? You think that erases the vile things he did to me?"
Roald shrugged but said nothing.
"Well!" Nathalie gasped, jumping to her feet, "I believe I have been insulted enough for one day. Good day to you, Roald Erlander!"
Before anyone could stop her, she had flounced out of the door and was stamping furiously down the hall.
"Roald!" Astrid cried. "Shame on you."
"Bring her back!" Hedda snapped. "And you apologize!"
Clamping his jaw tightly shut, he got to his feet and stepped to the door. He hesitated, started to speak, but changed his mind. Sprinting easily down the narrow corridors, he overtook her in seconds.
"Come back," he ordered. "You are acting like a child."
"Leave me alone," she snapped and turned her back to him.
He caught the reflection on her shining cheeks as she turned. She was trying to hide her tears.
"You said he was in love with you," Roald accused, "and his actions were plain enough."
"As were mine!" she cried. "Had I wanted the man, could I not have had him rather easily?"
She tried to break free of his grip upon her shoulders, but he held her firmly. Slowly, he turned her around and looked down into the tear-streaked face. She would not look up and kept straining to be shed of him.
"Yes, of course you could," he answered finally. "I have seen so many come and I have seen so many accept their lot and forgive that bastard-I apologize. I should not talk so."
She looked up then. After a moment, she sniffed, wiped away her tears and smiled.
"I can understand that," she said. "When I stepped out into the courtyard this morning, I was so happy to be alive. I felt so free after-after-all of it. Then I stopped and I said, You ninny! This is what happened to the rest of them. I vowed then that it would not happen to me!"
"Good girl!" he said. "Come. Let us go back and I will tell you my plan."
If Arne Bjornson could guide the girl along with one hand upon her shoulder, Roald Erlander decided that he could do the same. Nathalie did not object. It was really quite pleasant.
"Fire," Roald told them. "I intend to see that the entire complex bums. In the panic, we escape and we also put an end to the depravities."
"Where?" Astrid asked.
"Many places," Roald answered. "I will set them in advance. Then, during the next festival, you and Hedda and I will slip away and set them ablaze. I have another, more important job for Nathalie."
"Name it," she said eagerly.
"Between now and fiesta time, you must locate the place in the library where he keeps his seal and stationery. While we are lighting the fires, you must steal the seal and as much stationery as you can get your hands on. Then you will set the library on fire."
"Why the seal?" she asked.
"Arne Bjornson owns a large fleet based at Uppsala. We will go there and command one of the boats into a secret mission. Then we will go to America."
"How exciting!" Hedda said with a shiver. "They will never catch us there."
"They will not catch us anyway. With the seal to prove authenticity, I shall write a letter myself, ordering the crew to make me their captain. Once we reach America, the crew will be more than willing to stay. Of that, I am certain. I know the crew and the ship that I will pick. I was one of Arne Bjomson's fishermen before he brought me here."
"Why did they bring you here, Roald?" Nathalie asked.
"Arne took a imagine to my sister and decided I would make a good stud for his-ah, purposes."
Hedda giggled and Astrid frowned to shut her up. Nathalie ignored them. The plan was beautiful but there were so many questions on her mind.
"Do we simply walk out of the gate?" she asked.
"No," he answered. "I have a long rope and nets I have been working on for many months. We will let ourselves down out of your window, since you have been allowed to remain in that room. We will be safer climbing down the cliff. They will not expect us to take that route."
"They will see the rope and they will know, will they not?" Hedda asked.
Roald grinned impishly. "I have spent several months making that rope," he said. "I devised a release so that I may unfasten the rope and allow it to drop after we have made our descent. The last one out will close the window and they will never know."
"Beautiful," Nathalie whispered.
"I am proud of you, pet," Astrid said fondly and reached over to peck her brother on the forehead.
"We have a week," Roald reminded them. "While Nathalie searches for the seal and stationery, the three of us will pick the best places to start the fires. Agreed?"
"Agreed!" the three chorused.
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
The day of the fiesta was one of miserable waiting for Nathalie. All through the day she waited in her room until, just before dark, she could bear it no longer. Slipping quietly out the door, she scampered down the stairway and hurried toward Astrid and Hedda's room.
The courtyard was in bedlam. One peek through the great double door stopped her. Did she dare to go on? The throng milling about seemed to have gone completely mad. The dogs had been turned loose and were yapping as they chased in and out of the clusters of festive workers. Most of the people were gaily decked out in costumes that made Nathalie shudder with disgust.
There was a devil in snug black tights and sweater. Only his face, hands, and genitals were exposed. The heavy-hung balls jounced about as he walked and his cock was fully erect. A woman near by (Nathalie surmised it must be his paramour) wore the same black outfit with huge tits protruding from holes cut in the sweater and the entire crotch and buttocks section had been carefully snipped away. Her pink cheeks rolled merrily as she walked away from Nathalie's view.
All of the costumes were erotically sexual. Several men had papier-m�ch� cocks strapped to their groins that were fully four feet high. One woman had carefully stuffed gingham tits that hung nearly to the ground and a slit with real fur sewn to it that arched out nearly a foot from her body in exaggerated lewdness. Playfully, the men with the papier-m�ch� cocks tried to ram her grotesque meat and all laughed hysterically at the ludicrous game.
Only one man that Nathalie saw was completely naked, the weather being quite inclement. When he happened to turn in her direction, she could not force herself to look away for he had a huge red ribbon carefully tied to his swollen prick.
He has turned them all into animals, she thought. Her belly churned with revulsion.
Had the people only dressed erotically, Nathalie probably could have ignored them. Such, however, was not the case, for their actions were totally animal. The very first cluster of people she pushed through laughed at her shock when she nearly tripped over an up-ended woman lying on the ground. A man was pouring wine into her cunt as another vowed loudly that he would drink every last drop. Flushed with disgust and loathing, she turned and ran blindly through the writhing, moaning crowd.
She came onto a group of couples playing blind-man's buff, each man with a woman riding upon his shoulders. The girls balanced precariously around the front of each man, directing him as he slurped and licked at her meat. As Nathalie rushed through, they jostled her first one way and then another until she was certain they would keep her trapped in their midst forever.
Oh God! thought Nathalie, I cannot be real. None of this can be real!
The dogs were humping frantically with every step they took, their scarlet pricks stabbing at the air. Then a woman near the kitchen door pulled aside her skirts and, standing with legs akimbo, called them to come to her. There were a dozen fighting over her within seconds.
"More! More!" she heard a woman cry and the sound of her voice was so tortured, Nathalie turned to look.
"Oh!" she cried out loud as she saw a beautiful young girl, lashed between two upright posts in a spread-eagle position.
Several men with long, lethal looking whips in their hands were lashing furiously out at her. Crisscrosses of red blisters from the cruel whips marked almost every inch of her body, yet she arched out her mound as she pleaded with them to inflict more of their cruel punishment.
"More! More!" she wailed again and again until Nathalie became violently nauseated, spewing out her vomit as she leaned weakly against the side of the building.
There were women and women, men and men, adults and children. Everywhere she turned, the people had gone mad. One young man leaned lazily against the wall several yards away and she wondered if he, too, could not bear the lewd, bestially demented activities. As her eyes focused upon him, she saw that he was in his own private fog of lust for his hand slowly milked his own cock as he felt his joys.
Nathalie's head rolled about, pressing heavily against the cool stone masonry of the building. They are all mad, she told herself, and it is a madness brought on by the lust of one man and one woman. Roald was right. It must end-all of it!
She sucked in the cool night air as deeply as she could, calming the queasiness of her churning stomach.
I should have stayed in my room, she thought miserably. If I can only get to Astrid and Hedda's room, I shall not step foot from there until it is time to begin my task.
"Well!" boomed a voice from behind. "What do we have here?"
She whirled about and found herself staring at Edvard, the kennel keeper. Behind him stood Sven.
"If it is not the frigid little prude!" he chortled, "We could fix that up, couldn't we, Sven?"
"Ja!" his friend answered eagerly. "All she needs is a man."
"Keep away from me!" she hissed as she backed slowly away from them.
"Ah, now," Sven cooed, "that is not spirit. It is fiesta. Everyone fucks at fiesta."
"Keep your hands off of me!"
Her voice was filled with hate, her eyes narrowed as she crouched to protect herself. Had she but a knife or a pistol in her hands there is no doubt that she would have used it as lethally as possible. Her every thought was for survival and self-protection. The time for escape was near. She could not bear the idea of being taken-debased again with freedom so near.
Then the two men lunged and she was trapped against the cold, stone wall. She flailed the air furiously, screaming at the top of her lungs, but no one paid the slightest heed.
Like a hideous nightmare, they cavorted about her, yelling their wild yells and singing lusty chants. The dogs yapped louder, and the woman screaming "More! More! More!" drowned out her agonized cries for assistance.
"This one could use a little of that whip!" Sven muttered as he gripped her tightly by the waist. "She is sure putting up a fuckus!"
"Then let us get her over there before the girl gets her joy and they cut her down," Edvard suggested.
Together, they wrestled her to the two upright timbers to await the end of the sadistic punishment.
"Ohhhhhhhhh! Goooooooooooo!" screamed the woman as the thongs burned into her flesh.
"Let me go!" screeched Nathalie, twisting her head away from the blood-spattered scene.
"This cold little bitch don't like the whip, Sven," Edvard chortled.
"She is just pulling your leg, Edvard," Sven answered. "Why, she is hot to feel a bit of that burning lash herself."
"Nooooooooo!" moaned Nathalie and her face contorted with apprehension at the mere thought of having to undergo such a torture.
"Somehow, that does not seem right to me," Edvard said thoughtfully. "She is sort of the martyr type anyway, don't you think?"
"What are you talking about?" Sven demanded.
"Well, to beat her-" Edvard held up his hands, "now, if we were to eat her and make her like it in front of everyone-ah, my friend, there would be an accomplishment."
Nathalie shuddered at the thought. Her jaw clamped tightly together and she began steeling herself for the possibility of such an ordeal.
"Eyiiiiiiiii!" the woman strapped to the posts screamed and Nathalie stared up at her in absolute horror.
Her body had gone rigid, her groin arched out, her legs twisted to bring the inner flesh forward. Slowly, she began to writhe in a hypnotizing pattern of release, moaning on and on as the waves of passion crashed over her. Nathalie had never before looked into the face of another being at such a time. Her gaping mouth, her arched neck and closed eyes were as filled with the sweet agony of her release as a Christian enduring the last torture and feeling the soothing salve of the Lord's blessing descend upon him.
When, at last, her frame went limp, it was a sudden jolting kind of release and though her feet were placed flat on the cobblestones, she hung by her wrists, too exhausted to carry her own weight.
"Oh, fucking mother," Nathalie heard her groan, and she bowed her head and could look up at her no more.
How low do they go? she wondered. Obviously all the way but what is the end result? Is there anything lower? My God, what could it be?
The two men who had been whipping the girl now leaped forward to untie her bonds. As she slumped into their arms, they slid down onto the cobblestones with her and one immediately jumped between her legs and pressed his throbbing cock into her cove.
"Hey!" yelled Sven. "We want to use the poles. Move over a bit, will you?"
The second man had already straddled the girl's chest and his whip was still in his hand. With a quick snap of his wrist he sent the tip of the whip cutting through the air at Sven.
"You'll bloody well wait until we get ready to move!" he hissed and Sven jumped back just as the tip slashed across his cheek. He grabbed his cheek as the blood began to pour from the wound.
With one lunge, the infuriated Swede dove on his oppressor, knocking him away from the girl's body.
"Cock! Give me that cock!" the woman screamed. "Please!"
Edvard did not hesitate. One eager cock-sucker was worth a dozen frigid prudes. Grabbing his prick, he frictioned it furiously as he stepped over her body and lowered himself down onto her tits.
It had all happened so fast that Nathalie hesitated a moment, not truly realizing that she was free. Then, as relief flooded over her, she did not wait to see any more. She turned on her heel and ran as swiftly as her feet would carry her.
Down through the kitchen and cleaning rooms she flew and then through the dimly lit corridors as the panic welled up about her. Were they following? She had no notion nor did she intend to turn and find out.
"Astrid! Hedda!" she screamed as she ran though she was still some distance from their room. Heads popped out of the hallway doors as she scurried along. She was so distraught that she pounded on the wrong door for several seconds until Hedda's head popped out of another door down the hall.
"Nathalie, for God's sake!" she snapped and when Nathalie saw her, she collapsed completely.
Rushing into her arms she sobbed out her tortured tale of woe.
"It was awful!" she concluded.
"What? They didn't do a thing to you, did they?" Hedda asked impatiently.
"Well, no," Nathalie sobbed and then realized that it was true.
Sitting down on Hedda's cot, she stared up at her friend.
"How can I explain?" she asked. "The whip. It left such cruel, hideous slashes across that girl's body and yet she begged for more. It-it was-insane," she said helplessly. There simply seemed no way to make Hedda understand the terror she had felt as she looked up into those passion filled eyes.
"We must get away from this place-destroy it completely-and the sooner, the better," she whispered in an awed tone.
"You should not have come here alone," Astrid said sternly as she entered the room. "You do not belong in the courtyard tonight."
"Do not scold her, Astrid," Hedda pleaded. "Lie down and rest a few moments, Nathalie. You will have to go back to your room before we can begin our escape. It is better for you to rest before you attempt it."
Nathalie did not argue. The thought of retracing her steps filled her with dread but there was no other way to reach the library and that was the one job Roald had asked of her.
"Not a word of this to Roald," she cautioned. "I can do my job. Just let me rest a moment,"
"Good girl," her friends said softly.
Nathalie lay tensely on the cot staring up at the rough pole rafters. They were a dramatic contrast to the ornately plastered ceiling of her own room. There was no fireplace to help warm the bones of the hired hands. The stone walls were unpainted and weeping with moisture. It was a wonder the help did not all die of consumption, she thought, nor was it hard to understand why so many preferred to share their bed rather than sleep alone even on these narrow cots. Just as she shivered convulsively, Hedda pulled a quilt up about her and tucked her in.
"Thank you," she said. "Are you not chilled too?"
"We are used to it," Hedda told her.
Hedda turned the lamp down low and left her side. All ready, Nathalie felt calmer than she had all day. She wondered how long it would be before Roald came for them. She should have stayed in her room. Perhaps he was tapping on ber door this very minute.
She allowed her mind to drift for a time, bringing it back sharply whenever it threatened onto an unpleasant subject. She was not at all sleepy. Slowly, her hearing began to focus on Astrid and Hedda who were sitting on the other side of the room.
"I hate to miss all the fun," Hedda was complaining. "Could we not join the festivities for an hour or two while we wait?"
"Do not let Roald hear you say such a thing," Astrid laughed softly.
"Poo! I dare say he is not sitting about!"
"That is his business, dear heart," Astrid reminded her.
"It was nearly dark when I came down here, Astrid," Nathalie broke in. "Can't we get on with it?"
Astrid shook her head. "They are not drunk enough yet. Roald will tell us when."
"Humph!" Hedda grumbled. "I will wager he is screwing around with the big redheaded wench that chases around after him while he makes us sit here twiddling our thumbs."
"Roald would not do such a thing!" Nathalie objected, sitting up with a start.
Astrid and Hedda glanced at her and Hedda burst out laughing.
"I hate to disillusion you, dear child," she said, "but Roald is a man, in case you had not noticed. He has the appetites of a man, albeit a decent one. Only last night there was an awful lot of panting and giggling going on in his room."
"Well," snapped Nathalie, "it certainly was not me!"
Her cheeks were on fire.
"Of that I am certain!" Astrid snapped. "Hedda, you should not tell Nathalie such things. What Roald does is none of your concern or mine."
"But he seemed so shocked by-" Nathalie hesitated.
"Oh, blast it, Nathalie!" Astrid exploded as she rolled her eyes back in utter frustration. "When a man screws around with a woman who is willing, it is not quite the same as sicking a dog onto a child. For heaven's sake, woman, grow up! It may disgust you, personally, but I tell you that passion is here to stay, thank God!"
"Why do you chide me so, Astrid?" Nathalie demanded. "When there is need, of course it is not wrong. I did not feel that it is wrong with either of you. We had a job to do and we did it. Just as married people must produce children, it is the method and the reason.. . "
"Oh shit!"
"Oh shit!" Hedda snapped. "You take all the pleasure out of it and admit it or not, there is pleasure!"
"All right!" Astrid said, raising her hands for silence. "That is enough. We have much to do this night, and it will not do to sit and argue amongst ourselves."
Nathalie took both of the girls' hands in hers. "I realize that I exasperate you terribly some times, but I do love you both dearly. Please be careful this night. I could not bear to reach safety if either one of you were not there with me."
"Oh, Nathalie," Hedda whispered tearfully, "we are all on edge. I am sorry, dear. Let us think of it no more. Soon we will be on our way to America and the whole world will be open to us."
"This is better," Astrid said, hugging them both. "It is time, too, for Nathalie really must return to her room. Would you feel safer if we went with you?"
"No," she lied. "You must be here when Roald comes just as I must get myself back to my room, I shall be very careful and I shall fly as fast as a deer through the courtyard. They will see nothing but a streak of skirts, I promise you."
She dreaded walking out of that door. Never had she felt the need of protection as she did this night. Still, how could she do her part if she did not show courage?
"Here," she offered. "Let me carry your bedrolls up with me. You will have quite enough to carry and you may be somewhat in a hurry."
At first Astrid agreed, but as Nathalie waddled unnaturally under the burden she thought better of it and refused.
"We will be three and can protect ourselves better. You need all of the speed you can muster if you are to run like a deer."
They snickered bravely as Nathalie handed back their bundles.
"I am off then, my pets," she said gaily. "See you soon."
"Good luck," they whispered.
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
The hall seemed much darker when Nathalie stepped into it. She looked up and down but saw no one. She could hear the voices of the revelers echoing from all directions but there were none in sight.
"I shall be all right," she assured them as she closed the door behind her.
Quietly, she hurried down the corridor, glancing back over her shoulder every few seconds. Her heart was pounding wildly as she hurried faster and faster. She got only halfway through the labyrinth of hallways when she literally ran into a boisterous party of revelers bursting out of one of the rooms.
"Hey!" a buxom redhead cried. "Here is Miss Touch-me-not! Where is your handsome bodyguard, girlie?" The sarcasm literally dripped from her voice.
"Stand aside," Nathalie said coldly, ignoring the insult of the question. "I wish to pass."
This must be the one! she thought. And she is not with Roald, either. A pox on Hedda for the accusation!
"Well! Well!" scoffed an insolent young rake. "Be a good girl and I just might let you fuck me, sweetmeat."
He reached over and squeezed her breast, winking lewdly at her as he bent down to attempt a kiss. Nathalie jerked furiously away.
"Let me by!" she demanded icily but her stomach was churning with fear.
The three young men and two girls crowded her up against the wall even as she spoke. One man reached down and pulled up the hem of her dress.
"Nice legs," he said. "Ahhhhhh, and a nice firm ass, I think, though it is hard to tell through such modest bloomers as these."
Nathalie twisted about frantically but they kept her trapped against the wall. They were all taking turns now, squeezing at her breasts. One girl began unlacing her bodice as she struggled in a silent frenzy to free herself. The hem of her gown was pulled up by man hands and one lad was on his knees before her, unhooking her bloomers.
"Let me go!' she pleaded. "Dear God, let me go!"
Her arms were pinned high against the wall and when she felt her bloomers slipping down to drop to the floor, she tried to kick out at them only to trip on her own underpinnings. She dropped no more than a few inches, her legs held by one lad, her breasts and shoulders pinned by the others.
"If there is one thing I cannot abide, it is a haughty little prig like this one," the redhead snarled.
At that moment, she felt the hot breath of a man against her loins as he moved into her privates.
"It looks good enough to eat," she heard him mumble and she braced herself as his lips moved into her sensitive pudenda.
"Ayiiiiiiiiii!" she cried, thrashing wildly. Oh God, help me! her soul cried out. They will know! They will know!
He jerked her legs open wide, then pulled her knees forward around his shoulders and she was no longer supporting herself. Pinned against the wall, her ass rested heavily in the palms of his hands as he burrowed in to mouth her searing flesh.
The redhead had, at last, unlaced her bodice and was now pushing the material aside to bare her breasts. A low, long whistle rose from the throats of the men as they reached in to feel of her tender, full-fleshed tits.
"Did you ever see hotter nipples?" one groaned in a low, throaty guttural as she felt him lift her breast, grip it between his hands, and then draw her nipple into his suctioning lips.
Her screams echoed down the dark corridors as her body writhed against the torturing hot, wet lips that worked her flesh. Her breasts glistened with saliva and burned with the nibbling, suctioning lips. The head buried in her loins sucked wave after wave of fiery passion through her body, seeming to pull her very life's blood from her limbs as he ate furiously of her meat. Her nugget throbbed wildly and her screams slowly weakened until they were but a keening wail of objection.
She was weak. Too weak to fight the terrible fire that raced through her body, and she prayed only for quick release, her loins aching with the terrible agony of her need.
Oh God, I have failed again, she thought miserably. What good is escape if I must remain forever a captive of my own lust?
She could feel the silky heads of the men's cocks rubbing against her body and then her brain fogged and she could think no more.
"Ohhhhhhh!" she moaned miserably as she thrust her meat deeper into the man's mouth and reached to feel of the throbbing cocks with her hands.
"Some prig!" the redhead laughed in a wild animal guttural.
She did not care. At that instant, the pulsing fire in her brain and her slit exploded and she ground her cunt hotly into the man's suctioning lips as his tongue drew her over the wild abyss.
Her body throbbed out its release, her blood pounding hotly through her veins. She no longer cared. Nothing mattered but the convulsive spasms of passion as she went limp in their arms.
"Stick her!" the girl cried. "Get her down on the floor. She is going to eat me, by God!"
But a louder voice suddenly cut through the bedlam and the revelers froze at the sound of the master's voice.
"Leave her alone!" he commanded fiercely and they backed away as Nathalie slithered to the floor.
Lifting her easily into his arms, he turned and strode down the hall. Nathalie lay against him and, for the moment, she did not care. Drowsily, she wondered how much he had seen but that was the extent of her ability to think.
Arne carried her to her room and laid her gently upon the bed. He stared down at her thoughtfully for a long moment and then turned and walked to the door.
"I shall send someone to care for you," he said and then he left, closing the door softly behind him.
I have ruined everything, Nathalie thought miserably. It is all lost!
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
Nathalie was crying softly, lying just as Arne had left her, when the door opened and Roald entered. He walked over to the bed before she was aware of his presence and, so miserable was she over her terrible shame, that she looked up at him and lifted her arms up to him.
"Ohhh, Roald, I have ruined everything!" she cried miserably.
Gathering her into his arms as he sat down beside her, he let her cry out her misery before he tried to speak. She sobbed violently for some time before she felt the warmth of his chest against her breasts and realized she had not even covered herself.
In a fit of embarrassment, she hurriedly drew away and turned from him.
"It is all right, Nathalie," he whispered. "I understand."
"No you don't!" she whimpered. "It is terrible."
"Arne Bjornson told me."
"What did he tell you?" she asked.
"Why, that you were molested by a group of rowdies," he said, rather startled at the question.
"Your silly redhead was among them," she snapped unreasonably.
Roald grinned.
"That is all he said?" she asked.
"That is all," he assured her.
"Oh, thank God," she moaned. "Roald, can we leave now? Please! This minute!"
"We can start now," he told her. "If you feel up to it." -
"I am ready," she said fervently.
"Then what did you ruin?" he asked.
"Nothing," she answered lamely. "I shall go to the library now. I know where everything is."
"Good! Hedda and Astrid and I will start the fires," he said. "We will meet here as soon as we can. Do not be impatient."
Nathalie nodded and Roald got to his feet.
"Good luck," he said as he closed the door.
"Same to you," she called after him.
Nathalie pulled herself together and brushed her hair carefully. It would not do to be seen by anyone, wandering about in such a condition. She washed as much of the redness from her face and eyes as she could manage and then hurried to the door and peered cautiously down the hall. There was nobody about. Her heart was pounding wildly, and she slipped down the stairs and made her way to the great library.
Oh Lord, she thought, how I hate to see all of these beautiful books burned. Such a terrible loss!
She started across the large room, heading directly for the massive desk used by the master. She sat down in the big chair and was just about to reach for the drawer when an icy voice riveted her to the spot. It was the cold, cruel voice of Sara Bjomson.
"And what are you doing at the master's desk?" she asked.
Nathalie could not think for a moment. She glanced about and finally spotted the source. Sara was sitting in the big high-back chair before the fire, a young girl curled up in her lap.
"Excuse me," Nathalie said shakily. "I did not mean to interrupt."
"You did not answer my question," the woman snapped.
"And what was the question?" Nathalie asked, frantically stalling for time to think.
"I asked what you were doing at the master's desk," she snarled.
"I was going to read," Nathalie answered. "I thought, I could light the lamp here, the light would be better."
She could tell that the woman was disappointed by her answer.
"Get out!" was all the woman said and it was more a hiss than a command.
Nathalie started to flee, sick over her defeat, but at the door, a thought occurred to her. She stopped and forced herself to turn, facing the back of the chair containing the spiteful woman.
"Could I trouble you for a bit of paper and a pen?" she asked.
Incredulously, the woman's head shot out from the side of the heavy wingback.
"What for?" she demanded.
"I-I dabble a bit in poetry," Nathalie answered and her voice shook with fright. "I should like to try my hand at it in my room."
"Get it and be gone!" the woman snapped.
Nathalie could not know of the precariousness of Sara's place at the moment but Sara, herself, was well aware of her position. She did not intend to cross Arne Bjornson for any reason. She fully intended to get even with the little bitch that had caused her all the trouble, but she was going to take her time and get the job done subtly enough to place Nathalie in the poor light and not jeopardize herself. She glared at the girl as she returned to the desk and she never took her eyes off of her until she had quit the room but she said no more.
Nathalie's hands were shaking as she rifled through the drawers at the desk, pretending to search for the paper. Her palm closed about the great seal. She was sweating profusely as she tried to hide her intentions. In the drawer containing the paper, she took several sheets of his personal stationery and several blank pieces. Slipping an envelope between the two, she closed the drawer and nodded her thanks to the furiously glowering woman. Then she fled.
Roald smiled to himself as he left the girl's room. So she knew about the redhead, he thought. Her irritation was certainly obvious enough.
Humming happily to himself, he hurried down to Astrid and Hedda. It had been a long wait. It would be over soon, thank God! He was surprised to find Karen, the Irish, crimson-headed wench, still balling it up in the hallway with her friends.
"Aha!" she snorted. "The beautiful bodyguard of the beautiful body!"
"You should have left her alone, Karen," he scolded. "Arne Bjornson was furious."
"He would have been a lot more furious if he had caught her a few moments before. She is the most passionate-frigid prig I ever met up with, and I shall take the greatest of pleasure in telling the master!"
"Ho!" one of the men yelled. "I ate that sweet little nugget right out of its mind!"
So that was it, Roald thought. "It will probably save that pretty neck of yours," he said out loud. "Have fun," he called, stepping over the splayed bodies and then he hurried down the corridor.
Astrid and Hedda were waiting but they were managing to occupy their time pleasantly enough. Clamped together in a hot embrace beneath the coverlet of Astrid's cot, they stared up defiantly when he entered.
"Can you never learn to knock?" Astrid snapped.
Roald's face was filled with bitterness when he spoke.
"It is time," he said coldly. "If you can tear yourselves apart, we must get on with it."
"Get your gear," Astrid told him. "We will be ready by then," and she returned to the passionate embrace.
Sick with disgust, Roald left the room. How he hated what they had done to his sister. He could not blame her. It was the Bjornsons who should suffer for it. When he returned, he was careful to knock. He did not have to wait. They were ready.
"We'll meet in Nathalie's room," he said quietly. "You know what to do?"
Silently, they nodded and then separated, each to his own task.
Roald had taken the more dangerous assignments. It was up to him to fire the stables and kennels and release the animals. They were both in plain sight of the revelers and he held his breath, expecting to hear a cry of discovery any second. When it was done, he hurried to Nathalie's room and found the girls already there.
"I could not start the fire in the library," Nathalie wailed as he entered the room. "Sara was there. I barely was able to get the seal and stationery."
"But you did get that?" he asked.
"Yes," she told him.
"Then hook up the rope while I take care of it. I have fired one entrance. I shall fire the back exit just in case."
Nathalie was sick with fright.
"What if he is caught?" she moaned.
"He has made it this far," Hedda reminded her. "Come now. Let us lower the rope."
Astrid already had the contraption firmly attached to the sill. It was a double line with a net sling and she did not wait for her brother's return to start using it. Carefully, she lowered all of their gear to the ground and then ordered Hedda into the sling.
"I am petrified," Hedda admitted as she fastened it about herself and looked down the long face of the building.
Cautiously, she climbed out onto the ledge and slowly allowed the rope to carry her weight, "Can you manage it?" she asked.
Nathalie and Astrid strained at the rope.
"We can," Astrid told her and carefully, they began edging her down the rock face of the building.
She was nearly to the ground when Roald returned. '
"Hear the bedlam?" he asked excitedly. "They are beginning to discover the extent of their entrapment."
"Good," Astrid snapped. "Did you get the old bitch?"
"Yes," he said. "She is trapped more so than any."
"Thank goodness," Nathalie whispered.
Hedda had unstrapped the sling and Roald took over to raise it and wrap it about Astrid. Gripping both ropes tightly, she helped him carry the burden as she was lowered to the wall below. Next, he wrapped the sling about Nathalie.
"Are you afraid?" he asked with a smile. His eyes were dancing with excitement.
"Desperately," she whispered but she smiled back.
When, at last, she stood on the top of the wall and released herself, Roald swung out over the ledge, pulled the drapes and window shut and let himself down. Then, carefully, he pulled a small release rope and the entire contraption fell at their feet. Quickly he attached two ropes to the top of the ledge and they repeated the entire, breathtaking procedure. Within half an hour, they stood at the edge of the cliff below the great manor.
Roald searched for a crevice and in a few moments, he had located the one he had long ago picked. As the four slipped down into the protection of the rocks, they heard a loud, wild wail of pain and, looking up, saw Arne Bjornson silhouetted against the roof line. He was frantically hacking away at the flat roof directly above Nathalie's room with a woodsman's axe.
"Nathalie!" he screamed, "I'm coining!"
They watched his frenzied efforts as the flames began lapping from the various windows and the smoke swirled up about him. Nathalie shuddered and turned away.
"Let us go now," she begged. "Please!"
"How horrible," Hedda groaned as Roald herded them around the edge of a boulder, blocking the view of their past from them.
"Do not look back," he ordered. "What is done is done."
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
It was past dawn before they reached the foot of the escarpment. Sticking to the edge of the forest, they made their way toward the coastline some thirty miles east. It was nearly noon before they reached a road far enough removed that Roald would trust to walk upon it. In mid-afternoon, they caught a ride on a wagon load of hay on its way into Uppsala and Nathalie and the girls were so exhausted after the unaccustomed exertions that they fell almost instantly asleep and slept until they reached their destination.
"Where shall we stay?" Astrid asked her brother. "We have no money."
"I have a friend," Roald told them.
He turned down a narrow street and the girls followed. The tall, clapboard houses huddled close together up against the sidewalk but the paint was fresh and the street not at all dreary. Part way down the block, he motioned for them to wait while he mounted the steps to an upper flat and knocked at the door. He waited several moments and when there was still no answer, he strode down the stairs and stepped up onto the porch at the front of the house. A moment after he knocked a pleasant looking, middle-aged woman appeared at the door.
"Berta?" he asked and she broke into smiles.
"Roald! How long has it been?" she beamed. "Come in!"
"Is Gunnar at home?" Roald asked.
"No, he has been at sea for a fortnight. He should be back any time," she answered.
"I wonder if we might use his rooms for the night, Berta?" he said, motioning toward the three girls huddled on the street. "We have had a hard trip."
Berta frowned as she saw the three young ladies standing there. "I don't know, Roald. What kind are they?" she asked hesitantly.
"You remember Astrid?" he asked. "My sister?"
"Oh, certainly!" she called and her voice was filled with relieved laughter. "Come in, all of you! I shall feed you and then get you a key."
The four swarmed into the warmth of the friendly flat. The fire blazed merrily and wonderful smells came from the tiny kitchen. Berta babbled as she worked, busily whipping up a feast that would have done justice to the queen.
"Much has happened," Roald told her as they sat down to the table.
"You must tell me all about it," she told him, "after the grace."
It had been so long for Roald and his sister since he had sat and bowed his head before the breaking of bread, that he was hotly embarrassed at forgetting so common a civility. He bowed his head and tightened his fists as she spoke the words and when it was done he poured out his apologies. When she had heard all of it, or rather all that he thought she could decently understand, she sat silently for a long, pain-filled moment before she spoke.
"And is he dead?" she wanted to know.
"I would imagine," he answered honestly.
"And what of the fleet?" she asked. "At least half of the boats in the harbor belong to him."
"If you could but bring me one set of master's papers signed in his own hand, I believe I might be able to solve that problem," he told her with an impish grin.
"God bless you, Roald Erlander," she said merrily. "I'll be dogged if I don't believe you!"
"That is one oath we are a bit sensitive to, madam," he told her, "but I can promise you better times. However, though I think we got away without being seen, it would be better not to stir about too much till Gunnar comes home. If anyone asks of us, you know nothing."
"I never was very bright," she said with a twinkle. "Come, I will get you the key and fire the hearth."
"The key will do nicely," he assured her. "I am still able to fire a hearth. Berta, you have been too long without a man about. The fire is the man's duty."
"Off with you," she giggled and he took the key and hurried the girls out the back door through the kitchen.
Gunnar's flat was typical of bachelor quarters anywhere-a plain, unassuming room that was functional but not particularly decorative. A few mementos here and there and curtains by courtesy of Berta, but little more. The firewood had already been laid and within minutes, Roald had a healthy blaze burning in the hearth.
There was only one bed and Hedda immediately flopped down onto it.
"Wonderful," she groaned.
"I am ready, if the rest of you are," Astrid sighed.
"You three take the bed," Roald suggested. "I will lay my bedroll here before the fire."
None wasted any time in preparations. Astrid slapped Hedda's fanny and made her get up long enough to pull back the covers. Then both of them crawled in and made room for Nathalie. They did not bother to undress.
As exhausting as the night and day had been, Nathalie was too excited to sleep. It was the beginning of a new adventure-the beginning of life itself. She lay stiffly at the very edge of the bed and closed her eyes. The minutes clicked slowly by. It was going to be a long, lonely vigil. Already, she could hear the even, deep breathing of near-slumber about her. Cautiously, she opened her eyes and saw Roald, sitting on his bedroll before the fire.
He feels it, too, she thought. It is almost like being reborn!
Quietly, so as not to awaken the two girls, she slipped from the bed and walked over to sit beside him. He looked up, surprised.
"I cannot sleep, either," she said.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
Roald said nothing as the girl sat down next to him. It was comfortable just having her there.
Her hands fidgeting nervously in her lap pleased him. It was well to see her still a bit timorous. He pulled out his pipe and filled it, then sucked a healthy glow of fire into the bowl. With a contented sigh, he inhaled the sweetly scented smoke.
"How long will it be before we start for America?" she asked finally.
He shrugged. "Perhaps a week, maybe even a fortnight."
"That long?" she queried with concern.
"Does it matter?" he asked, looking down at her. "We are free and safe and warm."
"But I am anxious to begin my new life," she answered lamely.
He frowned. "Then begin it now, Nathalie," he said. "Here-now-tonight. America is not a life. It cannot change what you are or how you feel. That, you must do yourself."
"But how?" she blurted.
"I don't know," he told her. "It depends what you want. That, you will have to figure out yourself, little girl."
"I am not a little girl," she snapped.
"Then be a woman!" he said and his voice was deep and sure as he looked down at her.
Having said his piece, he turned back to the fire and continued to puff easily on his pipe. Nathalie sat miserably fidgeting and she was not at all sure of what she was supposed to do.
I am a woman, she told herself furiously. Just because I cannot throw myself at people! What does he think he is, anyway?
If you did throw yourself at men, Roald would be the first to be shocked, her alter-ego argued. Women were not meant to go about chasing men!
Her anger helped to calm her nervousness and before long she had worked herself up into a lather of irritation.
"I assume," she said finally, "that you are referring to the fact that I am not as free and easy as your sister or Hedda. I-" but the quick glare he shot her stopped her completely.
He shook his head hopelessly. "My sister is lost," he said sorrowfully. "They are both lost though through no fault of their own. Yet, they have learned one lesson you still have not discovered. They can admit and live with their feelings. You spend your life denying them."
"I did not deny them," she answered hotly. "Else how could they have known I needed that vile salve?"
"I stand corrected," he said. "You admit them but you are still violently ashamed of them. For any man to touch you as you are now would be to share your foolish guilt. I doubt that you could forgive a man that made you respond to him."
Nathalie's eyes flooded as she heard the sentence pronounced. There was no answering them. She sat staring into the fire seeing double and triple flames dancing about in the midst of her tears. She did not find her voice until he leaned over to knock the hot ashes from the bowl of his pipe. Then, in a panic, she realized that he would now dismiss her and crawl into the bedroll.
"I am ashamed of what I have felt," she said then and the words came out in a rush. "At least most of it. I was not ashamed with Astrid or Hedda because there was a purpose to it. That is the difference. Animals and-and old women-and drunken revelers. That is not what God meant it to be." Impatiently, she brushed away the tears and went on. "Astrid chided me because I was shocked that you slept with that-that fat redhead. Well, I was! If it is only meant to please and satiate the body then I want no part of it. I should expect more self-control of myself than that."
Getting to her knees, she braced her hands against the hearth and pushed herself to her feet. She was no more than halfway erect when he pulled her back down on the bedroll.
"You did not finish it," he said and she looked into his face and saw that he was smiling at her.
"You are laughing at me," she accused, and the grin spread across his face as he hugged her into him.
"I am just happy, Nathalie. If you will only finish the rest of it-say it all, then I will be delirious."
"And why should I?" she demanded furiously. "It is not a woman's place to chase a man! You should be telling me how you feel, not demanding me to prostrate myself before you."
"Do you want me to tell you?" he asked.
"If you mean it," she whimpered. "Oh, Roald, even if you don't mean it, tell me anyway!"
But she did not give him the chance for her arms snaked up about his neck and squeezed him tightly. Her lips lifted hungrily to his mouth and they crushed together in a shower of fiery sparks. Slowly, he lowered her to the bedroll and lay beside her, their mouths still firmly glued together. His tongue grazed across her softly closed lips and then burrowed its way into her mouth. She gasped softly and then accepted it eagerly.
"My God, how I have wanted you," he moaned as he gasped for air.
"Tell me," she pleaded, and he smiled.
"I should, I guess, for you have been telling me in so many little ways from the beginning."
"Was I that apparent?" she asked.
"Happily, yes," he told her. "You gasped when my tongue came to you. Will you gasp when I touch your breasts--? "
"Roald!" she cried, "I was not shocked! Only surprised. I had never had that-"
"Never?" he asked incredulously.
"Kisses were sort of unimportant to them, Roald. They were animals, most of them. I have never yet had a man inside of me," she whispered. "Only the dog." She shuddered at the thought.
"My God!" he said huskily and his mouth crushed hungrily into hers again as his hands began to explore the lovely ripe young contours of her body. She squirmed eagerly against him and the fever of her was quickly overcoming him.
Awkwardly, he jerked away and began fumbling with her lacing.
"No," she said suddenly and the confidence had grown in her with a suddenness that surprised them both. She drew away and got to her feet He looked up at her, perplexed as slowly, she began to disrobe.
"You asked me to prove that I had grown up," she said passionately, "and now I shall. I give you my body, Roald. I shall even disrobe it before you. And with it, my mind and my soul and all that goes with it. You are everything that I want-everything that I need; and I mean to have you one way or the other."
Roald got to his feet and stared hotly down at her as he began unbuttoning his shirt.
"My love may hurt you for a time, Nathalie," he said slowly, "for I am a big man and you are very small, but I shall never hurt you intentionally-body or feelings. We shall make quite a pair,"
Nathalie slid from her bodice and Roald paused with his shirt half off to touch the tempting fullness of her flesh.
"You are beautiful," he told her and as his hand moved across her breasts, trails of gooseflesh followed in its wake.
Then he dropped his shirt as she began unhooking her skirts; he shrugged out of his boots and slid his tights down over his thighs. She gasped at the monstrous size of his cock and then jerked off her petticoats and bloomers in a frenzy to be free of them.
"Come to me," she pleaded as he worked the tight pants off of his legs.
Kicking them free, he melted down to the floor to lay beside her and she reached hungrily to touch his throbbing organ.
"Take care," he moaned. "Your touch goes straight to my core."
Quickly she drew away, reaching instead for his neck to pull his lips into hers again. The feel of their bodies as they touched was a conflagration of gasping sensations that left them weak and panting. Yet, the need was too great-the ache too agonizing to prolong for long.
"Oh," Roald moaned. "How can I make love to you? I can't even bear your touch without going wild!"
"Mmmmm," she purred. "Then suffer, my love, for I must feel more of you this instant."
She pressed hotly up against him, and he moaned as the fire swept him to the very brink.
"I shall be of no use to you for a time," he warned.
"I would not be too sure of that," she whispered, "just being near you is sensation enough to bear."
He tried to roll away from her but she would have none of it. Eagerly, she slid up to lay on top of him, pressing hard against his throbbing cock with her loins and brushing her breasts back and forth across his chest.
"Oh God!" he moaned as a convulsion of spasms gripped his body.
She reached down and pushed his cock down between her legs. Hotly, it slid into her meat as she squeezed her legs together. It was too much. With a horrendous groan of agony, his quivering cock exploded and he spurted out his lust as she pressed tightly against him.
"Ohhh, Nathalie, I love you so," he moaned, squeezing her tightly against him as he rolled her over beside him. "You are everything I ever wanted."
"And what did you want, my love," she asked playfully.
"Mmmmmm," he murmured. "A girl to be proud of-one that could have a dozen sons, warm and loving. Yes, most of all warm and loving, I think. I do believe I have even been granted an extra dividend for I do detect a note of lustiness I had not at all counted upon."
She wriggled against him deliriously. "I like all of it," she told him, "except that you have not allowed me a single daughter."
"Have a dozen of those, too," he offered generously.
"Thank you," she snickered. "Now do stop the prattle and love me. My ache is becoming unbearable."
His hand slid down across her belly as he stretched out to nibble her ear. "I will tease you unmercifully," he whispered huskily.
"Yes! Yes!" she begged as his fingers slid down upon her puffy, furred lips and pressed them against her pounding nugget.
She writhed miserably, splaying her legs open to coax his touch deeper into her but he ignored her, continuing to taunt her flesh with cool, calculating strokes.
"Ohhhhhhh," she moaned as her loins burned with exquisite torment.
As she squirmed about, her hand touched the silky textured head of Roald's cock and she fastened hungrily upon it, petting it tenderly-stroking its wonderful heat into a throbbing fire-molding its huge contours with avid caresses.
"Ahhhfihhh!" he moaned, "what you do to me."
He gripped her wrist, pulling her away as he gasped for air. Then he turned to stare into her passion-fogged eyes.
"A truce," he whispered hoarsely. "Maybe later -maybe twenty years from now. Nathalie, let me make you happy before I take you. The pain. I don't want to spoil it for you."
She shook her head lazily and she smiled up at him.
"Take me now, Roald," she whispered. "You can love me later if need be. I want the pain of you now."
He could not take his eyes from hers as he raised up over her and guided his throbbing cock into her cove. She spread for him and her eyes were filled with a supreme happiness that he prayed would stay with her through it.
Gently, he pushed into her cunt, gasping for air as her tightness enclosed the head of him. She winced but her smile did not fade. He sunk deeper and he could feel the pounding of her heart through his hand that nestled against her breast.
Deeper he went and though the smile became strained once or twice, she winced no more nor did she cry out.
"Can you bear it?" he asked anxiously.
"Oh yes," she whispered. "Hurry! I want it all!"
Faster now, he slid into her depths and felt the end of her channel press against his leaking head.
"More," she pleaded, squirming up against him.
"I can't," he whispered. "I'm at the end."
"No!" she whimpered and sliding her legs up about his thighs, she squeezed him in.
"I will hurt you, Nathalie," he cried.
"No! It is good! Oh God, it is good," and then he felt his mound pressing heavily against her meat. She was rubbing her agonized, weeping slit against him.
"Ohhhhhhhh!" he moaned at the wild, tight feel of her churning cunt, kneading his cock with frenzied contractions.
"Fuck me, Roald," she growled. "Fuck me, now!"
Her vagina seemed to suck at his prick as he pulled away from her, and when he again sunk into her depths, waves of jolting fire swept across him.
"Ahhhhhhhh!" Nathalie sighed. "Again! Again!"
In a frenzy of lust, he siphoned out of her and sunk back into her tumultuous depths as the fire crashed all about him. Then he could stoke her no more. With a frenzy of rhythm-less stabs, he jerked his sweating body bruisingly against her.
"Ugh! Ugh! Ugh!" she grunted, grinding wildly against him.
"Ohhhhhhhh," he moaned.
The feel of her, the hot musky smell of her passion drove him insane with need and he rubbed his sweating body bruisingly against her.
"Roald!" she screamed. "I'm going! I'm going!"
Her body arched up against him and the swell of passion that filled him burst over him as he felt the tremendous crest he had brought her to. More than his own lust, more than life itself, the thrill of her exultation bore him over the crest with her.
"Nathalie!" he cried wildly. "Nathalie! My God!"
They seemed to soar together for long, blissful moments before the taut muscles slowly began to relax and they gently fell back against the bedroll. It was several minutes before either could catch their breath. Roald savored the heavy thumping of her heart beneath her breast as she slowly turned and nestled against him.
"It is beautiful," she sighed.
"Yes," he agreed.
"It erased all of the ugliness," she confided. "It is all gone."
He turned and pulled her close.
"You are a woman now, Nathalie," he told her, then murmured. "My God, what a woman!"
