Lady Ann's Holiday: Chapter Twenty Eight - Part Three

7

Ann felt absolutely terrified as she was hauled out of the back of the carriage by the three men, her mouth still gagged.

Old blackened brick buildings were close on all sides, the skies cloudy and grey above, but she had no more than a useless moment to orient herself before the darkness of a building swallowed her up.

She was hurled forward with no hope of regaining her footing in the long skirt she was wearing. She went down hard on the stone floor, banging her head nastily. Her hands weren’t tied but she couldn’t move for a moment at all, she was so dazed from the impact. Then one of the men snatched up her wrist and pulled her to her feet again, making her cry out from shock and pain. He jerked hard on her arm, pulling her ahead and a moment later one of the other men shoved her in the back.

“Come on. Hurry it along! We ain’t got all day!”

She tried to speak, to beg to be freed but through the gag it was just a muffled mess of vowels.

“Shut it!” snapped the man behind her. She got shoved again and stumbled, turning her ankle in her heels, only staying upright because of the man dragging her forward.

The building was some old factory or warehouse. It wasn’t in use that she could see. It was the kind of dirty filthy place she might have found herself in as part of her old life but now that she was a woman it felt frightening and alien.

She didn’t like this, not one bit!

She was swung round, almost losing her balance again and then thrown into a chair. The chair rocked backwards, teetering as though it might fall, then clunked back onto the floor of al four legs. It was so dark in the building, she could barely see anything more than ten yards away. And there were at least four men. She had no chance of escape.

She went to pull at her gag but the swarthy man slapped her hands hard. The suddenness of it jerked the tears from her eyes and she started weeping as the men circled her. Each one of them was nothing more than a filthy blue collar thug. Their hairy oil-stained bodies sported tattoos and scars and their black eyes fixed on her and on her exposed flesh.

She had never felt so vulnerable, so terrified for her very life.

As Burt she would have had a chance of fighting her way out, big brawny man that she’d been. Trapped in this womanly flesh she didn’t have a chance. Even one of the men could overpower her with one hand tied behind his back.

It was awful! Simply awful!

She gaped at them fearfully, wishing this hadn’t happened to her, but every one of the men said nothing – they just stared at her – and she realized just how perilous her situation was.

Why, if only she’d been a man still! If only she wasn’t a weak and simpering fool of a woman!

8

Burt took Mavis by the hand and led her tenderly up the stairs to his hay loft above the stables.

While she started stripping he unrolled his straw pallet and then turned to look at her. She looked bloody lovely – a right sexy bit of fluff. She had a strapless bustier on under her dress and it made a gorgeous shelf of her knockers. She was smirking at him like the cat who swallowed the cream and he took his time unbuttoning his shirt to reveal his muscular chest and stomach.

“I’ve missed doin this,” said Mavis. “Them other men’ve had no cocks to speak of.”

“Well it’s still ere waiting for ye,” replied Burt, undoing his trousers and letting his dick swing up and erect, fully in view.

“Woof!” cried Mavis. “I’m looking forward to getting that giant back in me.”

“Well what’re ye waitin over there for then ye daft tart,” chuckled Burt.

Mavis came into his arms and he shoved his tongue into her mouth, tangling it with hers. He gripped her upper arms, pushing them together and raising her onto her toes. Then he cradled her spine and rocked her backwards, forcing her into the submissive position just with his lips. She crumpled before him, sighing and he let her fall to the pallet, guiding her slowly down as though she were a precious flower.

Mavis lay back on the pallet, spreading her legs wide and Burt clambered down over her, nuzzling her waist and her ribs, kissing and biting, working is way upwards. He took one of her nipples into his mouth and chewed it roughly and Mavis, gasping in pleasure, raked his upper back with her fingernails, bringing an exquisite pinpoint of pleasure to him as well.

He kissed and chewed her neck then worked down to her other boob, smiling to himself as the end of his cock brushed her thigh. Burt’s lips closed around Mavis’s and her right hand floundered hurriedly about her crotch, finding the bell end and drawing it safely in.

She was aflush with fluids already and his dick slid in without resistance. Mavis gave a long and jagged groan, pulling hard with both hands above Burt’s muscular buttocks.

There was no thought of Lady Ann this time, either as an object of lust or as a memory of who he used to be. It was just Burt and Mavis, his hard body crashing into her soft form. She thrust up with her pelvis as he thrust down, her hands made into claws, scratching and teasing his chest and his abdomen.

Burt lifted his hands up above his head, stretching them both and his back, his head dropping back, face vertical; still pumping.

This was his woman again now finally. She was his girl and he was her man. Knowing that brought the pleasure to the point of a pin. There was nothing now but this passion and this need.

Nothing but a woman and the man who wanted her more than anything else on earth.

9

Ann sat still on her chair, looking from one man to the next, wishing with all her heart that she had the strength to get out of there.

They had still said nothing more than rudely snapping at her if she tried to move or take her gag off. Utterly cowed by their aggression, she had simply quivered in fear, wishing Richard was there to save her, wishing she had not gone for the walk that morning, that she hadn’t strayed from Thornton’s protection.

That she had still been a man.

If only she’d still been Burt she could have made a bid for freedom, punched the men with her crude fists, used the only language these thugs would understand. And better than that: if she’d returned to her proper life as Burt then she wouldn’t have been a target for them. She would be safe in her old stable with Mavis, hundreds of miles away.

Oh why had she been so greedy and cruel to steal this life from its true owner!?

There was noise from away in the darkness of the warehouse and another man approached. He was older and taller than the others with a more wiry build. He leered suggestively as he came closer, getting a good look. Ann squirmed, hating his attentions and the jeers of the other men. She wished she were anywhere but here in their power.

The tall man reached toward her face and Ann flinched back with a sharp whimper. He grabbed her gag, brushing her cheek with his dirty finger, and pulled it clear hard. Ann gave a yelp of alarm but relished the relatively clean air. The rag they’d used to gag her had tasted awful!

“How do,” said the tall man.

Ann merely gawked at him, unable to find her voice or any confidence.

“You can call me Blake,” said the man. “It ain’t my name but it’ll do for now.”

Still she said nothing.

“And your name’s Lady Ann Neville. How d’ye do?” He did a mock bow and the other men about them chuckled throatily. They had withdrawn somewhat now that Blake was here, some of them hidden behind her, others barely visible in the gloom.

“You’re probably askin yerself what we want with ye,” said Blake. “Eh?”

Ann hesitated then nodded her head once briefly.

“Well it’s ransom ain’t it. And the call’s already gone in to that fella a yours and to your family. I reckon you’ll be worth more than a farthing or two, eh? What do ye reckon?”

He laughed again and the men laughed with him. Ann looked desperately from one to another of them, covering her mouth with both hands.

“Until then, I’ll thank ye to do as yer told and not make any trouble. Do you get that?”

Ann nodded.

Blake grabbed her by the shoulders, making her shriek and pulled her roughly up. “Are ye sure?”

She nodded again and whimpered, “Please.”

He took her upper arm and twirled her half round then goose-stepped her away from the men and her chair into the darkness.

“Please,” she begged, “Let me go. I’ll do anything.”

An antechamber came into view with a door – an office perhaps at one time but now little more than a cell. Blake took her to the doorway and gave her a good shove in. She staggered, almost losing her balance again and came up against the opposite wall, scratching her palms on the rough brick. She looked back fearfully, hoping and fearing that he would lock her in. But Blake was still there.

He came in, the men loitering beyond him, trying to see past his broad body. He said nothing, just eyeing her body and clothes.

“Please,” whispered Ann, crumpling down to her knees at the foot of the wall, feeling more vulnerable and pathetic than she ever had before.

Blake didn’t close the door with him on either side of it. He left it open and came toward her, lifting her back up as though she weighed nothing. He looked into her eyes. Then he tore her dress at the sleeve, ripping the left arm off so that he fell about her wrist before slithering off to the floor.

Ann yelped again but his big hand clamped round her chin, pinning her mouth closed. He yanked down hard again on the other sleeve, tearing it free cleanly. Ann whimpered but did not cry out.

“A lot of money to be made all round,” whispered Blake. “Thanks to my contact telling me about you and what yer movements were.” He moved his face even closer to hers, the reek of his dirty body swallowing her nose and mouth. “But there ain’t no reason we can’t enjoy ourselves until we get it. Eh?”

Ann’s arm came up but Blake snatched the wrist and pinned it back down at her waist as though her strength were inconsequential.

She couldn’t blink. She couldn’t breathe. She was powerless. He could do anything and there was no way she could stop him.

He thrust his head in, pressing his lips to hers, forcing her head back as her face became a grimace of horror. She couldn’t get free from it – his grip on her chin was so tight – and somehow that was the worst part of it: that inability to move her face or to speak. With her darkly brewing fantasies, she might have expected to be aroused by this but nothing could have been further from the truth. The loss of power was humiliating and frightening beyond belief.

Blake pulled away, flicked his eyes down her torso then kissed her hard again. This time Ann did cry out through her muffled lips; tried to press at his huge body with her free hand. But there was no moving him. No way to get free. She was trapped.

Blake withdrew once more then leered at her, breaking into another chuckle. Outside the little room, all the other men laughed and Ann’s face coloured hotly.

The tall man pulled back and released her and Ann slumped to the floor, falling forward on her hands.

Still chuckling, Blake returned to the doorway then looked back in, his hand on the handle. “It ain’t so nice being one of the quality when suddenly someone else is in charge, is it, eh?”

Ann didn’t move. She couldn’t. She couldn’t catch her breath.

“Just you think about that in the night,” he said. “Tomorrow we’ll see about getting that money off your rich gentleman and maybe then we’ll let you go.” He grinned. “Or maybe not.”

“God help me,” whispered Ann.

Blake went to close the door but he paused before he did so and said one more thing. “And don’t go trying to escape if you know what’s good fer ye. I want me another one’ve them kisses before I let ye go. And maybe somethin more.”

The door snapped shut behind him and Lady Ann Neville crumpled to the floor, wishing she could get out of there alive and unsoiled and vowing that when she was safely away she was going to go back to Yorkshire.

She was going to trade places with Burt and get her proper life back before something like this could happen again!