NOTES
Time: Around 1730
Place: The West Coast of Scotland. Loch Fyne is a sea-loch which eventually leads out to the Irish Sea.
Two boats softly crunched onto the stony beach and instantly a dozen men, each armed with a sword and dagger jumped over the gunwale. They splashed ashore and pulled the boats a little further out of the water. Two men remained guarding them whilst the other ten headed for the small town nestling at the head of Loch Fyne.
The good townspeople were all rudely awakened when Donald Mclachlan and his friends invaded the house of William Thomson. His two daughters were asleep and also a friend, Catherine McArthur. Aged nineteen, she was endowed with gleaming black hair, a flawless complexion, trim figure and a warm smile that lit up a room. In short, she was highly desirable to any number of virile young men and had several of them bending to her every whim. That situation was about to change.
The trouble began after everybody, except the maid, was in bed and the house shut up for the night. Lillias Thomson and her sister, Margaret, were in the same bed as Catherine McArthur when a man appeared at the window.
"Will you let me in?"
The three young women made no answer, but extinguished the light. There was a knock on the window.
"Open up, I say."
Lillias went to the window. "Is that you, Donald McLachlan?"
"Aye. Will you not let me in? I want to speak to your father."
The girls suddenly became aware of whispering and small noises all around the outside of the house. McLachlan knocked again on the window.
"Go away!" exclaimed Margaret. "It's too late and we're all abed."
"You should no come in," urged Catherine McArthur. "There's no business you have to do here this night."
A loud banging at both back and front doors startled the girls and Margaret jumped out of bed.
"We'd best go to father's room."
Catherine smiled. "You dread what you need not."
A violent and loud crash indicated the back door was in imminent danger of giving way. Both Lillias and Margaret pulled Catherine out of bed and dragged her into their parents' room where they jumped into bed. McLachlan then appeared at the window of that room and once more demanded admittance.
"I have something to say to you, Mr. Thomson."
"It's too late, man," came the response. "Come back in the morning as early as you please."
"I'm here now and here I'll stay."
"Go away before you get into real trouble. I'll be complaining to the provost if you persist in trying to enter."
At this point the back door finally gave way with the tortuous sound of splintering wood. Several men burst into the house. Almost at the same time the front door yielded, admitting more men, including Donald McLachlan. Lillias pulled the covers tightly round her.
"Is it to murder honest people in their beds you have come, Donald?" she cried.
"No, have no fear, I'll not do you harm." He turned to one of his friends. "Draw your sword, Duncan, and let no one enter."
"Aye, Donald."
McLachlan grabbed hold of Catherine and tried to pull her out of bed, but she determinedly clung to Mrs Thomson.
"Oh Lord, Donald Mclachlan, I'll never marry you," Catherine cried out bitterly.
A brief tug of war ensued, with the unfortunate girl as the rope, but she soon lost her grip on Mrs Thomson.
"Sandy here she is."
Catherine suddenly found herself, nearly naked - she was wearing a shirt and smock-petticoat at the time, but she felt nearly naked - and completely without protection in the middle of a group of men. She was hustled out of the house and into the darkness of the night, her constant cries ignored by her abductors. They half-dragged, half-carried her down to the small boats drawn up on the shore and thrust her into one. She was crying all the time. Once everybody was aboard the boats were rowed out to a larger vessel which lay further out in the loch.
Keeping a firm grip on her arm, Donald bundled his captive into a small cabin and pushed her down onto a bench.
"What are you going to do to me?" asked Catherine, through her tears.
"Throw you to the fishes if you don't stop your greeting," snarled Donald. He began to rummage through some lockers.
Catherine knew what they were going to do. She could see it all quite clearly. One by one these brutes would come into the cabin and take their pleasure with her. He would be the first - Donald McLachlan. He was probably looking for some rope this very minute. He would bind her hands, then tear off her pitiful covering - she instinctively pulled her shirt close about her breasts - spread her legs and enter her with his fierce weapon.
Once he had satiated his lust the others would take their turn....
No.
They would all be in the cabin at the same time. She would become the plaything of a dozen huge men. Even now she could feel her breasts being pawed and mauled by two men, whilst a third had forced her to put his...his...thing...into her mouth. Yet another was pumping away between her legs. She was a virgin; at least, she had been a virgin until Donald McLachlan had despoiled her. Now she was a slut. As she was being abused by the four men she could see the others watching and waiting their turn, each stroking their enormous erections.
Dear God, how could she possibly...?
"Here you are."
"What?"
Catherine was suddenly brought out of her fantasy. She looked up to find her brute of a captor holding out some clothes.
"Put these on. You'll catch your death in your night wear." He left the cabin, closing the door behind him.
Clothes? He wants me to get dressed? But that's not what I imagined. He was supposed to ravish me. But he's left me to get dressed. They were ALL supposed to ravish me. What's the point of being abducted if they don't intend to have their lustful way with me in every conceivable way they can?
"Och, Donald," she said aloud. "What kind of a man are you?"
She removed her shirt and smock-petticoat and stood naked in the cabin for a few moments. Perhaps he would come back, see her and be unable to resist her undoubted charms. Catherine had no sense of false modesty. She knew she was attractive. Otherwise why would she have so many suitors knocking at her father's door?
Donald McLachlan had been one of them.
"I want your consent to marry Catherine."
McArthur looked startled. "Marry her? I didna know the pair of you were even acquainted."
"Aye, we've had several meetings at the house of Alexander McDugald, the ferrier."
The father's eyes narrowed in suspicion. "Meetings?"
"Aye. Dinna worry, mon. Nothing happened between us to violate her honour. The last time we met I asked her to marry me."
"And what did she reply?"
"That she'd be guided by you."
"Did she? Well, I willna have it."
Donald frowned at the unexpected reply. "Why not, Mr. McArthur? I'll make a fine husband for Catherine."
"Fine, is it? And how, may I ask, will you support my daughter?"
"I have money. A good income."
"Aye, that you have, I dinna doubt, but your method of earning it canna be recommended."
