She could smell rich cologne and hair pomade through the hood over her head. She heard low voices and the occasional laugh. Chantal tried to think how long she'd been in the dark, how long the coach had been traveling. It had been awhile. Too long to think she was even close to her home in London.
The hood was stifling, hot, and scratchy. Her evening clothes now felt restrictive and cloistering. She didn't dare shift...perhaps her abductors still thought her unconscious, weak. She held back the urge to scratch on itch on her nose, and tried to think of her precocious future.
The night had held promise. She had met several suitors, all charmed by her blonde curls and unusual violet eyes. She had blushed becomingly at their poems and flattery, aware of her own beauty, yet modest enough to be embarrassed by their forthrightness. It had been a fleeting thought that perhaps her abductors were led by a rejected suitor. Unfortunately, every man thought he had a claim on her, and that had never bode well for pretty girls.
The carriage rolled to a stop, and she had to stop herself from letting out a sigh. Her bones were weary, joints sore. Rough arms grabbed her from both sides, carrying her down the tiny steps, up what she thought was a walkway. She heard knocking, a door creaking, and the swish of what sounded like skirts.
Several moments later, the hood was yanked off. She was standing in a small room, almost like an inn. There were two figures standing in front of her, both masked and tall. She tried to ask what they wanted with her, what they planned to do, but they placed a piece of cloth in her mouth. She could smell a sort of cloying perfume, and then her world went black.
When she awoke, she was naked. She felt only dread as she realized both her hands and her feet were tied to the legs of the bed, forcing her spread eagled. She closed her eyes, and willed herself to be anywhere other than here. The door creak forced her back to the present, and the two figures stood again before her. They murmured to each other, and then removed their masks.
Chantal thought one looked slightly familiar, but he had regular features. Both were tall, broad shouldered, somewhat attractive looking. The sneers on their faces, though, made her stomach clench. She tried to spit out the cloth in her mouth, the scent giving her a headache, but she made no progress. They only laughed at her struggles against the bindings and the gag. She gathered her strength and made a strong effort to arch up out of her ties. When her back arched, throwing her breasts forward, both men lost their smiles and looked to be in pain. She realized it was lust, and quickly resigned herself to staying still.
The first man came closer, right next to her arm. He removed his gloves and placed a hand on her shoulder, trailing his fingers down her forearm. She shuddered and closed her eyes.
"Oh, I think she likes that, Dev." The man near the doorway leered at her, and urged the man closest to her, Dev, on. She felt his hands fall from her arm to her thigh, and couldn't stop the twitch. When he reached her toes, she opened her eyes. The other man had removed his gloves and overcoat and was walking towards her other side.
"She looks just like a plaything should, don' she? Mmm...even smells sweet." They both sniffed the air, and laughed. Dev removed his overcoat and tunic, placing them over a chair along with his boots and hose. She saw that he was bigger than she had thought, and much hairier. He caught her looking, and cupped his crotch, scooping it up and rubbing it for her. "Oh yeah, luv. You're going to get a piece of this real soon. Irn, I think she's getting cold. You better warm her up."
Irn gave a cruel laugh, tugged on her wrist restraints until she had to cry out, and then trailed his fingers down her throat. His dark, scarred hands looked foreign against her pale, soft skin. He thumbed the fine bones at her throat, down her collarbone to the tops of her breasts. She let out a soft mutter and tried to shake his hands off. Instead of falling off, it pushed his hands directly over her nipple. She gasped, inhaling more of the cloth, and her spine stiffened. Both men chuckled.
"Oh yes, she's just a high-born slut. Look at the way she begs for my touch. Oh, this will be a good night." The men congratulated themselves on their success, and then returned to pawing at her body. They rubbed her nipples until they stood erect, pinching them to make her whimper. Dev put his finger into the corner of her mouth, pressing both his finger and the cloth in far enough to make her gag. He took his wet finger and rubbed her spit over her own nipple. When he blew on it, she couldn't stop her shiver.
Chantal knew enough to know she was in trouble. No one knew where she was, and this clearly was not going to be a simple ransom. She tried to think of a plan, tried to ignore the way she felt and the sensations in her body. She knew it was wrong, but when the men were palming her breasts, all she wanted was release. When she felt one of their tongues latch onto an aching nipple, she couldn't stop the muffled scream.
A few moments later, a sharp knock sounded at the door. Irn and Dev looked at each other in surprise. They grabbed their dirks and opened the door slowly. A large man stood in the doorway. Large was an understatement, Chantal mused. He was a giant. He took in the two men in a glance, and his hand went to his saber. Both men drew their dirks.
