It was a royal coach that appeared on the highway, the band of thieves lay in wait, weapons at the ready for its approach. The coachman and the servants holding on to the back were quickly done away with as the band approached the coach door. The door was torn open and the lady sat there, the fear in her eyes as these ruffians set about their looting. "Blimey, would you look at the ring on this one?" and they all gazed at her hand as she tried to hide it.
They grabbed her arm and pulled it from under her skirts as they pried the ring off, "No! Thou hast no right to mine ring," she exclaimed, "Take whatever thou whilst, but pray leave mine ring, it has much meaning to me," and Bertram saw the tears in her eyes, but the ring was gone now. Bertram studied her face for a great while, noting the youthful exuberance and the wisps of brown hair that protruded from under her hat. Her eyes were deep pools of emerald green and her lips were as luscious as ripe cherries, and he felt a stirring in his loins. Her tear-filled eyes gave way to terror as she realized his stare. She was the Duchess of Fenwick, her father was the owner of a great castle and she had but reached a mere 18 years old. Her life thus far had been filled with nannies and countless balls, never before had she given a commoner more than a glance.
Bertram grabbed her arm and forcefully dragged her from the coach as she landed on the ground with a thud. She looked to see her servants heaped where they had fallen, mortally wounded and her tears returned, not for them, but out of fear for her own life. They were, after all, mere servants and her station demanded that she be kept in servants, mere pawns to do her bidding. She felt Bertram grab her under her arm and draw her to her feet, pushing her towards the tree line; she made a terrible effort at escape, causing him to slap her angelic face.
She saw his horse as they approached the trees and he led her to stand beside of it, taking a length of rope from his bag and tying her hands behind her. After he had her secured, he paused to run a hand over her bodice, his hands grazing her exposed flesh as he did, causing shivers to emanate from deep within. He thrust her up over the horse, her legs dangling from one side, her head from the other and climbed up behind her. She could feel a hand rest on her buttocks as he began to ride off. Her tears were tenfold now, her thoughts of debauchery ran rampant.
Her father had told her of how maidens had been captured and sexually used, but she had feared not, for her servants were brave and their aim was true. Her fears had become a reality though, as she was now trussed up over the back of a horse, heading to who knows where. She could only see the ground as it rolled beneath her, the position becoming quite uncomfortable, but his hand on her buttocks seemed to cause unusual feelings to emerge. She felt her hat fly away as they rode, her long brown hair free at last and it cascaded over her face, causing her vision to be blocked at times, though what could she see, save the ground. Each gallop of the horse caused her to rise and fall, her stomach being pounded into the horses back and his hand roaming her firm buttocks.
She was relieved when they finally stopped and he drew her down and she gazed through wisps of long hair at the cottage before her. He pushed her towards the door; her footing quite unsteady and she practically fell into it as it opened from her weight, spilling her onto the dirt floor within. He pulled her to her feet and pushed her over to a chair and she was told to sit, her bound wrists causing her much discomfort and she leaned forward a bit to remove her weight from them.
"Pray sir, my father will give you great riches for my safe return," she said and he seemed to snicker, "Aye, that he will, but first I will have my way with what lies beneath those fine petticoats," and he laughed. "Please sir, I am but a virgin and thou art a commoner," and her tone made him angry as he backhanded her angelic face again, her head tossing to the side from his blow, "And thou art too good to be taken by a commoner?" he asked, fire in his eyes. Her cheek stung from the slap and she came to the realization that her position in society could not save her from this, he meant to have her virgin flesh and she could not stop that. She had chanced upon her parents as they made love once, and she had been awestruck by it, mesmerized in fact.
Her mother had been a beautiful woman and she had been quite taken with her beauty, her body lain naked before her father, her legs spread wide and the large instrument that her father pushed between her mother's legs and how she cried out at it's entrance, her body quivering as her father had pushed forward. Her mother's legs had surrounded his waist as he pushed and pulled at her body with his tool, her screams and moans increasing with each thrust until she froze and a large scream had escaped followed by panting and her father's screams as well.
Mother had died a year after that, making her the official Duchess of Fenwick. Her body shuddered at the thought of a tool being inserted into her and of this vile man being the one who did it, her body naked before him, a body that had never been lent to the sight of a man before. "What's your name, wench?" he asked and she replied, "Victoria, Duchess of Fenwick," and she saw a grin come to his face and he strode over in front of her, his hands once again exploring the ripe flesh presented by her bodice.
