I know there were no eclipses that caused a blood moon in the 18
th
century, but please allow me this indulgence. This is just for fun, so I hope you can enjoy it. This is a work of fiction, any correlation to persons alive or dead is purely happenstance.
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Tabitha McCray a glorious young maiden of eighteen, with lovely caramel color hair and a body that turned many a male colonist head. She had fair skin and impressive wit. Her eyes were a clear azure blue. She quite independent, especially for the middle 1700s. Tabitha was late returning from the village. The shadows from the trees were getting longer and darker. The sun was fast retreating over the west most hill. This eerie night was not safe, most nights weren't in this part of the Provence of New Hampshire. Everyone knew this, no one traveled at night. There had been many unexplained incidents since the settlement of the Province. But here was young virtuous Tabitha trying to get home from Exeter before dark. She was on this errand because four years earlier her, older and only, brother was forcibly conscripted into the British Navy. She was her brother's last living sibling, the others had succumbed to cholera. It was a five and a half mile trip west from Exeter to her farm. Her family had a number of dairy cows, and some acreage devoted to rye, corn and barley growing. Plus a still for turning rye, corn and barley into real profit. They were not wealthy, but made a good living. Especially on the rye whiskey. Her mare, Bessie, was getting a little spooked, by the sound of distant wolves. Their howl was unmistakable. It was already dark one valley behind her. People were still just a little uneasy since the Squamscott natives were said to have attacked years ago. Most of that unpleasantness seemed over now, but one can't be too sure. There were still a number of wild Penacook natives about. The Rising Moon was full. It was a blood moon. Its red glow provided barely any light. Blood moons were said to promote a very potent kind of evil.
Earlier, Mathew the merchant's store clerk had suggested she stay the night at the inn. This would have been the wise thing to do. But she knew her father was sick, and she needed rush the medicine to him. She knew that her family could ill afford such an expense, as a night's stay. Do to her father's mounting medical costs, and the rising costs of hiring help to run the farm. Now, having the English Elixir her Father desperately needed, she must make the journey home as soon as possible. She decided to chance the trip, even with darkness swiftly approaching. Clutching the grip of her father's flintlock pistol, she had tucked into her skirt. Her mind was recalling the gossip about demonic creatures.
Goody Hilton had said, "There be strange horned little men in the forest, wanting to have their wanton way with beautiful young maidens."
Tabitha tried not to think of the numerous evil stories she had heard, through the years. People had told of all sorts of things, ghosts, witches, demons and vampires. All the while, the mare was downright uneasy. Tabitha reached out and stroked the mare's neck in an attempt to calm her. But, this did nothing to calm Bessie or herself. Every sound in the forest was increasingly spooky. The insect chirps were spooky. Owls hooting were spooky. The wind in the trees sounded spooky. Of course the wolf howls were most terrifying of all. She was fearing she might panic. She heard the unmistakable howl of the wolves, again. The hair on the back of her neck stood up. She was having trouble seeing the road, as darkness had fallen. Just then the horse was spooked and ran, breaking into a full gallop. Even with the red glow of the moon, the horse nor Tabitha could see the road. Tabitha started to slide around on the saddle, she wished she mounted astride the horse. Now, was no time to be riding like a lady? As it was conventional for a lady to ride a horse side saddle, she usually sat sideways on the saddle. Tabitha was bouncing on and off the saddle very precariously. This was no way to ride and gave no grip. She was at the mercy of the horse. The horse stumbled and fell, and she was sent sailing into the air. She landed and skidded to a stop some good distance from the side of the road. She had totally lost her father's pistol to the darkness. The horse stood and bolted away, leaving her stranded without any supplies that were in the saddle bags.
She felt around her body to check for injuries. She seemed to be alright, just minor scratches. But, her riding habit and waistcoat were both torn, exposing her shift. Worse still, her shift was also terribly torn. This exposed her creamy bosom tops, almost to her nipples. Her skirt was laterally torn, as well, exposing more of her shift. This saddened Tabitha, for she had put considerable labor into sewing her habit. Working diligently on each stitch, under her mother's stern eyes. She was hardly left presentable, now. She was horseless and scared. No use lying about complaining to herself, so she started walking. It had to be more than two more miles to home.
After a short time, she felt eyes watching her. She quickened her pace, trying to make it home before tragedy struck. She heard footsteps off in the trees. She quickened her pace even more. The bushes rustled. She reached a bend in the road were tree limbs extended over the road. Just when she was making her way under a limb, something fell on her. It was a net. She was captured by strange horned men. The men had bat like wings. They seemed grey in the limited light. Might they be gargoyles? They stood about four foot tall. There were six of them. Tabitha struggled to try to get free, as they pushed her over. Then they rolled her up in the net, stuck two poles through it, and four of the creatures started toting Tabitha off into the trees. She screamed, but knew nary a soul would hear. The creatures just laughed. They spoke in a queer demonic tongue to one another. She had no idea what they spoke. The little men had two horns protruding their foreheads and pointy beards covered their jowls. The gargoyle men wore no clothing. The little muscular creatures looked like the gargoyles that adorned churches in Europe. The little grey nudists took her over a hill and into a dell. When they reached the center of the dell, there was a black flat stone. It looked like a large obsidian table.
The little gargoyle men tied Tabitha over the table like rock, by her arms and legs. Spread-eagle and totally secure, as hard as she pulled the ropes held her fast. The table was not quite as long as she was tall. Thus, her head hung off the end. Then they used a sharp stone knife to cut off all Tabitha's remaining clothing. She was naked in front of all these strange little perverted gargoyles. The little creatures were now sporting sizeable hard phalluses, as they leered at her lecherously.
"What is to become of me?" she wondered. "Are these foul creatures fixing to sacrifice me to Satan?" she asked herself.
"Stop it, leave me be," she begged. They laughed, so they at least understand the Kings English, she mused.
She felt hands caressing her all over. Touching her legs and arms. Touching her breasts and between her legs. Pinching her nipples. A finger was forcing its way into her sex. She tried to use her muscles to keep the creature's finger out, but it was no good. He started working it around in her pussy. Her pussy became wet. It felt so good, but she knew it was wrong. The little leering gargoyles egged each other on in the same strange language. Another finger intruded her bottom, it wiggled its way past her sphincter. The little perverts knew no limits.
"Not sodomy ye devil's," she screamed.
The gargoyles just laughed as one more started to pinch her nipples. She hated to admit the gargoyles were pleasuring her. Another finger found her clitoris, and rubbing it relentlessly. She felt such pleasure. "Satan must be tempting me," she thought.
"No! God must know how I sport with myself at night, God must be allowing this," she thought. She threw up a silent prayer of repentance, hoping God would spare her. Perhaps not, she thought this feels rather good.
The gargoyles looked as her father described them. She had never left New Hampshire, so (even though she had never seen European churches) she imagined these must be gargoyles. She thought they were just something on European buildings. But now, she knew they were real. A gargoyle forced her head down so that her face was upside down. Then he used two fingers to pinch her nose closed. She opened her mouth to breathe, and this gargoyle shoved his virile cock in her mouth. She gagged, but the gargoyle kept it in her mouth anyway. She was really close to coming, from the fingers working over her nether regions. Unwittingly she started sucking the gargoyle's stiff grey pecker. The gargoyle moaned, enjoying the sensations of her subtle mouth. Another gargoyle got up on her stomach and placed his hard penis between Tabitha's big boobs. He started to slide his hard member back in forth in the valley between them. Stopping now and again to drag his erection across her big hard nipples.
