Captured by the Count: An Abduction and Breeding Fantasy Page 3

  As if to prove his point, he turned away from her had the matrons help Cassie to her feet and began to disrobe her as if Sissy wasn’t still there.

  Still somewhat befuddled by whatever it was that they had been giving her, Cassie nonetheless knew that what was happening to her could not happen. Her reputation would be in ruins. There was a strange man – well, one she barely knew, anyway – reaching for the buttons of her blouse while one of the other women in the room – who was not Sissy, who usually helped her undress at the end of an evening – began to unbutton the skirt of the rough clothes he had put her into after divesting her of that entirely impractical and garish dress, which he had burned quite thoroughly in the fireplace of the first lodgings they had occupied

  She tried to yell at them to stop, but her tongue wasn’t working at all well yet, so instead she began to struggle against them with all her might. Her uncoordinated movements had absolutely no effect, except that she had caused both of them to need to hold her, at least until one of the ladies leaned over and pulled a cord that hung near the wall, and seconds later two behemoths took the place of the women who had been subduing her, allowing the two females to devote themselves more fully to rendering her naked, which she was appalled to realize took only a few very short seconds.

  All too soon she was barely on her tip toes, held so high up due to the sheer height of her captors that her toes only now and then grazed the uninvitingly cold, rough wood floor. She was blushing so hard she thought she was going to faint from it, exposed so vulgarly in front of everyone, even Sissy.

  Once her eyes descended on the only familiar face in the room, she found her tongue. “Help me, Sissy! Get me out of here! I need to go home, and Papa would want you to take me. I’m sure he’ll give you money for your bravery. Save me! Heeellllllp meeeee!” Her last two words were long and drawn out and became more so as she realized that the person she had thought was going to be her savior hadn’t reacted in any way to her pleas, remaining, instead, stoic and silent in the corner of the room.

  Sissy stared at her former mistress with haunted but almost lifeless eyes, recounting in her mind every slight that had been heaped on her from the moment she was born to the last open palmed slap she had received from Cassie that night – that seemed so long ago – when her efforts at styling her hair hadn’t been quite up to snuff, as well as the innumerable times it had happened before, in much the same way. If she didn’t receive a rounding crack across the face, it was a session over the lap of a girl who was younger than she was, nude just like Cassie was now, getting her fanny tanned with a doubled up length of the family’s favorite implement.

  Only when she’d run through all of the insults to dignity that the Winthrops had doled out to her over the years did she move towards the woman who had had such iron clad control of whether her life was going to be at least somewhat bearable or out and out torture, day in and day out for the past twelve years. And there had hardly been a day she could remember – perhaps only Christmas Day itself – when she hadn’t been subject to some form of physical punishment.

  So when she stood in front of Cassie, lips tight and jaw set, she drew back her arm and cracked the younger woman across the face, as hard as she could. And Sissy had been eating much better lately, so she had more strength than she normally would have, making Cassie’s head snap back until the guards shook her a bit, forcing her to face the person she had dominated for so long.

  But Sissy had already turned and was heading for the door. That’s when Cassie found herself entirely unable to stop begging her to come back.

  “Come back! You have to help me! Sissy, please!” she pleaded, sobbing and just letting herself hang by her arms between the two men.

  Sissy never so much as flinched or paused or hesitated in the least as she reached for the door knob and began to turn it.

  “Sissy! NOOOO! YOU CAN’T LEAVE ME!”

  But apparently she could, quite easily, as the door closed with a deafeningly final click.

  Cassie struggled mightily in hopes of following her, of course, but to no avail.

  Victor came to stand in front of her, right where Cassie had been, tipping her chin up as he had Sissy’s. “You will do well to conserve your strength. And the sooner you come to terms with the fact that the life you led up to this point is gone, the better. You and Sissy have traded positions. How strange that must feel to you. She is now a free woman, and you are no better than a slave.” He looked up and nodded to the men who were holding her, who immediately began to carry her into another room, where they deposited her in a huge wooden tub filled with very hot water.

  As soon as they let go, of course, she tried to get up again, that was until she felt the unholy sting of something hard and unyielding being brandished against the tender – and now thoroughly wet – skin of her behind.

  No one had ever so much as raised a hand to her before in her life, and now within two minutes or so she had been struck across the face and was now being subjected to paddling very much like what she knew the littler slaves were subjected to if they were discovered to be misbehaving. She was held fast over the edge of the tub, unable to get all the way out or sink deeper into the water, but kept immobile until the horrible woman who was wielding the implement of her deepest sorrow grew tired of doing so.

  She screamed and cried and moaned and carried on with absolutely no thought to how she looked or sounded – she just wanted the pain to stop, and it was a terribly long time before it did. And then she was just lowered back into the nearly scalding water, her bottom already well roasted, which only added to her discomfort. Even when she was let go, sitting in the tub surrounded by two large women and two even larger men who were ogling her openly, the discomfort in her posterior only seemed to grow worse as her weight pressed it down onto the rough hewn, splintery wooden bottom.

  From that point on, all either of the women had to do was to show her the paddle when she did something they didn’t like – such as try to bite their fingers as they washed her face. The two mountainous men remained in the room, moving with obvious reluctanct into positions just by the door, in case something happened that the women couldn’t handle or they were needed in some other way.

  Cassie had never been so thoroughly scrubbed in all her life. She felt as if they were actually trying to remove the first layer of her skin. And they didn’t just stop at the ordinary places, either – back, arms, legs. The two of them forcibly splayed her out within the tub, calling the men over to hold her in the position they preferred, with wrists at each of the top two corners of the tub and her ankles at the bottom two as she fought uselessly against being so obscenely displayed. Then each of them took a cloth in their hand, one of them soaping and rubbing each of her breasts, down to repeatedly tweaking the reluctantly peaked nipples while the other rooted around most rudely between her legs, and even to her bottom hole, rubbing and scrubbing and trying to press up into areas of her body that she had barely had contact with herself except for what was absolutely necessary. All while two pairs of greedy male eyes absorbed every single detail of her complete humiliation.

  Being dried off was no less traumatic or uncomfortable. The sheets they used felt as if they were made of burlap or worse, especially on her throbbing backside, which seemed to be a great source of moisture, if the amount of time they spent lingering there to dry it was any indication. And then one of them stood in front of her and told her to spread her legs, which she adamantly refused to do.

  One small nod and her ankles were practically kicked out from under her as the bigger of the two men knocked her legs well apart, till she nearly tipped over from the awkwardness of the position, and she would have if the other man hadn’t been holding her so tightly. When they each had a hold of her upper arms again, she realized that she didn’t know where the other woman had gone – until she felt the wicked sting of that paddle against her backside again.

  Within a disgracefully few swats, Cassie was horse from howling, not that
that stopped or even slowed the matron’s cadence as she beat the young woman’s buttocks nearly raw.

  Blubbering, screaming, begging did no good whatsoever, but Cassie found she couldn’t stop doing any of them, regardless, even when the Count reappeared to lean back against the wall and just watch her completely degradation.

  Finally, the spanking ended, and Cassie was almost to overwrought by it to notice how intimately she was being dried. There was no hesitation at all in the older woman’s actions – she reached up between Cassie’s well spread legs and rubbed her dry nearly to the point of chafing those very intimate parts of her. And then she went around back to do the same thing between the folds of her bottom, leaving Cassie feelings thoroughly violated and horribly sore in places she had never even thought about before. The area between her legs thrummed with nearly the same, pulse-driven stinging that her thoroughly reddened backside did.

  She was led – relatively docilely and still buck naked – back into the room in which she had awakened. The Count followed them and took a seat in an office chair and began casually reading a newspaper, as if nothing special was going on. She desperately wanted to lunge at him and rip his heart out, but considering the way that her behind felt, she judiciously decided against it. She would bide her time and find an escape – there had to be one.

  Didn’t there?

  Chapter Three

  Cassie was even more unprepared for what happened next, when one of the women – the one he had referred to as Matushka – patted the top of a long thin table, indicating that she was expected to get on top of it. Although she had not been allowed any sort of covering whatsoever, and she had been rudely poked and prodded by those horrible women already in the course of that bath, she was still doing her best to maintain her modesty, keeping one arm across her breasts and her palm cupped tightly over her mons.

  “She’s well seated, Sir,” the female who had gestured for her to get onto the table said.

  “Ah, thank you. That was exactly what I was hoping for.”

  “I’ll know more in just a second, but I’m very sure of the discovery I made while bathing her.”

  “I would like to take a look for myself, if you don’t mind, Matushka. Not that I don’t trust you. I just want to see and feel it myself.”

  “Yes, Sir.”

  Cassie had no idea what they were talking about, but she had a good idea that she probably wouldn’t like it. And she had yet to take her place on the table, so the paddle reappeared, and the person who was wielding it took absolutely no notice of the fact that she had already been most thoroughly chastised just a few minutes before.

  She promised herself that she wouldn’t give in and make such a demeaning commotion as she had the last time, but all her brave resolve crumbled by the third tremendous swat, and of course the punishment went on much longer than that. By the time it ended, she was more than happy to take her place on the strange looking table that didn’t seem anywhere near long enough for her to lie on; her legs from the knees down hung over the end.

  That was when the two men came to each pull an arm straight above her head, attaching a softly padded but nonetheless extremely strong cuff around each of her wrists, restraining them tightly enough that she couldn’t raise them even an inch off the table.

  While they were doing that, the women were at her legs, prying them apart and securing her into some sort of contraption that looked something like a stirrup on a saddle, but positioned so that her legs were spread uncomfortably – and mortifyingly – wide apart.

  After she was secured, the guards took up their positions on either side of the door, but the Count and the two women gathered at the end of the table, staring directly at her most shameful spot, and there was absolutely nothing she could do about it except begin to cry, which, much to her consternation, that’s exactly what she did.

  Cassie wanted to be strong. She wanted to show them that there was nothing they could do to make her react – as she had done when she had frozen someone out as a child – but the things they were doing were so degrading and humiliating that she found that, as she was so blatantly shown that she now had absolutely no control over her body, she seemed to have even less control over her emotions.

  Vowing to herself that she wouldn’t beg and then breaking that vow seconds later – which had already happened repeatedly – made things just that much worse. As the violations of her person became much more intrusive, the words just tumbled out of her on their own accord, in a shrieking, plaintive tone she didn’t even recognize as her own.

  “Pleeeeaaase, stop! My father will pay you a lot of money if you bring me back to my family unharmed! A lot of money! More than you can imagine! It’s only been a day or two – he’ll probably not even know that I’m gone yet! Just please – don’t!” She could feel the Count’s breath on the inside of her thighs as he leaned in to examine her much more closely, his firm, probing fingers finding their way unerringly between those succulently plump lips of hers to the smaller ones that guarded the secret he had to know the answer to. Cassie thought she was going to pass out from the embarrassment of what he was doing to her, and her cries rose in pitch and volume. “No – DON’T DO THAT!”

  “Oh, yes, Cassie. There’s nothing you can stop me from doing this,” Victor taunted cruelly, standing between her legs and watching her eyes widen dramatically as his fingers delved between those well hidden folds, only to be stopped almost immediately by the indisputable evidence of her virginity. “And I’m sure you’ll be interested to know that it’s been more than a month since that night at the ball. I would bet your father not even knows that you’ve been kidnapped, but that the search for you is already over and done with. No one will be looking for you anymore.”

  Cassie was devastated by what he’d said. She couldn’t remember a thing that had happened since he had given her that glass of champagne, and then she had come to here, in this room. It couldn’t possibly have been four weeks since then, could it? And her father wouldn’t have given up so easily on finding her, would he?

  As much as she wanted to dwell on what she’d just heard, she found she couldn’t in the face of what he was doing to her. He drove all coherent thought from her mind, although emotions quickly flooded in to fill the void – intense mortification, humiliation and embarrassment.

  And they were accompanied by, she was to realize all too quickly, a sharp, sure, undeniable pleasure that only compounded her shame a thousand fold.

  Victor desperately wanted to alleviate her of that tiny burden – and he was more than ready to do so right here and now – but he managed to restrain himself – barely – as his rampant cock swelled and throbbed wildly against the constraints of his pants.

  Instead, he said, “Get me the lavender oil,” to no one in particular, but it appeared at his elbow nonetheless, and he dipped the index and middle fingers of his right hand into it, slathering them with the fragrant scent, then replacing them very close to where they had been, although up a bit until they landed directly on top of her clit.

  It was, he acknowledged, not in the least engorged, but that was only a matter of time, in his experience. As reluctant as they always were at first – and rightly so, he realized – he – or his protégé - had yet to fail to tame a woman through the judicious use of pleasure, humiliation, and pain.

  Cassie’s wild, abortive attempts at gyrating away from him, her head whipping back and forth between her arms, her face covered in that amazing mane of hers, stopped immediately as soon as he came back in contact with her, and he began to stroke very slowly over that bud, then, deliberately, in much more neutral places around it, teasing her by only occasionally claiming that scrap of flesh to caress it slowly, expectantly, watching avidly for the signs of changes in her body that she couldn’t prevent. He was very pleasantly surprised to find Such as the wetness that appeared relatively quickly not far down from where his fingers were perched. Victor dipped his hand down a bit, wetting his fingers again, then bringin
g them back up to fondle her again, but this time more naturally, swirling just the very tips of his callused fingers, abrading her just a bit then moving them off to explore the very edges of her majora, skillfully increasing both the time he spent stroking her and the time he spent ignoring her body’s growing interests in his pursuits, until he heard it.

  A single moan – that was unmistakably not a cry, not a wail, not a scream. A moan – albeit a short one – of pure, unadulterated pleasure, wrung from a woman he knew was valiantly trying to resist the pleasure he was bringing to her. Driving her past the ability to tamp that response down was the ultimate thrill, as far as he was concerned.

  But that was where he stopped, having made his point, backing away from her to stand by the door and watch the two women release her from her bonds.

  “When you’re through, bring her to Block B, cell four,” he ordered.

  Both of them turned to him, surprised at his pronouncement, but they each nodded, also. It did not pay to go against Count Salkov, in any way, shape or form.

  Through with what? Cassie wondered, then realized she might not want to know.

  While she remained restrained, the women went to work removing her of every bit of body hair she owned, except that which was on her head by using some sort of strange, mint smelling paste. Her underarms and arms, her legs, and – to her intense mortification – even her mons and bottom hole were all completely hairless by the time they got through. And she hadn’t even realized she had any hair around the last area they violated.

  Then they each drenched their hands in some sort of wonderful smelling lotion, with which they proceeded to massage every inch of her – again including the areas she least wanted them to.

  The Count didn’t accompany her to her new room, trusting the guards and Matushka, as well as her longtime comrade and assistant, Lidiya to get her there. They had more than enough experience to handle one spoiled young American girl.