Cauldron of Fear Page 14

  The two white faces, with their painted eyes and painted little pouts of mouths, gazed back in an almost bland fashion, the high piled hairstyles, with their glinting array of pins, were nothing more than mockeries. Standing perched upon their high-heeled shoes, their stockings gartered in froths of ribbon and lace, their waists pulled impossibly small inside the breath-taking corsets, arms sheathed in smooth satin, the two girls, with their bared breasts and rouged nipples had been prepared for one fate, and one fate only.

  Slowly, Sarah turned away from the mirrored tableau and stared at Prudence, who was watching them both with a peculiarly crooked smile on her face. The older woman stood motionless for several seconds and then began to chuckle mirthlessly.

  'Such sweet little confections,' she mocked. 'Good enough to eat, as you will shortly find out.'

  Chapter 10

  'My dear Grayling, I must congratulate you on an excellent dinner.' Lord Henry Soberton, seventh Earl of Heckham, distant cousin of the late King Charles, sat back in the hugely padded chair and raised his glass to his host. Balding and now well into middle age, Henry Soberton did not let his lack of physical attraction worry him one jot - with his wealth, there was no need to.

  The Heckham estates were vast, both in England and in the New World, thanks entirely to inherited wealth and the unceasing efforts of the men he paid to run them, for Soberton was not an industrious man by nature, preferring to spend his time enjoying the fruits rather than husbanding them.

  His earlier cautious approach and coded overtures had come as a surprise to Roderick Grayling, but a prospective new client was always welcome, especially one with Soberton's resources.

  'I know what I like, Grayling,' he had said, finally, when each man finished sounding out the other and they cut to the chase. 'Need a couple of pretty English fillies, obedient and properly trained. None of this foreign stuff. Wouldn't believe what some people will try to do, I can tell you. You on the other hand, my young friend, come highly recommended.'

  'I'm glad to hear that, Lord Henry,' Roderick replied easily. 'I have taken a great deal of trouble to ensure that the goods we offer are of the finest kind available anywhere in England. If I offer you an English rose, then you can be sure that's what she is.'

  Soberton looked pointedly across to where Roderick's two little black slaves squatted on cushions in one corner of the room. He raised his glass towards them and grinned, revealing teeth that were blackening in many places. 'Yet I see your own tastes are a little more catholic,' he said.

  Roderick twitched one eyebrow. 'Variety is the spice of life, Lord Henry,' he replied. 'Popsy and Topsy are utterly devoted to me and will do anything I require of them, without question and without hesitation.'

  'Very nice, I'm sure,' Soberton leered, 'but I trust you were aware of my own preferences?'

  'Indeed, milord,' Roderick grinned, 'and I have several prospects for you to view, but that can wait awhile. First, I have arranged for some entertainment for you - for both of us, in fact. I instructed George Hawkin to have Adam select from among our newer arrivals.

  'Neither girl has been here for very long and as such they are far from properly trained, but this may give you some idea of the effectiveness of our methods. What you are shortly to see will, I am confident, astonish you, so imagine what you get when we have completed the regime on a girl, eh?'

  'I hear a horse!' Matt Cornwell hissed. 'More than one, too.' He had finally rejoined Toby and Billy, reporting that the far side of the river, like this, seemed deserted.

  In the darkness, Toby nodded. 'Keep well down,' he said. He nudged Billy with his foot and the youngest member of the trio, who had been threatening to fall asleep again for some little time, grunted and muttered an oath under his breath. 'Get up a bit and use your eyes,' Toby said, ignoring the insult.

  'Yeah, look, a rider!' Matt whispered, pointing back down the road that led from the village. 'Only one though. That's funny, I could have sworn - no, he's leading a second horse, look!'

  'You mean she is,' Toby corrected him. 'That's a woman on that horse, or I'm a fucking papist!' The two horses and rider were now no more than seventy yards from them and although there was now no moon, the starlight showed them an unmistakably feminine silhouette.

  'Ellen Grayling again?' Billy asked, peering over Toby's shoulder for a better view. Toby pushed him back.

  'No, it's not her this time,' he said. 'Not sure who it is, not from this distance.'

  'I am,' Matt said. 'That's Kate Dawson, from over Hepping Hill Farm. I'd know her anywhere, even in the dark and from back here. It's the way she rides, bobbin' up and down like that, all stiff and upright. My brother John tried courting her a year back, but she wasn't interested. Thinks she's a nob herself, that one.'

  'Well, she keeps company with the nobs at times,' Toby said. 'I seen her out riding with Ellen Grayling more than once. They go over by Thatcher's Ridge and over towards Butser way, right out in the wilds. I seen 'em when I bin that way lookin' fer rabbits.'

  'Doesn't mean anything,' Billy grumbled. 'I reckon we're just wastin' our time an' I'm gettin' hungry.'

  'Maybe not, but - look!' Toby hissed urgently. 'She's left the road, down there between them yew trees, see? There's a little clearing just behind, ain't there?'

  'Yeah,' Matt nodded, 'but what's she up to? There's nothing else there.'

  'Well, if you ask me,' Toby smiled, 'I'd say she was waitin' for someone, wouldn't you? Why else would she have a spare horse with her?'

  'Ah!' Matt exclaimed, the light of understanding dawning in his eyes. He turned and nodded towards the river. 'You mean whoever is rowing the boat back upstream?'

  'Almost surely,' Toby said. 'I did wonder. I thought maybe whoever brought the boat back might have another one in tow and go back that way, but rowin' one boat up against the current is hard work enough, without havin' to haul a second one.'

  'So now all we have to do is wait for the boat?' Matt said.

  Toby nodded. 'An' I don't think we'll have to wait much longer, either.'

  Sarah did not need to be told which of the two men was Roderick Grayling, the man ultimately responsible for the horrors of the past hours. Hours? Was it really only hours, she thought, amazed as she realised how short a time had elapsed since her initial abduction.

  Grayling looked almost exactly the way she had pictured him from the first time she learned of his existence. He was tall, dark-haired, slim, but well muscled and handsome in a disdainful way, as if he knew he'd been blessed with better than average looks, but really did not care either way.

  His companion, on the other hand, bordered on being downright ugly and Sarah's heart sank at the thought of what she might be expected to do. It had been bad enough having to suffer at Ross's hands, but at least the young handler had something about him which might have attracted her in different circumstances, but this fellow was not just plain, fat and with bloated features, he was old enough to be her father.

  'Titty Kitty and Sarah, your lordship,' Prudence announced, leading the two girls across the polished wooden floor towards the rug on which the two armchairs had been set for the men. 'Sarah has not been renamed yet, as she's only been with us a matter of hours.'

  'No need to ask which one is which,' the fat man said, laughing. 'What a fine pair of melons you have, eh, Titty Kitty?' Kitty lowered her eyes, but Prudence immediately slapped her hard across her naked buttocks, making her head jerk upwards again.

  'His lordship asked you a question, Kitty,' she snapped. 'Answer in the way you have been taught.'

  'Yes, my lord,' Kitty demurred. 'I trust this humble slave girl's titties meet with your approval?'

  The man threw back his head, roaring with laughter. 'Capital!' he exclaimed. 'By God, Grayling, I tip my hat to you!'

  'Master Adam has told me all about you, Kitty,' Grayling said, leaning forward in his chair. 'Seems you like your little cunny well reamed and have a taste for the tongue, eh?'

  'Yes, master,' Kitty
replied quietly. 'I am a slave slut.'

  'But a pretty one, Titty Kitty!' Grayling's companion roared again.

  'And what of you, Sarah?' Grayling asked, turning his attention from Kitty. 'Are you a slave slut, too?'

  'Indeed, sir,' Sarah replied, hating herself, but knowing that she would face a whipping if she did not answer as she had been instructed, 'I am becoming one, if I were not already.'

  'Ah,' Grayling said, 'I detect perhaps a sign of some education and breeding in you, slave Sarah. Are you book read, girl?'

  'I have had some education, yes master,' Sarah said. 'My father was a scholar and we had a fine library in our London home.'

  'London, eh?' the fat man cried. 'Capital! Really capital, har-har!' He laughed raucously at his own joke, slapping his thighs repeatedly and Sarah cringed. The thought of such a creature even touching her with a single finger was more than enough to make her stomach turn - the thought of anything else was dreadful beyond anything she could compare.

  However, it quickly became apparent that neither she nor Kitty had been brought here for Grayling's guest's personal gratification, rather to repeat what they had done in their stall cell earlier, this time with additional spectators. Grayling clapped his hands and the two black girls - unnoticed by Sarah until this moment - rose from their cushions, pattered across the floor in their bare feet and drew aside a curtain that had been hiding a deep alcove.

  From this they drew out a large square mat, or so Sarah thought it, until they dragged it across to the centre of the polished wood surface. Now, she saw, it was more than just a mat; rather it appeared to be some form of thin mattress, two large squares of thick velvet sewn together, one atop the other and stuffed with something soft.

  'Now, my two little coquettes,' Prudence whispered, as she led the two English girls back to stand behind the mattress, at a point where the two men could not hear her instructions, 'I want you to act as though you're both enjoying this, which I suspect you will anyway, from what I've heard. I want to see those little tongues in those honeypots, lapping hard. I want to see those pretty red lips sucking those pert red nipples and I want to see those painted fingers working all the time. Their lordships will know if you try faking and if they don't whip you - which I suspect they will - then I'll do it myself.

  'Now, get down there my painted jezebels, and let's have a performance worthy of the name. If not,' she hissed, drawing their heads closer to hers, 'apart from the whipping, you'll probably end up with the fat pig there poking the pair of you. And I doubt,' she added maliciously, 'whether you much fancy that, my pretties, mm?'

  'This is getting beyond a joke, Captain Hart!' Thomas Handiwell fumed. The young captain of horse looked a little sheepish; behind him the line of soldiers, all now leading their horses, did their best to pretend they were not listening to the conversation between their officer and the innkeeper.

  'I don't see what else I can do, Master Handiwell,' Timothy Hart said. 'We now have three horses lame at the same time. We cannot possibly ride them further, surely you must see that?'

  'Of course I see that, man,' Handiwell said curtly. 'I saw that ten miles back, when we passed through by the Boar's Head. I said then that those mounts looked the worse for wear and that we should have asked if there were replacements available.'

  'Yes, I know you did,' Hart admitted. His thin face looked even more drawn than it had when Colonel Brotherwood first introduced Handiwell to him in Portsmouth. The strain of his recent losses had been evident then and now, as what should have been a straightforward journey of a few hours threatened to disintegrate into a farce, it was plain that he was not coping at all well.

  'The problem is, Master Handiwell,' he went on, 'that these horses are the property of the government. I am not authorised to simply trade them in against fresh mounts. There is no way of knowing just what sort of horseflesh we might be getting in exchange.'

  'The sort that can carry a rider more than ten miles without breaking down!' Handiwell snapped. 'No,' he said, his tone softening slightly, 'it's not your fault, man, I know that. But look ye here, at this rate we'll not make the Drum before midday tomorrow. I don't know about you and your men, but I can't walk all night.'

  'Then what are you suggesting, sir?'

  'I'm suggesting,' Handiwell said firmly, 'that we still have five good horses between us, so five of us should ride on. Once we get to my inn one man can ride back with three fresh horses. At least that will leave four of us to try to find out something about these villains who have taken my niece.'

  'I cannot leave three men on the road on their own,' Hart insisted. 'It's completely against regulations.'

  'Then don't leave them on their own. Have your sergeant swap his good horse for one of the lame steeds and leave him in charge of two of your troopers. Surely that's not against your precious regulations?'

  'Well, no,' Hart admitted, 'though Sergeant Riley is supposed to be in charge of my safe passage, as you know.'

  'Damn your safe passage!' Handiwell's voice rose alarmingly and the younger man flinched. 'What about my niece, Sarah? What about her safe passage. You'll still have three of your men, plus myself, so what are you frightened of? Feared some ghost is going to jump out and make off with you, is that it? Strike me in the saddle, but I thought you were supposed to be a soldier!'

  'Of course, Master Handiwell,' Hart said. He shook his head, but it was clear he did not have the stomach for a further confrontation. He turned and called back to the line behind them.

  'Sergeant Riley,' he instructed, 'let Fuller have your mount, man. The three of you with lame horses will proceed on foot, with all possible haste. We shall send a rider back with fresh mounts for you as soon as possible.'

  Sarah groaned, but there was no fighting the wave of lust that kept washing over her. As she lay on her back, legs akimbo, with Kitty crouched over her, offering her own sex to Sarah's lips as she buried her face in Sarah's soaking orifice, she knew she was about to climax yet again and dug her fingers fiercely into the soft flesh of Kitty's pendant breasts and let out a piercing wail.

  Immediately Kitty lifted her head, pivoted on her knees and pressed her lips to Sarah's, her tongue forcing entry so that Sarah was able to taste her own juices plainly. By the fireplace, the two aristocrats watched the performance with differing reactions: Roderick Grayling seemed only mildly amused, whereas the fat Henry Soberton leaned forward in his chair, his eyes bulging as he relished every intimate contact.

  'By Jove, Grayling,' he said hoarsely. 'They're a splendid pair of fillies and no mistaking. I simply must have them. Name your price, man. Name your price!'

  'I'm afraid these two aren't for sale, milord,' Grayling drawled. 'Not just yet, at any rate. They show too much potential and they could be worth a ransom by the time their training is finished.'

  'Damn your ransom,' Soberton snapped. 'I'll pay you your price, here and now.' Kitty, as her orgasm subsided, became vaguely aware of this exchange and her entire body stiffened.

  'It's not just a question of money,' Grayling replied easily. 'These two have a potential value even if I decide to keep them here. See how well matched they are, apart from the one Kitty having larger breasts? And see how there is also an affinity between them? Such a pair of beauties could provide untold entertainment for my more valued guests here,' he explained. 'You don't need to sell a girl outright in order to turn a profit on her, y'know.' He clapped his hands.

  'Prudence, have them stop now before their juices soak the rug. I have a mind to reward those sweet little rumps personally. Get them in position, please. Topsy,' he called, looking to where the two black girls squatted in the corner, 'fetch master's little crop, there's a good girl.' He held his hands up, palms inwards, about two feet apart. One of the girls leapt instantly to her feet, padded across the floor and opened the front of the heavy oak chest that stood in the window bay.

  'And I think, milord,' Grayling grinned, 'that we shall make this a bittersweet experience for them, to r
eward them for their enthusiastic display, eh?'

  Hannah stood watching the shadowy figure in the clearing for a few minutes, before finally revealing herself. She smiled as she saw how the girl crouched over the pot as it simmered on the small fire, dropping things into the steaming water from time to time.

  'It's not just the ingredients, Jane Handiwell,' she said at last, stepping from behind the tree from where she had been observing the ritual. 'It's the skill of the cook that counts.' Jane swung around with a start and rose to her feet, her face even paler than usual.

  'Mother Pennywise!' she gasped. 'What brings you here?'

  Hannah grimaced and walked over to her, stopping a few paces away and leaning heavily on her stick. 'Not choice, missy,' she snapped. 'No, I'd as soon leave you and your daft friends to play your little games here, but I need some help.'

  'Help?' Jane echoed. Her eyes narrowed suspiciously. 'What help could you possibly want from me?'

  'The use of younger legs,' Hannah retorted. 'The miller's boy has disappeared and I need his education and commonsense to help me stop the nonsense that's going on back in Fetworth.'

  'What nonsense?' Jane demanded.

  Hannah smiled mirthlessly. 'You mean you ain't heard? You ain't heard what that weasel of a minister and his new crony are doing to my Matilda?' Jane looked genuinely bemused and Hannah quickly outlined the situation.

  'So they want money from you, or they hang your granddaughter?' Jane said, when the old woman had finished.

  Hannah nodded. 'That's about the strength of it, yes. But I'll see myself burn in hell afore I give so much as a penny piece to the likes of them.'