Chapter 13

Susie could hear Rosanna before she saw her; a whimpering that slowly changed and grew louder, becoming a wail of distress. And as she got closer, carefully descending step by step, something else too came to her ears, a regular slapping and urgent grunting which Susie recognised only too well, and she knew what to expect as she peered around the rough edge of the stone wall into the vast kitchens.

Barely twenty feet away, Rosanna was lashed face down across a large table, wrists and ankles tied to its stout wooden legs with leather belts. Unable to escape her tormentors she was crying again, tears catching the light as they meandered across her cheeks and soaked onto the scrubbed wooden surface. And one of her tormentors was naked with his tunic bunched around his ankles, a portly man who looked old enough to be her grandfather, rutting away with an erection that was as red in flesh and blue in vein as his face and temples, his rotund gut creating the slapping sound against he raised buttocks every time he lunged forward, impaling her on his cock.

Rosanna was gasping with each inward thrust as her traitorous body responded to the physical stimulation of the intruding shaft. The wriggling attempts at escape had slowed, but she was still moving, the slow rise and fall of her firm bottom now in time with the man’s efforts as she lost the battle to control her reactions. Unable to prevent her body’s response, each gasping sigh was matched by a jerk of her hips and followed by a small cry of anguish.

The scene was raw and primeval, and produced a paralysing arousal in Susie, who was frozen still in her hiding place, unable to do anything but watch. The other men, waiting their turn, were likewise motionless, but not silent. As Rosanna’s response became increasingly evident, the murmurs of appreciation became increasingly bawdy.

‘Not got yer nose stuck up in the air now, young madam,’ observed one of them, with simple but accurate profundity.

‘Yeah, toffee-nosed cow,’ agreed another.

‘Think yer too good for the likes of us, do you?’ asked another.

‘Not any more she don’t, she’m not too good for us now.’

‘Arr, yer happy enough to have a good bit of Norfolk up yer fanny now. Yer like that well enough.’

‘Reckon she does.’

Susie reckoned she did as well. She was only too familiar with the number of ways in which a girl could be betrayed by a body that understood nothing more than instinct, and had no time for the niceties of etiquette or the formalities of a proper introduction. And, judging by her actions, it appeared that Rosanna’s body worked on the same principle.

‘Go on, you ol’ fucker,’ urged one, in the rich lowland burr of Norfolk, but ‘the ol’ fucker’ needed no encouragement, for he was already at the point of no return, his face changing from bright red to deep purple as he pumped doggedly back and forth. And it was all getting too much for Rosanna, whose moans were almost completely absorbed into the steady grunts that accompanied the rapid thrusting as he gave her everything he’d got and her body began to move against his, showing him the tempo of her own need.

‘Go on then, Rosanna,’ goaded another, as the girl tightened her thigh muscles and tilted her striped bottom upwards even more, opening her body to the old man as her fingers tightened their grip on the edge of the table.

Watching from the shadows, Susie wondered what to do. She knew she should act, do something to help the girl on the table, but on the other hand if she did it would give the game away completely and probably not achieve very much except get her into the same predicament as Rosanna.

That was the rational decision for inaction, but a part of her knew there was another reason - the real reason - and it was deep between her legs where an aching fire of excitement raged furiously.

Not often before had she seen anything so intensely sensual and arousing as the scene before her; partly because it was sex at its most basic level, and she could feel the smouldering heat of it from where she hid, and partly because the of the choreography of it, with the girl bent over the table, the red stripes of a beating still imprinted on her buttocks, her tormentor turning her on and threatening to draw forth an orgasm despite her revulsion of him. This was the defining image of Susie’s own sexuality, the image that had started with Miss Piggy at school and for some reason reoccurred at critical moments since then. It was impossible for Susie to look at the scene without seeing herself bent over the table, without feeling the leather straps burning across her buttocks, without feeling the penetration and arousal of her own body, without feeling the slow build-up of bliss, becoming needful, rising inevitably to the final betrayal of an explosive climax.

But there was more.

Clutching between her thighs, feeling her mound under her palm and fingers, feeling the warmth and wetness through her dress, the welcoming furrow as her fingers slid between slippery folds; it was the powerless arousal of the girl, this was what fired Susie’s own excitement.

Rosanna’s hips were moving faster, pushing her bottom up to meet the man’s thrusts, her sighs now gasps and sobs and pleading, an overpowering image of sexuality that was impossible to resist, and Susie was clearly not alone in finding it irresistible.

‘Aaarrrrgghhh!’ the man suddenly gargled, eyes bulging wider than ever as he bent back and stared up at the ceiling, his groin glued to her punished bottom, his fingers clamping savagely into her buttocks as she tensed, remained utterly still for long seconds, and then went slack on the tabletop.

When he eventually withdrew and bent jadedly to retrieve his tunic Susie wondered again whether to intervene, but once again convinced herself that, outnumbered as she was, it would be better to stay hidden. After all, Rosanna had agreed to stay, had asked to stay, in fact. Her stepfather had made quite sure of that.

‘Turn her over,’ said a gruff voice, interrupting Susie’s thoughts, and as eager hands unbuckled the leather bindings Rosanna started struggling, trying to get away, but it was a vain hope as the lusty men grabbed her by wrists and ankles, pulling her to the floor, holding her while she twisted and floundered.

‘Go on then, my pretty,’ chuckled a man with bushy sideburns and ratty features. ‘You know you’m been wanting this ‘un.’ As he spoke he pulled the shapely ankle he was holding, parting her thighs. His counterpart followed suit, spreading her legs wide. Her eyes widened as well, watching a younger one pull his tunic over his head to expose admirable muscles. He stood over her, toned torso planted on trim hips and sturdy legs, watching her, staring greedily between her legs, and as he looked Susie saw Rosanna’s eyes widen even more... and then she saw why.

Oh my, she thought, and felt the sudden rush of warmth between her own thighs. Neither girl could take their eyes off it, like a young sapling thrusting up from below his waist, pulsing slowly from side to side, rearing ten inches or more into the air.

Rosanna shook her head in denial and squirmed, trying to get away from the advancing erection as he knelt, but leering soldiers held her arms and legs tightly.

‘No...’ she wailed as he rested it against her, guiding it downwards with one hand, spreading her glistening wet lips around the bulbous helmet.

‘Arr,’ he croaked happily as he felt the warmth and wetness of her, and leaned closer.

‘Aaahhh...’ she cried as he filled her, slowly, inexorably.

‘Arr,’ he mumbled again as he sank contentedly, deeper into the welcoming tightness.

Susie remained stock still, riveted to the spot, watching as he pressed himself home, inch by breathtaking inch.

‘Mmmerrgh...’ gasped Rosanna as he gradually came to a stop, with all his weight resting on her and all his incredible length inside her. The other men let go of her arms and legs and he watched, impassive, as her wriggles and gasps slowed until she was just rocking beneath his weight, gentle movements that slid her pussy up and down his column.

The sight was unbearably arousing, and Susie felt the slippery heat beneath her fingertips, soaking into the front of her dress, felt the knickers wet and slithery, material against material, the deep dark warmth of her body opening to the pressure of her touch.

‘Uh!’ grunted the youth, still motionless, resting against the slender shape beneath him.

‘Mmmmm...’ Rosanna rocked against him, easing him in and out of her body. ‘Mmm... mmm...’ she mumbled each time he sank deeper. Her hands, fingers outstretched, were on his chest, just resting there. Her knees rose as she drew her heels back against her bottom, opening herself and pushing harder against him.

Unaware that her hand had been pulling her hemline higher, Susie felt fingers on her thigh and moved her feet apart, giving her access to the soaking gusset that stretched over her seething desire. Resting one hand on the stone wall for support she raised a foot, placing it one step higher than the other, so her hand could reach deep between her parted legs as she watched Rosanna fucking the youth’s huge cock.

Her hands had slid around and down, pausing briefly on the small of his back, but then she gripped his muscled buttocks in desperate need, grinding against him, gasps of pleasure punctuating the urgent slapping of flesh upon flesh.

Susie felt her fingers pushing deeper, a pale imitation of the solid thickness filling Rosanna as she heaved faster and faster and finally the youth could be still no more and Rosanna wailed in pleasure as he started moving, clenching muscles in his bottom driving him up and down, thrusting in and out as Rosanna raised her knees higher until she wrapped her legs around his, lifting to meet him, crying out over and over again. ‘Aah... aah... aah... aah!’

Susie’s fingers flew back and forth between her own legs in unison with his lunges, Rosanna gasping as he fucked her soundly, Susie pulling her knickers down and stepping out of one leg so she could push into herself as the boy pushed into the girl who had her head thrown back as she cried encouragement, opening herself to him, giving control of her body to the needs of her climax, urging him to give her what she wanted, hands on his hips, nails digging his buttocks, and suddenly he gasped as if he’d been punched and froze, immobile while she clung to him, hands and knees clutching as he pumped, slowing to a stop, panting as if she’d run a marathon and lost, sucking in air, gasps that turned to moans and then tears, because she’d given herself away, revealed everything and gained nothing in return.

‘Good boy,’ said one of the onlookers. ‘But I wish you’d waited. I’ll never follow that.’

‘Me neither,’ said another.

Nor me, thought Susie, who had also been close to a climax when the youth had erupted inside Rosanna, but not close enough.

‘I can’t either. But I’m going to fuck her anyway.’ Standing on the fringe of the group an old man stripped off his tunic, revealing a body so thin it made his modest erection look impressive by comparison.

He shuffled between Rosanna’s thighs and lay on top of her, and she barely stirred as he took his erection in one hand and guided it between her soft sex lips.

‘No,’ she murmured quietly as she felt him enter her, but that was all, and she lay quite still as he started to rut away with little finesse. Although old he was energetic and thorough and her body reacted at once, lifting her knees, clutching his hollowed buttocks and pulling him deeper with a series of inward tugs.

There was complete silence apart from the breath hissing through his dry lips as he pumped, and the sweet sighs in her throat announcing her growing pleasure. Her face wincing with delight, her eyes closed, nipples as hard as little red buds she gripped him, pulling him deeper, guiding him as he fucked her.

Susie was holding her dress higher, hand busy, two fingers penetrating the soft, syrupy tunnel, thumb pressing into the top of the wet furrow, tickling the button that stood hard and sensitive as she tried to make herself climax with Rosanna, just as the old man made a gasping, wheezing, spluttering sound and slumped on top of the lovely supine girl.

Rosanna whimpered in frustration, not quite reaching her goal in time, but it was too late and he rolled aside, lying on his back, chest heaving as he waited for his breathing to stabilise and the strength to return to his frail frame.

Fingers still moving, but slower now, Susie was almost as disappointed as Rosanna, who now lay motionless, breasts gently rising and falling as she breathed, legs apart, the glistening pinkness ready between them.

‘Come on,’ said one of the others, lifting the elderly man with ease, ‘you come and have a rest over here. Looks like you could do with it.’

‘Thass about killed the old boy, that has,’ observed another.

‘But what a way to go,’ another chuckled.

‘Yerrs,’ growled a deeper voice, ‘and not just for him. I wouldn’t mind dying on a job like that myself. How often do you get the chance for a posh, beautiful fuck like ‘er? Not offen, if ever.’

‘More to the point, how often do you get the chance to fuck anything that don’t have four legs?’ one of them mocked, and they all laughed raucously.