The Doldrums: the Sailor and the Virgin Ch. 11

"All right. That will do."

Liam saw the feet of the two men heading to the door. He heard Strachan say something to them in a low voice, then they left. Rolling onto his side, he observed Strachan setting the gun upon the desk. He looked down at Liam. "And now I think it's time for Miss Boniface to provide us with a little diversion." Stepping to her bent-over body, he slipped his hand under the robe sash where it crossed her back and yanked it free of the garment, ripping the loops at the sides. He walked round to the settee seat, pulled her arms above her head, and bound her wrists together with the silk sash.

Liam struggled upon the floor --- tugging, twisting, and arching his body. The men had done their work well. The rope was narrow, but strong, digging into his flesh, thwarting even the slightest movement at his joined limbs. The knots were placed where his fingers could not reach them. Inside his trousers pocket he felt the hard lump of his jackknife against his hip, but there be no way to reach it.

Scooping his hand under her belly and holding the sash with the other, Strachan carried her carelessly under his arm, her head hanging, her feet dragging upon the floor, losing her slippers. A few feet away from where Liam lay --- where the gymnasium area started --- he stopped and lifted the sash up to one of a pair of leather wrapped hand rings suspended from the ceiling on chains. Looping it through the ring, he pulled it tight and released her body so that she hung from it with her bound wrists above her head, the dressing gown sleeves sliding down to reveal her slim white forearms. He adjusted the length of the sash, tying it off so that her toes were touching the floor.

Now he walked round her, contemplating her, stroking his ginger goatee. Her head was slumped forward, a couple of thick locks of hair hanging down. The dressing gown hung open, showing a white cotton nightgown underneath. He stopped in front of her and tilted her head up so that it lolled against her raised arm; he studied her closed eyes and parted lips. His thumb rubbed the trickle of blood coming from her lower lip; deliberately he brought it to his mouth and sucked the blood off. It seemed to affect him like a jolt of cocaine, for with one sudden motion, his hands dropped to the front of her nightgown and ripped it open. A strip of pale skin was exposed from her neck to her upper thighs --- the inner curves of her breasts visible. He took a step back and assessed the effect, his eyes tracing from her cleavage to her patch of cunny hair. He glanced down at Liam's struggling body and wild eyes, then stepped to the desk and retrieved the knife.

Unfazed by the sounds of Liam's snorting breathing through his nose and knocking of his pinioned limbs upon the wood floor, he slid the knife under the torn edges of the fabric upon each side and sliced up the sleeves. In one motion he tore the robe and nightgown off, leaving her hanging completely naked. Even more slowly than before, he walked round her, surveying her unclad beauty, his eyes gleaming, his face darkening, and his breathing too becoming audible. "I waited three years for the opportunity to rupture this little rose," he growled at Liam. Suddenly he grabbed a breast, his fingers digging into it as it elongated under his pulling hand. "This was to be mine!" He released it and dropped his hand to seize her by the cunny. "This was to be mine!" In a rage he advanced upon Liam and brutally kicked him in the ballocks.

Liam screamed in silent agony into the gag, vomiting stomach acid into his mouth. His body writhed, unable to defend his privates against the continued assault till he rolled onto his belly. With this, the kicks now landed upon his flank, shoulder and head. He lay powerless, his face turned away, simply taking the blows till Strachan spun upon his heel and returned to Anya's hanging body. Liam turned his face back, his back heaving as he wheezed through his nose. He felt the warm blood trickling through his hair and onto his cheek.

In misery he saw Strachan gripping the end of Anya's breast and twisting her nipple. Soon her body began to protest, recoiling reflexively from the pain. Her head raised slowly and she whimpered. He released her nipple and slapped her across the cheek. Her eyes opened, and she looked up at Strachan in bleary confusion. The next moment her eyes flew down, then up, and she realized her position; her eyes widened with shock. "Nooo!" she wailed. "Nooooooo! Please!" Her raised arms jerked upon the sash --- rattling the chain, her shoulders shook, and she danced about upon her toes, trying in vain to move away from him. In shame, she turned her face against her arm and lifted her knee in an attempt to conceal her cunny. "N-n-no," she sobbed. Strachan observed her distress with obvious enjoyment, savoring the remarkable display of her nubile body by her stretched up posture. His eyes roved over her shaking, protuberant breasts, her tiny waist, and her round buttocks.

"Now now, such hysterics, my dear. So very appealing, but you are neglecting our guest." Her teary eyes raised to his in apparent confused fright at the implication that another person was witnessing her degradation. "Why it's your strapping young Irishman, Mr. Thomas." He grinned and stepped aside so that she could Liam trussed up and bleeding upon the floor in front of her.

"LIAM!!!" she screamed. "LIAM! Oh pray let him be! It wasn't him, it was my stepfather!"

"You can dispense with that little fiction now, my dear. Mr. Thomas has taken credit for the deed. Although, he did so gallantly defend your honor by claiming that he forced you."

Liam met her terrified eyes and tried to give her a reassuring expression.

"It was my stepfather," she whispered.

Strachan shook his head, stepping to the desk and picking up his heavy, silver headed walking stick. "Oh no, my dear." He stood in front of her, staring down at her. "We now know the truth...and the truth is that sweet Anya --- sweet, shy little Anya --- is a common slut!" His voice rose in agitation with each word till he shouted the last word in her face.

"No," she whimpered, cringing back.

He paced round her, swinging the stick, his light reddish moustache and goatee standing out against his darkly flushed face. "A common slut who lets any dirty Paddy McSailor fuck her! You were supposed to be my virgin sweetmeat and now you're just a little whore!" he yelled. He raised the stick with both hands and struck her full force across her buttocks. She screamed in pain, swaying upon her tip toes, straining at the sash above her head. But no matter how she moved about, she could not escape the stick -- she screamed and sobbed with each new blow upon her arse, as Liam watched impotently, wrenching at his bindings. YE FUCKING BASTARD!!

Now Strachan strode round in front of her, panting with excitement, his trousers tented with an erection. He beat her across the belly with the stick, landing two blows before she frantically raised a knee to block him. Suddenly he swung the cane up from below and walloped her upon her now undefended cunny. Her shriek was heart-rending. Another smack upon her cunny, then Liam in anguish saw she was piddling herself in terror, the urine running down her leg, her red face hanging in utter humiliation. Strachan noticed it also, and with a feral grin stepped close to her, his jutting trouser front touching her belly. He cupped her pussy in his hand, his other hand pushing her chin up with the silver head of the stick so that her tear-flowing eyes were forced up to his as she helplessly released her bladder over his fingers.

When the stream ended, he lifted his wet fingers and wiped them across her quivering mouth and cheek. He stepped back; her head hung, her wretched tears falling onto her breasts as she stood upon her toes in the puddle of her own urine. Strachan smiled. "How do ye like yer foin bonnie lassie now?" he taunted.

Liam glowered up at him in pure hatred, his face red, his pupils dilated. His gagged lips tried to mouth 'Fuck ye.'

A sudden knock upon the door --- Strachan looked up. "Ah ha, the piece de resistance has arrived," he announced happily. Unconcerned about his obvious cockstand, he crossed to open the door. Liam twisted his head and saw two men enter. "Welcome boys, welcome." They were in the grubby clothes of laboring men, and wearing coats. Both were big, strong looking blokes in their early thirties, not quite Liam's height, but bulkier than him. One was balding, the other had a closely clipped black beard. As Strachan ushered them in, both immediately picked out Anya, and they could scarce take their eyes off the beautiful young girl hanging naked from the exercise ring as their boss spoke to them.

"I have a reward for you boys for your years of loyal service," he beamed. Their faces lit with comprehension; Liam's blood ran cold with comprehension. "Come over and let me introduce you to the lovely young lady." They crossed the room and stood by the desk next to her, their hungry eyes devouring her vulnerable body in open lust. Anya was so traumatized that she clearly hadn't even registered their presence; she hung, barely supporting her weight upon her toes, her head pathetically drooping forward.

"Don't leave us so soon, my dear." Strachan said smoothly. "The festivities have only just begun. Knowing you to be such a devotee of the nautical arts, I've brought two of the finest deck hands in my fleet for your delectation."

Her head slowly raised and she saw the two ganches leering at her. Her eyes went wild with panic and she shrank back as far she could, strung up. "No!" she gasped. "No! Please! NOOO!" She wailed and rattled the chain, straining back. Even tearstained and bloody lipped, her beauty was breathtaking; the men were agog at their good fortune. "What a pretty one!" the balding man exclaimed. "Are you sure you don't want this one for yourself, boss?"

"She's all yours, boys. Indulge yourselves."

"NOOOO!! Don't!! Oh please!" she implored.

Strachan looked over at Liam's writhing body and bulging eyes. "Our Mr. Thomas here seems very agitated...what could it be? Oh of course! He's not happy with his seat. Bring him closer so that he has a first-class view of the play."

The two men bent and grabbed him by the scruff of his coat and dragged him till he was some three feet from Anya's toes. They straightened and returned their attention to Anya. Their eyes roved over her struggling body as they pulled their coats off and tossed them aside.

"Watch out for the piss, boys. The young lady was somewhat overstimulated by the aperitif."

The men snickered, walking round her, examining her, seeming awed at the salacious possibilities before them. "I'll give you a tip, boys. Our Paddy-on-the-spot, Mr. Thomas here, has been quite informative. Apparently, the young lady likes a fuck in the ass. Let's give her a treat, shall we, and plug both of her holes at once." The men grinned lecherously.

"NO-O-O-O..." she cried. "Oh God!!"

Then they were on her, one grabbing her from behind, one from the front. Four big grimy hands were all over her petite body --- mashing and slapping her breasts, pulling her nipples, squeezing her buttocks, groping her cunny --- as she screamed and writhed, trying to kick and knee them. Strachan leaned against the desk watching, erect in his trousers.

Liam yanked violently at his bindings, his heart pounding, gasping through his nose. He tore the flesh of wrists, but otherwise achieved nothing. Looking up, he could only watch in horror as the bearded man behind her pulled open his trousers, and the balding man in front dropped his. Two stiff cocks were suddenly battering at her, one at the cleft of her arse, one at her mound. Her thighs were pressed tightly together, blocking their advance.

Strachan shook his head. "Come on boys. How can this tiny girl be besting you?" he scolded.

"We're having too much fun wrastling with her," the balding man said, chuckling.

"Well get on with it. I want to see you rip her open. Grab her legs."

Now with coordinated effort, they got her thrashing legs off the floor. The man behind held her legs under the knees, pulling them up to her shoulders, her back pressed against his chest. "NOOOOO!!" she screamed. Her feet wildly kicked in the air, but with her knees held wide apart, they were no threat to the man in front. Standing between her flailing calves he gaped at her cunny. Curled up as she was, it was flagrantly tilted up and thrust forward. With his thumbs he pulled her open. "Fuck!" he exclaimed. "This is the prettiest cunt I've ever seen! It looks almost unused!" The man behind her leaned his head over her shoulder to gawk at it too.

"Almost," Strachan said. He had his cock out now, blunt and red, and was stroking it.

Now with her legs controlled, they both attacked at once. Liam could only stare up helplessly into her spread cunny and buttocks, watching two frenzied cocks butting her and knocking against each other. She shrieked and heaved in their arms, trying to head butt them, spit at them, and dislodge their hips. Their boots slid in the urine. Liam rolled wildly upon the floor, knocking his shoulder ineffectually against the leg of the man in front of her, who responded with distracted kicks at him. After a few minutes of their failed attempts to penetrate her, Strachan stood up.

"Get organized!" he barked. "Burgess, you get up her cunt first. Then Jake will take her ass."

They hastened to follow orders. Jake held her legs firmly, panting, his hard cock pressed between her buttocks, waiting his turn. Burgess positioned himself in front of her. Straining upon the floor, feebly bumping Burgess' leg, Liam suddenly saw a knife in a leather scabbard upon the belt of his dropped trousers. Frantically he twisted and rolled till his fingers got ahold of the handle and jerked it out as he rolled back over with the knife in his trussed hands behind him, unseen. Fumbling to turn it, by feel he got the blade against the bundle of rope strands connecting his feet to his hands. He arched his back and yanked his limbs back and forth as much as he could, succeeding in initiating a short sawing motion.

Above him he could see Burgess' cock prodding at her shaking body, and hear her screams. Burgess stopped and rubbed at her hole in frustration. "Shit, she's as dry as a bone," he muttered. Stepping back he spat a big glob of tobacco stained spittle into his hand and rubbed it onto the head of his cock. Liam felt one rope strand give. Cut, cut, cut. Burgess spat again and this time smeared it upon her cunny. A second rope separated --- with a jerk, his hands and ankles were released from their linkage. Burgess stepped back up and pushed his cock down to her opening.

In a flash, Liam curled up his legs and scooped his bound hands holding the knife round to the front. With a continuous motion he rolled to his knees and slashed open the back of Burgess' bare knee, slicing through the brawny tendons and vessels. With a blood curdling scream, the big ganch dropped to the floor, grasping his spurting knee.

Before Jake and Strachan had even registered what happened, Liam had slashed through the ropes round his ankles and was on his feet. One swipe of the knife severed the green silk sash and Anya collapsed to the floor, putting him face to face with Jake, whose eyes went wide in shock. He tried to strike at Liam, but was floored by Liam's powerful knee to his groin. He howled and doubled over upon his knees, clutching his genitals. With a mighty kick to his head, Liam laid him out cold.

He whirled to find Strachan, and saw him skidding across to the far side of the desk. He lunged towards him, his arms raised, his bound hands gripping the knife. Strachan suddenly faced him, the revolver in his hand. Liam saw the flash of light, heard the explosion, felt the blunt crash in his heart...and he was flat upon his back on the floor, spiraling away from the ripping agony in his chest. Everything went white and soundless. As his mind faded, his last thought was the prayer that Strachan's bloodthirst be sated now, and that he spare Anya.

The white light began to break up into shimmering spots. A dull rushing sound filled his head...then the distant screaming. His eyes opened to see a crystal chandelier above him. What...? Was this heaven? Focusing, he saw the gun muzzle pointing at his face, and beyond it, Strachan's smile.

There was a keening shriek and the blur of a pale figure as Anya threw herself at Strachan, knocking him away. Biting down upon the gag, Liam lurched to his feet. The gun now somewhere upon the floor, Strachan darted for the desk. Liam leapt towards him, oblivious to the pain in his chest, wielding nothing but his bare, bound hands clenched together for a weapon. Strachan seized the walking stick and pointed it at him as if to ward him off, then a narrow blade shot out of the end of the stick and Liam ran himself directly onto it. It sliced along his upper arm and skived over his shoulder muscle.

He staggered forward --- a tremendous thrust from his legs sent him barreling into Strachan's torso with his head and shoulder. They were both upon the floor now, battering and kicking at each other, Liam hampered by his bound hands. Strachan twisted away and leapt to his feet --- Liam managed to get to his knees, then felt the cold thick cane against his throat. Strachan was standing behind him panting harshly, holding the stick horizontally with his hands a foot apart on either side of Liam's head. His knee pressed into Liam's back and pulled the stick tighter and tighter against his neck.

Liam's gasping, wheezing breaths struggled out through his nose. He bent his arms and got his fingers onto the stick, desperately trying to pry it off his windpipe. But with his tightly bound wrists, Strachan had the advantage over him. He leveraged him with his knee, pulling his head back. As Liam started to grow faint from want of air, he saw Anya wrenching upon the cane and Strachan's arm, and felt the perverse fact of Strachan's erection against the back of his head.

Suddenly he collapsed back against the man, falling into the direction of the force, instead of fighting it. Strachan stumbled back --- Liam rotated and fell against his legs, bringing him down to the floor. In the next second he dropped the ring of his arms round Strachan's neck, locked the crook of his elbows under his chin, and snapped his neck with a vigorous twist...just as his da had taught him so many years ago upon the farm to mercifully dispatch an animal. Strachan's body jerked once, then went limp.

Liam got to his feet, panting through his nose, and saw Anya crouching naked and wide-eyed by the settee. Spying the knife upon the floor, he retrieved it and hastened to her side. He freed her hands then gave her the knife; she cut through the rope round his wrists. Yanking off the gag and spitting out the handkerchief, he asked in a hoarse, cracking voice, "Are ye well?" She nodded numbly.

A buzzing sound startled them. 'Twas coming from the box upon the desk. "We need to hie out of here!" he rasped. Noticing the revolver just under the edge of the settee he grabbed it and put it in his pocket. "Get dressed quick!" he urged, scanning round: there only be her trousers --- her robe and nightgown were destroyed. As she stepped into them and fastened them, Liam unbuttoned his coat and pulled it off, suddenly staggered by the excruciating pain in his left chest that tore into him with each breath and movement of his arm.

There was a knock upon the door. "Mr. Strachan?" a man's voice asked.

"Put this on! Here are your shoes, quick!" The knocking grew more insistent as she yanked on the coat and pulled on the delicate slippers. Grabbing her hand, they ran for the broken patio door, leaping over the glass shards. As they ran across the dark lawn, shouts emanated from the room behind them. They made a beeline for the brick wall, Liam pulling her as fast as she could run. At the wall he realized his left arm was too incapacitated to lift her. He crouched. "Get up on my right shoulder! Hold fast to the wall." He felt her light weight step up onto him, and he rose up to standing. The shouts were growing louder across the lawn, they had been spotted!