The Nixon Girls Ch. 07

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Camilla: discovers that she's not quite the young lady she presumed.
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Part 7 of the 7 part series

Updated 09/30/2022
Created 02/03/2006
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Chapter 7: Camilla

Camilla Hamilton was the third generation of the 'Nixon Girls'. Eldest child and only daughter of Lord and Lady Gorton, she'd been blessed with her father's height and her mother Eve's striking looks. At close to six-feet tall, Camilla was often mistaken for a fashion model and whilst she had sashayed down the catwalk on a couple of occasions, these had been for worthy charitable events; the very idea of entering into that, or indeed any, profession was to Camilla's mind 'frightfully common' and far below the expectations of a Blue-blood like herself. In moments such as these, Camilla chose to ignore her mother's humble background, as nowadays the Lady Evelyn was perhaps the most aristocratic of them all; it was certainly she who'd laid the foundations for Camilla's haughty demeanour.

Camilla had just turned twenty-one, with another year still to complete for her degree in Art History at one of the minor Oxford Colleges; not one of those awful establishments which nowadays demanded quite unrealistic entry qualifications, but one which rather more properly catered to the needs of scholars graduating from the countries more exclusive fee-paying schools. Once completed, Camilla would spend a gap-year, attending many of the world's more exclusive social events and should she fail to secure a suitable husband by the time she'd returned, then Camilla would take a little job in one of London's more upmarket art galleries, until the right chap came along.

Camilla, nor indeed anyone else expected that to take too long, as in addition to the visual attributes that she'd been gifted by her parents: 5' 10" tall, fashionably thin, though with full, pert, 34C breasts which she'd inherited from Evelyn, along with an exquisite bone structure, emerald green eyes and a head of lustrous titian hair which flowed half way down her back, she perhaps resembled a young Julia Roberts; in addition 'Daddy' was a Peer of the Realm and rich as Croesus to boot! There was already a lengthy queue of eligible young men, including a couple of minor Royals, beating a path to the door of Ashwell Hall.

For the moment though, Camilla was rather bored. It was late September and the social whirl of the Summer Season had all but ended; she was now wallowing in a mire of tedium for those few weeks before College re-commenced in early October. Mummy and Daddy were away visiting friends in the Cote D'Azur and whilst Camilla could've joined them, Daddy's friend had become a lecherous old perv around her in recent years; it would have been just too awful to spend three whole weeks with him ogling and touching her at every opportunity. As a result, Camilla was stuck in the rural backwaters of the Wyre Valley, with only her younger brother Charles for company: Actually that's somewhat over-dramatic, since Camilla had spent the last few days in London, staying at the family's permanent suite in the Savoy, whilst visiting friends in London and indulging in a little 'Retail-Therapy'.

It was so much easier for her brother; just turned nineteen, Charles was studying agriculture at Cirencester College, in preparation for when he'd eventually inherit the family estates and Daddy's title. During the holidays, he'd spent his days shadowing Daddy's Estate Manager, Gerald Hindley and at night, he socialised with the locals in the village pub, or down at the Rugby Club. Charles had an easy way with the chaps -- 'The Rugger-Buggers' as Camilla and her mother dubbed them and the local girls quite literally threw themselves at his feet; or to be precise, it was more usually into his bed!

Camilla suspected that these local fillies were perhaps trying to emulate her own mother and snare the next Earl; as prior to marrying her father, Lady Evelyn had simply been a local beauty who worked in the Estate Offices. What those trollops seemed to have singularly failed to learn from her mother's example, was that opening your legs at the drop of a hat, was not the way to succeed! Perhaps not surprisingly, the local girls all envied and so with an equal vengeance, also hated, Camilla: Drop-dead gorgeous, invariably dressed in the latest designer fashions and zooming around in her brand new Mercedes Sports-Car, with money to burn: That was plenty to envy, even before their boyfriends ignored them and instead mooned around Camilla on the few occasion that she deigned to accompanied Charles on his nocturnal ventures.

Camilla didn't socialise regularly with the villagers, but she had chosen to quell her boredom on several occasions in recent weeks, by accompanying Charles on his evening soirees. Actually it was usually quite good fun, the local chaps were always very attentive to her and some of them were quite hunky; though they were all so incredibly naïve. Camilla teased and flirted outrageously with them; one could see from the looks in their eyes that they invariably thought they were on to a sure thing, right up until that very last moment when she would brusquely quash the ardour and return home with Charles, or by taxi if he'd already 'pulled' and departed already.

The yokels might be fun, but the thought of actually going to bed with one was quite abhorrent to Camilla. Whilst the local totty might have overlooked the lesson, Mummy had certainly educated Camilla as to the value of what lay between her legs and she certainly wasn't going to squander it on some Country-Bumpkin. Though Camilla wasn't a virgin; a hunky Austrian Ski Racer had put paid to that last Christmas and a rather suave Italian Windsurfing Instructor had finished her education earlier in the summer. The latter in particular had been a very gratifying experience, but more importantly both men been exceedingly discrete; the Honourable Camilla was to all intents and purposes and most particularly amongst the circle that mattered; still 'pure as the driven snow'.

Camilla looked around as she exited the railway station and was pleased to see that her Mercedes was parked on the forecourt to her right; having been unsure as to which train she'd be returning on, Camilla had called the house on Friday and instructed that it be polished, delivered and parked ready for her to collect whenever she returned. The area was abundantly signposted as being 'Strictly No Parking', but neither the railway staff nor local constabulary would dare to ticket, much less wheel-clamp a car bearing the licence plate 'M5 HCH'; they were all well aware that it belonged to the Earl's daughter. Somewhat paradoxically, Camilla was rather miffed to see a large and rather dirty van was also parked on the apron, just beyond her own sports car and wondered why it hadn't been moved along.

Camilla was frantically juggling her shopping bags and fumbling in her Prada handbag for the keys as she approached the driver's door, but dropped the lot when suddenly distracted by a loud roar as the van's engine was started; she'd not even noticed anyone inside its gloomy interior. As Camilla bent to retrieve the fallen belongings, she heard a scraping sound as the van's side door slid open and a moment later she'd been grabbed around her waist, arms clamped firmly against her body and lifted bodily off her feet. Her assailant swung her around, before quite literally tossing her into the back of the van, where she landed on what turned out to be a rather grubby mattress and was pinned down by a second attacker whilst yet a third jumped out of the door as the first stepped back in behind her and slammed it shut, whilst shouting, "Go, Go, Go!"; the van lurched forward and sped away.

As Camilla's eyes adjusted to the gloom, she took in both the grubby interior and her abductors, though to be honest she didn't learn much; there was the driver and two others: all three were wearing pointed hoods of a bright green fabric and for one quite bizarre moment before the full gravity of her situation sunk in, Camilla pondered if they were perhaps Environmentally Friendly Klu Klux Klansmen? This thought was rudely interrupted when Camilla felt the small stocky one of the two in the back with her; the one who was pinning her down, place his spare hand on her inner thigh and slide it upward beneath her short skirt. Camilla promptly clamped her thighs tightly together and screeched in protest.

The Driver called back over his shoulder, "Are you OK back there?" He'd a coarse Scottish accent.

The Groper responded "No problems Ten, we're just getting comfortable." Camilla noticed that this chap spoke with a local accent.

So did the other one; a veritable giant of a man who was by now sat down, casually leaning against the van's side. "Two's just trying to cop a feel, but as Eight has first dibs on her, he'll get twatted once we arrive if he carries on."

Camilla could hear laughter in the stocky guy's voice when he responded "I'm not fucking her Five, I know the batting order; but there's nobody said I couldn't loosen her up a bit on the way."

At this point, the severity of Camilla's situation hit home and she began to cry and beg the men to release her; offering a financial inducement that whilst massive, she knew here father could and would, happily pay three times over to secure her salvation from this situation.

The Driver, 'Ten'; who was clearly the ringleader showed no sympathy. "Quit your whining you tight-arse bitch, we don't like prissy little cock-teasers around here; Daddy can't buy your way out of this. You're going to get exactly what you deserve, whilst we'll be getting all that you've been promising."

As Camilla's pleading dwindled to a whimper, he addressed his cohorts "Two's got a point though, there's no reason not to move things along, besides, it'll save time when we arrive if you get her stripped off on the way; if you want too cop a feel whilst you're doing it good luck to you, just don't try fucking her, the order for that's been agreed."

Two fell upon her with relish and Five wasn't far behind him; whilst Camilla tried to resist, it was a feeble and futile effort. Her silk Hermes blouse was torn away in seconds and the fastenings on her Stella McCartney skirt didn't last much longer; Camilla had already dropped the matching jacket beside her car when they'd snatched her. As the blouse and skirt came away from Camilla's rangy body, there was a pause of several long seconds whilst the two men simply savoured there prize. It was Five who eventually broke the silent hiatus, "Will you look at that; for fucks sake, I knew she'd be hot but Jesus, this is like a wet dream." Camilla's long slim body was now clearly displayed; the white hold-up stockings and black high-heeled sandals, along with the green lace, bra and skimpy pants -- they matched her eyes perfectly -- framed her figure to perfection.

Ten adjusted the rear view mirror to take in the scene and whistled. "You're not kidding. I'll tell you what, just leave her like that; it wouldn't be fair on the others to rip the rest off her before they've had chance to kop an eye-full."

Camilla was relieved to see that the two men in the back with her both nodded in agreement and ceased their assault; the relief was short-lived however, as Two enquired "I can still feel her up a bit though can't I?"

Ten nodded; his response prompt and definitive, "sure you can, just don't strip off or mess up that pretty underwear before we get there." Two and Five looked across at each other, Camilla just knew that they were grinning beneath their cowls; then each forced a hand roughly inside her Janet Raeger bra and began to rudely grope one of her pert young breasts. A moment later Camilla felt another hand, she couldn't tell whose; forcing its way into her panties, where the fingers began raking crudely through the coarse hair of her pubis: She no longer had enough strength or hope to even try and resist, so lay there compliant and weeping whilst the van continued along its way.

It was perhaps only fifteen minutes more before the van turned off the main road, as despite a substantial drop in speed Camilla could now feel the bumps of what must've been a farm track beneath the wheels; she'd no idea where they were, she'd not even noted what direction they'd turned as they left the railway station. Camilla also noticed that Five and Two were so deeply engrossed in their fondling of her unresisting body that they didn't even seem aware of the change in road surface. Of more concern to Camilla was a rude awareness and indeed self-disgust about the fact that her nipples had stiffened and pussy moistened in response to their uninvited ministrations; she certainly didn't want this, but her body was failing her. She saw that Ten was watching proceedings in the rear view mirror whilst he drove and just knew that he had noticed and was indeed amused at her self-loathing.

The van shuddered to a stop and Ten's instructions were clear "Right lads, put her tits away again and get her inside to the others whilst I stash the van; remember, nothing happens until I get in there!"

Five opened the door and jumped out, then leaning back inside he effortlessly pulled Camilla out behind him, tossed her over one shoulder and walked away from the van; she saw Two leap out behind them, slamming the van door as it pulled away. Where or what they were heading towards, Camilla had no idea; Two sprinted past and as Five abruptly stopped, Camilla heard what sounded like a large metal door sliding opening, followed by a loud cheer and wondered: My God, how many of them are there? As Camilla was carried inside, Two closed and locked the door behind them, before Five lifted her from his shoulder and gently lowered her onto her own two feet. After taking a deep breath to quell her terror, Camilla slowly turned to face her fate; the movement was greeted with a few moments of absolute silence and then another rousing chorus of cheers and wolf-whistles.

Camilla was standing on the smooth and remarkably clean concrete floor of a small modern and well lit, warehouse or industrial unit; there were perhaps a ten or a dozen men, all in matching green cowls, ranged in a loose group near the centre of the floor. The space was otherwise empty, save for a King-sized divan bed, standing somewhat incongruously and from Camilla's standpoint frighteningly, on the floor amongst them; immediately Camilla saw that bed, any last notion she might've held that this could perhaps be some sort of sick joke disappeared. As the men approached and encircled Camilla, she knew how the prey of a wolf-pack must feel.

When Ten entered the room a few minutes later, he was pleased to see that all was well disciplined and suspected that Eight had probably been marshalling things in his absence. The boys were making good use of Camilla's albeit amateur, catwalk experience; they were in two rough lines with the young girl parading herself and sexy lingerie before them. He was further amused to see that the Lady's good breeding was also showing through. Camilla refused to be subjugated by these men; the tears had been quelled and with her shoulders back and head held high, she looked through rather than at her tormentors as she flounced back and forth between them: She might've been dressed in one of her ball-gowns at a film premiere, rather than half naked in a barn. God but she looked foxy, every muscle of Camilla's lithe body seemed taught and the word 'feline' reverberated around in Ten's mind. Camilla's only imperfection appeared to be a tiny pink birthmark on her ribcage, just beneath her left breast and about the size of a penny; besides serving as a timely reminder to Ten, he felt this one tiny flaw served only to enhance the perfection of the rest of her.

Breaking free from this reverie, Ten announced his arrival by clapping his hands and loudly calling, "OK boys, let's get this show on the road; get the rest of her clothes off and tie her to the bed."

Camilla maintained her inner strength and giving him a withering look replied, "I'm quite capable of undressing myself thank you very much, besides, your gorillas have already proved their inability to care for a ladies clothing." The guys where dumbstruck and whilst they hesitated, Camilla proceeded to coolly disrobe; she might have been alone in her own bedroom.

Whilst outwardly ignoring her watchers, Camilla's stomach was churning and her heart raced; she could hear the men's gasps and comments as each item was removed; the noise level jumped markedly when her firm young breast sprang free and at that moment steeled herself for their massed assault. It didn't materialise and having concluded by stepping out of her skimpy green panties, Camilla drew another deep breath, stood upright and nonchalantly dropped them on the floor. She encompassed all of the men with a cold stare, then raising her arms she leisurely pirouetted before them, after three slow rotations, Camilla fixed her gaze on Ten and enquired, "I trust this is what you expected?" Camilla turned, walked the three strides to the bed and standing proudly, with hands on her naked hips -- it was to stop them shaking if the men had only known it -- she added "So how would you like me?"

The men were transfixed; Camilla's breasts were full and firm, they saw how they'd barely descended when her bra came away and the nipples were bright red, standing rigid and by any standards, simply huge! - Another gift which she'd received unbeknownst from her maternal grandmother. The guys were still recovering from that revelation, when Camilla's pussy had joined the display and it too was simply awesome; luxuriant, but neatly trimmed, in Ten's eyes at least, it resembled a burnished-bronze arrowhead, striking down between her pale slim thighs. Only Ten maintained some vestige of composure, the others being so enraptured that Camilla might well at that moment have simply walked away without opposition; the gang had been totally mesmerized.

Camilla was just beginning to believe that this act of dominant self-possession might actually carry the day, when reality returned with a bang; or to be precise a shout from Ten. "Howay Lads! What the fuck are you playing at? She'll not be so bloody sassy once she's accommodated the first couple of cocks! Now, you're first up Eight, so get on with it! How do you want her?"

They all, including Camilla looked toward the one labelled Eight; he was all of 6' 3" tall and 300 pounds. He in return stared at Camilla, then at Ten and back at the frightened young girl, before slowly stripped off his jeans and tee-shirt; Camilla was now struggling for breath, this man was huge, what would he do to her frail body? Whilst Eight's skivvies coming off confirmed the imminence of her violation, Camilla actually heaved a sigh of relief; it had revealed an erect cock of more average proportions than his physical stature had threatened. Eight still hesitated and Ten enquired again, "Come on, how do you want her?"

"I dunno." Was the mumbled reply

"Oh for Christ's Sake Ja -- careful - Eight, you've had all week to decide!"

"I know and I'd planned all along to spear that prissy little mouth of her's, but now? That pretty red bush just looks choice."

"You know the rules; it's one or the other and if you've not decided in five seconds flat, then Eleven can have his turn whilst you're thinking."

Eight hesitated a moment longer, then decision made he stepped forward and pushed Camilla backwards towards the bed; as the back of her long legs hit its edge, she fell backwards on to it and Eight pressed a hand gently but firmly against her chest to ensure she stayed there. Camilla fought frantically for several seconds, to the amusement of all, but against Eight's superior size and strength it proved a futile effort; when she finally surrendered the unequal struggle, she was exhausted, whilst save for a few scratches to Eight's arm there was no evidence she'd even tried. The big man pressed forward, effortlessly prying Camilla's alabaster thighs apart with one knee, before covering her supine form and forcing his erection into the heart of her fiery bush.