La fille captive

La fille captive

This is a closed thread for heartofcourage and cgraven

It was said that it was the worst of times and the best of times by Charles Dickens when he wrote about the French Revolution that of course deepens on who you were, and where you where during the reign of terror. For Measure Rosbespierre it was the best of times as it was for radicals such as Jacques-René Hébert and Pierre-Gaspard Chaumette who tightened their grip on the Paris Commune. Yet for aristocrats and even the minor nobility it was the worst of times. For the heroine of our tale it was the worst of times.

She had been born into a family of the minor nobility. Their estate was nothing more than a glorified farm. They had no surfs or indentured servants that were tied to the land and they paid their workmen well. They also had a small town house in Paris on the rue Notre Dame. Life was good until that day when the family was denounced. Her father mother little brother and she were dragged before a tribunal and accused of all sorts of crimes against the revolution. No matter what they said the gallery greed and shouted them down. After two hours the tribunal sentenced them to the guillotine man, woman and child.

She sat in her cell on the musty straw that served as her bed. Her beloved Pap, Mama, and little brother had all gone to the guillotine, she knew that it was only a matter of time before she two would feel the kiss of Madame Guillotine on her slender neck. It was late and the Bastille was quite except for the cries of those that would die with the coming of day. It was then that a guard came to her. “You have a friend who has paid handsomely for your escape.”

The guard wore a dirty ill fitting uniform and was unshaven yet he turned the key in the lock of her cell and swung the door open. He led our heroine through the corridors to the pass gate and a waiting cart. He turned back the rancid blanket and bid her to get under it, and before long she could feel the motion of the cart.

So begins the adventures of our young aristocrat as she flees the terror.

Felicity Laurent was but a shadow of her former self. Born to lower nobility, she was use to hard work, but she also enjoyed a certain station in life that others did not. However, all of that was cruelly stripped away by the uprising. Her family had done nothing wrong, but they were branded traitors. Her beloved Papa, Mama, and brother were all dead, killed by those that knew nothing about them. She was simply waiting for her own spot at the guillotine to join them in the great beyond.

Glancing up as the cell door open, her heart skipped a beat as the guard told her that someone had paid for her freedom. She frowned at those words, wondering who had cared enough to pay for her to escape from her date with death. Standing, she pulled at her tattered gown to straighten it and then followed after the guard. It was quiet at that time of night save for the haunting sound of sobs from down the hall. It was all part of the day to day life behind the walls of the Bastille.

Once they were outside, Felicity glanced around at her short moment of freedom. It had been forever since she had been outside and she soaked in the moment until the guard ushered her beneath a rancid blanket in the back of a cart. Soon, it was in motion and she pondered who had paid for her freedom from the hell that she had been living in.

Felicity Laurent lay beneath the rancid blanket; she was jostled by the motion of the peasant cart. She heard the driver challenged by the civic guards as they approached the city limits of Paris, at any moment the blanket could be ripped back and her escape from “Madame Guillotine” come to an end. So Felicity Laurent made her way out of Paris yet who had arranged for her escape?

Captain Philippe La Mont had arranged for the young beauty’s escape. He had served under her father during the Nine Year War in Canada. He had the greatest respect for Major Laurent yet being a soldier of the king was not a healthy thing to be in these days of Revolution and terror. He knew that if Felicity was found in his company her death would be swift. So he had made arrangements for her to hide in the tavern of Michelle Batard. Oh La Mont had no illusions of what a rascal Batard was yet he was the only old comrade that Philippe could turn to. And so the cart slowly made its way from Paris to Normandy.

It was late evening when the little peasant cart pulled up to the Chained Unicorn . Michelle Batard was lounging against the door to the tavern. “Hay are you Batard?” The driver spit on the ground. “If you are a monsieur L’Ombre de Bois has sent you a package.”

L’Ombre de Bois the name made Batard’s blood run cold he had not heard that name sense he served in Canada. The man was like a ghost that slipped through the forest, it had been the reason that he was called L’Ombre de Bois, the shadow in the woods. “Bring the package around the back.” Batard followed the cart to the stable in the back of the tavern. His eyes grew wide as the rancid blanket was pulled back and to his surprise he saw not a package but a very young and attractive young beauty.

Batard licked his lips when he saw the little chestnut haired beauty. Her dark soulful eyes were wide and fear showed in them.”You are safe now.” The driver said as he helped Felicity down. Batard could see that she was a noble woman and his mind began to turn. His little beady eyes took in every sensual curve of her young supple body. He subconsciously licked his lips as he pondered what he would love to do to her.

The driver tipped his straw hat to Felicity and then quickly drove off apparently relieved to be rid of his charming passenger. Batard ushered the young girl into the back door of the tavern. “You can’t wear those closes no one would believe you were a tavern wench.” He paused as he calculated how to get his stunning young Miss out of her clothes. Batard went to the cupboard and selected a skirt and a peasant’s blouse for Felicity. “Here put these on.” Batard left the room and went to a private viewing area where he could watch Felicity strip out of her own clothing and to dawn the skirt and blouse he had picked for her. They would be scandalous and he smiled anxious to see her as a tavern maid.

Felicity’s head was absolutely spinning by the time the wagon had stopped and she was unloaded on an unfamiliar place. She was scared, slightly concerned that this was all a trick before she was brought to her death. She was shaking as the wagon driver bid her goodbye and the other man brought her into the tavern, insisting that no one would believe that she was a tavern wench in her current clothing.

“It’s all that I have.” She tried to counter as he was quick to find her new clothing and then he was gone to let her change.

She watched him go, her dark eyes wide. Looking down at the clothes in her hands, she knew that they would leave little to the imagination but what could she say? These men had paid a lot of money to get her out of the prison and she had to play a part until all was finally safe. She quietly changed, the skirt and the blouse much too tight on her already slender body. If it helped her to play her role that much more believably, then it was what she would do.

Batard held out the bundle of clothing out to Felicity and told her to put them on. He loved the wide eyed innocent look as the young beauty gasped “It’s all that I have.” Yet she took the bundle of clothing from Batard.

Batard could hardly wait to get to the little viewing area where he could get his first real look at this stunning young aristocrat. His hands were almost shaking as he drew back the cloth that would allow him to watch the girl change from her finery and into the scandalous attire he had provided her. The camisole shift he had given her was so short that it barely covered her rounded little derrière, the skirt and the blouse. Batard licked his lips as the young beauty quietly began to change. He watched as Felicity shed each layer of her clothing and her gorgeous young body came into view in all its naked glory.

When the girl had dressed in the rags he had given her it was apparent that the skirt and blouse were much too tight on her slender body, and left little or nothing to the imagination. Her firm young breasts threatened to spill out of her blouse and her legs were bare as she had not been given any stockings to wear and she was barefooted as well.

A soft knock came at the door and Felicity heard the door squeaking open as Batard called “Have you changed?” he did not wait for her answer but came into the room. He looked at her fine clothes neatly folded on a chair. Batard turned his dark shifty eyes on Felicity. “Burn them girl, every stitch, I can’t afford for anyone to find them…..” His voice was low and guttural his eyes shifting about the room, yet always returning to Felicity supple young body. “……..nor can you afford any to find them either.”

Batard took a breath as his eyes took in every sensual curve of young Felicity’s gorgeous young body. “What do they call you girl?”

Felicity whipped around when she heard the knock at the door before the man barreled in without waiting. He told her to burn her old clothing and she nearly cried. It was all that she had left of her old life and the clothing fit her much better than the items that she was currently wearing. However, she wasn't in much a of a position to complain considering that someone had paid handsomely for her to be pulled from that awful prison.

"My name is Felicity." She answered softly as he asked her what her name was. "Felicity Laurent. I was told that someone paid to have me pulled from the prison. Is that person here?"

Batard could see that this proud young beauty was on the verge of tears as the last of the world she had known was consumed by the flames on the hearth. Felicity watched as the flames washed away her life, she was alone, a fugitive, hunted by all.

Batard lust for the young girl consumed him the only thing keeping him in check was his fear of L’Ombre de Bois. Yet his lust for this young chestnut haired beauty was strong. "My name is Felicity………Felicity Laurent. I was told that someone paid to have me pulled from the prison. Is that person here?"

Her soft angelic voice brought Batard back to the present. “No mademoiselle Laurent.” Batard’s mind was spinning fast. He slowly began to circle Felicity taking in her supple young body from every angle. “No this will never do.” Boldly he stepped up to her, lifted the helm of her skirt and tucked it in to the waist band of her skirt. This lift her leg bared to almost her waist. “Better he grunted but still…….” His voice trailed off and then Batard eased the shoulders of her peasant blouse down so that the young beauty’s breast where bared and the dusky pink of her areola’s were visible. “Now you look like a tavern waitress.”

“Your name we must do something about it……..” He thought for a moment, “Marie de la bédé”

“When will he be here?” Felicity asked, a little confused as to why this man had paid for her freedom and yet wasn’t there to greet her personally.

She let out a gasp as the man moved suddenly and pulled her skirt up high, tucking it so that her legs were exposed. Then he pulled down the sleeves of her shirt until her breasts were nearly freed and her nipples peeking st the top of the collar. Her hands flew to cover her chest as she looked st the man, her eyes wide with scandal.

“Marie?” She asked him, the name sounding so foreign to her as he said it. “I suppose I can remember that.”

“You must remember it young lady for the simple utterance of Felicity Laurent would mean your death. Where Marie de la bédé will not call any undue attention to you Marie means life.” Batard let his words sink in he smiled to himself for Marie de la bédé meant Marie of the bed and he had every intention to bed this gorgeous young creature sooner than later. Oh she might kick and scream but who could the little aristocrat go to for help, the authorities, which would mean her death. The only thing that stayed him was his fear of L’Ombre de Bois.

As the days passed and Felicity, Marie, took up her new life as a tavern wench, padding bare foot about the inn Batard’s fear of L’Ombre de Bois faded. The patrons of the tavern grouped and took the most indecent liberties with the poor girl. Batard waited and bided his time, soon very soon he would bed the girl whether she wanted him or not.

Felicity hated everything about her new life. She hated the way that the tavern customers manhandled her when they wished. She hated the way that the sniveling Batard stared at her as if she were a piece of meat. She long ago knew that he was not the one that had bought her freedom yet this mysterious man hadn’t yet arrived. She hoped that her would come every single day and take her out of the little hell hole that she was in.

It had been three weeks sense Felicity had come to the Inn of the “Chained Unicorn”. As usual Felicity now known as Marie de la Bédé was dressed in the same scandalous blouse and skirt that Batard had given her on that first night, the same outfit that revealed much too much of her supple young body to the clientele. As word spread of the new tavern wench at “Chained Unicorn spread more and more men now crowded the Inn and were anxious to get their hands on the young chestnut haired beauty.

Felicity was sobbing, it was clear she hated this new life she was forced to live and this night Batard had been drinking hard and he didn’t try to hide the way he looked at her, stripped her with his eyes. The young beauty was in the little garret room below the Inn’s eves when Batard burst into her room. “Give us a little kiss Marie!”

His words were slurred from drink, a brandy bottle hanging in his hand and his bulky body blocking the door. It was obvious that he would have his kiss or if angered take much more than a kiss.

Felicity looked up as her door was suddenly thrown open. She was dressed for bed, not expecting to be disturbed by Batard. Instantly, she shook her head no, pulling her blankets up to her chin.

“No. Monsieur, you are drunk and not in your right mind.” She argued, hoping that he wasn’t too far gone to listen to reason.

The little chestnut haired beauty pulled the blankets up around her neck and huddled against the head board of her bed. “No. Monsieur, you are drunk and not in your right mind.” Felicity’s voce trembled with fear her soft brown eyes wide as Batard stood in the door way.

“Such a high and might young lady you are, too good for old Batard.” He declared in a drunken slur. “May be I should turn you over to the sergeant and his men Mademoiselle Laurent “ Batard’s hand flashed out and he tore away the blanket that Felicity had grasped like a shield. Batard saw the young beauty’s breasts strain against her shift. Again his hand flashed as he ripped open the terrified girls shift. Batard’s tongue slid across his lips as he gazed on her naked breasts.

Before Felicity could cover herself Batard was on top of her his mouth crushed to hers and his hands groping her naked breasts.

"No, monsieur. I do appreciate all that you have done while we wait for the person that paid to help me. But, I don't want this." Felicity tried to explain to him that she was grateful and hoping that he would back away. Instead, he threatened to turn her into the soldiers with her true identity.

She let out a gasp as he ripped her blanket away and nearly screamed when he ripped away her shift just as easily. Then he was on her. She screamed then, pushing at his shoulders, before she was cut off and his lips were mashed against her own and his hands were settling on her breasts. She bucked and twisted, struggling to get out from underneath his much heavier frame.

"No, monsieur. I do appreciate all that you have done while we wait for the person that paid to help me. But, I don't want this." Batard silenced the frightened girl with a rough drunken kiss as his hand mauled Felicity’s naked breast. He squeezed the firm mount of her breast, rolled her little pale pink rosebud nipple under the pad of his finger before pinching and tugging at the delicate little bud.

Felicity bucked and twisted, struggling to get out from underneath his much heavier frame. Batard slipped his hands between their bodies and between her legs, he then broke his kiss. “Stop fighting girl or the sergeant and his boys will have their way with you before they take you to have your pretty little head loped off by Madame Guillotine.” Batard crushed his mouth to Felicity’s again as he thrust his tongue into her mouth and she could taste the brandy on his breath.

Felicity let out a scream as he slipped his hands between their bodies, one between her legs and the other pulling roughly at her nipple. She pushed against him, scratched at his face, and desperately tried to get herself free as he continued to taunt her with the guillotine. She wouldn't let him do that, she thought to herself. She reared up and kneed him in the crotch to get him off her.