An American in Morocco {a closed thread for John Shadow & me}

[Leetah]

Elizabeth Everett could hardly believe that she was no longer in the United States of America, but rather traipsing through the streets of Morocco! It was so exciting, as she’d never really been anywhere before now. She thought back to the moment that Aunt Alice, the only family she had left, had presented her with the trip as a gift as she had finished her schooling. Aunt Alice had been quite the traveler in her day, in a time when young women had not done that sort of thing normally, and she felt Elizabeth should have a chance to see some of the world before she settled down. She had heard of the tour group that was making this trip, and as it was to be a group of older people, that would be good chaperones for a 23 year old lass out on her own, she made the arrangements and then told her niece. Elizabeth had a led a very sheltered life so far, and Alice knew she needed some new experiences. Now the girl was a world away from the life and people she knew, and loving every moment.

Elizabeth was a striking young woman, only 5’2”, and very slight. She had a lovely figure, as well as sparkling emerald green eyes and a mane of rich honey-gold hair that fell to her back. With her pale complexion, slightly tinged with pink, she stood out in any crowd, particularly in this corner of the world, where most of the people had dark hair and eyes. She had braided her hair that morning, and it fell in a single long braid down her back, bouncing slightly with each step she took. Even in her simple white sundress and wide brimmed hat, she was a picture. As the youngest person in the group, and by far the loveliest, she stood out like a shining beacon, but did not realize it, or that this could be a very bad thing. She was modest and quiet, although friendly, and smiled as they passed by people in the open air market, on their way to the art museum. Lost in her surroundings, she was unaware of all the glances that were cast her way, particularly by the men they passed. The sights, sounds and scents of the market were rich and enticing, but Elizabeth knew it would be best to stay with the group. She hoped that eventually she’d have a chance to browse amongst the wares that were being presented there.

Soon the group reached the museum and were led over to one of the guides that worked there. He looked over the group, his eyes lingering on the loveliness of the American girl. Speaking in somewhat broken English, he led them onward. Elizabeth was so entranced by the artistry, that she found herself falling further and further behind the others, but felt as long as they were in sight, she would be fine. Nevertheless, eventually she glanced around, and realized she was alone. Feeling a bit nervous, she began to try to find her group, but instead, found herself hopelessly lost in the big building. There were very few other people around this day, and gradually she began to realize that she was being followed. She could see him out of the corner of her eye, moving when she moved, very unobtrusive but persistent. She wondered how long he’d been shadowing her without her knowledge. Her heart began to pound and she tried to keep herself from breaking into a run, but was finding it difficult. Unexpectedly, she turned a corner, and found herself in a part of the museum she’d not seen. There was no one else around, and as she started out, the man that had been following her stepped into sight. He was not a large man, but there was something frightening about him all the same. His dark eyes were fastened upon her as he moved toward her. Elizabeth felt frozen, and could only watch him moving toward her. As he came close enough to touch, she finally felt herself able to move, but as she tried to pass him, his arm shot out and he caught her wrist, stopping her. Eyes wide with alarm, she looked at him. He spoke to her, but she could not understand him. This seemed to anger him somewhat, and he shook her arm a bit, and repeated himself. “I….I don’t understand…” the frightened girl began, when he pointed at her purse. “Oh….oh no….please….that’s all I…..” The man glared at her and shook her arm again, then pulled her toward him a bit. Becoming more alarmed by the moment, Elizabeth was quite certain there were worse things he could do than take her purse, but she still didn’t wish to lose it or her money. With his free hand, he suddenly produced a very small, but sharp looking blade and moved it toward her throat, until the tip was pressing into the tender skin there. Realizing she had no choice, the girl reluctantly dropped her purse to the floor, so that he could take it. The man glared at her again, then a gleam came to his eye and he pulled her closer still. “What are you doing? I gave you what you wanted…..please, leave me alone….” Elizabeth tried to struggle, but the blade still pressed against her throat, and she was afraid to move too much. To her dismay, he suddenly yanked her against his body and ground his mouth against her own.

Elizabeth felt ill, afraid of what he would do to her now, but suddenly she heard footsteps coming their way. The man heard them also, for he shoved her away from him, causing her to fall backward, hitting her head against the wall. He snatched up her purse and made his escape as she lay there, stunned by the blow to her head.

 

[John Shadow]

Not much to do today

Brandon heard the brief sounds of a struggle from the far end of the gallery and watched the museum assistant scuttle past him so fast the gangly young man nearly overturned a table of ancient pottery on display outside the curator's door. The curator himself appeared moments later flanked by two burly guards. The curator was a rotund man in his fifties clad in a white linen suit. A fringe of white hair circled a bald pate burned nearly black by the sun. The face below was only sightly lighter in colour and suffused with an unpleasant sanguinary cast that bespoke an ill temper. He led the other two with an arrogant stride that said clearly he was far above the errand he was on but lacked any confidence in his staff. Behind him the guards followed in matching native robes, each with one the local knives thrust through their sashes. Their look, their mass and Brandon's past experience told him that they were more than competent at crushing any disturbance in the museum. Of course, other things were frequently crushed as well. All looked ready for murder.

Brandon, for his part, smiled cheerfully and raised a hand in greeting. "Out for a walk your excellency," he inquired lightly.

The curator snorted by way of rely and marched past. Chuckling, Brandon and turned to watch the man's retreating back just as one of the flanking guards collided with him. The large man snorted in disgust and pushed Brandon out of the way, muttering something unpleasant about floating trash.

"Dreadfully sorry, chap," Brandon managed and then looking down at the knife he now held in his hands before adding more pensively to himself, "I hope you won't be needing this to deal with your little problem." He knew his act of thievery had petty, but he felt both bored and irritable today and didn't care. With a smirk he watched the little angry mob march down the gallery and disappear around a corner. It had been briefly diverting but now they were gone and he was once again in need of entertainment. With a sigh, Brandon turned and walked through the open door of the curator's office.

 

[Leetah]

What will I do?

Elizabeth lay on the floor, her head still resting against the baseboard of the wall she had struck. Her skirt was sitting a bit higher than was proper, but at the moment, she did not even realize it. She could not move, so stunned was she by the blow. She could hear the footsteps coming closer and soon saw a skinny young man standing there, stooping over her. She could hear more footsteps headed their way, and she blinked, trying to clear her head, with little success. The young man asked her a question, but she could not understand him, and could only stare. A few moments later, he was joined by an older man, and two very large, threatening individuals, none of whom looked very happy. The older man pushed the younger aside, and looked down at her, frowning slightly. In heavily accented English, he asked "What has happened here?" Elizabeth managed to shift a bit, and struggled to sit up, feeling a wave of dizziness wash over her as she did so. The older man simply watched, but the younger was kind enough to reach out a hand and assist her, for which she gave him a shaky smile. The older man sighed impatiently, and repeated his question. "I....my purse....a man was following me and stole my purse. He had a knife..." "And you are alone here, why?" "I was with a group, but they moved on ahead of me. I've been trying to find them, but couldn't, then that man attacked me." The man gave a short nod to the menancing figures at his side and they moved away, apparently to search for Elizabeth's assailant. They soon returned, shaking their heads. One of them appeared to be furious, as he searched his garment, looking for something that apparently was not there.

The older man snorted in disgust, then turned back to the shaking young woman. "Where is group staying?" he asked. Elizabeth wrinkled her brow, and realized to her dismay, that she'd not gotten the name of the hotel, knowing she would be with the group at all times. "Oh dear...." she said, her voice trembling a bit "I'm afraid I don't know the name of the place." He stared at her for long moments, and then a gleam came into his eye, and he nodded again. "Come with me to my office. I am the curator of museum. We will see what we can do to help." Feeling relieved that he was going to be more helpful than he first seemed, Elizabeth offered him a smile as well, which he returned. She did not notice that it did not reach his dark eyes, nor that he had a very crafty look on his face, as if planning something unpleasant. Instead, she felt better, for as her head cleared, she was begining to realize just what a predicament she was truly in. She had no way of contacting her group, and now she had no money or passport either. All she had was the clothes on her back at the moment. The younger man helped her to her feet, and she thanked him, then followed the curator toward his office.

At the door, he stopped for a moment. "What is name, please?" he asked. "Elizabeth Everett, Sir." "Very good. Take Miss Everett to lounge....get her cup of tea," he instructed the large men, who smirked at him and nodded, escorting her to another room down the hallway. Inside the room, there was a brocade sofa and a few chairs, with another couple of door leading off into other rooms. One of the men stood at the door, while the other made the tea for her. She did not see the drops that were put into the cup, and merely took it gratefully when he handed it to her. After she took a sip and thanked him, the two men left as silently as they had come. The tea was very refreshing and tasted different, but good. Elizabeth sipped thirstily, still trying to collect herself. She hoped that the curator, whose name she suddenly realized she did not know, would be able to find her group soon.

Setting the now empty cup on a nearby table, Elizabeth sighed tiredly. Her head ached slightly from the bump she'd received, and she still felt very shaken. As she sat there, she began to feel very drowsy, and she leaned into the corner of the sofa, waiting to hear something. She found herself falling into a daze, not asleep, and still aware of what was going on around her, but unable to move. At that moment, she heard the door open.

 

[John Shadow]

The matter of an outstanding debt...

The office was a palatial room. Rich rugs covered most of the marble floor. Pillars of matching stone with gilded capitols stood between hangings of silk brocade. Immense pierce work lanterns hung from the panelled ceiling. The furnishings were of deeply carved dark hardwoods. The chairs were upholstered in green leather. Brandon dropped the knife on a hardwood side table beside a crystal decanter, walked behind the magnificent desk at the far end of the room and removed a revolver from the long centre drawer before returning to the side table. With a grin he poured himself a tall drink and retired to a wing back chair in the corner of the room to await the inevitable return of the curator.

Between sips, Brandon amused himself by removing the bullets from the gun, placing them in his right jacket pocket and replacing them with shells from his left. When done he drained his glass, returned the revolver to the desk drawer and was in the process of refilling the glass when the curator returned.

The first words out of the man's mouth were unintelligible. Brandon looked over his shoulder and courteously enquiring, "Care for one, your excellency?"

The curator's face deepened several shades of red. "How dare you invade my office and drink my scotch," was all he could manage in his rage. Behind him the two guards loomed large and menacing.

"Well, your English is improving even if your accounting is not," Brandon answered smoothly as he turned back to replace the stopper in the decanter. "You have yet to pay me for any of it and so, by my reckoning, this scotch is mine. Thus the reason for my visit. I don't mind sharing a bottle or two with a friend but three cases seems excessive and you are no friend of mine."

"You have my word!"

"I would rather have your money," Brandon turned and retorted. "Actually, it's Eric more than me. He's such an impatient fellow. You remember Eric? Big fellow? Thinks he's a viking? No sense of humour?"

One of the guard's cast a nervous glance around the office.

"Ah yes," Brandon continued. "I see you do."

"Get out of my office!" the curator bellowed.

Ignoring the man's outburst, Brandon walked back to the wing backed chair and dropped casually into the seat. From this vantage point he smiled back at the knot of men by the door. The curator's expression was beyond description. Brandon considered several but in the end decided that words could not capture the fury seething on the man's countenance. The faces of the guards revealed an altogether different tableau of emotions. Pride, concern and fear vied for dominance. Fear of Eric. Concern that the curator would order them to attack, thus incurring Eric's wrath. Pride that required they maintain a fearless façade. The one missing his knife looked particularly nervous.

"The sad truth is I am here in the capacity of a bill collector."

The curator stormed into the middle of the room and stood defiantly before his unwanted guest. He announced, "It is beneath me to haggle about money like some seller in the market."

"Particularly, when you have no money. In any case, I did not come here to haggle. We had an agreed price and I am here to collect it."

"You have my word."

"I believe we just discussed that. We seem to be moving in circles." Brandon looked down into his glass as though deep in thought and then continued, "Of course we might be willing to take something in trade. Perhaps one of your golden trinkets form the display cases."

"That is completely out of the question! Those are not mine to give away?"

"But they are yours to sell."

"What!" the curator bellow, his face suddenly loosing much of its colour. He spun to face the guards.

"Get out!" he spat at them, "And close the door!"

"Oh dear," Brandon commented, rising to fill his glass again. "I do seem to have upset you. I am surprised. From what I have heard...."

"WHAT have you heard?"

 

[Leetah]

Time goes by so slowly...

Elizabeth felt a bit of panic, as she attempted to move her body, to shift in some way, and could not. She was aware that footsteps were moving toward her, but she couldn't turn her head to see who was approaching her. She had not closed her eyes, so she was able to see the person that had entered the room, when he stepped into her line of vision. It was the curator's young assistant. He had been sent to check on her by one of guards, to make certain that the drug she had been given was not too strong. She watched as he leaned in, and placed his fingers against her throat lightly, and then on her wrist, checking her pulse. Then he leaned in and looked at her eyes, lifting one eyelid, appearing to check them as well. Seeming satisfied at last, he gave her a slight smile and spoke to her, his English accented somewhat but much easier to understand than his employer. "Miss Everett, I am happy to see you are not injured. I'm certain you are wondering what is going on and why you are unable to move." He paused for a moment, studying her face, then continued. "If you haven't figured it out by now, you've been given a drug. You will continue to be aware of your surroundings and all that is happening to you, while under its influence, but you will not be able to respond in any way, other than closing your eyes, as long as it is in your system."

Elizabeth felt another surge of panic, wondering why they would drug her, and just what it could mean. The young man seemed happy enough to inform her. "You see, lovely young American women such as yourself, are very prized and desired here in our country. There are many who would pay a small fortune to have you as part of their....family. When the opportunity presents itself, such as your misfortune today, we take advantage of that and have another treasure to share with someone. Perhaps even several someones, depending on who offers the highest price. So you see, you have done us a great favor, and our curator is most pleased." He paused again, still watching her face, seeming to be able to read the horror and outrage that she was unable to express.

"I am quite sure that if you could speak, you would have much to say. Let me assure you, if the museum did not need funds so greatly, I'm quite certain that many of us would never be willing to sell young ladies into slavery or worse, but we do what we must to survive. This country is not kind to those who are weak." His voice grew bitter on the last sentence, and his slight smile disappeared. "You shall be kept here until the curator is ready for you to go with your new Master, whoever that might be. We shall keep you fed and comfortable, and Josefina will come once a day to attend to your toilette. You will feel the drug begin to wear off at that time, so that you will be able to assist her with your bath and the needs of your body, but do not be mistaken. You will not be capable of flight. Then we will administer the drug again, until the time comes for you to leave us." He walked into one of the rooms, then came back with a light blanket, then removed her shoes, shifting her body very gently so that she was now lying down on the sofa. He then covered her with the blanket. "I suggest you get some rest, Miss Everett. I don't know how long you will be with us, but the drug can make you very tired. Someone will be back later to check on you." With that final statement, she heard him leave the room.

Elizabeth lay there on the sofa, stunned and frightened by what she had been told. She tried with all her might to move something besides her eyelids, but the man had spoken the truth. It was impossible for her to make her body respond in any way. She wondered what they would tell her tour group, and what Aunt Alice would be told. Would she simply be another young girl that had vanished in a foreign country, never to be heard from again? She felt lost and alone, not knowing what she would do. She had very little knowledge of anything carnal, so sheltered had her life been, so fortunately for her, she did not dwell on what it could mean to be 'owned'. Finally, exhaustion from the drug and fear overtook her, and her eyes closed in spite of her worries.

 

[John Shadow]

A proposal

"Perhaps we should consider other options for settling this. Perhaps a joint business venture. A very lucrative ..."

"Go into business with you?" Brandon exclaimed, scarcely able to contain his astonishment and amusement. "Are you mad or do you think I am?"

"Please..."

"I love it when you beg."

The angry colour returned to the curator's face but he continued with a level tone. "You would make back all that is owed to you and a handsome profit!"

"And why would I want to go to all the trouble of earning money already owed to me?" Brandon placed the now empty crystal glass on the arm of his chair where it balanced precariously. The curator watched the movement as though mesmerized.

"Because I am offering you more money than you could make in a year!"

"And illegal."

"No...but not without risks."

"And what is this lucrative business exactly?"

The curator paused and Brandon could see a mixture of emotions play across his face. Finally, "Discretion prevents me from..."

"Then you can discuss the entire matter with Eric." Brandon rose suddenly, dislodging the glass balanced on the arm. He watched with something like disappointment as it bounced and rolled across the surface of the thick carpet.

"Alright!" the curator bellowed, his eye fixed on the glass gleaming in the middle of the floor. "I need to move a cargo."

"What kind of cargo?"

"A person in need of discreet transport."

Brandon snorted and shook his head. "So now you want me to smuggle a criminal out of the city."

"No! Not a criminal! You have my word."

"Yes I do and it has proven worthless so far."

The curator's colour deepened at the insult but he kept his tone level, ''She is no criminal. She is a sad case, much afflicted by the sleeping sickness. Her guardian is a wealthy man and will pay almost anything to have her brought to him. He is a great friend of mine. Even now my staff is caring for her. Come, I will show you."

With that the curator lead the way through a side into a chamber beyond. Brandon followed only out of a mild curiosity, sure that whatever the curator had in mind he wanted no part of it. Still, it was worth a look...

 

[Leetah]

What to do....what to do

Elizabeth came back to wakefulness slowly, feeling muddled at first, then gradually remembering where she was. She realized there was someone in the room with her again, and opened her eyes, to find a woman's face staring into her own. ~This must be Josefina~, she thought, and as the woman, who appeared to be in her 30s began to tug the blanket off of her body, Elizabeth guessed that she was correct. The woman did not speak to her, but busied herself pulling the girl to a sitting position, her face expressionless. The drug had indeed worn off, to a small measure, just as the man had told her, but Elizabeth quickly saw that he had been telling the truth about the effects on her movements. She felt sluggish and was barely able to stand, even with Josefina's help. The woman quietly and quickly escorted her to the powder room, where she motioned for her to attend to her 'personal' needs, as she drew a bath for her charge.

As soon as the bath was ready, the woman quickly stripped Elizabeth of her garments and led her to the tub, lifting her into the warm water with ease. She was much stronger than her slight form showed, and apparently she'd had much practice with this sort of task, for she went about it with practiced ease, washing away any grime that clung to the girl's skin and hair. Elizabeth felt much fresher when Josefina had finished, but no more able to move. When a knock sounded on the door, the woman scarcely looked up, so apparently the visitor was expected. A man entered the room, and he was one that Elizabeth had not yet seen. He was very handsome, in a cold sort of way, and obviously not a native of the country. He bore auburn hair, worn short, and his eyes were as green as her own. His face was all angles and he appeared to be in his 20s. Elizabeth was horrified that a strange man was now standing in the room, looking into the tub at her naked form, but of course, she could say or do nothing. Briefly his eyes met hers, and he raised an eyebrow, and gave a small nod. "Is she clean then?" he asked Josefina, and at her nod, said "Get her out and into the other room, so I can inspect her. Then you can dress her." There was a burr to his speech, an accent betraying a Scottish heritage. He left the room, and the woman silently lifted her from the tub, drying her, then wrapping her in a warm robe, and helping her back into the other room, where she pushed her back down onto the sofa.

The man had been standing beside one of the chairs, but now he joined Elizabeth, seating himself on the far end of the sofa, and speaking to her. "Well, Miss Everett, I trust you've gotten some rest then. I just need to do a quick inspection of your person, and we'll get your 'medicine' into you, then Josefina can dress you." He grinned without mirth at that statement, and Elizabeth would have shuddered, had she been able. Josefina had withdrawn into the bathroom, and she was left alone with this newcomer, who rose again and stood over her, looking her up and down. He had pulled out a small notebook, and was jotting things down as he looked, muttering to himself. "Hmmm....nice eyes, luscious mouth. Good, thick hair." He ran his fingers through it quickly to check.

His hands moved over the skin of her throat, and he turned her head from side to side, nodding. Then, without warning, he opened her robe and stood looking at her naked form. "Nicely porportioned...good skin tone....lovely breasts and thighs...." He reached out and rubbed a thumb over the pink tip of one breast, and Elizabeth felt a strange sensation course through her, as he watched her nipple spring to life, nodding again. "Sensitive nipples....always a good sign...." He looked into her eyes again, not seeming the least bit aroused by his perusal of her body. His manner was very clinical and professional, as if this were a matter of course to him. "I'm going to ask you a few questions, Miss Everett. Blink once for yes and twice for no. Are you a virgin?" Elizabeth was shocked by his bold question, and only widened her eyes. He laughed. "I'll assume that's a yes. Very good. That will up the price even more." He asked her several questions and soon had learned that she had very little experience in the ways of the world. He seemed satisfied in the end, and rose, leaving her body still exposed. She was able to turn her head slightly now, and saw that her things were now in the room.

The man quickly went through them, seeing what she had in the way of clothing and toiletries and nodded. He seemed to do that a lot. He gave a final glance to the young girl. "This will do well enough. Now, time for your dose...." He reached into a drawer in one of the tables, and took out a small vial, filled with a clear liquid. As if she had heard a signal, Josefina re-entered the room, and came over to stand at Elizabeth's head. The man walked back over, and the girl was quite frightened by the look in his eyes, for though her body seemed to do nothing for him, the idea of drugging her seemed to please him greatly. "This won't take long..." His green eyes gleamed as Josefina tilted the girl's unwilling head back. Trying to fight them, Elizabeth clamped her lips shut, but he simply laughed and gestured to the woman, who reached out and pinched the girl's nostrils tightly, until she was forced to open her mouth to breathe. He then poured the liquid into her mouth, and massaged her throat, forcing her to swallow.

The drug had no taste, and Elizabeth could only feel a slight thickness as it slid down her throat. As soon as he was certain she'd swallowed it, he allowed Josefina to release her head. In seconds, Elizabeth felt her body going numb again, and she no longer had control of any muscles. Despair flowed over her, as he told Josefina to dress her, and left the room without a backwards glance. Just as the woman had clad her in some lacy underthings that were definitely not hers, she heard the sounds of footsteps, and a door that she had not noticed before opened, allowing the curator and another strange man into the room.

 

[John Shadow]

Sleeping beauty

From the moment he walked through the door, Brandon saw only the woman on the bed. She lay languidly, clad only in lacy undergarments that emphasized more than hid her most private parts. His eyes explored her pale skin, felt the slow rise and fall of her breasts, and caressed the softness of her neck. He heard her silently whimper in the ecstasy at his ethereal touch. In a moment of sudden vanity, Brandon combed is fingers through short cropped dark hair and smoothed his rumpled white linen suit around his slender frame as best he could before walking over to sit beside the prone woman. Even limp as she was the woman glowed with health and vitality.

"Ah yes! A sad case. A victim of the sleeping sickness." Brandon looked up at the curator. "Do you take me entirely for a prat, sir!"

''I thought you where a man of the world and understood that some things are better not spoken of openly."

"I see," Brandon reached out and touched the skin of that perfect neck, allowing his hand to wander downwards to cup one of the lace covered breasts. It was round and firm and perfectly formed. He squeezed it fondly, enjoying the youthful firmness of the flesh. "And have you found he uncle yet?"

"No, but I am confident that he will be found next week. I have friends arriving and I am sure her uncle will be found amongst them.''

"And you need me to transport her to where her perspective uncles are gathering."

"Yes, indeed."

"I see. Aside from her unfortunate illness, is she ... undamaged?"

''Undamaged?" the curator looked uncertain and Brandon thought, 'Your game not mine old man.'

"Is she whole?"

''Ah!" the light dawned, an unholy light that filled the man's eyes and gave Brandon an urge to hit the old lecher."I do not know. The doctor was to look into such things."

"Because she is so ill."

"Yes."

"Well," Brandon pronounced, "we have no need of a doctor to determine her condition."

Without further comment he wet his middle between his lips and dropped the hand between the woman's legs. Pulling the lacy panties aside with a deft motion, he inserted his finger between the soft folds causing the curator to start forward in alarm.

"Don't worry partner, I won't damage the package>"

"Partner! I said no such thing!" the curator was outraged at his presumption.

Brandon chuckle, slowly removing his finger from within her and trailing it up along the valley of her sex before returning it to his lips for a kiss. He looked down into her eyes. She was a lovely thing, watching him with wide eyes even though she could not respond to him. He leaned forward as though to kiss her but whispered instead as his lips brushed her ear, " Your virginity will keep you safe for the moment. They well not wish to damage so valuable a thing before your are sold. It is enough time." And then the curator was upon them, gripping Brandon's shoulder in a rage and pulling him away.

"You have no right!" he bellowed.

"I think it may be a poor time to speak of rights. Keep your hands to yourself and speak only of money." And with those words Brandon rose to his feet and straightened himself to his full six feet, looking down on the curator with all the menace he could summon.

 

[Leetah]

Heaven help me!

When the two men entered the room, Josefina stopped in her dressing of her young charge, and stepped back silently, allowing them full view of Elizabeth's scantily clad from. The girl burned with the shame of being seen almost naked by strangers, particularly with them being male. The man that she did not know was very handsome, she could scarcely help but notice, and very tall. He had dark hair, cut close in a style that suited him, somehow, and his white suit fit his form nicely. She watched as his eyes roamed her slim body, trembling inwardly, as she could almost feel their weight upon her flesh. Had she been able to move, Elizabeth would have been covering herself from those burning eyes, particularly when he moved closer to the bed where she lay helpless.

Elizabeth could tell from listening to the newcomer that he did not like the curator at all, but she felt no more comfortable with him, when his slightly roughened fingertips slid over the tender skin of her throat and began caressing her breast. She was shocked at his forwardness, as no man had ever done more than kiss her or hold her hand at the very most. She felt a slight twinge of surprise mixed in with her fear when her small nipple became turgid at his touch. She could scarcely concentrate on the conversation between the two men, mostly conscious of the warmth of his hand through the thin satin of the bra she wore. She dimly realized that this newcomer had been told she was ill in some way, and that he was apparently to be in charge of her at some point. Had she been able to scream, she certainly would have at the next moment, when she saw him wet a finger between his lips and push her legs apart, then felt his hand invade her most private regions.

Inwardly, Elizabeth gasped in outrage and surprise; inwardly she screamed her fear, but outwardly, her eyes were all that could 'speak'. The emerald orbs were riveted on the man's face, as he delved deeply inside her warmth, until she felt him lightly touching the inside of her womanhood, and then slowly withdraw his finger, tracing along her cleft as he removed his digit from inside her. She had to admit, he had not hurt her at all; in fact, it had only felt strange and even a bit pleasurable, although she would die before she would admit to that. Her eyes were wide, showing every emotion she was feeling, and she did not like the fact that this man seemed to sense her feelings and did not seem in the least repentant for his actions. She watched him touch the finger to his lips, letting them slide over it in a sensual kiss, that left her feeling very strange again. He was leaning in toward her, and she had the insane desire for him to kiss her lips, but instead she felt his mouth upon her ear.

"Your virginity will keep you safe for the moment. They will not wish to damage so valuable a thing before you are sold. It is enough time." Elizabeth could not imagine what he was refering too, so befuddled was she by now. He made no move to back away from her, until the curator suddenly pulled him from her and was shouting at him. "You have no right!"

"I think it may be a poor time to speak of rights. Keep your hands to yourself and speak only of money."

Elizabeth watched as the man pulled himself to his full height. He was very tall, and the tone of quiet menance in which he spoke, made her shiver inside. She felt cold chills dance up and down her spine, as she watched the two men facing off. She was afraid of both of them, knowing that the older man had every intention of giving her, or rather selling her, to some unknown person for the good Lord only knew what, but the younger man seemed ready for anything, and very dangerous. As they had stepped away, Josefina walked over and chose a dress to put on the girl, and once again, Elizabeth saw it was not her own. This was a lovely lace dress, a pale pink colour, that brought out her lips and cheeks, and bared her shoulders, as it showed off her small waist. Patiently, the woman ignored the two men, who appeared to be ready to start growling at one another like mad dogs. She had obviously seen sights like this before, so she simply concentrated on getting her charge dressed, then she began brushing the thick, golden locks, still ignoring the men.

Knowing these two were now in charge of her fate, Elizabeth waited with bated breath to see what would be the outcome of the battle of wills.

 

[John Shadow]

Brandon looked his assailant in the eye while a nasty smile spread across his lips. There was a lot of money at stake and a great deal of risk. If the curator was discussing it with him, the greasy old man was desparate. They both understood that. The only question remaining was, how desparate.

"Half," Brandon offered.

"Half!" the curators eyes threatened to burst from their sockets. "Half! Are you mad? Half? I would not offer family so much."

"I believe that."

"Five percent, no more, and at that I am being generous."

"I could loose my ship over this and you expect me to take five? I am risking more in this than you. Perhaps I could get a better price for less risk right here in the city. Perhaps someone else would pay well to have their beauty back."

"Oh, that would be very risky," the curator hissed. "Very risky!"

"Then settle on forty and avoid the risk on both sides."

"Fifteen and I have never offered more to any captain."

"You need my ship. Without my ship there is no percentage for either of us. Thirty-five."

"There is a harbour full of ships. A fifth."

"Not if you are speaking to me. A quarter, no less!"

The curator ground his teeth and turned as if to leave. There he stood, his back to Brandon as he fumed silently. They both knew that the curator needed to make this deal but he would never part with a quarter. At length an idea came to the old man. He turned back with a smile splitting his face.

"Well," he began, "there may be a way we can resolve this. You are a man who likes to gamble, are you not? Let cards
decide the matter. If I win you carry my cargo without charge. If you win you receive a quarter of the profits. Agreed?"

''If I loose I receive five percent. If I win thirty."

"No!" the curator stated emphatically. "A quarter or nothing."

"Then nothing," Brandon stated flatly and pushed past his nemisis on the way to the door. "Except what Eric will collect tonight."

"Alright! If you loose I will pay you the sum of the original debt."

"At eight then," Brandon said without breaking stride. "I will bring the cards."

And he was gone.

 

[Leetah]

What next?

Elizabeth lay, listening to the men argue, not quite understanding the entire conversation, but she did understand that the newcomer was a ship's captain, and that the curator seemed to be very uncomfortable at the mention of someone named 'Eric'. She wondered what there was about him that made even a reprehensible character like the curator nervous, and it did not make her feel any more at ease to think of this person coming around. She realized that the men had come to an understanding of sorts; that apparently they would gamble to settle this matter between themselves. The younger man left with a suddeness that was startling, as the older man watched him, then began cursing as soon as the door closed behind him. Throughout the exchange, Josefina had stood silently by, as soon as she had finished with her charge. She continued to stand there, watching as the angry man paced up and down the room, continuing his unintelligble tirade, obviously against the man that had just left. Elizabeth also heard the name 'Eric' again in his ravings. After a bit, he stopped directly in front of the bed, and looked down at her, his face flushed red from his rantings.

"Consider yourself lucky, Miss Everett," he said grimly "That you are worth far too much to me undamaged. Otherwise....." He paused, a leer coming back into his eyes, and he moved over to her, sliding a plump hand up her thigh, letting it rest on her hip. "Otherwise," he continued "My men and I would be enjoying your precious charms this night. You have never seen a man naked, have you Miss Everett? Sweet little virgin that you are, I am sure, no. Perhaps we should change that...." He gazed at her speculatively, seeming to regain some of his good humour, and he turned and motioned to Josefina, who walked over to him without comment. "Yes, my Sweet One, let us show Miss Everett what a real man can do, eh?" He laughed and pulled the completely willing woman over to the bed, and moved Elizabeth's head, so that her eyes would be directly upon the joining of his body with the woman's. The girl felt ill, as she watched him unzip his fly and pull out his engorged member, pushing Josefina forward and flipping up her skirts, to expose her to him. The young girl caught an unfamiliar aroma in the air, as the horrid man thrust into the now moaning Josefina, who seemed to be thoroughly enjoying his attention. She wanted to close her eyes, but was afraid to, fearing her imagination would make things more frightening than reality.

"Do you like what you see, Little Virgin?" The curator huffed and puffed as he thrust again and again between the woman's thighs. "Soon enough, you'll get to experience a man's touch...a man's cock." The word was harsh to Elizabeth's ears, and now she did close her eyes, and heard him laugh as he gave a final thrust and then yelled out his orgasm. Josefina had been moaning, but as soon as he finished, she became silent again. In a moment, Elizabeth felt his fleshy fingers on her cheek. "Open your eyes, you silly girl, I am finished now. You have nothing to fear....for now." The girl did so only to find his member hanging limp before her face. She would have shrieked, had she been able to, and it must have shown in her eyes, for he roared with laughter at her. "Now you know what a satisfied man looks like! Soon, you shall see many, I am sure." He laughed again, patted Josefina on the behind and told her to clean herself up, then put himself to rights, after using a hanky to clean himself. Looking at the helpless girl one more time, he moved over to the bed and ran his hands slowly across her breasts, licking his lips as he did so. "Yes, you are truly delicious. Alas, I must leave you now, to prepare for my....guest. Rest now, for you shall need it."

With these parting words, he finally left the room. Elizabeth wished she could shudder, feeling dirty from his touch and from what she had witnessed. She wondered if she would remain drugged after she was sold, so that she would be helpless when given to a man, and not be able to fight him. How horrible that would be, to have no way to stop anyone from using her however he pleased, or as much as he pleased. Of course, she had very little idea of just how depraved men might be, and had she known, she would have wanted to curl up and die on the spot. Josefina came back into the room, looking a bit fresher. She glanced at her charge, seemed satisfied with what she saw, and after re-positioning Elizabeth's head to a more comfortable spot, she left the room as well, leaving the girl alone with her dark thoughts and fears.

 

[John Shadow]

Eric the unhappy viking

Eric sat on a crate at the end of the pier bent intently over this wittling. The blade in his left hand made slow, purposeful movements as it removed shavings from the emerging figure of an angel. The thing looked ridiculously delicate in his hand. Eric was a big man, the largest Brandon had ever seen. Towering to nearly seven feet and barrel chested, the man rippled with muscle. His face, now set in the stoney lines of irritated concentration Brandon had come to know well, had a rough chiselled nordic charm. A Brandon watched the other man looked up and noticed him. At once Brandon felt the force of intellect behind those ice blue eyes and at once he felt like an errant school boy caught playing hookie. The big man watched him approach. The face, skin still pale despite a decade in the African sun, remained void of emotion. When Brandon was near enough for easy conversation, the big man began with a single question, "Do you have it?"

"No.''

"No!" The violent downward stroke of his arm seemed to propell his body upwards with equally explosive force. The point of the knife was driven a full inch into the planking of the pier. With one fluid movement the giant was within an arm's reach of Brandon. "What does 'No' mean?"

"The same thing it always has Eric," Brandon replied wearily.

"Then I will collect the money!"

"Yes," Brandon conceded. "but not until tonight after the game."

''What game?"

"Poker."

''No!" Eric leaned forward and glowered down. "No cards."

"But my dear fellow, the cards are not the point. We know that old weasel will cheat. That is the point. We catch him at the cheating. And then you can collect our money while I claim a beautiful bonus during the confusion."

Eric did not answer immediately. Instead he cocked his head in a manner that said quite eloquently, 'This is another fine mess you've gotten us into!"

 

[Leetah]

Poker in the front, Liquor in the rear

Time dragged by in Elizabeth's chambers very slowly. She had not thought she'd be able to sleep again, but she found that she had, indeed, dozed off for awhile, when she awoke to the sound of her door opening again. Josefina re-entered the room, followed by the assistant again. The woman came over and pulled the girl to a sitting position, allowing the man access to her thigh. She felt the sting of a needle, and in a few moments, found she could move again, on a limited basis. He smiled coldly at her, and said "Your....benefactor...wants you made ready for the night's festivities. Josefina will help you attend to any needs you might have, and then we shall....medicate you again." Elizabeth tried to speak, but found that was still not a possibility.

Without a word, the woman pulled Elizabeth to her feet, and maneuvered her back into the bathroom, assisting her with her most personal needs, then making certain that the young woman was spotlessly clean afterwards. She had Elizabeth clean her teeth and rinse her mouth, and then she led her back to the bed. Elizabeth so wanted to fight, to find the strength to run away, but it was useless. She could not even pull away from Josefina, much less go anywhere. Her eyes met the cold, dark ones of the assistant, and he offered a her mirthless smile, as if he could read her thoughts. He took the girl's arm with his own hand, and led her from the room, through the secret door, into the curator's office, where he led her over to a chair and sat her down.

Then, with deft fingers, he pulled the girl's lips apart and forced the new dose of the drug into her mouth, waiting until she swallowed to loosen his hold on her face. He nodded at Josefina, who had followed them into the room, and she brushed Elizabeth's hair out again until it was a gleaming mass of gold. The man stood back, looking at the young beauty critically. He reached out and adjusted the neck of her dress, so that her pale shoulders were bared nicely, and just the rounded top of each pert breast peeked out. Glancing at the clock on the wall, he spoke to Josefina, telling her she was finished for the night. Without a backward glance, the woman left, and Elizabeth was alone with the young man again.

"Ah, Miss Everett, I truly wish that I could afford to purchase you." He sighed regretfully. "I should so like to teach you the ways of men and how to please them. We have not seen a beauty to rival your own in a very long time, and I find that I hunger for you." The dark eyes gleamed as he moved closer to her, bending down and burying his nose in the crown of her hair. "You smell so very sweet. I would love to see the strands of your lovely golden hair spread over my thighs as you use those rose petal lips as they were intended....to give a man pleasure." He leaned down further, and pressed his mouth against her own, pushing his tongue between the softness of her lips and exploring her mouth. Elizabeth felt a hand cupping her left breast, caressing her through her clothing, and her heart began to pound wildly again. As suddenly as he had begun the assault, he pulled back, and straightened up. "Unfortunately, I cannot pursue this activity any further, although you shall join me in my thoughts later this night. For now, it is almost time for the games to begin."

As he finished speaking, the curator strode into the room, looking a bit fresher than he had earlier, as he had changed his clothes, but also looking very nervous, as he glanced at the clock. "Is our pretty prize ready?" he asked his assistant sharply, and when he was assured that she was, came over to give her a cursory glance. "Breathtakinly lovely....yes, she will set many mouths to watering....and other parts to swell, eh?" With a nasy laugh, he elbowed the other man, who joined in. Elizabeth sat there, feeling more and more ill, each time one of them touched her in any way. Would this torture never end, or would it simply get worse?

Just then, the clock chimed eight, and as the last chime died away, there came a pounding on the door.

 

[Leetah]

Bump

bump bump bump



Leetah

 

[John Shadow]

A Game of Chance

Brandon cast a sideways glance at his companion. There were times when Eric seemed indifferent to the distinction between knocking on a door and knocking it down. Impatiently the giant raised his fist again and pounded three times on the planks. The wood shuddered with each impact . The sound inside must have been deafening. Eric was raising his hand for a third assault when the door exploded inward to reveal one of the museum guards, red faced and hunch-shouldered like a bull prepared to charge. Then his eyes focussed on Eric and he fell back a step.

"l am glad you found your knife again, old fellow!" Brandon commented as he pushed past the man. "Oh, do stop glaring at Eric and lead the way."

The guard looked at Brandon as though noticing him for the first time, seemingly uncomprehending. The man's head snapped around when Eric barked at him in his own desert dialect. The guard gave a gruff response but the voice seemed strangled as the man fought to retain composure. The man had good cause the fear Eric. A previous disagreement over payment had ended with a scuffle in the curator's office. Eric had broken the arm of one guard and the leg of another. Four reinforcements arrived just as Eric had sent his third victim slumping to the floor unconscious. The sight of the gigantic north man standing over a crumpled trio of guards did nothing to reassure the newcomers but it was the curator himself who added the final touch to the scene.

Eric had heard the rattle as the man pulled his revolver from the desk drawer. Spinning to face the new threat, the blond giant had dropped into a crouch just as the curator fired. Two rounds had struck Eric in the chest, both embedding themselves harmlessly in a book carried in the breast pocket of the big man's coat. Then, mercifully, the gun had jammed. Enraged beyond words, the blond menace had lunged at the curator. Only the substantial mass of the desk had delayed Eric long enough to allow the curator to escape through a side exit.

Standing in stupefaction at the entrance, the four newly arrived guards had watched as Eric overturned the desk and flew at the oak door closing behind the retreating curator. His bulk had torn the barrier from its hinges. Dragging his victim from behind door and holding him in mid-air by the lapels, Eric had proceeded to shake the wretch like a rag doll. Only Brandon's intervention had saved the man from permanent injury. Throughout the affair, the curator had been screaming for help but Eric's size, his obvious rage, and his apparent invulnerability to all weapons held the men at bay. He was covered in blood, his own from half a dozen shallow knife wounds and that of the previous three unfortunates that lay crumpled at his feet.

Realizing his dire situation, the curator had begun pleading for his life while Eric shook him and bellowed insults. Brandon, concerned that his compatriot might actually kill the man, had tried to intervene only to be swatted away and trip over a cash box that had fallen from the overturned desk. Seeing the treasure chest, Eric had thrown the curator aside and claimed the box as his own. The guards had only scuttled out of the way as Eric left the room with his prize, despite the hysterical protests of their employer. Now, facing one of the same guards a year later, Eric glowered down at the man as though he were examining an insect. With a shove, Eric sent the man back a pace where terror and fury struggled across his features for supremacy. Terror won. A moment later, Brandon and Eric were ushered into the disapproving presence of the curator.

"What is he doing here?" the fat man had demanded of Brandon. "l will not have him here!"

"Fine," Brandon replied as he walked past into the office. "You tell him to leave. I need a drink. Ahhh, and I see our lost lamb has joined us."

Convinced that he now had at least part of the curator's attention, Brandon proceeded to pour himself a drink and wander off in the direction of the young woman in the chair. The old man's head pivoted back and forth as he tried to keep both his guests in view. Brandon came to stand beside the chair where the captive sat. Her flush of fresh beauty made his ache but Brandon thrust those thoughts aside for the moment. Now was not the time for Eric and his host to come to blows. Brandon needed to distract them both. With a sigh of satisfaction, the rogue reached down the front of the young woman's gown and grasp her right breast. It was soft, warm, and a smoother than anything Brandon could remember. As his fingers came to rest below the fold between the breast and her ribs, he squeezed the flesh slightly and felt the nipple harden against his palm. As the soft flesh rippled between the rhythm of his fingers Brandon leaned forward to whisper in her ear, "Forgive the intrusion, my dear, but this is necessary and I hope not entirely unpleasant. We should have you on your way soon."

A moment later Brandon has torn from his licentious activities and thrown across the room. When he recovered himself, he found Eric leaning over him red faced with one finger aimed pointedly at the card table.

"Oh yes, of course old fellow. Cards before pleasure. I quite take your point."

 

[Leetah]

Dear dear, what can the matter be?

Elizabeth was certain the door would go flying off of its hinges any minute and come crashing into the room where they waited, so hard had the knocking been. If she had been able to, she would have thrown her hands up to her ears to cover them, but as it was, she simply had to endure. She watched as one of the burly men that she had seen earlier, and had not even noticed was in the room, moved forward and passed out of sight for a few moments. She heard sharp voices, and then the man walked back into the room followed by the handsome stranger from earlier and a scowling giant of a man. Elizabeth had never seen a human being quite that large before, and was so caught up in looking at him, she heard nothing of the conversation taking place near her. He looked like a Viking, only dressed in modern clothing, and he was completely terrifying.

Suddenly the handsome man was standing in front of her, drawing her eyes back to him and away from the huge newcomer. Once more, the scoundrel had the audacity to touch her. She felt his hand slide into the neck of her bodice and down to grasp her breast, brushing against the nipple and causing it to become taut against his palm. She felt a fluttery sensation in the pit of her stomach and a tingling between her thighs. She wanted to be furious with him, and was, but at the same time she could not deny the feel of his hand was not entirely unpleasant. Then his lips brushed her ear softly. "Forgive the intrusion, my dear, but this is necessary and I hope not entirely unpleasant. We should have you on your way soon." She tried to make her eyes shout at him, to blister his flesh with her gaze, since she could not scream at him with her voice, but in a moment, she lost her chance, for he was suddenly gone.

Elizabeth realized that the giant had literally ripped him from her body, so quickly that some of the threads of her bodice gave way, and now her bosom was even more exposed. She watched as the man that had been touching her shook himself a bit, as if to collect his wits, and saw the angry Viking leaning over him, pointing toward the table, a dark red flush covering his face. "Oh yes, of course old fellow. Cards before pleasure. I quite take your point." Did that mean he intended to take liberties with her again after the card game, she wondered. The assistant to the curator moved over by her chair, and adjusted her bodice to show even more cleavage, so that now only the barest bit of her lovely breasts remained covered. He reached down and adjusted her hips, so that her legs were parted and the man, or men, that were facing in her direction from the table would be able to gain a glimpse of the lace-covered treasure that lay beneath her skirts.

Elizabeth was mortified, and longed to cover herself, but knew she was at their mercy until her system was free of the hateful drug. She saw that the curator seated himself where he could keep an eye on both her and the stranger, who was seated in direct view of her. The assistant stood by her chair, his fingers lightly resting on a bare shoulder, occasionally grazing her skin in a caress that swept downward to the upper swell of her breast, but went no further. The giant stood near his....friend? Partner? She didn't know. The burly guard had faded back into the woodwork, but all in the room were aware that he was nearby. The room was silent as the men measured one another, then the curator wiped his brow with a hankerchief, and offered drinks. When the libations had been served, the curator looked straight into the stranger's eyes and said "So...we play now, yes?"

 

[John Shadow]

Let the games begin

Brandon was finding it difficult to concentrate. Normally Eric's imposing presence behind him would have been a source of comfort. Today, however, the looming hulk made him feel decidedly uncomfortable and he knew the reason why: guilt. Brandon could not keep his eyes off the young woman opposite him or, more precisely, those intimate vistas now open to him. Even the lure of the cards provided little competition to the sight of silk soft white skin and despite his efforts to remain focused on the game he felt a rising stiffness in his groin. His mind began to wander. Fantasy became his reality.

He imagined her rising and sliding out of those revealing garments, her flesh gilded by candle light....

 

[Leetah]

bump

bumping for my partner



Leetah

 

[John Shadow]

Brandon could not keep his eyes off the young woman opposite him or, more precisely, those intimate vistas now open to his inspection. The lamp light burnished her pale skin to a light bronze. Brandon found himself thinking how it would glow under his hands as he rubbed oil across its surface. He could feel the warmth and the texture. His thumbs explored the topography below the surface: rolls of muscle, the delicate curve of bone, soft hollows between. Starting at the nape of her neck and working his way down, Brandon soothed the tension away.

With one hand he brushed her hair from the nape of her neck as the thumb and forefinger of his other kneaded the corded muscles bordering the spine down to her shoulders. At times his fingers would wander forward to brush the skin behind her ears, leaving streaks of fragrant oil as they moved. And with each movement a blush spread beneath his hands, flowing down her neck to mantle her shoulders. He kissed those shoulders and spread the balm of those kisses with the stroking of two gentle palms gliding across the shoulders to the upper arms, further downward with each caressing stroke. Now those shoulders were burnish red gold. Again he bent to kiss the delicate skin and as he did his hands swept down her arms and forward to cup two perfect globes of warmth. His finger rose up and met between. Then by slow inches his fingers crept outward and up. Inch by inch they spread the lubrication further. Feeling the rise of her chest more forceful with each moment, Brandon increased the pressure of his fingers.

A painful thud on his right shoulder brought Brandon back to reality.

"Bet," Eric rumbled into his ear.

 

[Leetah]

Whatever shall I do?

Elizabeth felt more and more helpless as the moments passed. The men all sat at the table, as if they were waiting for something. She wasn't certain what. The handsome one was staring at her, his eyes moving slowly over her body, as if he were drinking her in. She could almost feel the weight of his gaze on her skin, as if he were touching her. She found the idea was not unpleasant, although it was making her very nervous. The other men seemed to be watching him, so she assumed that he must be supposed to do something, but she wasn't certain what it was. The huge man that was standing behind him was looking grimmer by the moment, a frown seeming to be permanently etched into his brow. He exhaled a loud breath, but the other man did not even seem to hear, so focused was he on staring at her.

How she longed to shift, to cover herself, to get away from these dreadful people and be on her way, back to enjoying her freedom and her vacation. The assistant continued to stand beside her, stroking her as if she were a kitten, but now he was letting his fingers wander further than he had previously, and she felt the tips slide beneath her bodice and half-way down her breast. His touch seemed to burn her flesh like a brand, and it made her feel more ill than she had before. The curator turned his head and noticed what the younger man was doing, and gave him a brief nod, and then she felt the bodice being shifted even further down, still covering her breasts, but barely. She could feel the elastic of the dress pressing against her just above her nipples now, and she did make quite an erotic sight.

Suddenly, the giant brought his hand down hard on the shoulder of the handsome stranger. His deep voice filled the room, even as he spoke directly into the man's ear. "Bet." This was all he said, scowling at the other man. His associate shook himself slightly and looked at the cards in his hand. The curator's assistant had stopped his caressing of Elizabeth when the giant spoke, but now that all eyes were on the table, he spoke to her under his breath. "Please do excuse me, Miss Everett, but I find it necessary to touch you further. Your body is calling out to me, and I must answer. As the others are a bit preoccupied, I believe I can indulge myself for a bit." Now she felt his hand move down and cup her breast inside her clothing, and his thumb rubbed lightly over her nipple, causing it to harden involuntarily. It made her feel very strange. He slid his hand across her chest, still inside her dress, and caressed the other breast, in the same way. Still under his breath, he said "How I should love to fasten my lips over that sweet bit of flesh that is begging to be kissed....to be sucked...to be licked at this very moment. How I should love to press my mouth to the sweetness between your legs, Miss Everett, and drink the nectar that is yours and yours alone." He continued to touch her breasts, moving slowly from one to the other, making her nipples harder and harder, and causing a tingling to start between her thighs.

And the card game went on.

 

[John Shadow]

Mind games

Brandon watched the curator's assistant slipping his hand beneath the fabric of virgin's dress, caressing the breasts and nipples beneath. The woman's expression remained vacant, but there was something about her eyes that said she could feel everything. By contrast the assistant's eyes seemed empty, glassy and black. The thin man was greasy little serpent, though for all that more dangerous than his master. While the curator thought of himself as a man of propriety in his own twisted way, the assistant had no such delusions of self-righteousness. The assistant reveled in all manner of wickedness and was often the devil's voice in the curator's ear, prompting him to worse than he would have thought to do alone. Brandon would welcome any opportunity to pull the man's fangs. Perhaps that chance would be presented tonight. A wicked smile flickered across his lips as he fingered the cards. Yes, this evening would probably end badly. People were bound to be hurt.

For the moment, Brandon forced himself to focus on the card play. The libidinous fantasies of earlier were replaced by darker thoughts lurking at the back of his mind and as the thoughts boiled his play became more aggressive. Now he had eyes only for the table, determined to teach his opponent how a gentleman played cards and, if necessary, the consequences of cheating a gentleman. Coin of silver and gold flowed across the table in an uneven tide, driven by a torrent of cards. Brandon drank sparingly, against his custom, and Eric relaxed behind the chair, confident that his partner was now properly motivated.

 

[Leetah]

The Snake in the Garden

The assistant to the curator was truly a despicable young man, if truth be told. He had had a very unhappy childhood, but so had many others, and they had not turned out as cold and ruthless as Enrico Velendes. He had no feeling for anyone, nor anything, save wealth and his own hide. He was a handsome man, only 25, but he had become a powerful individual in his own right. He had 'helped' the curator of the museum much more than the older man would ever admit. He used people for what he could gain from them, and then discarded them. He was using the curator to make contacts in the underbelly of trade in Morocco and other places, and when he gained all he needed, he would most likely have the curator disposed of. For now, he played right into the man's hands, knowing just what to say and how to manipulate the older gent. He had seen many beautiful young women pass the same way that Miss Everett would, but none quite so fresh and lovely before. He wanted to possess her completely, to make her scream for release beneath him as he thrust into her unwilling body over and over again, until she became willing. He was enjoying himself thoroughly in molesting her, for he knew it was pure torture for a young virgin, as innocent as she truly was. He knew what the curator had done in front of her, and he only wished he could have been there to witness it, and perhaps even place his lips between her creamy thighs as she was forced to watch the passion unfolding in front of her unwilling eyes. He could almost taste her juices on his lips and tongue, imagining her becoming aroused despite herself at what she was witnessing and feeling.

Enrico glanced down at her, seeing that her eyes were fixed on the card game. He detected a slight flush to her cheeks, denoting her discomfort and a touch of arousal, although she probably had no idea what she was experiencing. He could feel her heartbeat increasing slightly as he continued to caress her breasts, slowly and teasingly. He knew if she had been able to move at that moment she would have been squirming by now at the almost certain sensations she had to be experiencing in her lower regions. He could sense the hopelessness in her as well, as if she were a fly in a spider's web, just wrapped up and waiting to be devoured. This only increased his own arousal, as he loved the power that he had over her. Seeing that the participants at the table were completely ignoring the two of them now, so intent were they on what they were doing, he felt safe in continuing his amusements. Although Elizabeth's bodice was already barely covering her nipples at this point, he gave it yet another tiny tug, and now the tops of her areolas became visible. One more tug would have her completely topless for all to view. He leaned in to her ear again, still caressing her soft flesh, her nipples as hard as diamonds now through the thin bra. Softly, he spoke against the delicate shell of her ear.

"Why, my dear Miss Everett, I do believe that you are enjoying my touch...or at least your lovely body is. Imagine if this" he rubbed his thumb hard across her right nipple "Were my tongue on you instead. How warm and wet it would feel, trailing across your succulent breasts, tasting you slowly until you begged for my mercy. How I would love to hear you beg me for your release as I pushed myself deep into you over and over again...and you would beg, my dear. Make no mistake about that." She would not turn her eyes from the card game, even when he leaned in front of her. She simply stared through him, but he saw a single tear slide from her eye and down her cheek. He gave a slight sniff and smiled. With a low growl to his voice now, he said "Now you are a woman in heat, Miss Everett. I can smell your arousal. Your body will betray you, even if you think you do not wish to be taken. What a prize you are and what a price you will bring!" He stood up straight again, and ceased speaking, but he did not cease touching her.

As for Elizabeth, she had tried to ignore him, and to maintain calm, but his words were frightening, and he was making her body behave strangely. Her nipples were tingling now, and she felt moisture between her thighs. Dimly, she realized that this was the way that a woman's flesh prepared itself for sexual liason with a man. He was forcing her to prepare herself for rutting, and it appalled her. What was even worse, is that she had no control over it. What he was doing did not hurt, and it was beginning to feel quite good. She couldn't help an image of a man's mouth on her breast from floating through her mind, when this evil young man described the sensation, but thankfully it was not his face she pictured. Instead, it was the now-preoccupied stranger at the card table, which was frightening in and of itself, as she knew nothing of him, other than he had not harmed her, and had given slight hints that he might help her, although she was still not certain. Still, the idea of being given to some strange man, who would be able to force her body to react this way, and make her desire a man in this way without her consent, was more unpleasant than she dared dwell on. She feared if she did, she would slide into insanity and be unable to escape if the opportunity ever presented itself.

Now Enrico grinned to himself, watching the thoughts flit through her eyes. Softly, he said "Perhaps Miss Everett, after your new owner has plucked your innocence, he will allow you to go to work in one of the...pleasure houses. The women there make tidy sums for their Masters, as they lie with man after man after man...if that is the case, then I can come and visit you some time and lie with you myself. What a time we will have. If not, perhaps I can persuade your Master to at least let me have you before you go away." With those terrifying words, he suddenly removed his hands from beneath her dress and ceased touching her, leaving Elizabeth more dazed and confused than she had been.

Then a voice cried out from the table!

 

[Leetah]

Bump

Bumping for my partner

 

[Leetah]

Bump

~Bumping for my very busy partner~



Leetah

 

[Leetah]

Bump

Bumping for my extremely busy partner



Leetah