Fossy
SEXPIOGENTUS
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The Georgia Peach II - All is Fair
- Thread starter Fossy
- Start date
Praefectus Praetorio
R.I.P. Brother of the Quill
Well. I must say, About time!
Warm her up. The best foreplay, right gals?
Somehow, if I were Tom, I'd think more of it.
The tension builds.
Fossy
SEXPIOGENTUS
Chapter 30 – The abandoned Union Camp at Lay’s Ferry, 10:30am May 17th 1864
Without having any inkling that William Quantrill was looking down on their camp this very minute, the Lieutenant continued with his use and abuse of the beautiful Catherine McCown.
Sampson raised his leg and planted his boot on the girl’s peachy, firm backside. Not too much pressure, just enough to let her feel the weight and maybe the grit on his sole, reminding her who had control.
He laid the bamboo cane between her legs, vertically and pressing to one side of her labia. Then he listened to the catches in her shaky breathing. Deftly, he shifted the cane to the other side, settling it into the fold between pussy and thigh, leaving it there while she was pinned down.
He said nothing, and that had to mess with her thoughts, make her wonder. She turned her head and opened that pretty mouth.
“What ...”
“Shush. No talking.”
Catherine closed her mouth, her mind focused on the new welts that had being raised on top of the older marks. How much it hurt, almost unbearably so …
After a while, he began to tap the cane from side to side, lightly hitting her inner thighs, her pussy, but not enough to hurt, just to stimulate. It took some time for her lips to swell, but when they did he began to tap directly over her slit. From the occasional flinch of her body beneath his boot, her clit was receiving some of the potency. Good.
A line of moisture welled and shone in the poor lighting. Sampson kept going, the hits varying in force and placement. She said nothing further but turned her head away as if ashamed he’d see something that she preferred he didn’t.
“Show me your face or I’ll strike you hard ... just here.” He angled the cane and tapped at her clitoris. After a gasp and a single exhale, she twisted to let him see her face again.
He leaned in and slipped a finger inside Catherine and hooked her pussy upwards, gave it a few tugs as if trying to lever her away from the box, despite the weight of his boot doing the opposite.
The girl gasped.
“Did you think I couldn’t do this?” he said quietly. “I can put my cane inside you and fuck you with it if I want. I can do anyth …”
His words were cut short, as the smug intonation became a gurgle. Catherine turned and saw Sampson’s wide eyes bulging, blood pouring from his throat as he fell by her side, and William standing over them both.
******
“William … Will … is it really you?” Catherine could hardly get the words out as her beau, the love of her young life stood before her and the now fatally cut Lieutenant Sampson.
“Catherine, what have they done to you?” Quantrill let his eyes roam over her naked body and it was in response to this that, Catherine, bizarrely given the circumstances and all that she had been through, assumed a modest demeanour. Her beau, was not her lover, not yet, and so this was the first time he had looked upon her naked form, a situation that should ordinarily have mortified the poor girl, but her relief at being rescued was so palpable that, after her initial response, she did not give the situation a second thought.
No sooner had William knelt and taken her into his arms, reaching for a nearby blanket with which she could cover herself, than the tent flap opened and in backed Tom Shepherd, his revolver giving off the final few bullets, all truly aimed at their intended targets.
“That’s the last of ‘em Will,” Shepherd grunted, more than a little breathless after the murder of a dozen Union soldiers, now numbering Lieutenant Sampson amongst them. Laying in a pool of his own blood just outside the tent was Sergeant Oak, who, even in death, still wore his final somewhat startled expression.
The erstwhile overseer of White Orchard turned into the tent just as Catherine had covered her naked body with the blanket, and she was able to see his face.
“Will …!” She cried in startled exclamation, her wide eyes clearly pointing out the man she considered to be her enemy.
“It’s okay Catherine,” Quantrill attempted to pacify her growing levels of agitation, “Tom has explained everything to me, all that those Union cowards made him do to you, and he is so very sorry. Ain’t that right Tom?”
“It sure is Will,” Shepherd’s smarmy tone was not fooling Catherine, not for one minute, but Quantrill would hear nothing of it.
“We need to leave here without any more delays. We have a horse each from their Coral, and weapons. Do you have clothes Catherine?”
The girl shook her head.
“Well we can get you togged up in army rags for now. We will head for White Orchard. We know that both armies are some way from there by now and so we should be safe. We can have you recover Catherine and then make our way into Missouri and then onto Kentucky.”
Chapter 31 – White Orchard Plantation, 4pm May 17th 1864
White Orchard had been a mass of looming silence when they arrived. Deserted, everyone gone. All the few remaining slaves had left … even Mary and the poor, abused Mercy. Catherine said a silent prayer as the three of them, William, the monstrous Shepherd, and herself, sat, mounted looking at the estate against the dramatic backdrop of the afternoon sun.
Catherine was dressed in a pilfered uniform, Union blue, colours that she must get out of as soon as possible. Sitting astride the horse was also not the most comfortable position for her to be in … but it was tolerable, it would have to be.
She was wary of Tom Shepherd, more than wary in fact. She knew that he had beaten her with relish and the look in his eyes told her that given half a chance he would do so again, and worse.
But for now, she was free of those monsters, away from Uncle Billy and back in the arms of William. Her suitor, her beau … could she also let him be her lover after everything that had happened?
Quantrill kicked his mare into a start and the three of them trotted the short distance to the main house.
******
Catherine put her hands either side of the iron tub and pushed herself upwards, the water dripping from her naked body. After Shepherd had sloped off back to his own cabin, her and William had eaten the best meal she had had in a long time, or so Pork and Peaches had seemed, washed down with perfectly chilled lemonade. The bath had then been filled with heated water and the thirty minutes she had spent in there had done more to ease her pain than anything else since the awful days that had transpired from the time when those soldiers arrived.
Towelling herself dry, Catherine found a smile playing on her lips. It was the first time she had smiled for a long time. In her mind there was only this moment, this night. The warmth of home, the delight of William being here, her enemies gone …
Though the spectre of Shepherd would never quite disappear, he had returned to his old outhouse, his personal space. With any luck he would have ridden away before morning came.
She had made a deal with herself … no thinking tonight. No thoughts of tomorrow or the day after, or even the war, and the fate of the country. She would force herself to put time on hold. Worrying doesn’t make tomorrow better, it only makes today worse. She wanted a single golden night before the hard decisions that she had to confront.
Catherine dried her hair, ran her fingers through the tangles, then stepped back and looked at herself. Naked. Body marked, cut … a few of the old sutures still there. Clear-eyed. No scent or lotion. Just her.
Would she let William in here tonight, her bedroom, her boudoir, the place where Sampson had first bound her in tight ropes? She knew the answer, of course she did. War time changed things. The events of the past few days changed things. She was no longer a Belle, a socialite debutant, who would be mortified to make a public faux pas. She would let him to share her bed. They would be making love.
It would be sweet, tender, and heart-rending.
Catherine still only wore a short towel when there was a knock on her door.
“Come in,” she knew it would be William.
When he came in, he simply stared at her. When she slowly let the towel drop, his knees almost gave way. She had been humiliatingly naked for so many days, in front of so many people, but being without clothes here and now, fed and cleaned, and displayed through her own volition before the man she wanted to be her lover … her first real lover … made her nudity feel so different.
To Be Continued ...
Without having any inkling that William Quantrill was looking down on their camp this very minute, the Lieutenant continued with his use and abuse of the beautiful Catherine McCown.
Sampson raised his leg and planted his boot on the girl’s peachy, firm backside. Not too much pressure, just enough to let her feel the weight and maybe the grit on his sole, reminding her who had control.
He laid the bamboo cane between her legs, vertically and pressing to one side of her labia. Then he listened to the catches in her shaky breathing. Deftly, he shifted the cane to the other side, settling it into the fold between pussy and thigh, leaving it there while she was pinned down.
He said nothing, and that had to mess with her thoughts, make her wonder. She turned her head and opened that pretty mouth.
“What ...”
“Shush. No talking.”
Catherine closed her mouth, her mind focused on the new welts that had being raised on top of the older marks. How much it hurt, almost unbearably so …
After a while, he began to tap the cane from side to side, lightly hitting her inner thighs, her pussy, but not enough to hurt, just to stimulate. It took some time for her lips to swell, but when they did he began to tap directly over her slit. From the occasional flinch of her body beneath his boot, her clit was receiving some of the potency. Good.
A line of moisture welled and shone in the poor lighting. Sampson kept going, the hits varying in force and placement. She said nothing further but turned her head away as if ashamed he’d see something that she preferred he didn’t.
“Show me your face or I’ll strike you hard ... just here.” He angled the cane and tapped at her clitoris. After a gasp and a single exhale, she twisted to let him see her face again.
He leaned in and slipped a finger inside Catherine and hooked her pussy upwards, gave it a few tugs as if trying to lever her away from the box, despite the weight of his boot doing the opposite.
The girl gasped.
“Did you think I couldn’t do this?” he said quietly. “I can put my cane inside you and fuck you with it if I want. I can do anyth …”
His words were cut short, as the smug intonation became a gurgle. Catherine turned and saw Sampson’s wide eyes bulging, blood pouring from his throat as he fell by her side, and William standing over them both.
******
“William … Will … is it really you?” Catherine could hardly get the words out as her beau, the love of her young life stood before her and the now fatally cut Lieutenant Sampson.
“Catherine, what have they done to you?” Quantrill let his eyes roam over her naked body and it was in response to this that, Catherine, bizarrely given the circumstances and all that she had been through, assumed a modest demeanour. Her beau, was not her lover, not yet, and so this was the first time he had looked upon her naked form, a situation that should ordinarily have mortified the poor girl, but her relief at being rescued was so palpable that, after her initial response, she did not give the situation a second thought.
No sooner had William knelt and taken her into his arms, reaching for a nearby blanket with which she could cover herself, than the tent flap opened and in backed Tom Shepherd, his revolver giving off the final few bullets, all truly aimed at their intended targets.
“That’s the last of ‘em Will,” Shepherd grunted, more than a little breathless after the murder of a dozen Union soldiers, now numbering Lieutenant Sampson amongst them. Laying in a pool of his own blood just outside the tent was Sergeant Oak, who, even in death, still wore his final somewhat startled expression.
The erstwhile overseer of White Orchard turned into the tent just as Catherine had covered her naked body with the blanket, and she was able to see his face.
“Will …!” She cried in startled exclamation, her wide eyes clearly pointing out the man she considered to be her enemy.
“It’s okay Catherine,” Quantrill attempted to pacify her growing levels of agitation, “Tom has explained everything to me, all that those Union cowards made him do to you, and he is so very sorry. Ain’t that right Tom?”
“It sure is Will,” Shepherd’s smarmy tone was not fooling Catherine, not for one minute, but Quantrill would hear nothing of it.
“We need to leave here without any more delays. We have a horse each from their Coral, and weapons. Do you have clothes Catherine?”
The girl shook her head.
“Well we can get you togged up in army rags for now. We will head for White Orchard. We know that both armies are some way from there by now and so we should be safe. We can have you recover Catherine and then make our way into Missouri and then onto Kentucky.”
Chapter 31 – White Orchard Plantation, 4pm May 17th 1864
White Orchard had been a mass of looming silence when they arrived. Deserted, everyone gone. All the few remaining slaves had left … even Mary and the poor, abused Mercy. Catherine said a silent prayer as the three of them, William, the monstrous Shepherd, and herself, sat, mounted looking at the estate against the dramatic backdrop of the afternoon sun.
Catherine was dressed in a pilfered uniform, Union blue, colours that she must get out of as soon as possible. Sitting astride the horse was also not the most comfortable position for her to be in … but it was tolerable, it would have to be.
She was wary of Tom Shepherd, more than wary in fact. She knew that he had beaten her with relish and the look in his eyes told her that given half a chance he would do so again, and worse.
But for now, she was free of those monsters, away from Uncle Billy and back in the arms of William. Her suitor, her beau … could she also let him be her lover after everything that had happened?
Quantrill kicked his mare into a start and the three of them trotted the short distance to the main house.
******
Catherine put her hands either side of the iron tub and pushed herself upwards, the water dripping from her naked body. After Shepherd had sloped off back to his own cabin, her and William had eaten the best meal she had had in a long time, or so Pork and Peaches had seemed, washed down with perfectly chilled lemonade. The bath had then been filled with heated water and the thirty minutes she had spent in there had done more to ease her pain than anything else since the awful days that had transpired from the time when those soldiers arrived.
Towelling herself dry, Catherine found a smile playing on her lips. It was the first time she had smiled for a long time. In her mind there was only this moment, this night. The warmth of home, the delight of William being here, her enemies gone …
Though the spectre of Shepherd would never quite disappear, he had returned to his old outhouse, his personal space. With any luck he would have ridden away before morning came.
She had made a deal with herself … no thinking tonight. No thoughts of tomorrow or the day after, or even the war, and the fate of the country. She would force herself to put time on hold. Worrying doesn’t make tomorrow better, it only makes today worse. She wanted a single golden night before the hard decisions that she had to confront.
Catherine dried her hair, ran her fingers through the tangles, then stepped back and looked at herself. Naked. Body marked, cut … a few of the old sutures still there. Clear-eyed. No scent or lotion. Just her.
Would she let William in here tonight, her bedroom, her boudoir, the place where Sampson had first bound her in tight ropes? She knew the answer, of course she did. War time changed things. The events of the past few days changed things. She was no longer a Belle, a socialite debutant, who would be mortified to make a public faux pas. She would let him to share her bed. They would be making love.
It would be sweet, tender, and heart-rending.
Catherine still only wore a short towel when there was a knock on her door.
“Come in,” she knew it would be William.
When he came in, he simply stared at her. When she slowly let the towel drop, his knees almost gave way. She had been humiliatingly naked for so many days, in front of so many people, but being without clothes here and now, fed and cleaned, and displayed through her own volition before the man she wanted to be her lover … her first real lover … made her nudity feel so different.
To Be Continued ...
Attachments
Fossy
SEXPIOGENTUS
Chapter 31 – The Overseers Outhouse, White Orchard Plantation, 8pm May 17th 1864
Tom Shepherd could not believe his good fortune. Not only had he been rescued by the infamous Confederate Raider, William Quantrill, but he once again found himself in the company of the gorgeous bitch, Catherine McCown.
It seemed that Miss McCown had indeed been conspiring with Quantrill to the point where the two of them seemed to have some sort of relationship. They got the share the big house together, and no doubt a bed, whilst he got to enjoy the company of his fist, like so many other nights spent alone. There wasn’t even a worthless slave girl to abuse … how he would love to inside to be inside the warm, young body of Mercy right now. But even she had left.
He tossed off his boots and retrieved his supply of white corn mash whisky. Gripping the stopper in his teeth he pulled it out and spat it onto the woollen bed cover, before resting his weary body and putting the bottle to his lips.
He would have her this time. As Shepherd thought about the whipping she had received, his groin stiffened, forcing his cock to harden.
Fuck, she had looked magnificent, naked and chained, body dripping with blood and marked with welts.
He pulled out his shaft and began to work the foreskin back and forth. They should have let him fuck her while she was unconscious … after he had whipped her pussy and those firm tits of hers!
He jerked himself faster, massaging the underside of his swollen cockhead to speed the onrush of his seed.
As he arched his back and shot his juices high into the air, he thought about nothing but forcing that uppity bitch to pleasure him!
Chapter 32 – White Orchard Plantation, 9pm May 17th 1864
William remained stationary, trying to keep his gaze on Catherine’s face, as if maybe it wouldn’t be polite to stare at her body. She smiled and teased, “Why, I do declare that you seem a little bashful …” Catherine paused, then continued. “… William, I know my body is a little … bruised, but I took all my clothes off so you would look at me, so please do me that honour.”
Permission granted, his gaze dropped like a stone. He looked down, up, down, and up again. Catherine shivered as his scrutiny moved over her, making her feel hot and cold at the same time. He stared and stared, and just when she was wondering what she might have to do to move things along, he reached behind his head, yanked off his shirt, unbuckled his belt, dropped his dust covered pants, kicked them away, and then he was naked, too.
“Couldn’t let you be naked alone,” he murmured.
“No,” she agreed, “that wouldn’t be right.”
William nodded, replying, “And I want everything to be right. I want it to be perfect for us. For you. You deserve that.”
He moved towards Catherine, still looking her up and down, slow and intense and astonished and gratifyingly awed. The girl felt shaky and nervous and not at all composed. Butterflies fluttered from her stomach all the way up her throat.
“I’m pretty sure, since I have never done this before, not like this …”
Catherine began an explanation that was not required.
“Ssshhhh Catherine, you don’t need to say anything. Forget everything …”
But she finished her sentence, “… it won’t be perfect.”
“Are you kidding me, Catherine?” He reached for her hand “You are all I ever wanted, if I can’t make love to you, there’s something seriously wrong with me.”
She let him lead her, walking slightly behind him, enjoying the view of his back and ass. His skin was darker than Catherine’s but then again pretty much everyone’s was, and she couldn’t wait to touch it everywhere. As he moved, the muscles on his lean body rippled, and Catherine shivered thinking about him stretching naked on top of her, pushing inside, wrapping her legs around him.
Stopping at the bed, he turned, stared at her a long moment, then with an explosive exhale said, “Lord, Catherine, you’re so beautiful. So, so …”
“Do you really think I’m beautiful, even after …?” Catherine said with a slight choke to her voice.
He laughed. “In every possible way. I dreamed about this. Prayed that I’d live long enough and you’d live long enough. You’re the most fearless, brilliant, incredible woman I’ve ever met. What did I do to deserve you?”
His wide eyes looked so honest and earnest, they melted her. Again, she took his hand and drew it to her body, put his palm against her stomach and slid it up to her breast, shivering when he grazed her nipple with his thumb.
“You did everything to deserve me. You listen to me and let me breathe and talk and teach me things. You’re brilliant. And you are kind and good and ... you’re everything I ever wanted.”
He inhaled sharply, his hands moving across her skin, sliding to cup her breasts gently, then hungrily, and for the first time, he looked at her and did nothing to disguise the lust and desire he so clearly felt.
Catherine gasped. It was staggering. He wanted her so much, and she loved seeing that in his eyes! She felt everything his hands were doing as intensely as she had ever felt anything … like the cells in his body were sinking into the cells of her body, touching her all the way to the place where her soul was being resurrected following the horrors at the hands of Sampson.
Despite everything it took a little while to move beyond the first shaky, nervous part, but when they did, they found that their bodies moved together as easily, hungrily, and passionately as their minds.
William loved her, but she was nervous, apprehensive, partly still caught up in the torments of her mind, but her lover took it slowly, and so it was easy and beautiful. And it was clumsy at times and so damned intense and she felt so vulnerable when he slid his long, hard length over her body and rocked himself into her gently and with exquisite care, cradling her head, staring into her eyes the entire time.
Then, when they found a rhythm and he moved inside her, Catherine started to cry and couldn’t stop. Silent tears rolling down her cheeks. She stared up at him and he looked down and he started to cry, too, and without saying a word, they both understood why the other was shedding a tear.
No matter how much time they had together, it would be too short, because he could die or she could die, or they could both live a century and it still wouldn’t be long enough.
When Catherine was with him life lost all its sharp, dangerous edges. She cried because she’d never felt so much emotion in her life. She cried for her parents, for her life, for her country, for the horror of the past week. Catherine cried for everything she had lost ... and for what she had found.
She reached up and touched the tears glittering in his dark eyelashes, caught and kissed them then kissed him with the salty tang of both sets of tears on their tongues.
Then neither of them was crying but their eyes were locked, wide with wonder, as he moved faster and deeper and her body trembled around him and her orgasm formed a kaleidoscopic fanfare inside her head.
Catherine didn’t just climax with her body, the explosion of so much sensation did something to her head, too. As if it was injecting an incredible chemical into her brain and suddenly, she arched and trembled with a violent release like nothing else she had ever experienced in her young life. Catherine started to laugh and so did he, but he was growling and gasping, too, and he shook on top of her and threw his head back and groaned and roared and it was the best sound she had ever heard … he sounded free and happy and totally alive.
She held him afterwards, cradling her head to her chest, smiling. They drifted in and out of sleep, then his lips were against her ear, whispering softly, “I love you Catherine.”
“I love you too my darling.”
To Be Continued ...
Tom Shepherd could not believe his good fortune. Not only had he been rescued by the infamous Confederate Raider, William Quantrill, but he once again found himself in the company of the gorgeous bitch, Catherine McCown.
It seemed that Miss McCown had indeed been conspiring with Quantrill to the point where the two of them seemed to have some sort of relationship. They got the share the big house together, and no doubt a bed, whilst he got to enjoy the company of his fist, like so many other nights spent alone. There wasn’t even a worthless slave girl to abuse … how he would love to inside to be inside the warm, young body of Mercy right now. But even she had left.
He tossed off his boots and retrieved his supply of white corn mash whisky. Gripping the stopper in his teeth he pulled it out and spat it onto the woollen bed cover, before resting his weary body and putting the bottle to his lips.
He would have her this time. As Shepherd thought about the whipping she had received, his groin stiffened, forcing his cock to harden.
Fuck, she had looked magnificent, naked and chained, body dripping with blood and marked with welts.
He pulled out his shaft and began to work the foreskin back and forth. They should have let him fuck her while she was unconscious … after he had whipped her pussy and those firm tits of hers!
He jerked himself faster, massaging the underside of his swollen cockhead to speed the onrush of his seed.
As he arched his back and shot his juices high into the air, he thought about nothing but forcing that uppity bitch to pleasure him!
Chapter 32 – White Orchard Plantation, 9pm May 17th 1864
William remained stationary, trying to keep his gaze on Catherine’s face, as if maybe it wouldn’t be polite to stare at her body. She smiled and teased, “Why, I do declare that you seem a little bashful …” Catherine paused, then continued. “… William, I know my body is a little … bruised, but I took all my clothes off so you would look at me, so please do me that honour.”
Permission granted, his gaze dropped like a stone. He looked down, up, down, and up again. Catherine shivered as his scrutiny moved over her, making her feel hot and cold at the same time. He stared and stared, and just when she was wondering what she might have to do to move things along, he reached behind his head, yanked off his shirt, unbuckled his belt, dropped his dust covered pants, kicked them away, and then he was naked, too.
“Couldn’t let you be naked alone,” he murmured.
“No,” she agreed, “that wouldn’t be right.”
William nodded, replying, “And I want everything to be right. I want it to be perfect for us. For you. You deserve that.”
He moved towards Catherine, still looking her up and down, slow and intense and astonished and gratifyingly awed. The girl felt shaky and nervous and not at all composed. Butterflies fluttered from her stomach all the way up her throat.
“I’m pretty sure, since I have never done this before, not like this …”
Catherine began an explanation that was not required.
“Ssshhhh Catherine, you don’t need to say anything. Forget everything …”
But she finished her sentence, “… it won’t be perfect.”
“Are you kidding me, Catherine?” He reached for her hand “You are all I ever wanted, if I can’t make love to you, there’s something seriously wrong with me.”
She let him lead her, walking slightly behind him, enjoying the view of his back and ass. His skin was darker than Catherine’s but then again pretty much everyone’s was, and she couldn’t wait to touch it everywhere. As he moved, the muscles on his lean body rippled, and Catherine shivered thinking about him stretching naked on top of her, pushing inside, wrapping her legs around him.
Stopping at the bed, he turned, stared at her a long moment, then with an explosive exhale said, “Lord, Catherine, you’re so beautiful. So, so …”
“Do you really think I’m beautiful, even after …?” Catherine said with a slight choke to her voice.
He laughed. “In every possible way. I dreamed about this. Prayed that I’d live long enough and you’d live long enough. You’re the most fearless, brilliant, incredible woman I’ve ever met. What did I do to deserve you?”
His wide eyes looked so honest and earnest, they melted her. Again, she took his hand and drew it to her body, put his palm against her stomach and slid it up to her breast, shivering when he grazed her nipple with his thumb.
“You did everything to deserve me. You listen to me and let me breathe and talk and teach me things. You’re brilliant. And you are kind and good and ... you’re everything I ever wanted.”
He inhaled sharply, his hands moving across her skin, sliding to cup her breasts gently, then hungrily, and for the first time, he looked at her and did nothing to disguise the lust and desire he so clearly felt.
Catherine gasped. It was staggering. He wanted her so much, and she loved seeing that in his eyes! She felt everything his hands were doing as intensely as she had ever felt anything … like the cells in his body were sinking into the cells of her body, touching her all the way to the place where her soul was being resurrected following the horrors at the hands of Sampson.
Despite everything it took a little while to move beyond the first shaky, nervous part, but when they did, they found that their bodies moved together as easily, hungrily, and passionately as their minds.
William loved her, but she was nervous, apprehensive, partly still caught up in the torments of her mind, but her lover took it slowly, and so it was easy and beautiful. And it was clumsy at times and so damned intense and she felt so vulnerable when he slid his long, hard length over her body and rocked himself into her gently and with exquisite care, cradling her head, staring into her eyes the entire time.
Then, when they found a rhythm and he moved inside her, Catherine started to cry and couldn’t stop. Silent tears rolling down her cheeks. She stared up at him and he looked down and he started to cry, too, and without saying a word, they both understood why the other was shedding a tear.
No matter how much time they had together, it would be too short, because he could die or she could die, or they could both live a century and it still wouldn’t be long enough.
When Catherine was with him life lost all its sharp, dangerous edges. She cried because she’d never felt so much emotion in her life. She cried for her parents, for her life, for her country, for the horror of the past week. Catherine cried for everything she had lost ... and for what she had found.
She reached up and touched the tears glittering in his dark eyelashes, caught and kissed them then kissed him with the salty tang of both sets of tears on their tongues.
Then neither of them was crying but their eyes were locked, wide with wonder, as he moved faster and deeper and her body trembled around him and her orgasm formed a kaleidoscopic fanfare inside her head.
Catherine didn’t just climax with her body, the explosion of so much sensation did something to her head, too. As if it was injecting an incredible chemical into her brain and suddenly, she arched and trembled with a violent release like nothing else she had ever experienced in her young life. Catherine started to laugh and so did he, but he was growling and gasping, too, and he shook on top of her and threw his head back and groaned and roared and it was the best sound she had ever heard … he sounded free and happy and totally alive.
She held him afterwards, cradling her head to her chest, smiling. They drifted in and out of sleep, then his lips were against her ear, whispering softly, “I love you Catherine.”
“I love you too my darling.”
To Be Continued ...
Attachments
Praefectus Praetorio
R.I.P. Brother of the Quill
Wow. Not much I can say. Great two chapters.
I do feel a bit sorry for Tom. Now that they have had their fun, they should invite Tom in for a nice threesome!
Fossy
SEXPIOGENTUS
Stop reading ahead my friend
Fossy
SEXPIOGENTUS
Chapter 33 – White Orchard Plantation, 9am May 18th 1864
Catherine sat at her dressing table brushing her long hair. She was counting her blessings. Being humiliated, stripped, abused and repeatedly whipped might not count as something to feel blessed for, but being rescued by her beau and brought back to her home certainly was.
Last night had done more to heal her, body and mind, than all of the so-called treatment that had gone before. She shivered at the memory of the surgeon’s hands roaming all over, and inside, her body, the assaults carried out by that appalling Lieutenant and his monstrous soldiers … and Uncle Billy. It was his actions that caused her the most emotional distress. Why had he allowed it?
William had left their bed earlier to walk a little. He needed to clear his head, decide where they went next. He had his Raiders to find, and Catherine knew that they wouldn’t be able to stay here longer than a day or two at the most.
And then there was that awful man, Shepherd. How dare he present himself as her sympathiser? He did nothing to help her cause, not one little thing. He was a rapist and a thug, and he had whipped her willingly and with perverted enthusiasm. She hoped he had left already … in fact, despite knowing it was an awfully sinful thought, Catherine wished that William would do to her former Overseer exactly what he had done to the Union soldiers.
There was a knock on the door of Catherine’s boudoir. She giggled to herself.
“Come in William, there is no need to knock, this room is …” Her words were cut short by the sight of a revolver pointing very directly in her direction.
The girl stared firstly into the barrel of the hand gun and then into the evil eyes of Tom Shepherd, his heavy facial growth split by a thin smile reflecting every nuance of his evil intent.
“Please Mister Shepherd, you must leave and leave now, William will return soon, and …”
“… I saw him leave Catherine, and yes, I know he return. When he does, he will be dealt with Miss McCown, dealt with just like he dealt with the soldiers.”
Catherine’s demeanour had gone from feeling happier than she had done in what seemed like an age, to once again becoming a petrified, terrified young girl She knew just what Shepherd was capable of.
“Take off the nightdress Catherine, NOW!”
“Please, no Mister Shepherd, don’t do …”
“Off!” He shot a bullet into the wall, the ball zinging past her head near enough for her to feel the air movement.
“William will be …”
“You want me to help huh?” His grin took on a more lascivious look.
Catherine stood, pulled loose the chest high drawstring to loosen the cotton fabric and let it fall so that it pooled around her feet. Shepherd watched her step out of it, and there she was, once more gloriously naked, and this time she was all his!
“Do you ever wonder about me, bitch?” As he spoke Shepherd looked at Catherine. His gaze focused on her face, then her breasts and finally her still mostly bare crotch …
“I often wondered about you, saw you in my mind, wanted to hurt you, fuck you, rape you.” He paused with the obvious intent of letting his words sink in. Then he continued …
He laughed. “I had many visions of you Catherine, and in them all I was fucking you …”
He was taking his time with her. In a dark recess of her tortured mind, Catherine wanted to beg him to kill her now, but she couldn’t bring myself to do that. Instead she would have to suffer her mind’s eye images of the things he had planned for her … He knew many inventive ways to cause pain, as every Overseer did, and she knew that he wanted her to anticipate the torments he had planned. In some ways he wanted to fuck with her mind more than he wanted to begin those horrors … he enjoyed her helplessness and her vulnerability … her terror turned him on.
Eventually he moved towards her, and it began …
To Be Continued ...
Catherine sat at her dressing table brushing her long hair. She was counting her blessings. Being humiliated, stripped, abused and repeatedly whipped might not count as something to feel blessed for, but being rescued by her beau and brought back to her home certainly was.
Last night had done more to heal her, body and mind, than all of the so-called treatment that had gone before. She shivered at the memory of the surgeon’s hands roaming all over, and inside, her body, the assaults carried out by that appalling Lieutenant and his monstrous soldiers … and Uncle Billy. It was his actions that caused her the most emotional distress. Why had he allowed it?
William had left their bed earlier to walk a little. He needed to clear his head, decide where they went next. He had his Raiders to find, and Catherine knew that they wouldn’t be able to stay here longer than a day or two at the most.
And then there was that awful man, Shepherd. How dare he present himself as her sympathiser? He did nothing to help her cause, not one little thing. He was a rapist and a thug, and he had whipped her willingly and with perverted enthusiasm. She hoped he had left already … in fact, despite knowing it was an awfully sinful thought, Catherine wished that William would do to her former Overseer exactly what he had done to the Union soldiers.
There was a knock on the door of Catherine’s boudoir. She giggled to herself.
“Come in William, there is no need to knock, this room is …” Her words were cut short by the sight of a revolver pointing very directly in her direction.
The girl stared firstly into the barrel of the hand gun and then into the evil eyes of Tom Shepherd, his heavy facial growth split by a thin smile reflecting every nuance of his evil intent.
“Please Mister Shepherd, you must leave and leave now, William will return soon, and …”
“… I saw him leave Catherine, and yes, I know he return. When he does, he will be dealt with Miss McCown, dealt with just like he dealt with the soldiers.”
Catherine’s demeanour had gone from feeling happier than she had done in what seemed like an age, to once again becoming a petrified, terrified young girl She knew just what Shepherd was capable of.
“Take off the nightdress Catherine, NOW!”
“Please, no Mister Shepherd, don’t do …”
“Off!” He shot a bullet into the wall, the ball zinging past her head near enough for her to feel the air movement.
“William will be …”
“You want me to help huh?” His grin took on a more lascivious look.
Catherine stood, pulled loose the chest high drawstring to loosen the cotton fabric and let it fall so that it pooled around her feet. Shepherd watched her step out of it, and there she was, once more gloriously naked, and this time she was all his!
“Do you ever wonder about me, bitch?” As he spoke Shepherd looked at Catherine. His gaze focused on her face, then her breasts and finally her still mostly bare crotch …
“I often wondered about you, saw you in my mind, wanted to hurt you, fuck you, rape you.” He paused with the obvious intent of letting his words sink in. Then he continued …
He laughed. “I had many visions of you Catherine, and in them all I was fucking you …”
He was taking his time with her. In a dark recess of her tortured mind, Catherine wanted to beg him to kill her now, but she couldn’t bring myself to do that. Instead she would have to suffer her mind’s eye images of the things he had planned for her … He knew many inventive ways to cause pain, as every Overseer did, and she knew that he wanted her to anticipate the torments he had planned. In some ways he wanted to fuck with her mind more than he wanted to begin those horrors … he enjoyed her helplessness and her vulnerability … her terror turned him on.
Eventually he moved towards her, and it began …
To Be Continued ...
Attachments
Fossy
SEXPIOGENTUS
Known as the "Catherine Effect" I think ...
Praefectus Praetorio
R.I.P. Brother of the Quill
Finally, poor downtrodden Tom Shepherd gets the respect he deserves!
Wonderful twist, Fossy. Catherine needs a different kind of attention!
Fossy
SEXPIOGENTUS
Chapter 34 – The Boudoir of Catherine McCown, White Orchard Plantation, 9:15 am May 18th 1864
She wasn’t sure what she expected, what he would actually do, the detail of how …
But once she saw him approach her, Catherine knew that the detail did not matter.
She was unconstrained, but still very naked. She hadn’t even washed herself after getting out of bed, and for some reason Catherine looked towards wash basin in the corner … It was towards that corner that Shepherd threw her once he had gripped her hair and dragged her to him.
She hit the wall with a slam, her hands protecting her face, but her knees and breasts taking the hard force as she smashed into the hard surface.
Catherine slumped to the floor whereupon, his fist gripping her hair by the roots, she was painfully pulled back onto her feet, and hurled once again into the solid brick, covered only by a thin layer of decorative paper.
She was too breathless to scream, and by the look of the bulge under his cotton pants, Shepherd was too lust-fuelled to say anything.
This time he gripped her shoulders, pulled her up and shoved her a few steps until her stomach pushed against the edge of the small wooden table by the wash basin, and he bent her over. This was it …
“Please,” Catherine mumbled quietly and with a meek intonation.
He offered no response, not even a mocking one.
Pressing his body against hers, using his weight to keep her still. His right hand resting on the smooth, worn surface of the table top. He twisted her head to look backwards into his eyes.
A silent warning to comply.
She could hear him panting and felt the length of his erection pushed against her. Adrenaline and panic coursed through Catherine’s body and the thud in her chest hammered her ribcage like it wanted out. Her eyes began to well with tears.
“Please. Don’t,” She wailed, trying to work up the courage to scream, but he pushed against her harder, enjoying the power.
“I know you want it.” They were the first words he had spoken.
But she didn’t … Catherine did not want it … but these words of dissention stayed inside her head.
The girl’s legs crumpled like they no longer belonged to her body. Her eyes strayed to the ground; he wore black leather boots and dark, dirty, dusty pants.
Catherine’s right arm was wrenched behind her back, almost pulling her shoulder out of its socket. Pushing his cock into her hand, he forced her fingers to wrap around it. Her stomach plummeted to the floor as she fought the urge to urinate.
His erection felt huge in her palm, engorged with blood and his thick, white seed …
Tears ran down Catherine’s cheeks as he groaned in satisfaction, moving her hand back and forth to pleasure himself until she’d got the rhythm.
His whole demeanour told her to comply. Catherine complied.
The poor girl could feel her throat closing up, the bile rising. Eyes focused on the cold, hard brick, anywhere but what her hand was doing.
Where was William? Why couldn’t he come back?
Suddenly Shepherd had had enough foreplay and strong arms reached around her waist to the front of her body.
“Be a good girl, Catherine,” he panted.
She swallowed hard and managed a strange squeak of submission. The cold realisation of what lay ahead dawning on her and she was very clearly, powerless to stop it.
“No. Please Mister Shepherd … Please.” She begged once more.
Grabbing her hair, he forced her down, over the top of the table, her breasts flattened against the surface, the table-edge compressing her chest, and he kicked her feet as far apart they would go. Catherine tried to cry out, but no sound came. He groaned as his long, strong hand thrust between her legs, exposing her vulva to his repulsive touch.
“Where’s Quantrill? Where’s your saviour now huh? No one is coming Catherine … except for me, of course!” He laughed at his own words.
She heard him spit … lubrication … and chuckle once more, before pushing his erection without any thought or care, roughly inside her body, penetrating her core in a single long thrust.
The sudden burning sensation from below was excruciating, firing all of Catherine’s senses and nerves to a state of high alert. Biting on her own hand, she squeezed her eyes tight as warm urine dribbled down her legs.
Violated in the worst possible way … again. Only this time it was worse. This time it felt more personal, more intrusive, more devastating … Here, now alone with this monster, there was no one to distract her, nothing to anaesthetise her … the feeling of him raping her was stark, isolated, very discreet in its own right.
Catherine felt everything … she hated it all.
Focusing on the rhythmic shuffle of the table banging against the brick wall with every thrust, her hip bones slammed remorselessly into its near edge. The intensity of his tempo grew.
Each thrust getting harder and deeper, skin slapping against skin. Catherine’s breath being sucked and pushed out of her chest as he raised her right leg in order to gain unencumbered entry to her body. As his grunting pitched higher, he pulled on her hair, snapping her head back, and with one final thrust his body went rigid.
Finally, he relaxed, his hold on the girl slackened with the release and then his weight lifted. Her ribs felt crushed, she was sure the imprint of the table would be forever ingrained into her stomach.
Seconds later, she felt his touch as he used his thumb, to stroke her cheek. Catherine’s stomach heaved at the intimacy. He’d just violated her, yet he touched her face like they were lovers.
She tasted bile and fought hard not to vomit, and she remained, splayed out over the table, exposed like a rag doll, too distraught at what had just taken place to move. In that moment, she just wanted to curl up and die.
To Be Continued ...
She wasn’t sure what she expected, what he would actually do, the detail of how …
But once she saw him approach her, Catherine knew that the detail did not matter.
She was unconstrained, but still very naked. She hadn’t even washed herself after getting out of bed, and for some reason Catherine looked towards wash basin in the corner … It was towards that corner that Shepherd threw her once he had gripped her hair and dragged her to him.
She hit the wall with a slam, her hands protecting her face, but her knees and breasts taking the hard force as she smashed into the hard surface.
Catherine slumped to the floor whereupon, his fist gripping her hair by the roots, she was painfully pulled back onto her feet, and hurled once again into the solid brick, covered only by a thin layer of decorative paper.
She was too breathless to scream, and by the look of the bulge under his cotton pants, Shepherd was too lust-fuelled to say anything.
This time he gripped her shoulders, pulled her up and shoved her a few steps until her stomach pushed against the edge of the small wooden table by the wash basin, and he bent her over. This was it …
“Please,” Catherine mumbled quietly and with a meek intonation.
He offered no response, not even a mocking one.
Pressing his body against hers, using his weight to keep her still. His right hand resting on the smooth, worn surface of the table top. He twisted her head to look backwards into his eyes.
A silent warning to comply.
She could hear him panting and felt the length of his erection pushed against her. Adrenaline and panic coursed through Catherine’s body and the thud in her chest hammered her ribcage like it wanted out. Her eyes began to well with tears.
“Please. Don’t,” She wailed, trying to work up the courage to scream, but he pushed against her harder, enjoying the power.
“I know you want it.” They were the first words he had spoken.
But she didn’t … Catherine did not want it … but these words of dissention stayed inside her head.
The girl’s legs crumpled like they no longer belonged to her body. Her eyes strayed to the ground; he wore black leather boots and dark, dirty, dusty pants.
Catherine’s right arm was wrenched behind her back, almost pulling her shoulder out of its socket. Pushing his cock into her hand, he forced her fingers to wrap around it. Her stomach plummeted to the floor as she fought the urge to urinate.
His erection felt huge in her palm, engorged with blood and his thick, white seed …
Tears ran down Catherine’s cheeks as he groaned in satisfaction, moving her hand back and forth to pleasure himself until she’d got the rhythm.
His whole demeanour told her to comply. Catherine complied.
The poor girl could feel her throat closing up, the bile rising. Eyes focused on the cold, hard brick, anywhere but what her hand was doing.
Where was William? Why couldn’t he come back?
Suddenly Shepherd had had enough foreplay and strong arms reached around her waist to the front of her body.
“Be a good girl, Catherine,” he panted.
She swallowed hard and managed a strange squeak of submission. The cold realisation of what lay ahead dawning on her and she was very clearly, powerless to stop it.
“No. Please Mister Shepherd … Please.” She begged once more.
Grabbing her hair, he forced her down, over the top of the table, her breasts flattened against the surface, the table-edge compressing her chest, and he kicked her feet as far apart they would go. Catherine tried to cry out, but no sound came. He groaned as his long, strong hand thrust between her legs, exposing her vulva to his repulsive touch.
“Where’s Quantrill? Where’s your saviour now huh? No one is coming Catherine … except for me, of course!” He laughed at his own words.
She heard him spit … lubrication … and chuckle once more, before pushing his erection without any thought or care, roughly inside her body, penetrating her core in a single long thrust.
The sudden burning sensation from below was excruciating, firing all of Catherine’s senses and nerves to a state of high alert. Biting on her own hand, she squeezed her eyes tight as warm urine dribbled down her legs.
Violated in the worst possible way … again. Only this time it was worse. This time it felt more personal, more intrusive, more devastating … Here, now alone with this monster, there was no one to distract her, nothing to anaesthetise her … the feeling of him raping her was stark, isolated, very discreet in its own right.
Catherine felt everything … she hated it all.
Focusing on the rhythmic shuffle of the table banging against the brick wall with every thrust, her hip bones slammed remorselessly into its near edge. The intensity of his tempo grew.
Each thrust getting harder and deeper, skin slapping against skin. Catherine’s breath being sucked and pushed out of her chest as he raised her right leg in order to gain unencumbered entry to her body. As his grunting pitched higher, he pulled on her hair, snapping her head back, and with one final thrust his body went rigid.
Finally, he relaxed, his hold on the girl slackened with the release and then his weight lifted. Her ribs felt crushed, she was sure the imprint of the table would be forever ingrained into her stomach.
Seconds later, she felt his touch as he used his thumb, to stroke her cheek. Catherine’s stomach heaved at the intimacy. He’d just violated her, yet he touched her face like they were lovers.
She tasted bile and fought hard not to vomit, and she remained, splayed out over the table, exposed like a rag doll, too distraught at what had just taken place to move. In that moment, she just wanted to curl up and die.
To Be Continued ...
Attachments
Loxuru
Graf von Kreuzigung
Fossy
SEXPIOGENTUS
Chapter 35 – The Boudoir of Catherine McCown, White Orchard Plantation, 10 am May 18th 1864
When Quantrill returned, he entered Catherine’s bedroom to be faced with the one scene he did not wish to see … the girl, his girl, hands bound behind her back, was seated on a chair. He could see that she had been raped, and the bastard Shepherd, the man he had helped to escape, stood behind Catherine with a gun to her head.
“What are you … what have you …” The Guerrilla chief could hardly form his words.
“William, I am so sorry …” Catherine felt the need to say something conciliatory.
“You know what I have done Quantrill, and let me say that she was everything I knew she would be, and more.”
“You fucking bastard Shepherd, I will …”
The erstwhile overseer laughed, “You will what Quantrill, looks like I hold the cards in this little gathering. Now slowly take out your gun and throw it onto the bed. The get on your knees, with you back to us and clasp your hands behind your back.”
Without taking his eyes off the one-time overseer, William Quantrill reluctantly did as he had been ordered. Whereupon Shepherd moved out from behind Catherine and, raising his arm, pistol whipped the kneeling man hard across the back of his skull.
With nothing more than a grunt Quantrill fell unconscious to the ground.
“Now you get up …” He turned back to the shocked Catherine, and saw the tears rolling down her cheeks.
“Now git!” He pushed her staggering and naked through the door of her boudoir.
Once they had descended the stairs to the hallway Catherine was once more pushed to her knees. She was convinced that he was about to rape her mouth, like those monstrous soldiers had done, but she couldn’t have been more wrong. The poor girl was horrified when she saw what he was about to do …
Taking out a paraffin-based friction match, a box of which he had retrieved from his cabin, he lit it with a single swipe. Holding the growing flame to the corner of one of the long, fabric drapes he watched with a grin as the fire took hold …
“No, no noooooooo!” Catherine was beside herself as she watched the flames begin to rise.
“This place is full of misery bitch. It deserves to go up in flames. Now outside!”
The sobbing Catherine was again pulled by her hair and pushed through the door, dragged outside the main house and into the open air.
The sun was up, and it was early morning. The sounds of the country filled her ears, birds sang, flies buzzed, and even a slight breeze rustled the leaves.
It was actually very peaceful … and yet Catherine had never been so scared! She was terrified.
Shepherd had pulled her arms behind her back and her wrists were crossed over. Thin, cord-like rope, flexible, smooth and strong, had been wound four times about her wrists, crushingly tight.
It hurt, very much … the knot was tied tightly, well beyond the reach of her fingers. She knew there was no hope of getting her hands free, they were inescapably tied behind her naked body, and the love of her young life was unconscious inside an upstairs room of her now burning house.
As he marched her away from the house, her exposed feet found countless twigs, thorns, roots and after the first few minutes Catherine was hobbling. Her shoulder blades were arched back, thrusting her breasts forward, exposed to the open air as they trudged out across the open ground ... towards the whipping post.
Chapter 36 – The Whipping Post, White Orchard Plantation, 10:20 am May 18th 1864
Catherine was beyond scared, way beyond. How had she ended up back here, at the plantation’s whipping post, naked and bound and very much in peril.
As Shepherd pulled her upright and untied the ropes holding her wrists, she stumbled. Then, as the monstrous overseer secured her once more into the chain manacles, Catherine felt herself falling against the heavy timber of the post, a traumatic sense of déjà vu overwhelmed her.
“Please no, Mister Shepherd, don’t do this …” he had raped her and left William for dead inside the burning mansion house, “Please … no more.” She was beside herself.
Shepherd smiled as he stared down at the trembling, naked girl. She really was a stunning little thing, and the fear in her eyes just made him harder.
He used a foot to kick her legs farther apart. “Stay just like that,” he directed. “Keep your legs spread for me.”
“Let me go,” the girl cried, struggling in her new bondage. In his strong grip Shepherd wrenched the girl’s arms up higher, tightening the chain, making her cry out in pain.
“Stay still, cunt,” he snapped. “Do not resist me.” The former overseer gently cupped the girl’s chin. “Shhhh. Calm down, Catherine. Calm the fuck down, will you? It will go so much better for you if you can just relax.”
He smiled, keeping his eyes on hers as he reached down between her legs and pushed a finger in between her soft folds, still surprisingly tight despite what she had been through over the past few days.
Catherine squealed, causing Shepherd to laugh. He liked to hear her scream and beg, and he liked fucking with her mind almost as much as her body. With his finger still inside Catherine’s body he moved it experimentally within the tight clutch of muscle.
“You are fucking dry again bitch, but so fucking tight!” With his free hand, Shepherd gripped the girl’s chin, forcing her to tilt her face up to his, and slapped her hard across the face, causing Catherine’s neck to whiplash sideways.
“Stay still, you stupid cunt!” he shouted at her. Laughing ... mocking. Shepherd heard the sound of something splashing on the wooden platform and looked down to see the puddle of piss between Catherine’s feet.
“Holy shit,” he exclaimed. “The little bitch pissed herself.” He wrinkled his nose. “You disgusting pig,” he snarled, scowling. “Just for that, I’m going to punish you real good.”
Catherine started to squeal again. He liked to hear her scream. She looked delicious, ready to satisfy his voracious appetite.
Unable to resist, Shepherd reached out and tweaked the bound, naked girl’s nipples, twisting hard until her face contorted with pain. Then, looking down into the baked mud he smiled when he saw a length of bamboo. A cane that had been used at some time in the past, then discarded. It would be used again now.
Shepherd moved behind the girl, eager for the show to begin. He fingered his crotch, massaging his aching cock through the dirty cotton of his pants. He whipped the cane in the air near to Catherine’s face with a whistling crack, dried mud flying from its surface. Her body stiffened and jerked in its restraint, unwanted recent memories came flooding back.
“Now you’ll see what happens to bitches who piss themselves …”
Shepherd took a step back to give himself room. No warm up. He simply let the cane fly. It landed with a satisfying crack against the girl’s firm ass. Wrists shackled overhead, Catherine jerked violently forward and groaned long and loud. The cane struck already sore and tender flesh, as a fresh long, dark red welt appeared on her bottom.
Her back was arched , writhing as if she might somehow get away. “Quit wiggling,” he advised. “You’ll just make it harder on yourself. Take your punishment like a man,” he added with a laugh.
Shepherd delivered several more mean and powerful strokes. Each whistling cut of the cane against flesh was like a warm, wet mouth around Shepherd’s shaft. If he kept this up, he was going to spurt then and there.
Unable to resist, he dropped the cane and took a step back. Yanking open his fly, He reached in for his once more burgeoning erection. It was hard as a rock. Rubbing it, he said hoarsely, “I gotta fuck your ass bitch, and I gotta do it now, before I explode.”
Shepherd reached up to release the girl’s wrist cuffs from her chains. When he did Catherine collapsed in his arms as if she had no bones in her body. She was sweating profusely, tears coursing down flushed cheeks, drool rolling down her chin to her chest. She looked so vulnerable and delectable. He couldn’t wait to slide his cock deep inside her.
Letting her drop she fell onto the small wooden platform, then gripping her waist he pulled her up into a kneeling position.
Just then there was an explosion causing them both to look towards the house.
“Would you look at that …” White Orchard was engulfed in flames as the non-brick part of the building began to collapse in on itself. Catherine choked back a sob … while Shepherd hurriedly positioned himself behind her, his cock jutting out already pushing against the bare cheeks of her ass.
William was gone. She had lost everything.
“Kill me … please …” Catherine whispered quietly. But that was not what Shepherd had in mind.
Her bottom and the backs of her thighs were reddened and welted. The poor girl was shaking uncontrollably and snuffling back tears. Shepherd stroked her perspiration-soaked hair and murmured softly, “There, there, little Catherine. You took your punishment, and now it’s time for a little fun. It’ll be easier for you if you just relax. It’s going to happen either way, so you might as well enjoy it.” Shepherd grinned across the girl’s narrow back at the back of her head, as the girl’s gaze was angled at the floor.
Spitting in his hand he smeared the thick gob between Catherine’s ass cheeks and then placed the head of his cock against her puckered hole. He pushed carefully against the opening, not wanting to open up the cuts from her previous time in this place.
Catherine jerked and whimpered, but he pressed down on her back to keep her still.
“Fuck. Yeah,” Shepherd breathed, power and lust shooting through his bloodstream like a shot of strong whisky. He moaned his pleasure as he pressed into her hot little hole, which held his shaft in a tight grip. She was trembling so hard that her ass writhed and squirmed, pulling Shepherd’s cock further into her body.
Once he was all the way inside, he began to thrust slowly at first but quickly increasing the pace. Catherine howled!
“Fuck bitch, you’re so fucking hot,” Shepherd moaned, aroused as much by the girl’s obvious terror as by what he was doing to her. He wanted to make it last, but it felt too fucking good. Within minutes, he groaned with primal pleasure as he came inside her. Each thrust releasing his seed deep into her bowels.
When he could catch his breath, he pulled out and wiped away the residual juices. Leaning down, he spread Catherine’s ass cheeks and examined the still-gaping hole.
“All right, bitch,” he said, giving her a playful smack. “You did good for your first time. You’re not bleeding or anything.”
He let her go and Catherine immediately fell to her side curling into a foetal ball.
He looked down at the girl, who lay limp and passive, and wiped at the drool on her chin as she stared at him with a dazed expression.
He pointed to his water bottle. “Be a good girl, and take drink. We go again just as soon as I am ready. And that will be …”
He stopped speaking. His sentence cut short …
Catherine had no time to let anything register before she heard a loud gun-shot explode just above her prostrate body.
To Be Continued ...
When Quantrill returned, he entered Catherine’s bedroom to be faced with the one scene he did not wish to see … the girl, his girl, hands bound behind her back, was seated on a chair. He could see that she had been raped, and the bastard Shepherd, the man he had helped to escape, stood behind Catherine with a gun to her head.
“What are you … what have you …” The Guerrilla chief could hardly form his words.
“William, I am so sorry …” Catherine felt the need to say something conciliatory.
“You know what I have done Quantrill, and let me say that she was everything I knew she would be, and more.”
“You fucking bastard Shepherd, I will …”
The erstwhile overseer laughed, “You will what Quantrill, looks like I hold the cards in this little gathering. Now slowly take out your gun and throw it onto the bed. The get on your knees, with you back to us and clasp your hands behind your back.”
Without taking his eyes off the one-time overseer, William Quantrill reluctantly did as he had been ordered. Whereupon Shepherd moved out from behind Catherine and, raising his arm, pistol whipped the kneeling man hard across the back of his skull.
With nothing more than a grunt Quantrill fell unconscious to the ground.
“Now you get up …” He turned back to the shocked Catherine, and saw the tears rolling down her cheeks.
“Now git!” He pushed her staggering and naked through the door of her boudoir.
Once they had descended the stairs to the hallway Catherine was once more pushed to her knees. She was convinced that he was about to rape her mouth, like those monstrous soldiers had done, but she couldn’t have been more wrong. The poor girl was horrified when she saw what he was about to do …
Taking out a paraffin-based friction match, a box of which he had retrieved from his cabin, he lit it with a single swipe. Holding the growing flame to the corner of one of the long, fabric drapes he watched with a grin as the fire took hold …
“No, no noooooooo!” Catherine was beside herself as she watched the flames begin to rise.
“This place is full of misery bitch. It deserves to go up in flames. Now outside!”
The sobbing Catherine was again pulled by her hair and pushed through the door, dragged outside the main house and into the open air.
The sun was up, and it was early morning. The sounds of the country filled her ears, birds sang, flies buzzed, and even a slight breeze rustled the leaves.
It was actually very peaceful … and yet Catherine had never been so scared! She was terrified.
Shepherd had pulled her arms behind her back and her wrists were crossed over. Thin, cord-like rope, flexible, smooth and strong, had been wound four times about her wrists, crushingly tight.
It hurt, very much … the knot was tied tightly, well beyond the reach of her fingers. She knew there was no hope of getting her hands free, they were inescapably tied behind her naked body, and the love of her young life was unconscious inside an upstairs room of her now burning house.
As he marched her away from the house, her exposed feet found countless twigs, thorns, roots and after the first few minutes Catherine was hobbling. Her shoulder blades were arched back, thrusting her breasts forward, exposed to the open air as they trudged out across the open ground ... towards the whipping post.
Chapter 36 – The Whipping Post, White Orchard Plantation, 10:20 am May 18th 1864
Catherine was beyond scared, way beyond. How had she ended up back here, at the plantation’s whipping post, naked and bound and very much in peril.
As Shepherd pulled her upright and untied the ropes holding her wrists, she stumbled. Then, as the monstrous overseer secured her once more into the chain manacles, Catherine felt herself falling against the heavy timber of the post, a traumatic sense of déjà vu overwhelmed her.
“Please no, Mister Shepherd, don’t do this …” he had raped her and left William for dead inside the burning mansion house, “Please … no more.” She was beside herself.
Shepherd smiled as he stared down at the trembling, naked girl. She really was a stunning little thing, and the fear in her eyes just made him harder.
He used a foot to kick her legs farther apart. “Stay just like that,” he directed. “Keep your legs spread for me.”
“Let me go,” the girl cried, struggling in her new bondage. In his strong grip Shepherd wrenched the girl’s arms up higher, tightening the chain, making her cry out in pain.
“Stay still, cunt,” he snapped. “Do not resist me.” The former overseer gently cupped the girl’s chin. “Shhhh. Calm down, Catherine. Calm the fuck down, will you? It will go so much better for you if you can just relax.”
He smiled, keeping his eyes on hers as he reached down between her legs and pushed a finger in between her soft folds, still surprisingly tight despite what she had been through over the past few days.
Catherine squealed, causing Shepherd to laugh. He liked to hear her scream and beg, and he liked fucking with her mind almost as much as her body. With his finger still inside Catherine’s body he moved it experimentally within the tight clutch of muscle.
“You are fucking dry again bitch, but so fucking tight!” With his free hand, Shepherd gripped the girl’s chin, forcing her to tilt her face up to his, and slapped her hard across the face, causing Catherine’s neck to whiplash sideways.
“Stay still, you stupid cunt!” he shouted at her. Laughing ... mocking. Shepherd heard the sound of something splashing on the wooden platform and looked down to see the puddle of piss between Catherine’s feet.
“Holy shit,” he exclaimed. “The little bitch pissed herself.” He wrinkled his nose. “You disgusting pig,” he snarled, scowling. “Just for that, I’m going to punish you real good.”
Catherine started to squeal again. He liked to hear her scream. She looked delicious, ready to satisfy his voracious appetite.
Unable to resist, Shepherd reached out and tweaked the bound, naked girl’s nipples, twisting hard until her face contorted with pain. Then, looking down into the baked mud he smiled when he saw a length of bamboo. A cane that had been used at some time in the past, then discarded. It would be used again now.
Shepherd moved behind the girl, eager for the show to begin. He fingered his crotch, massaging his aching cock through the dirty cotton of his pants. He whipped the cane in the air near to Catherine’s face with a whistling crack, dried mud flying from its surface. Her body stiffened and jerked in its restraint, unwanted recent memories came flooding back.
“Now you’ll see what happens to bitches who piss themselves …”
Shepherd took a step back to give himself room. No warm up. He simply let the cane fly. It landed with a satisfying crack against the girl’s firm ass. Wrists shackled overhead, Catherine jerked violently forward and groaned long and loud. The cane struck already sore and tender flesh, as a fresh long, dark red welt appeared on her bottom.
Her back was arched , writhing as if she might somehow get away. “Quit wiggling,” he advised. “You’ll just make it harder on yourself. Take your punishment like a man,” he added with a laugh.
Shepherd delivered several more mean and powerful strokes. Each whistling cut of the cane against flesh was like a warm, wet mouth around Shepherd’s shaft. If he kept this up, he was going to spurt then and there.
Unable to resist, he dropped the cane and took a step back. Yanking open his fly, He reached in for his once more burgeoning erection. It was hard as a rock. Rubbing it, he said hoarsely, “I gotta fuck your ass bitch, and I gotta do it now, before I explode.”
Shepherd reached up to release the girl’s wrist cuffs from her chains. When he did Catherine collapsed in his arms as if she had no bones in her body. She was sweating profusely, tears coursing down flushed cheeks, drool rolling down her chin to her chest. She looked so vulnerable and delectable. He couldn’t wait to slide his cock deep inside her.
Letting her drop she fell onto the small wooden platform, then gripping her waist he pulled her up into a kneeling position.
Just then there was an explosion causing them both to look towards the house.
“Would you look at that …” White Orchard was engulfed in flames as the non-brick part of the building began to collapse in on itself. Catherine choked back a sob … while Shepherd hurriedly positioned himself behind her, his cock jutting out already pushing against the bare cheeks of her ass.
William was gone. She had lost everything.
“Kill me … please …” Catherine whispered quietly. But that was not what Shepherd had in mind.
Her bottom and the backs of her thighs were reddened and welted. The poor girl was shaking uncontrollably and snuffling back tears. Shepherd stroked her perspiration-soaked hair and murmured softly, “There, there, little Catherine. You took your punishment, and now it’s time for a little fun. It’ll be easier for you if you just relax. It’s going to happen either way, so you might as well enjoy it.” Shepherd grinned across the girl’s narrow back at the back of her head, as the girl’s gaze was angled at the floor.
Spitting in his hand he smeared the thick gob between Catherine’s ass cheeks and then placed the head of his cock against her puckered hole. He pushed carefully against the opening, not wanting to open up the cuts from her previous time in this place.
Catherine jerked and whimpered, but he pressed down on her back to keep her still.
“Fuck. Yeah,” Shepherd breathed, power and lust shooting through his bloodstream like a shot of strong whisky. He moaned his pleasure as he pressed into her hot little hole, which held his shaft in a tight grip. She was trembling so hard that her ass writhed and squirmed, pulling Shepherd’s cock further into her body.
Once he was all the way inside, he began to thrust slowly at first but quickly increasing the pace. Catherine howled!
“Fuck bitch, you’re so fucking hot,” Shepherd moaned, aroused as much by the girl’s obvious terror as by what he was doing to her. He wanted to make it last, but it felt too fucking good. Within minutes, he groaned with primal pleasure as he came inside her. Each thrust releasing his seed deep into her bowels.
When he could catch his breath, he pulled out and wiped away the residual juices. Leaning down, he spread Catherine’s ass cheeks and examined the still-gaping hole.
“All right, bitch,” he said, giving her a playful smack. “You did good for your first time. You’re not bleeding or anything.”
He let her go and Catherine immediately fell to her side curling into a foetal ball.
He looked down at the girl, who lay limp and passive, and wiped at the drool on her chin as she stared at him with a dazed expression.
He pointed to his water bottle. “Be a good girl, and take drink. We go again just as soon as I am ready. And that will be …”
He stopped speaking. His sentence cut short …
Catherine had no time to let anything register before she heard a loud gun-shot explode just above her prostrate body.
To Be Continued ...
Attachments
Loxuru
Graf von Kreuzigung
With men like Shepherd, the South does not need a Sherman to sack it!
