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Larra thought over Melissa’s
story. Somehow the two thugs
on the train had managed to follow her to the
North. And they had brought their
master with them.
“Featherstone,” Larra
mused. She remembered the tall
suave Englishman from the British
embassy. It seemed obvious that
he was some sort of spy, intent on sabotaging her expedition.
Fortunately, his choice of henchmen
had proved disastrous for his cause.
Melissa had easily outsmarted them and then arranged for the rescue
of Larra and her two guides.
“Plucky girl,” Larra thought.
“It was my lucky day when she showed up on my
doorstep.”
Still, it would not do to become
overconfident. The RCMP had found
no trace of the elusive Englishman.
That seemed strange. In
an outpost as small as
She glanced out the window of the small cabin where she and Melissa were
staying. Sawatis and Lemaire
were down at the airport picking up the supplies she had
ordered. She had been holed up
in the small town for about two weeks now, waiting for her order to
arrive. Unfortunately, the remoteness
of the northern town made it difficult to communicate with the outside world
and it had taken several days for her messages to reach her suppliers and
replace the equipment that she had lost on the downed
plane.
She turned away from the window. It
was already dark outside even though it was only early afternoon by the standards
of southern climes. During the
winter, night came early to the northern
town. It would be many months
before the return of summer, when the sun set for only an hour or two on
the longest days.
Melissa was over by the stove brewing some
tea. During the wait for the
supplies she and the girl had become quite
chummy. They were the only occupants
of the cabin. Larra liked it
that way. She found Lemaire rather
“distracting.” And
after what had happened to Melissa, Larra thought it best to keep her mind
on the job. Still, that had been
a pleasant few days in the snow shelter.
Her backside was still a little
sore.
“Tea’s ready,” chimed
Melissa. She carried the steaming
pot toward the table. At that
moment, Larra had a strange feeling.
She turned slowly toward the door just as a heavy boot almost knocked
it off its hinges.
Featherstone stood in the doorway, a Smith and Wesson revolver leveled at
the two women. Larra was just
about to react when the shutters covering the windows on either side of the
cabin burst open. Standing at
each window was a man aiming the business end of a rifle toward her and
Melissa.
Both women slowly raised their hands.
Larra waited for an opportunity, but none
came. The men at the windows
never relaxed their vigilance and Larra was very conscious of the fact that
if she made any sudden moves it would be the inexperienced Melissa that would
probably get injured.
Featherstone watched warily from the open
door. The cold air of the early
Arctic winter blew in, carrying with it some light
snow. “On your knees Miss
Court,” he ordered, “and you too, Miss
Gallant. Be damned quick about
it. I don’t want to shoot
you just yet, but if you give me any excuse I will not
hesitate.”
Larra and Melissa dropped to their knees, their arms still raised in the
air. “Featherstone.”
said Larra, “What are you doing
here?”
“That should be obvious
“To what end? I had no idea
you were interested Inuit archeology.”
“Oh come now,
While Featherstone and Larra talked a fourth man entered the
cabin. He looped a rope around
the neck of each of the women and threw the loose end over a roof
beam. Featherstone took one of
the ropes and the henchman the other.
Pulling them tight, he forced both women to stand on tiptoes to keep
from being strangled. Each woman
kept her hands over her head, holding on to the rope to take up a bit of
the strain.
“What are you trying to do?” Larra gasped. “Strangle us to
death? You’ll get no information
that way.”
Melissa’s protest was more vehement.
“You scumbag,” she spat, “let me down or you’ll
regret this.”
Featherstone laughed dryly.
“Quiet, little girl, your rich daddy can’t help you
now.”
“I don’t need help to deal with a rat like
you. Just get your thugs to put
away their guns and I’ll show you who’s the little
girl.”
Featherstone pulled on the rope, sending a warning to
Melissa. “Any more yak,
my little spitfire, and I’ll see how long you can swing before your
strength fails.”
Melissa, readying another retort, thought better of it as the rope tightened,
cutting into her slender neck.
Featherstone surrendered his end of the rope to his henchman, and moved behind
Larra. Pulling her hands behind
her back, he quickly lashed her wrists
together. Then he moved to Melissa
and tied her in the same way.
Fortunately, the ropes about their necks were slacked off; otherwise
both women would probably have strangled.
Moving around in front of Larra, he pushed his face close to
hers. “There, that should
hold you both temporarily. Now
let’s get down to business. I
want information, and you have it.
Tell me what I want to know and I may go easy on
you. Play hard to get and I will
have to get nasty, starting with little Miss Gallant
here.”
“Don’t tell this moose dropping anything,
Larra. I’m not afraid of
him.”
Featherstone quietly turned his gaze to the young
girl. What Melissa saw in his
eyes chilled her. She suddenly
realized that she faced a man completely lacking in moral
sentiment. She
shivered.
“Not afraid, my dear?” asked Featherstone with icy
deliberation. He moved his face
a few inches from hers.
“Perhaps you are not, but you will
be.” His hand moved toward
the top button of her blouse.
“What are you doing?” Melissa
demanded. “Don’t touch
me!”
“I’ve already touched you, I just seeking a more intimate
place.” He ran his forefinger
lightly between Melissa’s breasts.
“Has any man ever touched you there
before?”
Melissa’s chest heaved. It
was a most inviting sight.
“Leave her alone,
Featherstone.” Despite her
desperate situation, Larra’s voice was level and
determined.
“Oh?” replied Featherstone, almost
lazily. “Are you going to
tell me what you know?”
“It doesn’t look as if I have a choice,” said Larra
resignedly. “Will you promise
to leave the girl
alone?”
“Whatever you
like.
I want information. I
can get a woman, and a willing one, any
time.”
“Wait!” interrupted Melissa.
“Promise that you will leave Larra alone
too!”
Featherstone looked at her. He
appeared irritated.
“I’m getting a bit tired of you Miss Gallant, but if it
will speed up the process I agree.
I won’t touch either one of
you.”
“Alright,” said Larra, “I
agree. Untie
me.”
“Untie you? Not bloody likely,
“I don’t break my word,” replied
Larra. “Untie me and untie
the girl. I’ll tell you
what you want to know.”
Featherstone nodded to the man who had helped tie the two women
up. He slackened the ropes around
their necks and removed the ropes from their
wrists.
“Thank you,” said Larra without
emotion. She sat down at the
table. “You have a map?”
she inquired.
Featherstone gestured to his henchman.
A map was spread out on the table.
“We are here,” said Larra pointing to the map, “and
this is where we were going.”
For the next half-hour she explained her objective to Featherstone,
stopping only to answer his questions.
Finally, she stopped speaking.
Featherstone seemed satisfied.
“You are as good as your word,
Larra sighed. She had expected
exactly this action from Featherstone, but she had not had much
choice. She could not endanger
Melissa’s life. “You
know,” she said as the henchman bound her wrists again, “Miss Gallant
was right. You are
scum.”
“Thank you for the compliment,” Featherstone
smiled. He holstered the gun
as Larra’s wrists were tied tight.
“It will make what I am going to do so much more
pleasurable.”
Both Larra and Melissa shuddered.
There was no mistaking the threat.
“Let the girl go, Featherstone,” said
Larra. “Do what you want
with me, but leave her alone.
She’s just an innocent young
girl.”
“No!” protested Melissa.
“I will not be saved at your
expense.”
“You see,
Melissa swallowed. She knew exactly
what Featherstone’s threat implied.
“Don’t you touch me,” she
warned. “I’ll kill
the man who dares!”
Featherstone suddenly seemed to grow
impatient. “Enough of
this,” he shouted. “Gag
both of them and haul
All of Featherstone’s men were in the cabin by
now. There were eight of them
including Featherstone; more than enough to handle the two
women. A rough gag was
thrust into Melissa’s mouth and tied in place with a length of
cord. She recognized it as her
own handkerchief, taken from her
backpack. She saw that Larra
was similarly gagged.
Then Melissa was forced into a straight-backed
chair. Her arms were pulled over
the top of the chair back and down behind
her. A rope was tied from her
wrists to one of the chair rungs.
The effect left her sitting straight up in the chair, with her prominent
breasts thrust forward. She
couldn’t help noticing the way the eyes of every man in the cabin looked
at her and felt a spasm of real fear.
Just to make sure that she could not escape, each of her ankles was
bound to one of the chair legs. She
was forced to look on helplessly, while Featherstone attended to Larra.
Larra kicked violently as she was bound to the tabletop, but she was being
held by four men and they overpowered her by sheer force of
numbers. She was laid flat on
the tabletop, her arms pinned beneath
her. Her legs were bent over
the edge of the table and were tied so that they could not
move. Then her clothes were
removed.
Featherstone took charge personally of the disrobing of the
adventuress. “I have
been looking forward to this ever since we first met,
“Exquisite,” he
muttered. If the rest of her
body lived up to what he could see so far, he and his men were in for a rare
treat. The third button was
undone. Then
the fourth. Larra’s
shirt was now open to her navel.
Her prominent breasts were covered only by her lace
bra. Featherstone placed his
hand on her flat belly, marveling at the smooth muscles beneath the velvet
skin. There was a power there
that excited him. This woman
was a lean, beautiful animal, and she was entirely in his
power. The thought of what he
was going to do to her excited him beyond
imagination.
He pulled her shirt from her waistband, and unfastened the last
button. Opening her shirt he
exposed all of her torso not covered by her black
bra. The rise and fall of
Larra’s chest attested to a certain amount of
anxiety. Slowly, he ran his hand
up her belly to the edge of her
brassiere. Larra’s breathing
became a little more agitated.
“Incredible,” Featherstone
thought. He had pushed his fingers
under her bra and cupped the soft, firm flesh of her right
breast. What an amazing pair
of breasts! He had never felt
anything like them. He withdrew
his hand and ripped the thin material
apart. Larra’s breasts hardly
settled. They were like two large
ripe melons on top of her chest.
Melons topped by the sweetest little pink
cherries. Unable to stop himself,
he took one of the alluring hemispheres in each hand and squeezed the soft
flesh. Larra arched her back,
but gave no other indication of the humiliation she was
experiencing.
Featherstone’s men crowded around, anxious for a share of the
treasure. Featherstone waved
them away.
“Not yet,
gentlemen. You will have
a turn, but I get to have my fun
first.” Releasing Larra’s
breasts, he turned his attention to the lower part of her
body. With almost detached
deliberation, he unbuckled her belt.
He pulled the heavy leather belt from its loops and set it
aside. It might come in handy
for other purposes. He smirked
as he thought of the pain he was going to
inflict.
“Now,” he said, “let’s have a little look at some English
crumpet. He undid the snap above
the zipper of Larra’s pants and then slowly pulled them
open. All the time he kept his
eyes on Larra’s face, watching her for the sign of fear that he knew
must come. All he got in return,
however, was a steady glare from those intense violet
eyes. He shrugged and allowed
his men to untie her ankles so that they could pull Larra’s trousers
from her legs.
Now his prey was almost naked from head to toe, except for her black lace
panties and the shirt that still covered her
arms. Featherstone slid his fingers
up the outside of Larra’s smooth rounded thighs, sensing the powerful
leg muscles under the satin skin.
It was almost like skinning a
tiger. Now his fingers were at
the edge of Larra’s panties.
She heaved her body unexpectedly as he slid his hands underneath the
elastic of the legs, but the men holding her maintained their
grip. Again, he looked at her
eyes, searching for the first signs of
panic. He saw none, but noted
with satisfaction that despite the cool air of the cabin, Larra’s body
was covered with a fine sheen of sweat.
Featherstone’s fingers were now moving over the downy pelt at the apex
of Larra’s thighs. It was
a soft as fleece. He pulled down
her panties, baring her pelvic region.
His eyes roved over the tiny slit between her legs, barely concealed
by the fine down of her pubic hair.
“We’ve got a fine English ewe here boys,
I think it is time to do some sheep
shearing.” Featherstone
rummaged in his pack and brought out his shaving
kit. Opening the leather case,
he took out a wicked-looking straight razor and the mug containing his shaving
cream.
“Well,
Larra grimaced in distaste. In
all of the many times she had been taken, no one had ever shaved
her. Featherstone caught the
look and grinned sadistically.
Without bothering to strop the razor, he began to remove Larra’s
fine pubic hair.
Larra stopped struggling. She
dared not risk Featherstone cutting her in so sensitive a
region. Hair by hair, he removed
the soft felt that concealed her vaginal lips until finally she was as naked
there as the day he had been born.
Featherstone stepped back to admire his
handiwork. “Well, boys,
the cat, or rather the pussy has been
skinned.” He was joined
in the laughter at his joke by the men around
him. He stared at
Melissa.
“One down, one to
go.”
He moved over to Melissa.
“Heat up some water, boys.
I want to make sure that I get every hair on this
one.”
Melissa cried out in rage as Featherstone’s finger went to the button
at her throat, her voice muffled by her
gag. Never, had she imagined
when she had gone to see Larra that she would be bound in a chair, fighting
to preserve her virtue. She was
mortified when the English villain unsnapped the first button and moved his
hand inside her shirt the same way he had done to
Larra.
“Easy now, my dear,” said
Featherstone. “I just want
to see if your assets are as impressive as they appear to
be.”
Featherstone ran his fingers over the girl’s soft skin, tracing the
outline of her collarbone.
Melissa’s breathing
quickened. She reacted quite
differently from Larra. Where
the English archeologist had managed to maintain some air of detachment,
Melissa was clearly agitated by his
touch. Her breathing increased
markedly, her impressive bosom rising and falling
rapidly. He face was white with
fear, and her eyes wide and staring.
Slowly, he inched his hand deeper inside her
shirt.
“Smooth as satin,” commented the Englishman, sliding his hand down
to the upper swell of her bosom. It
took all of Melissa’s self-control to keep from screaming beneath the
gag. No man had ever touched
her there before. As a matter
of fact, no man had ever touched her
anywhere. Sexually, she was as
pure as the snow outside the cabin.
She knew that she was on the verge of panic and that her heavy breathing
was a clear giveaway as to her state of mind, but she could not control
herself. Already, her shirt and
undergarments were soaked through with sweat, and beads of perspiration rolled
down her stricken face and dripped onto her
chest.
Featherstone’s hands moved lower.
Without unbuttoning her shirt, he pushed his fingers under the top
of her bra. “Splendid,”
commented Featherstone, licking his lips.
Melissa gasped audibly as his long fingers made contact with the nipple of
her left breast. “Like ripe
raspberries,” he said.
Gently, the English villain closed his hand over the pillowy softness, delighting
in the feel of the ripe, firm young flesh beneath his
fingers. The entire chair rocked,
as Melissa suddenly jerked her body frenziedly in an effort to escape his
unwelcome touch. The action merely
served to excite him more, however, and removing his hand, he proceeded to
rapidly open up the front of her shirt.
“Splendid
indeed. I think you may be as
well endowed as
A drop of sweat formed on her forehead, and ran down between her eyes, finally
dripping form the end of her nose and falling between her
breasts.
“Hot are we, darling?” asked
Featherstone. “Perhaps we
need to remove a few more garments.
Only Melissa’s delicate white cotton bra afforded her any protection
from the prying eyes of the men in the
room. Featherstone wasted little
time in removing it, snapping the thin elastic the same way he had done with
Larra’s.
Melissa’s magnificent hemispheres positively burst forth from their
concealment. They hung there,
trembling slightly like two large white
pearls.
“Magnificent,” commented Featherstone taking one in each hand and
squeezing them as if he was trying to milk
her.
“Ooommmmppphhh!”
Melissa
protested. But her muffled cry
of outrage merely stimulated Featherstone to continue with the
disrobing. By now, he had gone
as far as he could without removing her from the
chair. Since Larra still occupied
the tabletop, he ordered his men to untie Melissa from the chair and reposition
her.
The colour drained from Melissa’s
face. She felt positively
sick. She was being treated like
a slab of meat and placed on display for all to
see. When Featherstone had placed
his hands on her breasts she had though that she was going to
die. How could any man treat
her like that? She was absolutely
mortified.
Featherstone’s men untied her wrists and
ankles. Then four of them picked
her up bodily from the chair and bent her back across the
seat. Then, her wrists were bound
to each of the chair legs on one side and her ankles to the legs on the other
side. Her body was forced backward
in a tight arch that Melissa found very
painful. But now Featherstone
had free access to the lower part of her
body.
“You bastard,” Melissa grunted, using an expression that she had
rarely used before. She was more
helpless and frightened than she had ever been in her
life. Featherstone’s comments
about and treatment of her body were terribly
humiliating. But she tried to
put on a brave front, while feeling acutely
vulnerable.
“I don’t think you know me well enough to comment on my
ancestry,” Featherstone jeered.
“But soon we will know one another very well
indeed."”
“No, stop!” Melissa pleaded as the Englishman began to unbutton
her trousers, revealing her thin white
undergarments. She twisted on
the chair, but there was little that she could do to prevent what
followed. Two men held her in
position, while Featherstone finished unbuttoning her trousers and then unbuckled
her belt. Each ankle was temporarily
untied so that her pants, boots, and socks could be
removed. Not content to leave
a stitch of clothing on her, he took out his knife and slit the sleeves of
her shirt and pulled the tattered garment from her body.
As she was slowly stripped, Melissa’s feeling of degradation
increased. The horror of watching
Larra’s humiliation was replaced by the terror of her
own. But it was about to get
worse.
Featherstone placed his hands on Melissa’s flat belly and then moved
them over her gently rounded abdomen, sliding his fingers down toward her
white cotton panties.
“Now,” he said with a grin, “let’s have a look
at a little Canadian beaver.
Gripping the thin fabric in both hands, he tore it from her
loins. Melissa’s entire
body turned beet red as her most private parts were revealed to the assembled
men. “Absolutely lovely,”
crowed Featherstone. “I
think it’s time to remove the beaver
pelt.”
He picked up his razor and shaving mug.
He lathered the area around Melissa’s vulva, taking as much time
as he could to draw out the experience.
Then he picked up the razor and began to shave
her.
Melissa’s colour deepened, almost overcome with feelings of shame and
rage. She was positively
mortified. How could such a thing
be happening to her? Where were
Sawatis and Lemaire? Would they
not return in time to save her from further
humiliation? Her eyes wide, she
watched in horror as her pubic area was returned to the state it had been
in her infancy.
“Oommpphh!” Tears
of anger and frustration welled up as Featherstone placed his hand over her
naked pubic region.
“Smooth as a baby,” he said, giving her vulva a gentle
massage.
“Mmmmppphh!”
Melissa was really frightened
now. She was being touched in
her most private places and with a crowd of leering thugs looking
on.
She almost jumped out of her skin, when Featherstone inserted his middle
finger into her tight crevice and began to rub it back and
forth. Melissa had to stop her
back from arching, as her body reacted spontaneously to the English
villain’s touch.
Instinctively, she longed to thrust her pelvis upward as her body
did unconsciously what she dared not think about
“My god, she’s getting wet,” exclaimed
Featherstone. “We’ve
got a randy little bitch here.”
He rotated his finger within her tight love
tunnel.
Melissa’s vaginal muscles contracted in an attempt to protect her from
Featherstone’s probing.
“Ah, would you believe she’s trying to bite me?” said
Featherstone, deliberately misinterpreting Melissa’s
reaction. “I ought to take
her right here. She’s as
randy as a ferret.”
Melissa clenched her jaw. She
was close to weeping in frustration and
fear. She was far from
‘wet,’ as Featherstone had put
it. It was just one more of
Featherstone’s attempts to further humiliate her, and he was doing a
pretty good job of it. Melissa had never felt so dirty and
degraded.
“Exquisite,” said Featherstone, removing his hand from Melissa’s
genitals. “Don’t worry,
dear, I’ll get back to you, but there is something I want to do
first.”
He picked up Larra’s heavy leather
belt. He saw Melissa’s eyes
widen in fear as he slapped it into his palm, but he was not intending to
use it on her, at least not right away.
“Turn
Larra kept her face absolutely blank.
She knew what Featherstone had planned, and she intended to give him
as little satisfaction out of it as
possible.
Under Featherstone’s supervision, she was bent over the table face first,
her beautifully rounded bottom attracting the attention of every man in the
room. Each of her ankles was
tied to one of the table legs, and then her wrists were untied and her shirt
was slid off over her arms. Her
wrists were then tied together again, but this time over her
head. They were secured to the
top of the table leaving her stretched tight across its
surface. Her taut derriere beckoned
to Featherstone.
“Remove her gag,” he ordered.
I want to hear
Stoddard did as Featherstone had ordered.
Larra gasped as she drew in a lungful of
air. “Why are you doing
this?” asked Larra.
“What possible gain is there for you in humiliating me and the
girl?”
“Enjoyment,
“Now,” he said, swinging the
belt. “It’s time to
see if the great adventuress
Larra was stretched so tightly across the tabletop that her arms had almost
been pulled from their sockets.
There was, as the saying went “no wiggle room
left.” She heard the swish
of the belt arcing through the air, and then a loud
crack
as it struck her backside.
Simultaneously an incredible jolt of pain coursed through her
body. It felt as if the single
blow had ripped off her skin. Tears
of pain and rage filled her eyes, but she kept her emotions under
control. Clenching her jaw, she
called on her training and the meditative techniques she had learned to blot
what was happening from her mind.
Featherstone’s mouth dropped.
He had expected the refined archeologist to shriek in agony, but there
was not a sound out of her. There
was not even the faintest indication that he had even struck
her.
Melissa too was amazed. Her
admiration for her mentor grew even
greater. How anyone could have
survived such punishment without even a sign of discomfort was beyond her
understanding. But as she saw,
Featherstone was far from finished.
The suave spy swung the belt again, overlapping the site of the first
blow. Again, there was not the
faintest indication of pain from Larra.
He struck again and again.
Sweat now beaded his brow from the exertion, but it seemed that he
might as well have been flogging a corpse for all the reaction he was
getting. Finally in frustration,
he tossed the belt to one of his henchmen.
“You take over, Stoddard,” he
ordered. Then he picked up
Melissa’s trousers and pulled her belt from the
loops. He tossed it to
Engles. “Give Stoddard a
hand.”
Melissa cringed as two men now laid into
Larra. Already her exquisite
derriere was crisscrossed with two dozen
welts. How much longer could
the proud adventuress hold up under such
brutality?
Larra was wondering the same thing.
She was finding it more and more difficult to maintain her
concentration. She had managed
to separate her mind from what was happening to
her. It was almost as if she
was two persons, one undergoing agonizing punishment but insensible to the
pain of the ordeal, and another calmly watching
herself be
tortured. But each blow threatened
to break down the separation of mind and
body. How long she could hold
on she did not know, and if her captors discovered what she had done and
disrupted her concentration, then she would be completely at their
mercy.
Featherstone was growing more and more
frustrated. He had intended
Larra’s flogging as an object lesson in punishment, but no matter how
badly she was beaten he could not get a reaction out of
her. “Stop,” he
cried. He was determined to find
out what was going on.
He stepped around to Larra’s head, seized her long braid, and jerked
her head up. “My god,”
he exclaimed, “she’s not in
there.” Larra’s eyes
were completely blank and unfocussing.
Drawing back his hand, he slapped her face hard, snapping her head
sharply to the side. Following
through, he brought his hand back, cracking his knuckles across her
cheekbone. Then he repeated the
process several times.
“She’s out cold,” Featherstone said in stunned
disbelief.
“What do you expect, you bastard,” thought Melissa,
“after what you’ve been doing to
her?” She was still gagged
or else she would have directed her comments to Featherstone with even more
emphasis.
Larra’s vacant eyes suddenly
cleared. Melissa saw her wince,
as her senses returned, but other than that there was no recognition of the
painful beating she had received.
“The bitch is back,” said
Featherstone. “I think we
better get on with things before she takes another leave of
absence.” He groped
Larra’s lacerated backside as he spoke; noting with satisfaction the
slight jerk as the pain registered on Larra’s restored
senses.
“Now,” Featherstone continued, “finish
her. I want to see her
jump.”
The two thugs laid into Larra with
enthusiasm. This time, Larra
felt every stroke. Within seconds
her body trembled with the effort required to keep from
screaming. By now it was impossible
to beat her without striking a part of her quivering backside that had not
already been bruised or lacerated.
Her tormented flesh was swollen from the savage
treatment. Every additional blow
increased the pain exponentially.
With a gasping sob, Larra
broke.
“Aaaaggghh!
Aaaaggghh!
Aaaaggghh!”
Her screams seemed deafening
in the tiny confines of the cabin.
Horrified, and almost sick with terror, Melissa could only watch
helplessly, as the woman she had hoped to emulate was beaten and
humiliated.
Finally satisfied, Featherstone held up his hand to stop the
beating.
“Enough.
Now the
girl.”
Melissa felt cold all over, and it was not due to the cool air blowing into
the room. She trembled visibly
as Featherstone approached.
“Take the English bitch off the table,” the Englishmen
ordered.
“and make sure she is tied
tight. Don’t do anything
to her. I may need her
later. Bring the girl over to
the table.”
Melissa’s legs almost buckled as she was untied from the chair and dragged
toward the table. Already, the
whimpering figure of her mentor had been untied and hauled over to the bunk
near the far wall. Then Melissa
lost sight of her as she was spread-eagled on the
tabletop. Featherstone himself
supervised her binding.
“Not too tight. I want her
to be able to thrash a bit,” he
said.
Melissa’s arms and legs were spread so that her body formed an X-shape
on the tabletop. She was lying
face up and as Featherstone had instructed, a little slack was left in the
ropes holding her in place, so that her arms and legs had some
play.
“Now, my little virgin,” Featherstone leered, as he removed her
gag, “it’s time to see what a little Canadian beaver tastes
like.”
From somewhere within her, Melissa found the courage to
reply. “You
scum. I’ll see you pay for
what you’ve done.”
“Well, if I am to pay, then I better get my money’s
worth.”
Featherstone knelt in front of the table, positioning his head bent just
in front of
Melissa’s jewel case.
He placed a hand on the inside of each of her knees, steadying
her. “I’ve never eaten
beaver tail before, but I’ve heard that it is quite
succulent.” A chorus of
laughs greeted his crude joke.
Melissa jumped as she felt Featherstone’s tongue touch her naked
genitals. “You pig,”
she screamed.
Like a dog, Featherstone gave Melissa’s vulva a long slow
lick. She
shuddered. He licked her
again. This time, the tip of
his tongue parted her labia.
“Stop,” Melissa protested, trying to maintain her nerve, “what
you are doing is disgusting.”
She was very frightened.
Frightened of what Featherstone was about to do to her, but also alarmed
at her own hidden reaction to what the Englishman was doing to
her. As his tongue turned aside
the outer folds of her pleasure centre, she experienced a twinge of pleasure.
Her breathing quickened. This
could not be happening to her. How
could she be aroused by the terrifying prospect of being
violated?
Featherstone seemed to sense her
weakness. Slowly he circled the
rim of her love tunnel. His tongue
seemed impossibly long and Melissa had to suppress a moan of
excitement.
“You like that don’t you my little
beaver? You’re pretty easily
aroused for someone who pretends to be so pure and
innocent.”
“No,” protested Melissa, “that’s not
true. Please stop what you’re
doing. Let us
go. We’ve told you everything
we know.”
“I want to hear one more thing,
honey. Before I’m through
I want you to beg me to make love to
you.”
“That will never happen.
Never,
Melissa’s last response came unbidden
as Featherstone’s tongue made contact with her tiny
clitoris. Ashamed, she bit her
lip. What was happening to
her? She was acting like a cat
in heat.
Featherstone was really working her over
now. His skilled tongue seemed
to find every crevice of pleasure that lay between the hot walls of her love
canal. Soon, to her absolute
mortification, and acute shame, he had her panting like a dog, but she felt
no passion, only carnal desire. Her
tiny love bud, with its 8,000 nerve endings stood up begging for
attention. And every time
Featherstone’s tongue made contact she almost
screamed.
“What a randy little she goat,” Featherstone said
aloud. “She’s positively
dripping she’s so wet.”
Melissa almost wept. She was
disgracing herself in front of a roomful of leering
hoodlums. She was filled with
self-loathing. After the bravery
Larra had shown, her performance was
disgraceful.
“Aaahhhaahh!” Featherstone was sucking gently on her engorged
clit. Desperately, she tried
to hold on, but something overwhelming was happening to her
body. Something
beyond her control.
“Nnnnnn!”
Her vaginal muscles
contracted in an unexpected orgasm.
A sob burst from her lips as she realized how completely
she had been degraded. Featherstone
had sexually manipulated her, and she had been unable to prevent her body
from responding in the most primal manner.
“Well, you liked my tongue well enough,” said Featherstone in
triumph. “Let’s see
how you like something a little bigger.”
Slowly and deliberately, the Englishman unbuttoned his pants in front of
the still virgin girl. Through
her tears, Melissa gasped. She
had never seen a male organ before, and Featherstone was particularly well
endowed.
“No,”
she begged.
Please
no! You’ll hurt
me!”
Featherstone’s formidable weapon seemed incredibly large and
ugly. It absolutely terrified
her.
Featherstone moved toward her. As
he had hoped, Melissa thrashed on the tabletop, doing everything in her power
to try and prevent him from taking her.
Although by now the temperature in the cabin was close to freezing,
Melissa’s body glistened with sweat.
Her full breasts bounced as she tried desperately to
escape. Swollen with passion,
her upper chest and quivering globes were flushed with
blood. Featherstone took one
of her trembling hemispheres in each hand and squeezed
hard.
“Oh
God!”
The cry jerked out of her
involuntarily. But this time
Melissa felt no pleasure, only pain and
fear. Even when Featherstone
rolled her engorged nipples between his fingers, she felt only naked
terror. This was real
fear. And then she felt the hard
touch of Featherstone’s rigid shaft at the gates of her pleasure
garden.
Melissa’s body
spasmed in
fear.
She had never felt such complete horror and
disgust. Featherstone’s
huge, loathsome organ was about to penetrate
her. What a fool she had been
to join
“You ready girl?”
Featherstone released her breasts, and repositioned his hands on her
tiny backside. Without waiting
for an answer from his helpless victim he thrust
forward.
“Eeeeaaahhhh!”
Melissa’s shriek
of pain signaled the end of her
virginity. Her soft, wet, vagina
had offered little resistance to Featherstone’s initial attack and he
had penetrated her deeply. Filled
with a deep sense of shame, Melissa sobbed as her ruthless assailant continued
his brutal attack. But the loss
of her virginity was just the beginning.
Taken for the first time, Featherstone’s organ seemed
enormous. It seemed impossible
that all of it would fit inside her, but the brutal Englishman forced her
to take all of it. The pain was
so great that Melissa felt as if her insides were being torn
apart. Again and again he thrust
into her, eventually settling down to a steady rhythm as he plundered her
treasure tunnel. Melissa writhed
beneath him, tears streaming down her agonized
face. How long was he going to
keep up his assault? What she
was being forced to endure was
unimaginable.
Featherstone raped the weeping girl for a good hour before finally exploding
within her. When he was finished,
the once tender virgin was exhausted.
But he was not yet finished with
her.
“Untie, her,” ordered
Featherstone. “And bring
the English bitch over here.”
Still bound hand and foot, Larra’s beaten form was carried over to the
table as Melissa was released. As
she was pulled off the table, Melissa fell to her
knees.
“Very appropriate,” sneered Featherstone,
standing in front of the weeping girl.
He reached out and grabbed Melissa’s chestnut
hair. “I am going to have
“No!” wailed Melissa, horrified at the
threat. “Please don’t
do that. Please
no.”
“No?” said Featherstone.
“Then only you can save her.”
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CHAPTER WIZARD'S
LAIR MAIN PAGE
L'ESPION'S
STORY
PAGE
“Yes, Miss Gallant. I want
you to stimulate my staff to it former
glory. If you refuse, you will
watch your mentor die.”
Melissa bowed her head. Naked,
violated, and completely helpless, she knew that she had no choice but to
try and save the woman she admired most in the
world. She knew that Featherstone
would not keep his word. But
she had to do what she could to keep Larra and herself
alive.
“Now Miss, Gallant,” Featherstone said
impatiently.
“Now.”
With a sob, Melissa raised her head.
Slowly and with great trepidation, she took Featherstone’s shrunken
phallus in her hand. She gave
it a gentle squeeze, and then began to run her hand along it as if she was
trying to milk a cow. The Englishman
gave a small sigh and then placed both hands behind her head, drawing her
face toward his crotch. Melissa
knew what he wanted. She parted
her pouting lips and closed them over the end of the still dripping tip of
his depleted organ.
“That’s it my dear, suck it, suck
it. Now swirl your tongue around
it. Now swallow the whole
thing. See it you can touch your
tonsils.”
Featherstone’s phallus tasted of semen, Melissa’s own vaginal juices,
and worst of all, her own virginal blood.
Almost gagging she forced herself to take all of it inside her
mouth. In its flaccid state,
her mouth easily engulfed his entire
organ.
Under Featherstone’s expert and continual instruction, Melissa slowly
revived the Englishman’s weapon.
It took awhile, a good half-hour in fact, but all the whole time,
Melissa could feel it hardening and
lengthening. At the end of the
half-hour, his erection was fully
restored. The massive member
completely filled her mouth, almost dislocating her jaw each time he thrust
into her.
“Ah, Miss Gallant,” Featherstone crowed, as he finally withdrew
his throbbing organ from her mouth, “you almost
renew my faith in womanhood. You
seem born to such duty. Are you
sure that this is your first time?”
Melissa could make no reply to Featherstone’s
sarcasm. She had never thought
that she could be brought so low.
What she had been forced to do was degrading beyond
imagination. But Featherstone
was not quite finished humiliating her.
“Take the English bitch
and do what you want with her,” he
ordered. I’m going to put
this erection to use.”
Larra moaned in pain and terror, as several men laid hold of her and dragged
her over to the cot. A few feet
away, Melissa gave a great sob, as Featherstone lifted her onto the tabletop
again and spread her legs. Her
ordeal was about to begin all over
again.
Melissa’s second rape lasted only a
half-hour. Featherstone did not
have the stamina to keep it up longer than that, but it left her beaten
physically and psychologically. Her
vaginal region burned from the brutal treatment it had received, and her
breasts, especially the area near her delicate nipples were badly
bruised. When Featherstone pulled
her off the table and bound her wrists behind her again, she could hardly
stand.
For Larra the ordeal was much longer.
Held down by four men on the tiny cot, she was forced to endure a
brutal gang rape that went on for over three
hours. At the end of it, she
was barely conscious. Her brutalized
body stank of sweat and semen and blood flowed from her ravaged vagina.
Melissa was forced to watch almost the entire humiliating
ordeal. She closed her eyes during
the worst of it, when Larra writhed in agony as one more swollen phallus
was thrust into her and her breasts were pinched and mauled by half a dozen
hands. At one time Melissa almost
vomited, as Larra screamed as she was raped orally, vaginally, and anally
simultaneously.
The rape might have lasted longer, but Featherstone finally called as halt
after every man had taken a turn.
When they were finished, they took no
chances. As the last man climbed
off her, they lashed her arms and legs to the
cot.
“Alright,” said Featherstone, as the last knot was tied
off. “It’s time to
leave.” He untied
Melissa’s wrists. “Get
dressed. You’re coming with
me.”
“What about Larra?” Melissa
gasped.
“She’s staying here,” smiled
Featherstone.
Melissa shuddered. There was
something about Featherstone’s expression that sent chills down her
spine.
Closely watched, Melissa dressed.
To make sure that she did not get any silly ideas her hands were retied
behind her back and a rope was looped about her neck and then she was led
out of the hut. The rest of the
men followed, Featherstone being the last to leave after a delay of a minute
or so. Melissa wondered what
the Englishman had been up to during that
time.
“Let’s go,” Featherstone ordered, giving Melissa a
shove. Despairing, but
with no choice, she allowed herself to be led
away.
Larra groaned. Only her tremendous
physical condition allowed her to remain
conscious. She was badly beaten
and hurt everywhere, especially in her nether
region. She tried to get up but
found that she was tightly bound.
Attempting to see with eyes that were almost swollen shut, she suddenly
tensed. She was alone in the
cabin, but she was far from safe.
Five feet away, sitting on a chair, was a burning
candle. A rope had been tied
to the chair so that it was just below the
flame. The rope ran from the
back of the chair to a beam in the ceiling, and tied to the other end of
the rope was a bucket. A strong
odour of kerosene filled the room.
It was a simple but deadly
mechanism. In a few moments the
candle flame would reach the rope.
A minute or so after that the rope would burn through, releasing the
bucket of kerosene. Flammable
liquid would splatter everywhere.
The entire cabin would become a raging inferno and
Larra’s mind raced.
There must be something she could do, but she had so little
time. She strained every muscle,
but the ropes that bound her wrists and ankles did not give a millimetre;
nor could she loosen the ropes that tied her to the
bed. Featherstone must have known
this, of course. That was why
he had remained behind to check on her before he
left. She could imagine him laughing
at her as her made his escape. It
would no doubt appeal to his sadistic nature to think of her struggling in
vain as the last few minutes of her life ran out.
She did not quit, but several minutes of straining at her bonds convinced
her that she would be on fire before she could loosen the ropes enough to
escape. Featherstone and his
men had simply tied her too well.
Think Larra, think! There must
be a way out. Had she survived
all of the deadly predicaments she had found herself in during her adventurous
life only to end up being barbecued in a wilderness cabin while tied to a
bed?
She glanced at the candle. The
flame was now a minute away from burning the
rope. For a second Larra almost
panicked. If she had, she would
have thrashed on the cot in wild
desperation. But it would have
gained her nothing. The knots
would not be any looser and she would have wasted her last chance to
escape. Instead, she calmed
herself. There must be something
she could do. And then she had
it. There was one thing she had
not tried.
The ropes, she knew, could not be
loosened. At least not without
a lot more time. But the cot
might be another matter. The
crude bed had creaked each time she had strained at the
ropes. It was her only
chance.
She began to shift her weight back and
forth. At first, the bed only
creaked slightly. It was wedged
so tightly against the corner of the room that its joints only moved a
little. But within a few seconds
Larra had managed to bounce it far enough away from the wall, that the bed
frame was moving back and forth a good three
inches.
She kept up her efforts. The
cot was now twisting back and forth four inches, then five, then
six. But the candle was now burning
the rope. She had only seconds
left. She gave a final convulsive
lunge. There was a sharp crack
as the bed frame broke. She felt
the ropes holding her slacken.
Hurriedly, she slipped her hands and feet from her
bonds. At that moment the rope
holding the bucket burned through.
There was no time to make it to the
door. But the window was only
two feet away. With the last
of her strength, Larra launched herself against the shutters, and in a shower
of splintering wood flew into the snow outside.
Sawatis and Lemaire were not in a good
mood. They had spent most of
the day at the terminal in
Sawatis nudged Lemaire, who was walking with his head down against the cold
wind. He looked
up. Just ahead, behind a screen
of trees, but exactly where the cabin should have been was a thick column
of smoke. Both men broke into
a dead run. As they rounded the
trees, the two men saw to their horror that the entire cabin was engulfed
in flames.
“God!” thought Sawatis, “Melissa,
Larra!”
Then they saw a solitary figure sitting near the burning
cabin. She was completely
naked. As they neared her, she
turned her head.
“What kept you two?” Larra asked
calmly. She looked at
Lemaire. “Jean, may I borrow
your coat?”
A few miles away, on the other side of
The girl turned pale. Then she
gave him a look of hatred and contempt that made him glad her hands were
bound behind her back. Featherstone
congratulated himself on taking her with
him. It was going to be most
enjoyable breaking her spirit.