The Taming of a Vixen

by Wendy Stone

  * * * *

  Alyssa kissed Cat’s cheek, promising to visit the next day. She thanked Lord Matthew and his wife, Lady Lara, who hugged her warmly.

  “Are you sure you don’t wish for us to follow you? It is a dangerous place and the roads near your father’s estate are menaced with highwaymen.” Matthew reached out, tugging on a lock of her hair just as he would his own little sisters.

  “No, Your Grace, though I thank you for the kind offer. My father has sent outriders with me and I am sure they will do admirably to change any highwayman’s mind about accosting me.”

  “Then we bid you good night, Alyssa. I’m sure we’ll meet again soon. Especially if Cat has her way,” he said, chuckling and handing her up into her coach. She waved at the trio as the coach pulled away and then settled back for the trip.

  She closed her eyes, for while it was not late, she was tired; as she tried to rest, a memory of a shadowy figure arose. She could see him, there in her mind’s eye; first the outline of his face, then his chin and lips as he came somewhat into the light. Oh, and those lips. The things he’d done with them, the heat of them against her mouth, the way he’d kissed her! It had set her afire with need. She could still feel the ache. Her stomach felt tight, her lower belly strangely empty--as if she needed it to be filled by him.

  Him! A strange, anonymous man had given her the first real kiss she would ever know and she didn’t even know his name. But oh, God in heaven, what a kiss it had been. Were they all like that? Hot and sweet, his breath pleasant, the taste of his mouth better than the champagne that flowed like water in the gala. His lips had filled her with unimaginable pleasure. Her hand rose to her mouth, her fingers lightly touching the lush flesh as she remembered the way he had kissed her.

  And the way his hands had touched her, his palms slightly calloused and rough against the bare skin of her arms, over the soft satin of her gown. She couldn’t help but wonder how they would feel on the rest of her body. A shiver of delight shot through her, coiling into her belly, making the lingering ache throb decadently.

  With her eyes closed, her mind still on him, she carefully stroked the soft skin of her shoulder, just barely touching with the tips of her fingers. Down and across her collarbone she moved, biting her lip as the feeling grew, need turning into a desperate pulse between her thighs.

  Over the soft swell of her breasts, she caressed herself, humming quietly at the pleasure. In her mind, she saw the shadowed stranger’s eyes watching her, his gaze following her fingers as she slid them around her breasts, finally pushing her fingers under her gown and shift, stroking her taut nipple. She groaned and shivered, feeling a strange dampness between her thighs. The ache grew until she pressed her legs together, trying to find relief from this unexpected pressure.

  Did she dare? Could she press her fingers to that need? She let her palm run over the swell of her breast, feeling the hard little bump her nipple created in the satin. She grew more adventurous. Her hand slid down her stomach, forcing her to bite her lip as little shivers of pleasure burst inside. She cupped the small mound of her sex, pushing her fingers between her legs, rubbing gently but insistently.

  It felt deliciously naughty, especially as her mind still held the figure of the stranger, his eyes moving to follow her hand, his tongue coming out to moisten his dry lips. Or perhaps that was her own tongue. All she knew was that her head was fogged with the unknown feelings that were pulsing under her caressing fingers.

  Did she dare touch her bare flesh? It was a sin, or so she’d been taught. She didn’t even touch her bare fingers there when she bathed. But at the school, there’d been whispered rumors of girls who did more, girls who kissed and caressed each other in ways to shocking to mention, though some had. It had intrigued Alyssa, but she’d been too scared to bring the matter up to Cat. Was this what they felt, this need, these shivers of heat? What would it feel like if someone else’s hand were touching her? She blushed even thinking such thoughts.

  Without consulting Alyssa, her body made the decision. Her hands pulled up the skirt and shift she wore, the fabric rubbing against her stocking-clad legs. The cool air caressed her ankles and calves, then her knees, until she could feel her hand on her thigh, her slender fingers running up the bare skin above her stocking.

  Hair tickled the tips of her fingers as she brushed against the deep red silk that curled on her mound. It felt immoral and naughty to be touching herself there. But the ache drew her fingers and with an agonizing slowness she pressed between the curls to the swollen lips below.

  A moan escaped as her fingers sank into wet heat, pressing against the throb that increased in strength even as the scent of her arousal permeated the coach. Her hips jerked when her searching hand found the tender little knot of flesh, brushing against it again and again until she thought she’d go mad with the coiling pleasure low in her belly.

  Her untaught fingers flew, circling and flicking until she found the rhythm that pleased her most. Her hips danced against the seat, her other hand reaching inside the tight bodice of her gown, stroking her tender nipple. In her mind, he still watched her, his eyes filled with the fire of his lusts, his mouth parted and waiting for her kiss.

  “Oh!” she gasped as pleasure tightened her muscles, forcing her back to arch and her hand to press hard against that taut bud that gave her such wonderful sensations. Her head thrashed against the seat cushion, her hair coming unfastened in her wanton writhing.

  So much heat, so much pleasure flowed from where her fingers stroked. With another cry, she convulsed, her body curling into itself.

  She found herself on the floor of the coach. A shout outside startled her. The coach was stopping, jostling her around so that she was unable to right herself. A shot rang out and then another. There was a dull thud and Alyssa knew something was wrong.

  The coach halted completely and she forced herself to get up from the floor, pushing down her gown even as her body wanted to melt from the pleasure she’d just experienced. She hunted for her bag and the pistol she’d stowed inside of it earlier this evening, finding it just as the door to her coach was flung open and a big hand reached in to yank her out.

  “What ho, look what we have here,” a loud voice said, jerking her upright as she almost fell on her face. “A right pretty lass, she be, with a penchant for fancy baubles,” he exclaimed, reaching up to pull off her earrings and to grab the necklace at her throat.

  “What do you say, boys?” he asked the four other robbers standing in a semicircle around her and her captor. “She’s a fine wench. Shall we take her with us?”

  “My father shall have your heads if you hurt me,” Alyssa threatened as her bag was torn from her hands.

  “We don’t want to hurt you, lass.” The man chuckled, pulling her in front of him, her back to his chest. His big hands went to her waist, and he glanced down at her with a pleased look as his hands spanned her slender form, his fingers meeting. “No,” he said, yanking her back so that her hips rubbed against his through the many layers of cloth that made up her bustle, “we want you to give us some pleasure.”

  The men murmured, one stepping closer to touch the pale skin that rose above her bodice. Alyssa struggled, slapping at his hands, kicking and biting in the arms of the man who held her so tightly.

  “She’s a real wild cat,” one of them said, causing a laugh to break out.

  “Settle down, wench,” the man holding her said, wrapping his arm around and pulling her hard against him. “You don’t want to have fun with us?”

  “No,” Alyssa hissed. “I’d like to see you all burning in a fiery pit in hell.”

  Her captor threw his head back and laughed. “You are a fine one, that is sure. All right than, since we have little time and must be on the move, maybe if you show us what you can do with that pretty mouth besides throwing curses and spitting, we might be amiable about leaving you here.”

  “Y…You want me to kiss you?” Alyssa asked, her brows drawing together in confusio
n.

  “Oh,” her captor laughed. “Aye, it’s a kiss I’m wanting.” He spun her in his arms until she faced him. With a nod at one of the other men, he held her with one arm, forcing her head up to look into his eyes. “And this pretty dress,” he whispered. She felt the long row of buttons in the back being sliced off.

  “No!” she shrieked, trying to struggle. But the knife moved, the tip pressing with a nonchalant ease into her back, pricking her tender skin, forcing her to be still.

  She felt the gown fall from her shoulders, puddling into a pool of silver shimmer at her feet, leaving her in just her corset and the thin shift she wore under it. The knife returned, flicking over the restraining laces of her corset. A tear slipped down her cheek, her hands clenched into tight fists as the last lace parted and she was left in nothing but the sheer shift.

  She could feel their eyes on her body. She shuddered in fear. Just moments before she’d been wondering what it would feel like to have another’s hands touching her, caressing her. Now she was half nude in front of these men.

  “You are a lovely lass,” her captor whispered, lifting her face, his hand on her jaw and holding it still as his mouth moved down to capture her lips.

  She struggled, feeling his breath on her mouth and then the wet, foul taste of his lips upon hers. His tongue, like a thick little worm, tried to push inside her tightly closed mouth, pressing against the barrier of her teeth with no success.

  The bandit’s hand came down hard upon the soft flesh of her bottom. Alyssa gasped in pain and that foul piece of flesh pushed inside of her mouth, wriggling against her own until she thought she’d be sick. She moaned her disgust, a pitiful sound. The bandit raised his head, laughing. “I think she likes me, boys,” he said, loudly.

  His hand played with the thin strap that held her shift in place, toying with it, pulling on it so that the material moved over her breasts. The friction on her nipples, already aroused from being stimulated in the coach, caused her to gasp. They hardened even more.

  With an easy twist of his hand, the strap parted. The material fell, the neckline of her shift dipping until only that hardened peak kept it in place. The highwayman spun her once more in his arms, holding her arms down at her side. The shift dipped lower, exposing one pale, rounded globe of flesh to the hungry eyes of the men surrounding her.

  Her skin was perfection, her breast white in the moonlight. The tip, taut and full, was a light pink in color, and seemed to be begging for a man’s lips. Alyssa struggled against the arms holding her, her cheeks flushed, her eyes wild as she fought to keep herself from being molested by these men.

  The highwayman held her easily, his greater strength evident. His hand rose from her waist, slowly moving over her ribs as she struggled, tormenting her with the knowledge of his destination. He took his time before finally encompassing the firm globe in his large hand.

  Alyssa screamed her frustration, increasing her struggles. His fingers played with her nipple, rolling it between his thick digits, twisting the tender flesh. And then he pinched, squeezing harder until another scream came from between her parted lips, this one of pain. Her writhing stopped and she hung limply in his arms, her hair falling from its pins and obscuring her face.

  “That’s better, girl. If you relax, we’ll all take our kisses and then leave you here. If not, then perhaps I’ll be taking you with us and we can find ourselves a quiet little place where we can get to be much better acquainted.” He mauled her tender skin, pulling on her nipple until it stood away from her body, cupping the underside of her fragile breast as if checking the heavy globe’s weight.

  “Then do it,” Alyssa said, tossing her head to get her hair from her face and turning to glare up over her shoulder at the brutal man. “Kiss me and get it done with.”

  “Oh, no, love. You heard me wrong. You’ll be doing the kissing, and it won’t be our lips that you’ll be feeling against them lovely morsels either.” He took her slim hand, holding her fingers and bringing them crudely down to the heavy bulge he’d been rubbing against her back. “He be real anxious to make your acquaintance, love.”

  He released her hand, his hips moving suggestively, laughing as she jerked her hand away as if she’d been burned. She could feel his hand moving behind her and then it was on her shoulder, pressing downward. He turned her easily in his arms, forcing her to her knees, the huge cock she’d felt against her hand now waving in her face.

  She could smell the musky scent of him, feel the heat that rose from his body even as she shrank away from the piece of flesh that he was pushing into her face. Then she felt his hand in her hair, grabbing a fistful and yanking her towards him until his cock pushed against the softness of her lips.

  Her hands came up, pushing at him, but it was like attempting to move a boulder. She held her mouth closed, refusing to allow him entrance.

  “Ah, stubborn,” he said, sliding his hand down her cheek in a caressing manner, the dirt from his hand smearing her tear-stained face as if he were marking her. “Too much of it can be a very bad thing, lass,” he said, yanking her hair until her mouth opened with a screame.

  “Yes, it can, gentleman, so I suggest all of you just back away from the girl and let her go.”

  The voice came from behind the group of men gathered around Alyssa. It caused them to spin suddenly and the man who was about to rape her mouth dropped her hair, his hand going to the pistol he’d pushed into his pocket.

  “No, that would be a bad idea,” the man said as he watched Alyssa scrabble to her feet, her hand going to her mouth as if to rub away the taste of the man who’d held her. “Come here, Miss, away from all these bad men.”

  She scurried to do as he bid, jerking out of reach of a man who thought to use her as a shield against the man who held a big pistol on them. He’d come out of nowhere, taking them by surprise.

  Alyssa pressed herself against his back, relief making her legs shake. Tears welled in her eyes but she refused to let them fall. Her knees hurt from the gravel in the road, her nipple throbbed from the abuse of that foul man’s fingers. Her head pounded from having her hair cruelly yanked and she was cold. But she couldn’t afford to break down. They weren’t gone from here yet.

  “Back up,” her rescuer said, moving with her. “I’m taking the lady, gentlemen. You may keep your spoils.”

  The men stared after them, grumbling. The leader stood with his pants open, his cock slowly deflating in the face of the pistol. “By what right do you take the wench?” he growled. “We had her first.”

  “And I’ve taken her from you. Now just stand there until we disappear. If you follow us, I’ll have my friend open fire. He has his pistol trained on you from the woods. He is a crack shot, gentlemen. I’m sure he’ll take down at least one of you, while I get another before you get off your first shot. Is she worth your death, lads?”

  “Keep going,” he muttered to her, “around the back of the coach and into the trees. My horse is tethered there.”

  He eyed the men carefully, looking for the slightest sign of one putting up a fight. So far his bluff was working. But if one of them got brave, they would find out that the pistol he carried was empty.

  “Take the girl,” the leader finally groused. “Virgin pussy ain’t as good as what we can get when they see the riches we’ll be bringing ‘em.”

  “Wonderful plan. You make a fine leader,” Jason said, edging Alyssa around the coach. “Now gentleman, if one of you could please count to sixty very loudly. After that, you may do as you wish with your loot.” He looked at one man. “You,” he said, nodding at the man. “Start counting.”

  “I don’t know me numbers,” the man groused, a blush suffusing his face. “Never had a need to learn counting and such.”

  “I can do it,” another one said.

  “Fine, then, you may begin,” Jason said. He waited until he heard the man say one before grabbing Alyssa’s arm and dragging her around the coach and into the woods. He threw her on his horse, grabbing
the reins and climbing behind her, his arms encircling her as he urged his stallion to move.

  Listening, he heard nothing but the man’s voice, counting off the numbers as he had requested. He breathed a sigh of relief, but didn’t feel safe. Not until he was sure they weren’t being followed did he slow their pace. He let the horse run a bit longer, then pulled back to a firm walk that would still increase the distance between them and the danger.

  “You’re safe,” he said, seeing her face turned up to him.

  “It is you,” she whispered, her fingers going to his cheek as if to make sure he was real. “I thought it was your voice but then I didn’t know if I were just wishing you to show up and end that bad dream. But you are real, I am not dreaming.”

  Her mouth lifted, her lips finding his, the gait of the horse making the kiss clumsy until he wrapped his arm around her and lifted her against him. Then it was an inescapable meeting of tongues and lips, impossible for either of them to resist. His lips twisted against hers, claiming her with burning insistence; he removed any lasting trace of the highwayman’s heavy taste.

  Alyssa reached up, her arms wrapping around him, holding him tightly. She returned the passion of his kiss, that same throbbing desire she’d felt in the coach surfacing again, more demanding, more impatient than before. Her breasts were flattened against his chest, the horse’s gait rubbing them together, her bare nipple being stimulated almost more than she could bear. “Please,” she whimpered, breaking the kiss. “I feel so strange when you kiss me like that.”

  “Strange in what way?” he asked, his lips feathering over her face.

  “I ache,” she moaned, her hip brushing the bulge that pushed against the front of his breeches. “I hurt in places that shouldn’t hurt like this.”

  “Where?” he whispered. “Where do you ache?”

  He watched as her face blushed crimson and her eyes lowered. Her hand moved from his shoulder, dropping to rest against her thigh before moving slowly to where the soft sweet heat of her pulsed between her lovely legs.