The Fall of Lady Westwood

by Evans, Trent

  A deeply tanned man, his arms corded with sinew walked alongside the struggling female, speaking to her in soft tones. He was at least a head taller than the woman, his faded indigo shirt plastered to a broad, sweaty back. The wide straw hat shrouded his face in shadow under the high mid-morning sun.

  Arnaud raised a hand. “Escott, come—”

  “No, Arnaud,” the Lady said in a low voice. She extended her crop toward Sophie. “Look at the girl. She can’t take her eyes off them.”

  Sophie averted her gaze from the toiling woman, chancing a glance at her cruel Lady. The noblewoman was beaming, mirth dancing in her eyes. Arnaud watched Sophie too, a finger tracing the braided leather of his whip.

  Sophie looked back at the farmhand and the harnessed woman, unable to stand the cold regard of her Lady and the hated overseer.

  The woman was struggling, bending over almost double, the blades of the plow unmoving in the dirt. She jerked forward once, twice, her buttocks squeezing mightily, but the blades appeared to be stuck fast.

  “Ach, girl,” her tall companion said, unclipping a broad piece of flexible leather from his waist. He clasped the girl by her upper arm, his tight grip turning her bronzed flesh white, and stooped down slightly. He tapped the leather against her protuberant buttocks. A warning.

  Sophie noticed that the lower half of the woman’s broad buttocks shone a congested red, unlike the rest of her sun-kissed skin.

  The woman strained harder, grunting. Her lips pulled back, exposing the white of clenched teeth. Still, the plow refused to budge.

  The leather cracked against the woman’s buttocks, a shiver passing across the flesh of her haunches. She yelped and the cords of her hamstrings stood out starkly as she continued to struggle.

  “Come on, Tani. You can do it now” The man’s voice was low, urgent. “Pull.”

  “Please,” the girl grunted.

  Sophie could see a tear track down the girl’s cheek to catch at the corner of her mouth.

  The paddle slashed up again, the sound echoing like a shot across the empty field, lifting the dense flesh of the bottom in its agonizing embrace. The woman keened, her voice gurgling as she threw her head back. Her buttocks clenched tight, loosened, then tightened once more.

  Lady Westwood’s white steed blocked her view of the woman and Sophie looked up, squinting against the sun.

  “Interest you does it, Sophie? Would you like a term in the fields with our trusty Escott?”

  Arnaud laughed, reaching out to stroke his horse’s neck

  “No, Mistress,” Sophie whispered, trembling at the very thought of it.

  “Then you will listen and obey, won’t you?” She could hear the threat in her Lady’s smooth voice. “But there is something else isn’t there, girl?”

  Oh no, please.

  The Lady leaned down, her crop stroking Sophie’s cheek, the leather cold and menacing. “If I were to run my fingers through that juicy cunt of yours, I might find a veritable lake there, wouldn’t I?”

  Sophie gasped. “No.”

  The Lady smiled, the flat end of the crop playing over the tips of Sophie’s breasts. She held her breath, trembling. She felt so helpless with her arms bound to the horse. If she could just get the rope free somehow, she could run. But where would she run to? Home? She didn’t even know where home was. When Miriam had taken her, Sophie had been lashed securely to the rear of her Lady’s saddle as if she were so much cargo, blindfolded and gagged, then hauled away from her beloved farm to the hellish manor. She’d only known in the most general sense where Westwood Manor actually was — but she hadn’t a clue how to get back home from there.

  Arnaud hailed the farmhand Escott, telling him to bring Tani over to them.

  The Lady lightly flicked the flapper of her crop against Sophie’s right breast, fire burning into her skin. The Lady pulled the horse around again to return to Arnaud’s side.

  Sophie watched as Escott unchained the woman’s wrists from the shafts. He spoke to her in hushed tones as he did so, the woman’s head hanging low, but Sophie was too far away to make out the words.

  “Kind of you to come visit us, Mistress,” Escott said, bowing his head. He held a chain in one hand, the links attached to Tani’s bound together wrists. The woman held her hands in front of her naked sex, her eyes lowered. Sweat continued to pour off of her, mixing with the tears on her cheeks. Escott brushed a strand of hair out of Tani’s eyes, and stroked her chin.

  Sophie was confused by his seemingly caring gesture; moments before she’d watched him pitilessly paddle the woman as if she were but a dumb farm animal. With palpable dread, Sophie glanced at the plow, now bereft of its beast. She shuddered.

  “How’s she been working today, Escott?” The Lady slid from her saddle, unbuttoning the top two buttons of her jacket. “Arnaud tells me you’re actually seeing some progress with her.”

  Escott nodded, looking upon his harnessed charge with fondness. “She has her good and bad days, Mistress.” He held up the flexible paddle. “But this makes sure she gets her quota done.”

  Arnaud nodded, clearly approving of the farmhand’s methods. Tani swallowed, her head hanging.

  The Lady looked over at Sophie with a glint in her eye. “Amazing the results one gets from such … encouragement.”

  Sophie firmed her jaw. She wouldn’t make things easy for the sadistic noble. Prisoner or not, Sophie still had her dignity. For now.

  The Lady strolled over to Tani, raising her chin with the shaft of the crop. “Does she perform satisfactorily in other ways as well, hmm?”

  Escott flicked a glance up at Arnaud. “Mistress — I’m not sure—”

  “Oh come now, man,” the Lady said, stroking the crop across Tani’s breasts, stirring the little bells clamped to the nipples. “I know you don’t spend that long in her stall simply to feed her.”

  Escott dropped his gaze, flushing. “No, Mistress.”

  “Well then,” the Lady said, smiling at the farmhand. “How so? Does she fuck well? Is she obedient?”

  “She found it difficult in the stables at first,” Escott said, his hand caressing Tani’s shoulder. “But she adjusted soon enough.”

  The Lady tapped the shaft of her crop under a harnessed breast. “Quite a bit more enjoyable stabling this one than one of the horses, eh Escott?”

  Arnaud’s laugh rumbled, and the farmhand smiled. Tani whimpered, shifting her weight, her hands twisting in her cuffs.

  “Shh now,” the Lady said, stroking the upper slopes of Tani’s breasts. “Don’t fuss, girl. I’m sure your Escott takes very good care of you doesn’t he?”

  Sophie could see the deep blush suffusing the bound woman’s face even as she lowered her head, nodding.

  “There is one thing, Mistress,” Escott said, his expression turning serious. “We could use more help.”

  “Oh?” The Lady walked around to the rear of Tani, looking down.

  Sophie hated the Lady being behind her; it almost always resulted in pain. “Yes, we — well — with only one of her, it just takes too long to plow. The oxen are three times faster, and pull a stouter blade.”

  The Lady glanced over Tani’s shoulder at Sophie. “Well, when Lord Westwood returns after harvest, we’ll be visiting my friend Farrier. His man Lucien trains women of this sort.” The Lady reached around chucking Tani under a breast, sending the globe bouncing. Tani hung her head lower, but stayed very still.

  “Mistress, if you’d like to bring … another.” Escott licked his bottom lip. “Then we could make much better time. More than double the quota Tani manages.”

  Lady Westwood leaned in close, her lips nearly brushing Tani’s ear. “What do you say to that my bound beauty? You may speak.”

  “If it pleases you, Mistress.”

  Sophie was surprised at the soft, but rich voice.

  The Lady planted a gentle kiss on Tani’s moist cheek. “It does, Tani, it most certainly does.”

  Arnaud cleared his throat. “With
two, we could have them plow your gardens rather than having it done by the farmhands. Would free them up to help with the harvest.”

  The Lady nodded, glancing down once more. “Escott, you seem to have been rather free with the paddle here.” She crouched, and Tani flinched as the Lady’s fingers felt the welts. “This big bottom is rather well-cooked.”

  “Yes, Mistress,” Escott said, shrugging. “Sometimes it’s the only thing that works.”

  The Lady stood once more, and moved back around Tani. She tucked the crop under her arm, peeling off her riding gloves. “Turn Tani. Stop there.” The woman now faced away from the group and Sophie suppressed a gasp.

  The woman had a strong, trim back, cinched cruelly by the broad leather girth around her midsection. Her hindquarters were very well muscled, but still retained soft feminine curves. The bottom half of both cheeks were furnace red, overlaid with darker welts in places. She could see a rivulet of sweat break from the bottom of the girth to meander down a welted cheek. She wondered if it stung the sorely tested flesh. She felt a sudden urge to run her hand over those broad buttocks, soothing the scorched skin.

  What was happening to her! She shook her head and looked away.

  “Sophie,” Arnaud growled. “Is there something else more interesting to you?”

  She shook her head, and turned her gaze reluctantly back to the poor woman.

  “Bend over, Tani,” the Lady said. “No. At the waist. Put your hands on your knees.”

  Tani turned her head. “But Mistress, the belt—”

  “Just do it, girl.” The Lady took her crop in hand, whisking it through the air.

  “Yes, Mistress.” Tani bent over, and Sophie could see the stiff belt dig painfully into the firm belly. Tani gasped as the leather creaked.

  “That’s better, girl. You know the penalty for questioning me though.”

  The crop whistled down, snapping across the center of both proffered cheeks. The flesh bounced, and Tani whimpered, clenching at the smart. The cleft shrank to a thin line, then yawned open, the strong thighs shaking.

  “What’s all this trembling? This is a mere tickle compared to what your devoted driver has given you.” The Lady glanced up at Escott, winking.

  “I’m sorry, Mistress. It—” Tani swallowed a sob.”—it hurts.”

  “As well it should, Tani.” The Lady traced the darkening welt with her fingers. “We can’t let you go soft on us, can we?”

  “No, Mistress.”

  Escott leaned close to the miserable woman’s ear, his voice a whisper. “What do you say, Tani?”

  Sophie could hear the poor woman sniffling. “Th - thank you, Mistress.”

  “My pleasure, girl.”

  Sophie wanted to look at anything but the abuse of the poor woman, but she felt Arnaud’s hard gaze upon her. Her eyes moved to the pommel on the Lady’s horse. Did the rope look like it had loosened?

  “Such cheeks,” the Lady breathed, palming both of Tani’s buttocks, caressing the burning flesh. “I wonder what Lucien would do with these if you were to go up for a term?”

  Tani began shaking all over, her thighs working together. “Oh Mistress, please no! I’ll do anything. Please!”

  “Tani!” Escott laid a hand on her back. “Be still.”

  “Relax, girl.” The Lady stroked a palm over the curve of Tani’s hip. “Your services are too valuable to let you go to the intake. Lucien has more than enough bottoms to ply his trade on as it is.”

  Arnaud turned his horse, bringing it over to stand in front of the bent-over Tani. “Farrier says he’s got four women for Lucien’s intake this fall.” His lips turned up at the corners of his mouth.

  Tani sighed as the Lady eased the broad buttocks apart, exposing the dusky bottom hole to the sun. “Four is it? Who’s being sent up I wonder?”

  Arnaud lifted a hand from the reins. “I believe Lord Galdan’s daughter-in-law is one of them.”

  The Lady smiled, shaking her head. “I knew she’d be sent up, eventually. Galdan says she gives his son nothing but fits. She’s been recalcitrant with providing him an heir, as well! Even Galdan’s patience has limits.”

  Arnaud shook his head, scowling. Sophie looked away again as the Lady played fingers through the humid cleft of Tani’s buttocks, the nails lightly scratching at the shrinking anus.

  The rope was definitely loosening from around the pommel. Her eyes darted to Arnaud then back again. She thought she might just be able to do it. Sophie took a small step toward the Lady’s horse.

  “Easy, Tani,” the Lady lilted, her tone soothing. “Just a little something for your troubles now.”

  Sophie winced as the Lady’s long-nailed fingers stroked through the dark split of Tani’s sex, her fingers glistening as she spread the moisture up on to the anus.

  “Stay still, girl,” Escott murmured, his hand rubbing lazy circles on Tani’s tense back.

  “You know.” The tip of the Lady’s finger circled the moisture into the delicate skin of Tani’s anus. “Sandra was rather disapproving of Farrier’s man, Lucien. I still wonder why. I find him delightful.”

  “He has that effect on some, Mistress.” Arnaud inclined his head.

  “She agreed to accompany us on the trip in the fall. I can’t wait.” The Lady’s finger nosed into the anus and Tani jerked, her hips twisting. “Mm, very tight.”

  Sophie gulped, wanting to look away, but her eyes refused to budge from the sight before her.

  “Ah, ah! Oh!” Tani panted.

  “There girl, push back now. That’s it.” The Lady looked up at Escott. “Never use her here, do you?”

  Escott shook his head, his eyes glued to the finger slowly disappearing into Tani.

  “No, no, don’t tighten, dove. Bear down.” The Lady’s other hand moved between Tani’s thighs, rubbing the woman’s clit in slow circles. “There we are! Good girl, just let me in now.”

  When the Lady’s finger was fully bedded, all the way to the last knuckle, she began a slow twisting.

  “Very tight here, Escott. I haven’t the faintest idea why you don’t avail yourself of this luscious ass, but you should at least start using the saddle strap.”

  Escott smiled, his eyes sparkling. “Yes, Mistress.”

  “Arnaud, you should loan him that nice one with the good stout plug built in.” The Lady craned her head from around a curved hip, her finger still moving within the writhing Tani. “Hop down and give me a hand here, Arnaud. I think we should give Escott some pointers for his next stable block visit with this lass.”

  The instant Arnaud’s feet hit the ground, Sophie dashed for the Lady’s horse, careful to avoid treading on the rope. She heard a surprised sound from the Lady, and a curse from Arnaud. Reaching the horse, for a moment she considered trying to hop up in the saddle. She thought better of it, knowing she’d be caught before she even made it up, and instead uncoiled the slack length from the pommel.

  She could feel Arnaud close, so she dashed away through the plowed dirt, stumbling in the furrows. She knew the field would help neutralize some of Arnaud’s speed advantage, but not if she went sprawling in the dirt herself.

  Chancing a glance behind her, she saw the Lady mount her steed, and Arnaud, for some reason, appeared to have abandoned the chase. Escott, his jaw dropped in surprise, had an arm around Tani’s waist, the woman looking back over her shoulder.

  Sophie considered whether to make for the nearest track then back to the road, but decided against it knowing she’d be run down within minutes. She heard the tramp of hooves behind her, but oddly they didn’t seem to be getting closer. She looked back once more, cursing the awkward gait her bound hands forced her into.

  Lady Westwood, sitting high in her saddle, was indeed riding after Sophie. Her lips were a thin line, her eyes squinting in the bright sunlight. But rather than taking after Sophie at a gallop, she seemed to be simply walking the horse, unhurried. Even though she staggered through the uneven ground of the thick, plowed soil, Sophie was ac
tually increasing the distance from her pursuer. The long rope dragged behind her as she fled, slowing her down, so she tried gathering it up as she ran.

  She scanned wildly around, hoping to find something, some way out. All around her was more farmland, as far as she could see. She saw the occasional figure in the distance, working the land, but knew she’d find no succor with any of them. They’d likely turn her over to the Lady, seeking to curry favor with her. A look behind her showed the Lady still riding after her, in no hurry whatsoever. Sophie, already starting to tire, realized what the Lady already knew: the chase could have only one end.

  Still Sophie ran; she had no choice. She’d never go willingly back to that monstrous Lady. Maybe she’d run until her heart burst, and the hell of her captivity would end, her soul free to find her Owen in the next life. But whatever happened, she’d be damned if she was going to cooperate with the “Lady” anymore. She’d never be reduced to a dumb animal as poor Tani had so obviously been.

  Glancing behind her again, her heart dropped. The Lady had sped up to a trot and was steadily drawing closer. Worse, the cruel Lady held something up with her hand, a short length of chain with cuffs at each end. Still Sophie ran, cutting across dirt tracks, through soft grooves of furrowed earth, and across fallow fields of cracked, hard soil. Bits of rock were in her shoes, galling the soles of her feet, and the sun beat down upon her pitilessly.

  She heard the clop of hooves growing louder, and looked over her shoulder. Arnaud, his horse at full gallop and kicking up great gouts of dust, passed by the Lady. The overseer was high in his saddle, rage in his eyes.

  Sophie darted to her right, hoping to use a length of dilapidated sun-bleached fence as an obstacle to the horse. But Arnaud closed the distance before she even reached the fence, the shoulder of the horse barreling into her back with bone-crunching force. She sprawled, bouncing and rolling in the dirt. She rolled over onto her back, wheezing. It felt as if the very breath had been sucked from her lungs, and she felt paralyzed with the effort it took to breathe.

  Arnaud was off his horse and crouching by her within moments.