Hannah's Sins

Hannah's Sins
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ISBN:  9781780803739
Author:  Valerie Saxon
Word Count:  77,954
Format:  eBook

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A Wicked ConquestA Wicked Conquest
Dangerous InheritanceDangerous Inheritance

Hannah opened her eyes to the blackness of the hood and cruel fingers of the footmen digging into her shoulders. She tried to cry out but the sound was muffled by the foul gag in her mouth. Tears forced themselves from beneath her eyelashes. She had never been so low; not when her uncle beat her, not when the minister took her virginity and made her pray until her knees bled. Not even in the forest when that Lawrence tried to fill her belly with child while the rest of the group watched...
 
Hannah is brought up in the seventeenth century by her cruel uncle. When a courtier visits he initiates her into the art of sensuality, for which the poor damsel in distress is punished and betrothed to a depraved church minister, who abuses her and then rages that she is a sinner.
 
Hannah escapes to London, where she encounters more sexual perversions as the maid of an aristocratic lady. She is obliged to take work in a tavern where her beauty causes jealousy and she is sold to a brothel, where she meets the cruellest discipline of all.
 
Though she is saved, her depraved betrothed finds her and forces her aboard a vessel bound for Jamaica. After being taken by Spaniards they are attacked by a privateer vessel and Hannah again becomes a sex slave.
 
She tries, and fails, to kill her captor, and when they reach the notorious Port Royal she is disciplined at one of his bizarre orgies. But Hannah's sensuous nature again comes to the fore, and she realises being the captain's woman could be her most intoxicating adventure of all.
The sound of the horses' hooves and the clatter of the coach wheels, along with the constant motion, were beginning to send her to sleep, until a loud thud on the roof, loud cries and the slowing of the coach brought her wide awake.
   'Oh, my giddy aunt! 'Tis highwaymen. I knew it,' Mistress Biddle cried before bursting into tears, her knitting sliding to the floor.
   Hannah patted her arm, trying to soothe her. Everyone else was stunned into silence until a man clad in a dark cloak, a mask and a tricorn pulled low on his forehead, opened the door of the coach and thrust a pistol at them.
   'No one will get hurt, long as you empty yer pockets and remove yer jewellery,' he intoned clearly, motioning for them to step down from the vehicle.
   Mistress Biddle began to have hysterics and Hannah, full of concern, helped her alight from the carriage. 'There now, everything will be all right,' she soothed, glaring at the highwayman who was eyeing her with interest. She saw that the coachmen were bound and gagged and looking most sorry for themselves, but appeared relatively unharmed.
   'You ought to be ashamed of yourself,' she scolded as the man stood watching them, his pistol poised threateningly, while he held out a sack for his spoils. His compatriot rummaged in the baggage atop the coach, stealing everything of value.
   His eyes slit and the hardness in them made her shudder. 'Keep yer opinions to yerself,' he spat nastily.
   Before she was able to think straight, the bags and the occupants of the coach had been swiftly parted from their valuables and the passengers hurried back into the vehicle. Hannah turned to follow her companions but the pistol was thrust into her back as the highwayman drawled, 'Stay where yer be, mistress. Yer coming with us.'
   Hannah's heart began to hammer uncomfortably in her chest, but she glared at him, her head high. 'I've no intention of going anywhere with you.'
   He seemed taken aback at her spirit, but then he guffawed. 'Oh, ain't yer? Maybe this will change yer mind.' He cuffed her roundly on her ear and for a second she felt dizzy.
   As her fellow passengers began to complain about her ill-treatment the man slammed the door of the coach and, dragging her with him, made her mount one of the horses tethered nearby. He swiftly mounted behind her and they soon left the meadows behind them and were riding through a forest, thickly carpeted with bluebells, as she hung on for dear life.
   They stopped in a clearing and the highwayman dismounted, dragging her down beside him. He pulled aside the covering of his face, his pock-marked countenance unshaven. 'There's a certain gentleman we know,' he said, leering down at her with brown teeth, 'who ain't happy with you runnin' away. Seems you're to wed soon.'
   The other man eschewed his disguise also, emptied his bag onto the ground and began to finger his ill-gotten gains. Hannah gasped; she had seen them before in Maychester. Admittedly they weren't villagers, but she recognised them as poachers who occasionally plied their wares to folk who weren't too proud to buy from them.
   She tried to compose herself; it would do her little good if they knew she was aware of their identities. She passed a weary hand over her aching head, feeling slightly faint from the earlier cuff around the ear, but she watched them both warily. So, Oswald Smallbrook had sent them for her. He had strange friends. Ruth must have told him what had happened; she had thought her imbued with more sense.
   'Let me go and I'll see that you gain much from your compassion,' she said with as much sincerity as she could muster.
   'Oh I'll gain all right,' the man with the pistol chuckled, eyeing her with pure lust. 'I think I'll take me a turn on the minister's bride to be.' He stroked her lustrous coal-black hair, barely able to believe how beautiful it was, before picking up a tendril and rubbing its silkiness against his calloused hands.
   The other man looked up from his spoils. 'Leave her be, Wilf,' he barked. 'When his lordship finds out we robbed the coach we'll be in enough bother.'
   'An' whose to say yer good minister didn't set that up too?' he snorted. 'Stow yer yellow belly Fred an' look at these tits.'
   As he spoke he grabbed Hannah's cloak and, pulling it aside, admired the swell of her breasts above the gauzy pinner she had draped modestly around the top of her bodice. That was soon whisked away and his lascivious grin made her tremble.
   'My betrothed won't pay for soiled goods,' she warned, trying to appear far braver than she felt.
   Wilf laughed heartily, rubbing his hands against the cold. 'Do yer think he'll believe a little trollop like you? 'Tis well known yer likes the feel of a good cock.'
   'Aye, heard she got a good mouth for it,' Fred agreed, suddenly perking up. 'Always said these hoity-toity bitches were hot-arsed.'
   Wilf pinned her against the rough bark of a tree and she was obliged to take a deep breath of air to compensate for the offensive smell that emanated from his person.
   'Are yer?' he growled. 'Are yer a hot-arsed bitch?'
   He flung his shabby cloak over his shoulder and tossed his hat aside. Hannah almost fainted upon sight of the huge protrusion in his breeches. His hands began to squeeze her breasts and she shrank away from him. 'Take your hands off me, you... you ill-mannered brute.'
   His reply was to squeeze harder, bringing tears to her eyes. She kicked out and caught his shins and he yelled and began hopping around cursing manically, saying what he would do to her for her misdeeds. As soon as he released his hold Hannah began to run, lifting her skirts as high as she could. But alas, she didn't get very far before Fred caught her and shook her like a rat.
   While her head whirled from the rough handling he shoved her against a sturdy tree and ripped her bodice so that her breasts sprang freely into his palms. Wilf caught up with them and watched as his friend slathered his tongue over the stunned girl's breasts in excitement.
   Hannah felt so dizzy with shock she almost fainted. As Fred's head bobbed beneath her chin and he made animalistic noises she began to wish she had. But she quickly realised that these men were so wicked they might relish taking her inert body.
   Fred began lifting the hem of her skirts, studying the fair flesh beneath, touching her slim ankles with knobbly fingers. Soon his hands began to wander higher. Hannah, fearful and desperate, tried to push them off but he was lust-driven and far stronger than her. She felt hot lips touch the back of her knees, just above her garters and stockings and cried out in fear.
   Wilf, deciding to have some of his friend's spoils too, roughly grabbed her breasts and with lips slick with spittle began nibbling and mauling her nipples. Hannah gave a swift cry of pain which incited him all the more and his touch became more vicious, causing terrified tears to dot her cheeks.
   Fred pinched her thighs, his dirty nails catching her delicate skin and she closed her eyes against her suffering. But nothing would shut out her degradation. And when he reached her blushing sex he caught her nether lips in a grip of steel and tugged viciously. At the same time he dug his nails into the delicate flesh and Hannah screamed.
   The scream momentarily stunned Fred but not for long, for annoyed at her wailing he cuffed her good and hard until her head spun and her tears ran faster. Unfazed by her distress he returned to her breasts, clawing and pinching cruelly.
   She had no strength left to fight them and the knowledge terrified her. She was completely dominated by the filthy creatures and fear almost made her vomit. But then a strange feeling overtook the fear and her insides warmed to the pinching and pulling on her nipples, to the clawing of her sex. And as the pain intensified so she longed for more.
   Sensing the change in her Wilf jerked her sex lips harder and bit them with rotting teeth and Hannah screamed. But it was not the scream of despair; this time it was of delight. She was suddenly weak and boneless at the attentions of the two ruffians. Though she tried hard to deny the insistent throbbing of her body, ignore the way it sang beneath their touch, it was extremely difficult.
   Their abuse was nothing more than a moment's discomfort that brought the greatest rewards. She had no knowledge of how pain brought such pleasure but she would not deny it. She stopped fighting her natural yearnings and gave herself up to their lust. After all, she was in a difficult situation. She could not fight them any more, so it would not be a sin if she enjoyed herself just a little.
   So turned on was she, she would have slid to the ground if the solid wood of the tree hadn't held her up. Wilf was beginning to enjoy her treasures and she sighed as his unshaven chin grazed tantalisingly across her throbbing nub. This caused him to bite the protuberance and her legs shook at the pain. But as before the hurt soon dissolved into bliss that seeped through every fibre of her being.
   Wilf's tongue began lapping at her vulva, drinking of the dew that had collected in her cleft from the attentions of the two men, and Hannah's head rolled back against the tree and she sighed, quite forgetting that she was being taken against her will.
   'She's a hot-arsed bitch, all right,' Wilf said in delight, his voice muffled in her nest. 'She's wetter'n my gizzard when it drips with ale.'
   'Gis a feel,' Fred demanded, sticking his finger beneath her skirts. 'Said she would be, didn't I?' he asked triumphantly. 'Shift, let's have a sniff.'
   Wilf reluctantly gave over his position to his friend. 'Smells sweeter'n a spring meadow, does that little cunny. Never did get a whiff of anything so pretty,' he gushed, taking his cock from his breeches and wielding it in his hand.
   ''Tis true,' Fred replied from beneath Hannah's petticoats, his nose stuck provocatively in her nest. 'Best little cunny I ever did smell.'
   Hannah was busy watching Wilf masturbate, quite unable to extricate her eyes from the steel of his cock, as he studied the bruised breasts that spilled from her gown. Fred was busy lapping at her cleft and she almost fainted as the rough-edged tongue attended so well to her tender flesh. So good was the feeling, and so excited was she by the dual attentions of the men, she soon shuddered to a wonderful climax, steadying herself on Fred's head.
   'I... I really think this must cease,' she said, her voice unsteady.
   Wilf laughed. 'The minister's the luckiest blighter ever. Fancy havin' this one in yer bed every night?'
   'Didn't you hear me?' she asked more loudly, feeling ashamed, knowing she ought to show a little reluctance.
   'Aye,' Wilf said, annoyed at the tone of her voice, his eyes sparking. 'I heard yer. Now on yer knees, bitch. Let's see if the praises spread about you's to be believed.'

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