Lady Ann s Greatly Extended Holiday Chapter Twenty Seven
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Lady Ann's Greatly Extended Holiday - Chapter Twenty Eight free porn video
Chapter Twenty Eight
Vulnerability
1
At breakfast, Ann felt a strange aloofness to the proceedings as though
she were watching the scene on a moving picture.
Richard had arrived to join her and Grandmamma on his way to the office
and he sat reading the newspaper while the ladies spread marmalade on
their toast. It was lovely out on the balcony overlooking the park: warm
but with a delightfully fresh breeze. No one was talking. They were each
absorbed in their own thoughts.
The distance Ann felt from the scene prevented her from feeling the same
peace and contentment she would normally have enjoyed. She was watching
Richard and the more time that passed, the more she came to realise
something troubling. Sitting there, watching Lord Hurley read his
newspaper; reflecting on his behaviour over the past few days; she
realised that she wasn't sure she loved him anymore.
She had been so completely sure she did but the way he had spoken to
her... Was it possible he wasn't the man of her dreams after all?
She didn't know. It was all so confusing.
It crossed her mind to break off the engagement immediately but she
couldn't do that; not unless she was sure.
And she certainly wasn't sure.
She sighed, wishing that things were different. And wishing she knew her
own mind.
Though there was one thing she was certain of. She would never go back
and trade lives with that dirty stable hand. She would never ever do
that.
2
The dirty stable hand in question reached the edge of Griply carrying
two crates of vegetables as a delivery for the little village shop.
He had one crate on each shoulder, easy work for his strong arms. He
could barely feel it and the knowledge of that gave him a lazy sense of
contentment. He was the strong man of Griply valley; the boxing match
had proven that for everyone.
A gaggle of girls on the corner tittered and whispered to one another as
he passed. Burt found himself almost strutting, so proud he was of his
physical endowments. His tryst with the vicar's wife had shown beyond
doubt that he was the most eligible bachelor in town amongst the lower
orders. He bet he could have any woman he put his mind to now. Apart
from the one he desired the most, obviously.
He sighed. It didn't matter. When Lady Ann returned she would
undoubtedly hear about his exploits and then who knew what might happen?
She might start to notice him after all!
That would be grand, that would. Right grand.
The fair was going for another couple of nights but as Burt passed the
common he noticed that one of the stalls was packing away: the gypsy
woman who had read his fortune.
He slowed as he neared. The old woman emerged from the partially
dismantled tent carrying a box and saw him. "Good morning Burt," she
said, her bright eyes flicking up and down his body.
"Mornin," he replied jovially. He remembered seeing her but little of
the details. He must have got right bladdered afterwards. For the life
of him he couldn't work out what had been said.
"I see you're feeling better," she said.
"Aye," responded Burt, but he wasn't sure if she meant after the boxing
match or something else.
"Your soul matches its body now. That's clear enough."
"Eh?"
"No matter. I'm just happy to see you being content."
Burt frowned. He had no idea what this odd old woman was blathering on
about. Though he had never understood gypsy folk. They were more than
passing weird.
"You know who and what you are now," she said. "You aren't fighting
against it all the time. I should imagine you feel a darned sight
happier than most people."
Burt shrugged, unsure how to respond. "I suppose."
"And you do make a good servant." She smiled mischievously.
Burt had a feeling she was having him on but for the life of him he
couldn't work out why. "How come you're packing up?" he asked. He
pointed with a toss of his head. "The rest of the fair ain't moving on
yet."
The old gypsy placed the box she was carrying in the back of her little
time-worn cart. She smiled her mirthful smile again and said, "I wasn't
part of the fair Burt Harper. I was only here to see you."
3
Ann reflected on the cracks that had appeared in her perfect love for
Richard. Did she really not love him anymore? Or was she just angry that
he had treated her like a woman?
Perhaps it was the pinch of being side-lined when "important" matters
were being discussed and put second to his work that made her feel this
way. Perhaps her disappointment was that of any woman as she comes to
understand her standing in comparison to her future spouse, her second-
class status compared to her man.
It was really rather hilarious when she came to think about it. Here she
was: the thief of an aristocratic woman's life and all she could think
to do now was pick holes in the very femininity she had taken.
She put back the jewellery and walked to the window, feeling tetchy and
confused. Her emotions were flipping and flapping in every direction,
making her wish she could step off the earth for a minute. She placed
her hands gently against her face, covering her eyes, nose and mouth and
breathed deeply, the sound of it and the heat distracting her from her
concerns.
When she lowered them the stable hand was at work again outside. She
stepped back, a little too exposed so close to the glass, but kept him
in sight, watching him again: his muscular arms and shoulders; his broad
back.
She liked to watch him. It made her feel... nice. But she smiled to
herself to think of her former life, loitering outside her paramour's
window, hoping for a glimpse.
How far she'd come from those days; and how near to them she was still.
But what if she were to sleep with this man? What then?
She missed the days when such matters wouldn't really have concerned
her; the freedom of promiscuity she'd possessed as a commoner. As a man
she had taken what was freely given. As a woman, especially as a member
of the upper class, it was all so complicated.
How would she go about doing it if she were to dare? She allowed herself
the indulgence of thinking through what the sequence might be.
Coupling inside the house would be out of the question. Outside in the
upstairs room he kept in the stable: that was where it would have to be.
And a credible excuse for her disappearance would need to be provided of
course. She couldn't be seen to be dallying with the help. A scandal of
that nature might well ruin her matrimonial aspirations. She smirked to
herself. Managing it was rather similar to plotting a murder. Every
possibility needed to be anticipated and arranged.
But the real questions were: was she really prepared to go through with
it, and what were her true feelings for Richard? Did her affections
really mean so little to her?
And did her lust mean so much?
4
On the way back from the greengrocer's, Burt ran into Mavis.
She was in the alley at the side of the Dog & Pony, hanging out washing
on a line. He saw her from the corner of his eye but he didn't stop.
When she saw him she called after him, "Burt!" but he went on walking.
"Burt wait!" She hurried to the corner of the alley.
Burt smiled to himself and pretended he hadn't heard.
"Burt! Wait up!" Mavis came after him down the street and now Burt did
stop and turn to face her.
"Oh. Ey oop Mavis. I didn't see you there."
"Ey up Burt. Are ye right?"
He shrugged. "Can't complain."
"Ah good. Er..."
There was an uncomfortable pause.
"Right, well I ave'ta be back oop at'all so I'll sees ye around." He
turned to go.
"Wait, Burt."
He paused.
"I was opin we could ave a talk, you an me," said Mavis.
"Wot about?"
"About... us. Bein together."
Burt feigned confusion. "Ain't you with that bloke wot was too afraid to
fight me the other day?"
Mavis's cheeks reddened slightly. "No. Him and me ain't... He was just..."
She floundered, unsure what best to say.
"Yes..."
"I was just thinkin that maybe you and me could... I was watching you
fight the other night an I..."
"What?"
"I remembered what I was missin, that's all."
"Oh aye?" Burt was grinning on the inside, loving the turnabout of Mavis
begging him for favours.
"I saw ow strong you was and ow good you were at fightin... and I..."
"You wanted to shag me?"
They both chuckled. "Yeah. That's about it."
"Well," said Burt. "I'm not short on offers nowadays so I'll ave to
see." He turned and walked away.
"Burt, wait!"
He stopped again and this time he grinned broadly, his back to her.
"Give me another chance. Please."
He waited for a long moment, drawing the pleasure out, then walked back
to Mavis and took her in his arms. "Ahright luv," he said. "If you
insist an all."
He pressed his lips to hers and snogged her for all he was worth.
5
After she'd had her lunch, Ann took a turn about the lake in the park as
she was wont to do in the afternoons whenever she could. Thornton, the
footman, was ordered to hang back well out of her eyeline so she
wouldn't be distracted or disturbed.
After feeling so smug and sure of herself at breakfast, Ann was now
thoroughly bewildered. She had so many thoughts buzzing in her skull
that she couldn't think straight: resentment of her marginalisation as a
weak-brained woman, the lure of the money, Richard's lack of affection,
the growing glimmer of lust she felt for the stable hand. It was more
than she could cope with. She needed to clear her head; that was all;
then the pieces would start to fall into place.
She wasn't some ignorant yokel now; she was Lady Ann Neville and she was
more than capable of taking charge of this situation.
She closed her eyes as she walked and let the cool breeze off the water
caress her skin. It was so serene here. She thought perhaps it was where
she felt most at peace.
The path looped round the edge of the lake close to the road then curved
back in. Trying to let go of all her anxiety, Ann walked on, simply
enjoying the quiet and the gentle light of the sun through her closed
eyelids.
Then her eyes popped open as rough hands grabbed her shoulders from
behind, jerking her backward and almost off balance.
She was swung round and Ann found herself staring into the face of a
rough-looking swarthy-skinned peasant and at the grimy thickset man he
had with him.
She started to speak but the oily hand of the thickset man closed over
her mouth, blocking the air she tried to draw in. She could barely
breathe, let alone scream, then she tilted sideways, losing her footing
as they snatched at her.
Someone was calling her name. "Lady Ann! Lady Ann!" Thornton, the little
footman who was supposed to be guarding her. But the men were dragging
her backwards, off the path, across the narrow strip of grass and to the
road.
She struggled, trying to get free but her strength was pathetic next to
theirs. She tried to cry out but she couldn't. She couldn't do anything
to stop them!
There was an ugly little carriage waiting at the side of the road. The
doors were open. A third man was inside, reaching out as they dragged
her toward it.
She couldn't get her arms free; couldn't call out.
Thornton was running toward them but he was too far away.
She was inside the carriage; thrown down on the floor. Her legs were
tossed in after her, hooking her almost upside down.
The doors were closing.
The driver cracked his whip. The carriage lurched.
Thornton was still calling but it was too late.
The men were grappling with her, tying a dirty rag around her mouth to
gag her.
This wasn't supposed to be happening! Not to her!
But there was nothing she could do about it!
She was trapped!
6
After Burt was finished with his work for the day, he and Mavis took a
stroll around the fair, looking at the different stalls.
Once upon a time he would have enjoyed nothing more than a walk around
the National Portrait Gallery admiring the fine works of art. Now, this
was more his sort of entertainment. There were all sorts of attractions:
hoopla, a coconut shy, jugglers, dancing girls. Better yet, people
remembered him from the boxing match two nights before and he got more
than one appreciative look from the ladies or nod from the blokes. With
Mavis on his arm dressed in her poshest and most revealing frock, he
couldn't imagine feeling happier.
True, it was a shame about being taken off looking after the horses, but
he had to agree he didn't really have the brains for it no more, if he
ever had. And it wasn't too bad just being a labourer. With the horses
he had been expected to be proactive and autonomous to some extent. Now
that all he did was hard graft, he just had to follow orders; there was
no thinking involved. Thinking made his brain ache.
He tugged Mavis over to the coconut shy and she laughed and squealed as
he tried his luck, knocking down coconuts with two out of three of his
balls. He gave the prize to Mavis and she hugged it proudly, showing off
what her man had won for her to everyone they passed. Burt sniggered at
that but it did make him feel proud.
Next he had a go on the Test Your Strength machine with its pressure pad
and hammer shooting up to the bell on the top, posing to show his
muscles off first like a strong man. A few girls were gathered there and
they chattered gaily when they recognised Burt, especially at the show
he was gamely putting on for them.
The bloke wot was running it gave him the long hammer and he swung it
round his head, grinning, before he brought it down hard. The clapper
shot up the thing's neck and struck the bell with a loud clang and every
onlooker cheered.
"He may be dumber than a tree stump," said Mavis to one of the other
girls. "But there's no one stronger in all the valley."
The girls all laughed, dampening Burt's pride a little, but he knew what
was what. Any one of them would spread their legs for him if he offered
and Mavis only meant it affectionately.
And he could hardly complain if she was telling the truth. He might be a
few bob short of a quid but he was also the toughest bloke in them
parts. He gave it a half moment's further thought and concluded that was
better anyhow.
He'd much rather have brawn than brains any day of the week.
7
Ann felt absolutely terrified as she was hauled out of the back of the
carriage by the three men, her mouth still gagged.
Old blackened brick buildings were close on all sides, the skies cloudy
and grey above, but she had no more than a useless moment to orient
herself before the darkness of a building swallowed her up.
She was hurled forward with no hope of regaining her footing in the long
skirt she was wearing. She went down hard on the stone floor, banging
her head nastily. Her hands weren't tied but she couldn't move for a
moment at all, she was so dazed from the impact. Then one of the men
snatched up her wrist and pulled her to her feet again, making her cry
out from shock and pain. He jerked hard on her arm, pulling her ahead,
and a moment later one of the other men shoved her in the back.
"Come on. Hurry it along! We ain't got all day!"
She tried to speak; to beg to be freed; but through the gag it was just
a muffled mess of vowels.
"Shut it!" snapped the man behind her. She got shoved again and
stumbled, turning her ankle in her heels, only staying upright because
of the man dragging her forward.
The building was some old factory or warehouse. It wasn't in use that
she could see. It was the kind of dirty filthy place she might have
found herself in as part of her old life but now that she was a woman it
felt frightening and alien.
She didn't like this! Not one bit!
She was swung round, almost losing her balance again and then thrown
into a chair. The chair rocked backwards, teetering as though it might
fall, then clunked onto the floor on all four legs. It was so dark in
the building; she could barely see anything more than ten yards away.
And there were at least four men. She had no chance of escape.
She went to pull at her gag but the swarthy man slapped her hand hard.
The suddenness of it jerked tears from her eyes and she started weeping
as the men circled her. Each one of them was nothing more than a filthy
lower class thug. Their hairy, oil-stained bodies sported tattoos and
scars and their black eyes fixed on her and on her exposed flesh.
She had never felt so vulnerable, so terrified for her very life.
As Burt she would have had a chance of fighting her way out, big brawny
man that she'd been. Trapped in this womanly flesh she didn't have a
chance. Even one of the men could overpower her with one hand tied
behind his back.
It was awful! Simply awful!
She gaped at them fearfully, wishing this hadn't happened to her, but
every one of the men said nothing - they just stared at her - and she
realised exactly how perilous her situation was.
Why, if only she'd been a man still! If only she wasn't a weak and
simpering fool of a woman!
8
Burt took Mavis by the hand and led her tenderly up the stairs to his
hay loft above the stables.
While she started stripping he unrolled his straw pallet and then turned
to look at her. She looked bloody lovely - a right sexy bit of fluff.
She had a strapless bustier on under her dress and it made a gorgeous
shelf of her knockers. She was smirking at him like the cat who'd
swallowed the cream and he took his time unbuttoning his shirt to reveal
his muscular chest and stomach.
"I've missed doin this," said Mavis. "Them other men've had no cocks to
speak of."
"Well it's still ere waiting for ye," replied Burt, undoing his trousers
and letting his dick swing up and erect, fully in view.
"Woof!" cried Mavis. "I'm looking forward to getting that giant back in
me."
"Well what're ye waitin over there for then ye daft tart," chuckled
Burt.
Mavis came into his arms and he shoved his tongue into her mouth,
tangling it with hers. He gripped her upper arms, pushing them together
and raising her onto her toes. Then he cradled her spine and rocked her
backwards, forcing her into the submissive position just with his lips.
She crumpled before him, sighing, and he let her fall to the pallet,
guiding her slowly down as though she were a precious flower.
Mavis lay back on the pallet, spreading her legs wide and Burt clambered
down over her, nuzzling her waist and her ribs, kissing and biting,
working his way upwards. He took one of her nipples into his mouth and
chewed it roughly and Mavis, gasping in pleasure, raked his upper back
with her fingernails, bringing an exquisite pinpoint of pleasure to him
as well.
He kissed and chewed her neck then worked down to her other boob,
smiling to himself as the end of his cock brushed her thigh. Burt's lips
closed around Mavis's and her right hand floundered hurriedly about her
crotch, finding the bell end and drawing it safely in.
She was aflush with fluids already and his dick slid inside without
resistance. Mavis gave a long and jagged groan, pulling hard with both
hands above Burt's muscular buttocks.
There was no thought of Lady Ann this time, either as an object of lust
or as a memory of who he used to be. It was just Burt and Mavis, his
hard body crashing into her soft form. She thrust up with her pelvis as
he thrust down, her hands made into claws, scratching and teasing his
chest and his abdomen.
Burt lifted his hands up above his head, stretching them both and his
back, his head dropping, face vertical; still pumping.
This was his woman again now finally. She was his girl and he was her
man. Knowing that brought the pleasure to the point of a pin. There was
nothing now but this passion and this need.
Nothing but a woman and the man who wanted her more than anything else
on earth.
9
Ann sat still on her chair, looking from one man to the next, wishing
with all her heart that she had the strength to get out of there.
They had still said nothing more than rudely snapping at her if she
tried to move or take her gag off. Utterly cowed by their aggression,
she had simply quivered in fear, wishing Richard was there to save her,
wishing she had not gone for the walk that morning; that she hadn't
strayed from Thornton's protection.
That she had still been a man.
If only she'd still been Burt she could have made a bid for freedom,
punched the men with her crude fists, used the only language these thugs
would understand. And better than that: if she'd returned to her proper
life as Burt then she wouldn't have been a target for them. She would be
safe in her old stable with Mavis, hundreds of miles away.
Oh why had she been so greedy and cruel to steal this life from its true
owner!?
There was noise from away in the darkness of the warehouse and another
man approached. He was older and taller than the others with a more wiry
build. He leered suggestively as he came closer, getting a good look.
Ann squirmed, hating his attentions and the jeers of the other men. She
wished she were anywhere but here in their power.
The tall man reached toward her face and Ann flinched back with a sharp
whimper. He grabbed her gag, brushing her cheek with his dirty finger,
and pulled it clear hard. Ann gave a yelp of alarm but relished the
relatively clean air. The rag they'd used to gag her had tasted awful!
"How do," said the tall man.
Ann merely gawked at him, unable to find her voice or any confidence.
"You can call me Blake," said the man. "It ain't my name but it'll do
for now."
Still she said nothing.
"And your name's Lady Ann Neville. How d'ye do?" He did a mock bow and
the other men about him chuckled throatily. They had withdrawn somewhat
now that Blake was here, some of them hidden behind her, others barely
visible in the gloom.
"You're probably askin yerself what we want with ye," said Blake. "Eh?"
Ann hesitated then nodded her head once.
"Well it's ransom ain't it. I reckon you'll be worth more than a
farthing or two, eh? What do ye reckon?"
He laughed again and the men laughed with him. Ann looked desperately
from one to another of them, covering her mouth with both hands.
"Until then, I'll thank ye to do as yer told and not make any trouble.
Do you get that?"
Ann nodded.
Blake grabbed her by the shoulders, making her shriek and pulled her
roughly up. "Are ye sure?"
She nodded again and whimpered, "Please."
He took her upper arm and twirled her half round then goose-stepped her
away from the men and her chair into the darkness.
"Please," she begged, "Let me go. I'll do anything."
An antechamber came into view with a door - an office perhaps at one
time but now little more than a cell. Blake took her to the doorway and
gave her a good shove. She staggered, almost losing her balance again,
and came up against the opposite wall, scratching her palms on the rough
brick. She looked back, hoping and fearing that he would lock her in.
But Blake was still there.
He came inside, the men loitering beyond him, trying to see past his
broad torso. He said nothing, just eyeing her body and clothes.
"Please," whispered Ann, crumpling down to her knees at the foot of the
wall, feeling more vulnerable and pathetic than she ever had before.
Blake didn't close the door with him on either side of it. He left it
open and came toward her, lifting her back up as though she weighed
nothing. He looked into her eyes. Then he tore her dress at the sleeve,
ripping the left arm off so that it fell about her wrist before
slithering to the floor.
Ann yelped again but his big hand clamped round her chin, pinning her
mouth closed. He yanked down hard on the other sleeve, tearing it free
cleanly. Ann whimpered but did not cry out.
"A lot of money to be made all round," whispered Blake. "Thanks to my
contact telling me about you and what yer movements were." He moved his
face even closer to hers, the reek of his dirty body enveloping her nose
and mouth. "But there ain't no reason we can't enjoy ourselves until we
get it. Eh?"
Ann's arm came up but Blake snatched the wrist and pinned it back down
at her waist as though her strength were inconsequential.
She couldn't blink. She couldn't breathe. She was powerless. He could do
anything and there was no way she could stop him.
He thrust his head in, pressing his lips to hers, forcing her head back
as her face became a grimace of horror. She couldn't get free from it -
his grip on her chin was so tight - and somehow that was the worst part
of it: that inability to move her face or to speak. With her darkly
brewing fantasies, she might have expected to be aroused by this but
nothing could have been further from the truth. The loss of power was
humiliating and frightening beyond belief.
Blake pulled away, flicked his eyes down her torso then kissed her hard
again. This time Ann did cry out through her muffled lips; tried to
press at his huge body with her free hand. But there was no moving him.
No way to get free. She was trapped.
Blake withdrew once more then leered at her, breaking into another
chuckle. Outside the little room, all the other men laughed and Ann's
face coloured hotly.
The tall man pulled back and released her and Ann slumped to the floor,
falling forward on her hands.
Still chuckling, Blake returned to the doorway then looked back in, his
hand on the handle. "It ain't so nice being one of the quality when
suddenly someone else is in charge, is it, eh?"
Ann didn't move. She couldn't. She couldn't catch her breath.
"Just you think about that in the night," he said. "Tomorrow we'll see
about getting that money off your rich gentleman and maybe then we'll
let you go." He grinned. "Or maybe not."
"God help me," whispered Ann.
Blake went to close the door but he paused before he did so and said one
more thing. "And don't go trying to escape if you know what's good fer
ye. I want me another one've them kisses before I let ye go. And maybe
somethin more."
The door snapped shut behind him and Lady Ann Neville crumpled to the
floor, wishing she could get out of there alive and unsoiled and vowing
that when she was safely away she was going to go back to Yorkshire.
She was going to trade places with Burt and get her proper life back
before something like this could happen again!
Read the extra extended version of Lady Ann's Holiday available on
Amazon
For more of my stories, check out: http://transformation-
stories.blogspot.co.uk/
For updates on releases, follow me on Twitter @emmafinnuk
And read my transformation novels on Amazon or Kobo by searching for
Emma Finn
Pansy
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Lady Ann s Greatly Extended Holiday Chapter Twenty Nine
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