Lady Ann's Greatly Extended Holiday - Chapter Twenty Nine free porn video

Chapter Twenty Nine A Chance of Escape 1 Ann opened her eyes. There was no sound in the warehouse in which she was being held. She lay still, listening, moving her gaze from upper right to upper left, trying to pick out the least scratch or murmur. But there wasn't any. She got to her feet silently from where she'd been sleeping on the cold floor. Her arms were bare, her dress shredded round the shoulders. She looked awful and the fact that these men had done this to her made her quiver with fear. An almost overwhelming sense of powerlessness washed over her and her eyes filled with silent tears but she made herself stay still; not make a sound. She put her hand to her eyes and for several minutes she just wept noiselessly, wishing Richard or the Earl or some other man was there to protect her. She couldn't do this alone. She was only a woman. How could she ever get herself free? But they didn't know where she was! She had no choice. She had to try something! For half the night, until the exhaustion had finally let her sleep, Ann had wished over and over that she were still a man; that she'd never agreed to swap in the first place; that she'd gone back to Yorkshire when she was supposed to instead of stealing a life that didn't belong to her. But the morning had come cold and hard and early with the despondent realisation that her wish hadn't come true. She was trapped in this woman's body, with a woman's weakness of muscle and courage. She slipped off her heeled shoes and tiptoed to the doorway. The door was still ajar. She peered round the frame warily, showing only so much of her face as she absolutely had to. There were three men in her line of sight, all of them... yes... all of them asleep: collars up, caps down, arms folded in their chairs to keep warm. Ann allowed herself a broader peep, letting more of her head come round the door jamb, taking the risk that she'd be seen in return for a greater certainty that she could escape. No other men were visible in the gloom. Ann chewed her lip, knowing that she had to make a run for it but terrified of that first hurried step. The tall man, Blake, wasn't in sight. She didn't like the way that not all the men were accounted for. But she had to do it nonetheless. She pushed the door back a little and squeezed through the gap, hating the fact that they'd left her body so exposed. But there was nothing else for it. She stood still, trying to listen one more time, then started across the open floor of the warehouse on her toes, eying each of the sleeping men in turn. The closest one shifted in his sleep, adjusting himself unconsciously. He was no danger but Ann kept a watchful eye on him. Then she glanced to her right and looked straight into the eyes of a fourth man, sitting in a chair. Awake. He'd only just seen her. Both of them froze. The man's expression of surprise was almost comical. Then he was up on his feet and running toward her. Ann shrieked and fled toward the door. There were only about ten yards between her and the outside but the man was closing fast. Woken by the commotion, the other men were stirring. They were getting up! Ann grasped the door knob and whipped it round. The door was locked! She turned. The man was almost upon her. She cried out in panic and ducked as he lunged for her then came up, spotting another external door at the far side of the warehouse. She ran in that direction, her long skirt restricting her legs, forcing her into a frustrating and hopeless feminine gait. All the men were on their feet now. The one who'd seen her first snarled and grabbed for her. Missed. Ran after her, furious. Ann dodged to the right and then jinked left. All the men were in pursuit now but she was already half way across the building. Then one of them grabbed her, pulling her backwards, clear of her feet. She screamed. Ann screamed to the top of her lungs. "Help me! Help me! Please!" Her arms were pinned. They were dragging her back. She screamed again but dirty rough fingers closed round her jaw. She tried to scream through them but a fist punched her hard in the gut, throwing her head forward and driving all the wind from her lungs. She fell to the floor on her knees, gasping and in pain but the men snatched her up again and suddenly the tall man was there. He glared at her with tiny black eyes and she quailed. Then he whipped his hand out and the back of it smacked into her cheek. Her head rocked backwards sharply. She still couldn't catch her breath to cry out, even from pain. Then the gag was roughly tied to her face again and she was dragged backwards toward the room she'd spent the night in. None of them spoke. They tied her hands behind her back with cord and then threw her down hard to the floor. She still couldn't catch her breath. But the men weren't finished. They snatched up her legs, caring nothing for her decency, and tied her ankles together painfully tightly. They stood up, looked down on her, then withdrew. The tall man stood for a moment in the doorway, gazing remorselessly, then he snapped shut the door and turned the key. And then finally the tears came again and Ann wept and wept and wept, wishing she had just done what they'd said; wishing that Richard would come and longing for the time when she could be free of this place; free to return to Yorkshire and get her hands on the pendant once more. They had to come for her soon. They just had to! 2 Burt half woke up and rolled over, his arm falling naturally onto Mavis where she lay beside him. He smiled happily, thinking how good his life was, then paused. For a moment he did nothing, then a frown played around his eyes, scrunching them tighter. His eyes popped open wide and staring. He looked at Mavis, then round at the doorway, then down at his own body, then he jerked up into a sitting position. "Gor blimey," he whispered. He jumped up to his feet, throwing the blanket clear. "Gor blimey!" Mavis stretched, still mostly asleep. "What is it?" Burt went to the window then paced rapidly back. "By ecky thump," he said. "This ain't right. It ain't right at all!" "What ain't?" Mavis was almost awake, rubbing her eyes with two crooked first fingers. "What you goin on about now Burt?" "This caps owt," said Burt, increasingly alarmed. "It ain't right!" Mavis sat up becoming increasingly irritable. "What are you blatherin about ye twonk?" Burt went to the sideboard; to the mirror above it; and touched his face, his hair, his moustache. "I forgot who I was," he said. "Eh?" "It must've been..." He looked back at Mavis then into the mirror again. "It's been two chuffin days! Two days and I thought I was... I really thought I was..." "What? Who?" Mavis wrapped the blanket round her naked body. "What you goin on about now, ye great narner?" Burt stared at her, the immensity of this realisation overrunning all sense in his mind. He'd forgotten who he was. The potion. It had to have been that wot done it. He'd really believed he had always been Burt for his whole life. But that wasn't true! He saw that now! He was meant to be Lady Ann! This was all so entirely wrong! He ignored Mavis and went on staring at himself in the mirror, at this face looking back at him with its terrified and muddled eyes and its bushy manly moustache. Two long days and all that time he'd lost himself in this absurd part, kidding himself that he'd been born and bred a servant, just as he'd done before, except this time in a far more enduring way. "Oh my giddy aunt," hissed Burt. "What in eck am I meant to do now?" He didn't know why he'd slipped out of it but any minute he could forget again and be plunged back into that ignorance. He thought of the contentment he'd felt when he woke up and pumped out adrenaline through his body. He had actually been happy being a servant. He'd forgotten who he was so entirely that he enjoyed being the lowest being imaginable. Even now the potion had still done its work. He felt entirely comfortable in his skin, however much his mind was screaming at him that it was wrong. It was just like before. The changes wrought on his brain had actually affected his desires as well, making him want to be a servant. It was only these brief moments of lucidity that brought his consciousness above that dim level. "Chuff me," he said, remembering Jeb's arrival at the stables, fully understanding now the implications of that event. He wasn't just stuck in Burt's life but stuck in an exaggerated form of it. His foolish reaffirmations of his new role had gone far further than they should have to cement him into his new life. He was more masculine than the original Burt; lower in intelligence and education. His own idiotic actions had made him stupider than they need have. If he'd just kept his mouth shut then he might have fallen to the former Burt's level. Now, instead, he was a literal idiot, barely fit to follow the simplest instructions; utterly obsequious and fawning. He had made the transformation go far further than it should have done and now he was trapped, paying the price! Mavis was on her feet, putting her clothes back on. "What's wrong?" she said. "Why was you so het up?" Burt looked at her in surprise, barely even still aware she was there. "I ave to stop this," he said. "It's gone too far. I ave to do something." "Do something about what?" "I have to get my life back," he said. "Eh?" "I have to get hold of the pendant." "What pendant?" Burt went to the door then paused and snatched up his clothes. "I have to get that pendant and use it to get out of this life!" 3 Ann lay on her side, too aching to move, staring into the blurry distance through her watery eyes; planning it out. How she was going to become a man again. She was going to get free, she knew that, deep in her heart, even though it was almost impossible to believe. Richard would pay the ransom. Or he would find her. He would rescue her somehow, he had to. He had to. He'd take her home to Grandmamma's, carrying her in his strong arms. And she would rest. The criminals would be brought to justice. Then in a day or so she'd suggest to Richard that she wished to travel home to Griply. He would say yes; that it was an excellent idea. They'd travel up by train. And when she was back in Griply the coach would carry her back to the manor. She would go inside. She'd go up to her room, to the drawer where the butler had secreted the pendant. She would take it out and make some excuse to Richard. She wouldn't even say goodbye. And then she'd go to the stables. Find Burt. Take him to the holiday cottage. And there they'd change back and she would return to her old life. And nothing like this could ever happen to her again. She'd be safe. In a man's body. In her old life. Safe. That was what she was going to do. A tear trickled from her eye. It was what she was going to do after Richard came to save her. 4 Burt got no more than twelve yards into his plan to retrieve the pendant before his position betrayed him. "Where d'ya think you're off to?" asked Harry, sitting with his legs swinging on the rear deck of the little cart, whittling. "Oh Arry," said Burt, "I didn't see ye there." "I bet you didn't and were off to shirk ye chores." "No sir. Course not." Burt shifted uncomfortably, noticing how naturally the obsequiousness came now; how ingrained it was to his character. It had proceeded unimpeded since he'd drunk the potion until now it was just a part of who he was. He really was just Burt now with all the deference of a man brought up to serve. "Well you look mighty shifty," said Harry. "I'd put five bob on the fact you was plannin to see what you could get away with today." "No sir," replied Burt. "Sorry sir." He knew he had to get to the pendant as quickly as he could for fear of forgetting again but he also had a responsibility to pull his weight. The opposing priorities made his head spin. He wasn't sure what he should do but Harry would have his guts for garters if he didn't do as he was told. "What would you like me to do?" "Get back down to them fields and start digging again; that's what. Jeb says you ain't been working as hard as you should've." "I ave sir," said Burt. "Honest I ave." He felt awful that Jeb was running him down behind his back and worse now that he remembered who he really was; seeing the tightness of this new horrifying development: a demotion to a post even lower than he'd held before, working under Jeb, a common farm hand. "Aye. Well. We'll see ow you get on today. But mark my words and mark em well. If I come down there an you ain't workin 'ard then it'll be the Earl you're answerin to. Is that clear?" Burt bobbed his head, fretting over the pendant and how he was ever going to get to it. Even if he got away from his duties, he still had to get into the manor house and find it: an all but impossible task considering he was forbidden from setting foot inside. "Well go on then you dirty ape!" snapped Harry. "I ain't got all day!" Burt started to hurry away. "And Burt...!" He stopped and looked back. "Before you get back to your digging, get in there and shovel up the shit. You ain't getting out of doin that." Burt looked forlornly through the stable doors into the gloom and then shuffled inside to do what he was told. 5 Burt didn't get a chance to reach the house until lunch time and spent the morning instead, continuing to dig the drainage ditch in the field: hard man's work for his muscular body; just a simple task for his limited intellect. The same as every other day, he was called up to eat and he, the gardener, Jeb and Harry tucked in to the scrappy food laid out for them by Cook. It was tasty but a bit stringy - the worst quality and cheapest meat possible. Being outdoor servants, they hardly mattered after all. After they'd eaten, the three men started to depart but Cook called Burt to wait. "I want some elp moving things and a big brawny lad like you'll do the trick nicely," she said. Burt shrugged at Harry and Jeb and watched them head back toward the stables, wondering if this might present him with a chance. "What do ye want doin?" "Ere," said Cook. "Shift these crates for me into yon shed. They're nothing but clutter round ere and I don't want em under me feet no more." Burt hefted the crates two at a time and carried them across to the shed being careful not to drop them. As he worked he kept eyeing the house. There was only so long he could hope to keep hold of his memories and he'd already found his mind wandering that morning, thinking in terms of his lifelong memories of being a man. More than once he'd considered some incident from his past or his imagined future as if that destiny really belonged to him and the shock of it rattled him deeply. He had to act today or it was surely going to be too late. He'd forget again and this time he might never remember. He noticed that Cook didn't always stay in the kitchen. If he was going to brave going inside then she was the first obstacle. At least he could tell where she was through the window and make a call on when was the best time to make a go of it. The real danger was when he was inside. Turning any bend and seeing someone might suddenly expose his infiltration and that could mean any kind of punishment; possibly even being sacked from his position! He couldn't imagine a worse fate than that. He loved his job here doing labouring and such. He was no fool. He knew he was lucky to have a good service job with his wits. He fretted, unsure what to do. It wasn't right, the likes of him going indoors, he knew that. His old da had drummed that into him enough times before he got his job here. Maybe he should just go back down to the fields and get on with his digging... But when would he get a better chance than this? And what if he forgot again, got trapped in this life forever? No. It had to be now and to Hell with the consequences. He waited until he saw Cook disappear into the pantry then moved quickly, hurrying to the back door. He hesitated on the step, every instinct telling him not to proceed. It was wrong of him to go inside. He could get in a lot of trouble. He was far too filthy and uncouth to be seen in there. Ignoring that, he stepped over the threshold and moved quickly to the kitchen doorway, keeping one eye on the cook's back in the pantry. She didn't see him and with a quick glance ahead, he pushed on. There was no one in the lower corridor and the way was clear to the back stairs. That was a relief. If he'd had to use the main staircase he never would have made it unseen, but up the servant's route it was possible. He just prayed he wouldn't run into one of the indoor staff. Getting up to the first floor was clear but as he reached it he heard footsteps on the staircase above him coming down from the servant's quarters. Panicking, Burt peeped round the corner onto the landing. There was no one there but he couldn't be sure whoever was coming downstairs would keep on down. If they were headed for the first floor he was cornered. Worse, he didn't know exactly which room was her ladyship's. Even though he knew he had started life as Ann, his former memories were overwhelmed with Burt ones. His low intellect made it worse and as a result, all he had to go on was the rough location of the room, at the front of the house, to the left of the front door. The owner of the footsteps was almost in view. He had to move now! Burt rushed along the landing, keeping close to the wall in case anyone was in the hall below and saw him through the banister. He got to the first door and gripped the handle. There was no more time. The footsteps were almost upon him. Without another moment's hesitation he opened that random door and stepped through, closing it behind him, breathing heavily, relieved that he'd got clear in time. Then he heard something that made his heart stop. A woman's voice. "What on earth do you think you're doing in here?" Burt turned slowly, already knowing who had addressed him from the sound of her tone but not wanting to make it real by actually seeing her. There she was, just as he had known she would be, leaning into an armchair, her legs crossed, a book open on her lap. Lady Harriet. Lady Ann's-- his former little sister. And she was glaring at him in surprise and disgust as though she might at any moment expose his dirty intrusion. 6 Burt didn't move. Hattie didn't move either. She just stared at him. Then finally she said, "Well? Speak up? What do you think you're doing inside the house?" Burt's mind whirled, his face colouring. He knew that as Lady Ann, he had had every right to be there - he'd lived in that house; Hattie was his younger sister - but those days were long gone. Now all he was was the dirty stable hand, Burt Harper, with no right to be there at all. He was only an outdoor servant. Coming inside the manor house was a grossly inappropriate abuse of the Neville family's trust. It didn't matter how much he knew that he used to be Lady Ann. Overruling that completely now was the fact that he was Burt. As annoyed as Lady Harriet was for his intrusion, he condemned himself ten times more. He knew he wasn't good enough to be in here. He had never done anything so wrong in all his born days. "How dare you," said Hattie. "How dare you come in here!? Explain yourself!" Burt thought of the pendant, probably only a couple of dozen yards away from where he was standing; but it didn't matter how close it was. He didn't have it. And even if he did, what could he do with it? "Don't ignore me," snapped Hattie. "What are you doing in here?" "I'm sorry m'lady," blurted Burt, blushing brighter. "I didn't mean to disturb you. I came in the wrong door." He pulled open the door, glanced at her shocked face one more time, then rushed out. "Wait a min--" He snapped the door shut and looked both ways desperately then he hurried off down the landing and turned down a side corridor, moving as fast as he could. Somewhere behind him he heard a door open but he was well out of sight of it now. She couldn't see him. He coerced his thoughts, trying to order them, to work out where Lady Ann's bedroom could be. He knew it was at the front of the house and he was on the right side of the building he thought, but he couldn't risk running into anyone else. Especially the Earl! Imagine the horror of the Earl finding out he was in the house! He could only pray that Lady Harriet wouldn't tell him. Was she coming after him? He didn't know! He had to move as fast as he possibly could! Oh how he wished he hadn't kept telling himself he was Burt - hadn't drunk that potion! He should have been able to remember where his former bedroom was but he had no idea! He gingerly tried another door, terrified the room would be occupied, but it wasn't. However it wasn't the right room either. He went to the next door and reached for the handle, then froze. A man's voice was speaking on the other side. He backed away fearfully. It was the Earl himself! He hurried down the corridor until he reached the door at the end. It had to be this one. If it wasn't it meant backtracking and almost certain exposure if Lady Harriet were still on the prowl. He prayed to God he had it right then he turned the handle and pushed inside. It was a bedroom; a woman's bedroom. He had it right, he was sure of it! But as he gaped round at the furnishings his heart fell further - not because it wasn't Lady Ann's room - it was - but because he recognised nothing. He was meant to be Lady Ann and he had no memories of this place. It only underscored the desperation of his predicament - how fully he had transformed into his new life. He got another burst of self-judgment, condemning his unlawful intrusion into this lady's bedroom followed by an ugly and incongruous pleasure that he was seeing the secret chamber of the woman he idolised so deeply. It didn't matter that for now he remembered that he used to be Lady Ann. Every particle in his body was still in love with her as though she were a goddess. Anxious, Burt moved quickly, looking for the pendant. He checked under the bed and in the chest of drawers, pausing when he saw the underwear of his sweet lady. With a guilty look behind him at the crack in the bedroom door, he lifted a pair of silk panties to his face and gave them a long sniff. They smelled of flowers and Burt's heart swelled, his cock shifting pleasantly in his trousers. The fabric brushed against his moustache though and all that did was underscore the masculinity he was trapped in; made him drop them back, leaving the drawers open and disorganised. He had to find where... There! The dressing table. He hurried across to it and pulled at the top drawer. It was locked! The other drawers opened but didn't contain anything of note. It had to be there in the top one! He pulled at the handle harder but it wouldn't budge. Any minute now, Lady Harriet might alert the household to his presence. He had to find the pendant then slip out of there before that happened! He crouched, looking at the lock. It was delicate and mostly ornamental, not designed to keep out any real attempt to force entrance. Feeling awful, he gripped the handle again, tighter this time, then he pulled as hard as he could. With a click the drawer came open and Burt sighed with relief. The bundle he'd seen Powell, the butler, carrying was there! It was within his grasp! He snatched it out, unravelling the cloth and finally he saw it. There it was! The pendant! In his possession again at last! With the bundle of cloth in his left hand he reached for the pendant with his right fingers and hesitating only for a second, he touched the strange engraved material it was made from, feeling suddenly afraid for some reason. His eyes gaped wide. And then instantly his world turned white as its esoteric power overwhelmed him. 7 The power of the pendant wiped out all ordered and conscious thought in Burt's mind, sending him staggering back, gripping it tightly. He banged up against the mirror then fell forward, crumpling to his knees. But Burt didn't even know this, didn't feel the impact on his back or legs. The connection with the pendant had wiped his awareness clean, blanking out every sense he had and electrifying him with pulse after pulse of mystical energy. He let out a long groan, falling onto his side, half curled, tightening the curve of his spine until his knees almost touched his chin. A shudder passed through him, then another one, then he sprawled over and onto his back and fell still. Inside his skull his brain sparked and went dark then sparked again. For several moments nothing at all registered in his mind, then Burt's eyes flicked open and he knew exactly what had happened to him. Just as the pendant had communicated to him somehow with his first contact weeks earlier by the stream, it had done so again, not in any kind of language but instead by... by... simply inserting the knowledge inside his memories as though it had always been there. He sat up and rubbed his head, testing with his thoughts if he was right, but it certainly felt like he was. The pendant had done something to him. It had done it without anyone else even needing to be present. It had completed its work - finalising the change that it had initially set out to do. He understood now. He knew how it worked: the magic. The initial contact: the original embrace that had affected the body swap... that had begun the process, allowing the gradual transformation of body and mind to take place. Over that time the rate of metamorphosis had been controllable, as he had seen, by the application of focused thought and desire. That had been how he had managed to encourage the change in dialect; the fall in intelligence; the gradual assumption of memories and low-born manners. Burt shuddered again to think of how foolish he'd been to choose to take on more and more traits of the ignorant clodhopper he had become. Now, touching the pendant again. That had sealed the transformation, preventing any further shift. That was how it worked. The gradual transformation had now been stopped from progressing further. There was no longer any risk of him forgetting who he had used to be but it also meant that he really was Burt now - this even less intelligent Burt. The memories he had now; almost overwhelmingly Burt's; were what he was stuck with. He put his head in his hands, almost ready to weep from the stress of this realisation. But it didn't matter, he told himself now. He had already got more than he'd aimed for. He'd protected himself from forgetting who he was. And he had the pendant. All he had to do was get safely out of the manor and then keep hold of it until he could use it to get his life back. But it was as that precise moment, as he climbed to his feet, that the door pushed further open and standing there glaring at him was Lady Harriet. Lady Harriet. And she was looking with scorn from his face to his hand and back again. And she'd seen the pendant. She knew exactly what he'd done and what he'd taken and she'd caught him in Lady Ann's room, the clothes and underwear rifled through, the lock on the drawer splintered and this piece of exotic jewellery in his hand. 8 Lady Ann Neville heard the man coming and shuffled her body closer to the corner, wishing for the thousandth time that she could get free. Her hands were still tied cruelly tightly at the small of her back. Her mouth was still gagged with that disgusting stinking oily strip of rag. No one had come to save her. She was alone. The door to the little room that was her cell opened slowly. Ann let out a tiny moan when she saw the tall man, Blake, standing there, watching her without a word. She turned her face away from him but the anguish of not seeing what he was doing was even worse. The moment she heard his footfalls coming closer she jerked her head back around in fright, eyes bulging in their sockets as she strained to look up at his face. He came down into a squat, hands resting limply on his knees, just watching her. Then he turned his mouth up into a slow and sinister smile. "We've made the demand for ransom. It's only a matter of time now." She tried to speak but the gag trapped the words she was attempting to form, muffling out the consonants again. "I'm going to miss having you here," said Blake; "miss being able to look at you whenever I want." He touched her exposed ankle, making her jerk and ran a pointed index finger up her leg, brushing back her skirt as he did so. Tears came to Ann's eyes as he exposed her leg up as far as the knee, but there, he paused. "A fancy lady like you. Men like me don't often get the chance for a really good look. Now that's ardly fair, is it, eh?" Ann's eyes couldn't have gaped open any further. She couldn't blink. She couldn't move. Why had she let herself end up like this? Why hadn't she become a man again when she had the chance? Blake pulled the skirt further up her thigh, exposing more and more of her flesh and Ann saw the other men now, lurking just beyond the doorway... watching. "I've always wanted to get me a posh lady-friend," said Blake, the leer evident in his tone of voice. "Always thought I deserved one." The skirt had still been concealing most of her other leg but that pulled free now, exposing both legs to all the men. And still Ann couldn't move. "But workin men don't get the pleasure of fancy ladies like yerself," said Blake. "We ave to put up with the dross wot's left over." Both legs were uncovered up as far as her buttocks and now finally, Ann gave a violent shudder of panic and dread. Blake sneered. "But not anymore, eh? Now I've got a fancy lady all me own and I can do wiv her whatever I want." One of the other men chuckled. Blake reached for the open front of Ann's dress at the chest. Another little cry came from her covered lips as he took hold of the fabric there, then Blake whipped his hand back, tearing the front of the dress down to the waist. Ann yelped in alarm and then started to sob. And Blake slipped his big calloused fingers onto the soft skin above her exposed right breast and stroked up to the shoulder. "You're beautiful," said Blake. "You know that don't you?" 9 Hattie said and did nothing immediately. Both Burt and she were once again frozen, just as they'd been when he stumbled into her bedroom a few minutes earlier. But his actions here were painfully obvious. There was no room for misunderstanding. He had entered the manor house against all instruction, and worse, he had violated the bed chamber of not one but two of the Earl's daughters. And he was plainly a thief. The pendant was right there in his hand. The lock on its hiding place was broken. "Please m'lady," stammered Burt. "I know what this looks like but that ain't wot it is. Just give me a minute to explain." Hattie said nothing. Her features registered only shock. For his part, Burt was well and truly off balance. As never before he felt trapped in this man's flesh - no longer by some continuing magical effect but simply by the physical reality of it. Touching the pendant again had sealed the effect, closing him indelibly into that identity. "I know I shouldn't ave come in ere," said Burt, his words spitting out rapidly, "but I ad to fetch something o'mine. This ere pendant, see?" He held it up. "It's mine - you can ask er ladyship erself - and I needed it." "So you decided to just wander up here and get it?" said Hattie coldly. Burt bobbed his head, only belatedly thinking to pull of his cap, recognising the deference to this woman that used to be his younger sister. "And to find it you rifled through my sister's clothes?" Burt bobbed his head again. "Through her undergarments?" Burt did nothing. His face and neck turning a deep and dirty red. "And then you decided to break open her dressing table drawer. Is that correct? You thought you could just take what you wanted?" Burt nodded pitifully. "Please miss. I ad to get it. It was an emergency." "An emergency?" "Aye. I ad to ave it right away. I'm sorry miss. I know it was wrong o me, but I've learned me lesson; I swear I ave. I just needed to get it. Please don't tell the Earl you saw me in ere. He'll punish me something chronic for this. I'll be lucky if I don't end up in prison. And I didn't mean no 'arm. I swear I didn't." Lady Harriet's face closed over, any expression vanishing to become just blank introspection. Everything that had happened and it came to this: trapped in the body and brain of a dirty commoner, completely at the mercy of what had once been his younger sister. "Please m'lady," he said. "What you decide'll affect the rest o'me life. I ain't never done wrong by ye. Please let me go back outside. I'm sorry I came in ere; I really am." "'Never done wrong by me?" said Hattie. "'Never done wrong'?" She scoffed at him and Burt's face fell. "You filthy little man. How dare you!" She thrust out her hand, palm up. "Give me that pendant. Now!" Burt looked down at it, then up at Hattie. She wasn't going to help him. She wouldn't let him escape. She was going to see to it that he was punished. This was his last and only chance to keep hold of the pendant. But he had been in this situation before - the pendant in reach and an order from one of his betters to hand it over. He knew he couldn't keep hold of it. But there was another option here; surely the only real option he had. Put on the pendant. Embrace Lady Harriet. Swap places with her! All his problems would instantly go away! "Give it me!" she snapped, pushing her hand further forward. Burt stared at the open palm then down at the pendant. It would be so simple. So quick. He could be Lady Harriet; become one of the gentry again, even if it wasn't his original body. "You will do as I tell you. Hand - me - the pendant!" It was so simple to conceive of but how could he do it? He was being given a direct order from one of his betters - the lady Harriet no less. He had to do what he was told. "Give it to me!" He looked into her face, at her pretty eyes and dewy cheeks. He looked at her curvaceous body and beautiful dress. That could be him. In a matter of moments he could change places with her. But that sent a shudder of revulsion through him. It didn't matter that he knew who he used to be. He wasn't a woman no more. He was a man. He couldn't imagine anything worse than losing his manhood and becoming a soft and soppy woman. He wasn't some sissy. Being a woman was the last thing he wanted. He'd rather go to prison than that." "Burt!" He wrapped up the pendant in its cloth and hesitating only a second longer he passed it to her. Hattie took it and held his gaze for a moment then walked across to the dresser and closed the pendant and its bundle back in the top drawer out of sight. Burt waited, clutching his cap tightly in his fingertips, fumbling with it nervously as she passed back into his field of view. He felt abashed and utterly humiliated, and worse, he recognised the chain of events his foolishness had thrown him into, leaving him incapable of seizing a way out, even when one presented itself. "I'm so sorry miss," he fawned. "Please don't tell the Earl wot I done. I'll do anything you say. I'm beggin ye. Please don't turn me in." Hattie looked at him blankly. Then she gave him a slow sneer. She walked to the door, widened the gap and called out, "Father!" 10 The tall man's face made a grimace as he ripped at Ann's dress again, tearing the entire front open and revealing her bosom and stomach completely, jerking another stifled cry from her gagged mouth. The grimace became a leer as his eyes slithered across her naked torso and legs. The dress was a ruin now, covering only her pelvis with any success, strips of it ribboning into the crooks of her elbows and caught in the rope tying her wrists. She wanted more than anything to be able to fight her way free but she had inherited more than just the wiles, looks and breeding of the original Lady Ann. She also had her cowardice and dismay at violence of any kind. She felt completely under the power of this brute of a man and his jeering audience in the doorway. "You're mine you know," whispered Blake. "And you shouldn't worry none." He lowered his upper body closer to her. "I ain't like those apes out there. I'm a gentleman, me. I know ow to treat a lady." He gave a deep chuckle then took hold of Ann's face, bringing his lips to hers. She winced, trying to pull away, but there was no strength in her to combat his. There was nothing she could do to stop him. Blake put his lips to Ann's, pressing close. Her cheeks were rigid. Her mouth was locked. Surely there could be no pleasure of intimate contact for him. But as he broke away she glimpsed the swollen fold of cloth in his dirty trousers and knew what it meant. Then Blake lowered his face to her breast, thankfully blocking the view. He gave her one little glance and a smile, almost playful, then he opened his lips to take her nipple in his mouth. A man's call came from out in the warehouse. Blake faltered. There was a deep bang far away. Then a crash. Blake lifted his head. The men in the doorway had turned their backs. Two men out of sight were calling. "See what's going on," barked Blake. More shouting. A whistle, long and shrill. A second whistle even closer. The men in the doorway were shouting. They vanished, running in different directions. Blake hadn't moved. His entire body was tense. He looked down into Ann's face, his expression muddled. Ann heard the word "Police!" shouted by more than one male voice. Blake pulled a knife out of his pocket. The shouting got closer. Blake's hand rooted through the hair at the base of Ann's neck, taking hold tightly, snapping her head painfully back. The shouting was even louder; even closer. The knife caught what illumination there was, like a sliver of solid light. Then a policeman appeared in the doorway. He assessed the situation in a split second then shouted, "Let her go! You're going to prison. There's no way you're getting out of this!" Blake wrenched on Ann, pulling her upwards, holding the blade to her neck. "Keep back or I'll kill her!" Ann screamed. The policeman's hand went out to say stop. "Wait! Don't do it!" "Get back!" cried Blake. "I'm getting out of here! Move away! Let me pass or I'll slit her throat!" The policeman hesitated, unsure how to act. Ann whimpered, helpless. "Get back!" bellowed Blake. The policeman started to back away, then he was roughly knocked to the side. He cried out, banging against the wall and suddenly Richard was there in his place, glowering at the criminal before him. "I'll kill her!" shouted Blake. "Let me get out or your pretty lady will lose her head!" He pressed the knife harder against Ann's skin and she wept in terror and anguish. Richard said nothing. He took in the room calmly, seeing Ann, seeing Blake, seeing the knife. Then he raised his arm, levelled his pistol and pulled the trigger. Blake fell backward. The knife toppled clear. His head hit the floor. Ann started to crumple. And then Richard was at her side, lifting her gently up, pulling the gag free, pressing her against his chest and enfolding her in his arms. "It's alright darling," he said. "You're safe now. I promise. These men can't do anything to you ever again." The policeman untied her wrists and she flung her arms about her fianc?, tugging him even closer. "Oh Richard," she gasped. "Oh my darling Richard. Thank you! Oh thank God for you! Thank God for my wonderful, wonderful man!" 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