Chapter 2
The following days passed in a blur. The group settled into a routine. They push south in the days. The men's spirit improved markedly, they laughed, jeered, and made fun of their "whore", Claire, who was tied up in the wagon. Tom Christie followed at a distance, his head hanging low. At night, they stopped for supper, then had their "entertainment". Claire almost got used to it, if such a thing was possible. Under the constant threat of bodily harm and torture she mostly stopped resisting. She just laid there, allowing one after another men, stinking in their sweaty unwashed bodies and their bad breath, to get on top of her, raping her repeatedly, releasing their seeds inside her, on her belly, her breast and sometimes her face.
She took all the abuses without much more than occasional painful grunts. Truth be told, they weren't particularly rough. Brown told his men that he didn't want her damaged. Sex with Jamie could be much rougher than this; both of them often ended up with bruises, and she always liked it very much. But then, that was with Jamie, and she was always turned on and wet, well-lubricated. Taking the assaults dry was always painful, especially the first one. After that, cum served as lubricant which made it a bit easier. She retreated inward as the assaults on her body continues. She learned how to introspect her body a long time ago. Now she used it as a sanctuary. She would let her minds eyes go through her own body parts and organs, taking inventory. Overall, despite the suffering over the past weeks, all of them were in surprisingly good shape, except, when she got to the vagina, she was acutely aware of the foreign objects that repeatedly assaulted her. But she found that she could assert some control over her vagina. Instead of tensing up automatically when the assault came, she could actually relax it a bit, thus making it a little bit less painful. It was certainly nothing even close to pleasure, she could not bear associating that notion with what she was going through, but she found no reasons not to lessen her own suffering, if she could manage it.
It was the 5th, or 6th night after Claire and Jamie were separated. Claire lost count. They were still passing through thick forests like the days before, but the air has a faint salty smell. So Wilmington was close. Claire could not help wondering what laid ahead for her. The prison? That seemed like an attractive alternative of her current situation. And what beyond that? The trial? And the gallows? "I am innocent!" She told herself firmly, but then did the truth really matter? She pushed these thoughts
By sundown they reached the edge of forest. There was an abandoned barn in the open field, standing forlornly in the purplish last light. Its door had fallen to the ground; some wood boards had rotted away; there were holes in the roof. But it made a reasonable shelter and they stopped there to spend the night.
Brown opened a barrel of whisky and distributed it freely. The men drank cheerfully around the fire, louder than ever. Brown even handed a flask over to Claire. She took a gulp. It was good, smooth whisky; both warmth and dread spread simultaneously in her stomach. She recognized it immediately, it was the JAMMF special, the good batches that Jamie made, stolen by Brown in his raid. It brought back the thoughts of the comfort of the Big House, and most of all, of Jamie. Oh Jamie, her heart ached at the thought of her beloved husband. Where was he now? Was he still alive? Brown was firm that Jamie was not harmed, but how could she believe man as vile as a cobra? And how could she believe the hollow assurance of the coward of a man as Tom Christie? She pushed that thought aside as well, and told herself firmly, "he is alive, because he has nine lives; and he will come for me, because he is Jamie, and I am his sassenach."
Jamie would not come before the time for tonight's "entertainment" though. As the men undressed Claire, she kept her face as blank as she could. Fueled by copious amount of whisky, Brown's gang were more raucous and impatient.
Peter Dewson shoveled Claire over to a haystack and ordered, "get on it, on your all four... like a bitch!" “No! Your perverts!” Claire resisted and would not get into the humiliating pose. Getting impatient, Brown unbuckled his bet. He pushed Claire against the wall and slapped her hard on her buttocks with the belt.
“Ahhh!” Claire cried out painfully, her arse bright red in a flash. Another slap landed with a crack. Then Brown turned her over and asked, “are you going to do as told now?” Claire didn’t answer but kicked him on the shin as hard as she could. Furious, Brown slapped his belt right across her tits. The pain on her sensitive parts was much sharper than on her butts, and her cry turned into scream as she doubled over with her arms raised protectively over her breasts. Brown dragged her by the hair to the haystack and threw her onto it. “Now, get on your all four! Do you hear me!”
She complied, got on her hands and knees, her arse lifted high in the air, exposing her sex to the eager thugs, waiting for the coming penetration. One man grabbed her soft and round buttocks. He kneaded them and her bushy mound vigorously, sending sharp pain through her body. Then with two thumbs he parted her lips to open her pink orifice wide for everybody around her to see, bringing a round of lewd cheers from the gang. "That makes a nice nest for my bird." He rammed right into her orifice. His pelvis slammed against Claire’ red butt loudly. “Owww” Claire grunted painfully, lowered her head and shut her mouth and eyes tightly while enduring the assault. But Dewson pulled her hair up and commanded her to open her mouth and take his cock in. It was a wet, sloppy blowjob. Her warm mouth was filled with saliva. Dewson thrusted so deep and hard that she kept made gurgling sound. "That is it, like a bitch in heat!" The sight of naked Claire getting fucked on both ends and her still reddish boobs swaying to-and-fro, drove the men around her mad. They greedily snatched at her breast, her arse, all trying to get a piece of Claire, just as a wolf pack tearing up an innocent white lamb. Matt Hodgson joined them too. He grabbed one of Claire's dangling breasts, pinched and pulled the nipple so hard that she screamed in agony. "Get lost!" Brown dragged him out of the way.
After a moment Dewson said, "let's change up." He laid down on the hay and pulled Claire to sit on top of him, sheathing his cock deep into her. The men standing around competed to put their cocks into her mouth. One man shoveled his cock into her mouth. "It is my turn!" Another shouted. "Mate, have some patience, I may not be long, this bitch sucks well. Ohhhhh..." The first man leisurely thrusted into Claire's mouth, with dreamy expression on his face. "To heck with it..." The second man apparently had no patience, instead just pushed his penis into Claire's mouth as well. With two cocks inside, Claire's mouth overflew with saliva and was about to burst.
She was gagging and chocking but could not make a sound. Two other men each grabbed one of Claire's arms, wrapped her hands on their cocks and ordered her to rub.
Only after the two men pulled their cocks out, when she was able to cry for mercy. "Please, please stop, this is too much." But her feeble plea was immediately choked back as another men pushed his cock into her mouth.
The abuse only stopped a couple hours later. By then Claire was lying on the hay unconscious; her white, fine body covered with cum, slap marks and bruises. Brown spotted Tom Christie, still sitting far from the scene, miserable and half drunk. He walked over to pull Christie up. Christie resisted, but Brown could clearly see his breeches bulging like a small tent. "Come on," he shoveled Christie over to the haystack. "You always want her, don't you? This is your last chance. Tomorrow she will be in a prison cell and off limit!" "No, no, not like this! Not rape!" Christie was almost pleading. "It doesn't matter, she won't even know you did it. See, she is not even sensible." Christie tried his best to resist but Brown could see the desire burning like fire in his eyes. He gestured two men to pick Claire up, took Christie's right hand and pressed it on Claire breast. Uncontrollably, Christie's fingers caressed her silky skin and pinched lightly her dark cherry like nipple. Brown turned her slightly so that her backside faced Christie directly, and place Christie's fingers on her quim, letting them explore on their free will the terrain, her bushy pubis, her soft labia, and the moist opening that led directly the Christie's deepest secret desire. Christie's right hand, the one that had been fixed by Claire with her expert surgical skill and her tender care, shook convulsively on her most sensitive skin, as he battled, lost his war against his own devil. He let out a growl, pulled down his breeches to expose his fully erect and wet-tipped cock. He grabbed her waist, penetrated her with one quick move. Claire let out of an unconscious groan, but her body remained boneless while Christie thrusted urgently into her over and over. It didn't take him long before he made a whiny sound, almost a mewl, and his body tensed and shook. He rested on her buttocks for a moment, red-faced and panting, then his half hard cock left her, drawing out with it a trickle of whiteness. Brown watched with great satisfaction as Christie turned and staggered away, his shoulder hunched in a soundless sob.
Claire woke up confused. She didn't know where she was and what was happening to her, but those didn't matter. Her body knew without a shred of doubt the one thing she urgently needed, air. She struggled to move her arms and legs, but they were all tied up and spread wide; she tried to arch her back but was weighed down by something very heavy; something hard and cold was penetrating her in relentless thrusts; and worst of all, she could not breath. All she could manage was making low chocking sound while wiggling like mad on the hay. Yet at the same time, a strange warmness was spreading from between her legs to her whole body.
Matt Hodgson kneeled on Claire's breasts with grim satisfaction. "Fucking bitch, you have to pay!" He said under his breath. His right hand held a death grip over Claire's throat; his left thrusted the barrel of his pistol, in lieu of his dysfunctional cock, in and out of Claire's vagina. Under him, Claire's face and neck had turn deep red, her eyes rolling back. Her areolas swelled; her nipples hardened into erection. The pistol barrel moved with increasing lubricated ease amid sound of splashy wetness.
Claire's desperate panic was receding as her consciousness started to fade away. Suddenly, with a loud crash, the grip on her throat and the pressure on her breasts were gone. Air rushed in, almost chocking her. Her chest moved up and down fervently. Then she was washed away by an overwhelming sensation, every end of her nerves exploded with brilliance. "Ahhhhhhhh~~~" her loud moan pierced the stillness of the night.
Brown, who just kicked Hodgson off Claire, watched with fascination as her back arched upward, her breasts bouncing, her toes curling, and her legs shaking in vain attempts to close around the pistol firmly lodged in her channel. He bended down and pulled the pistol out; her fluid exploded with it, a few drops splashed on him face. "Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhh", Claire gave another high-pitched scream. He could see clearly her pink and glistening clitoris, firmly protruding from its fold, demanding attention. He pressed the ball of a thumb on it and pushed 2 fingers into her soaking cunt. He rubbed the thumb quickly on her clitoris, curling his fingers and pulling at the inner wall of her vagina, sending waves and waves of sensation through Claire body. "Ahhhhhhhh~~~~ahhhhhhh~~~~", she wailed again and again, her limbs in spasms, her juice flew freely from her cunt. All Brown's men gathered around and watched the spectacle gleefully, hoots and jeers echoed in the barn. Tom Christie sat at the far corner of the barn, his hands tense over his ears.
Brown bent over Claire's deep rosy face as she gradually came down from the peaks of her climax, still panting. "Mistress Fraser, what a show! I have never seen anything like this! I was wondering why you were so cold these days, never suspected that this was what you really needed." Brown lifted the pistol, barrel still glistening, and licked it appreciatively, "Mmmm, that tastes good!” He wiped the pistol barrel across Claire’s lips. “You should taste yourself, so horny!” Another round of loud laughter and lewd remarks came from the crowd. “Such a whore!” “Have you seen her juice, I could fill my cup with it!” “Her moan! If there were a cemetery nearby, I bet she would have raised dead buggers to come fuck her!”
Brown's eyes were still travelling up and down her naked defenseless body. "Well, I hope you can have a quiet sleep now. Because tomorrow morning we will need to present you properly to the good folks of Wilmington, as the whore you are." The disinterested surgeon part of Claire's mind was telling her that it was simply the result of asphyxiation, which was known to trigger strong orgasm. Her brain, confused by the lack of, and the sudden return of oxygen, released powerful dose of dopamine and serotonin into her blood stream. Nothing more than biology and chemistry. Yet Claire shrank back in utter humiliation, the wetness between and under her legs the mark of her shame.
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Jamie pulled hard on the rope. The sailors around him were all shouting at each other, but he could barely hear a thing. The wind drowned out their voices, the driving rain blurred their vision. In front of them, a wave the size of a small mountain was moving fast at their ship, which was struggling to turn to face it head on.
Yet Jamie wasn't really paying much attention. The same questions were racing through his mind for the thousandth time, where was Claire? And how was she doing? Whenever he closed his eyes, he saw the same image, Claire, furious and panicking, held back by two men on a wagon moving away from him... That was the last memory he held of her, before his world turned black.
He woke up with a throbbing headache. His hands were tied, and ankles chained to a wooden post. He was apparently in a cabin, aboard a ship; and judging from the nausea that he got from ups and downs of the ship's movement, it was ocean-going. He wasn't sure how many days he spent in that cabin, overcame by seasickness, vomiting his gut out. But over time, the nausea lessened, and he was finally able to eat some of the stale food thrusted in front of him by a sailor. But all his questions about the whereabout of Claire only got a blank stare in return. The only useful things he learned were that the ship was named Mercury, and they were heading to Scotland. Scotland, his birthplace and beloved home country, he would imagine that in a different circumstance, he would be happy to embark on such a journey, if, his sassenach was by his side. But now it felt like the worst nightmare. The trip would take at least two months, or possibly three; then even if he could find a return ship immediately, it would be almost half a year before he could return to the colony. All when Claire was held by the thug of Brown, sending to jail, putting on a trial for a murder that she did not commit; and God knows what the sentence would be. The thoughts of what Claire would be facing it all alone, without his protection, was tearing his heart out. And the prospect of not knowing what happened to Claire for six months was driving him to the edge of madness.
Then the cabin door opened, the sailor came in and unlocked his chain and untied his hand. "A big storm is coming; captain needs all hands on deck! Move!"
Topic: OUTLANDER Fanfiction The Capture and Martyrdom of Claire Fraser in the New World (Read 207 times)