Hinterlands Read online

  “Why aren’t we going yet? I’m freezing!” It was the red haired girl and she was whispering. Her hair was wet and hung heavily about her shoulders. She was shivering and clutching her shoulders. Mr. Stephen had obviously retrieved her directly from the bath.

  As if on cue they heard a violent commotion from the side-door of the house and the sound of a feet kicking and being dragged through the small pea-gravel. Three young men this time were pulling and pushing someone through the darkness. As he came into the moonlight all on board the carriage could see it was another young man that was being forced on board. He was lean and powerfully built, wearing a white house-shirt that was torn and hanging from his finely defined frame. The look on his face was wild, and his dark blonde hair hung loosely over his eyes.

  “Let me walk I say! Let me walk!” The man screamed defiantly. Yet as soon as the men relinquished their hold on his arms, the young man immediately began to sprint away, forcing the others to give chase. He ran directly to the waiting group in the wagon, his bare feet crunching in the gravel, and then proceeded to scamper in tight circles around them, juking to and fro in order to keep the wagon directly between himself and his angry pursuers. Mr. Stephen, creeping quietly, made a pathetic attempt to grab him from behind and was surreptitiously knocked to the ground and trodden over, eliciting a burst of laughter from everyone on board. A dark haired-young man who had been sitting next to Amelia, silently raised himself and moved to perch on the side of the wagon. As the man in the white shirt came running around for another circuit, this dark haired man leapt cat-like onto his back and knocked him to the ground. For a moment they both struggled and it seemed as if there would be a fight, but it was only for a moment, as the other men quickly pinned him down, binding his hands with a tight cord. He was placed into the wagon breathing hard and angry, his knees already bruised through his torn breeches. A small drop of blood colored the corner of his mouth.

  His face was youthful and confident and he stared ahead blankly, seemingly at nothing. It struck Amelia that this face was so lovely it could have been carved, much like a statue, or the fine wooden carvings outside the Duchessa’s door. He was someone who had strength and surety, much like Lord Dunmoor, and she could also see imperiousness in those blue eyes. Who in the world was this young man? She noticed the others too felt his power, and they stared fixedly at his body and face, deeply attracted to his wildness and ferocity. As she observed him sitting there on the bench, his face changed. He had softened, the spirit of resistance, the fight, cooling to a simmer. He seemed defeated now as the wagon pulled away from the main house.

  They traveled through the night down the winding road, the relative silence only broken by the occasional cough, and Mr. Stephen complaining of his sore back. Before long they approached the large stables Amelia had glimpsed some days ago. Somehow the structure appeared much more ominous at this hour. The wagon ground to a halt and Mr. Stephen climbed down slowly. He was obviously quite sore from his run-in with the young man.

  “Alright! Everyone out! Step lively, now. Ms. Jenkins, Ms. Elandar! No shoving.” Six young men now came sauntering out of the lighted entrance to the Stables. They looked to be farm hands, accustomed to working with animals and bales of hay, and their rough and ready appearance didn’t help any of those present feel more comfortable. Amelia could smell the scent of horses and hay on the air, strong enough to overpower the perfume of the lush green grasses and wild lands that surrounded them on all sides.

  After they had all exited the wagon, (the young man was carried by his shoulders and forced to his feet) they stood nervously and expectant, no idea what came next. Glancing to her left she could see the tall red haired girl, Ms. Jenkins, with tears streaming down her face. A few other girls stood around, doing their best not to draw attention to themselves. The four house-boys who had accompanied them in the wagon stood stoically together, holding their small bags of possessions.

  “Each and every one of you has been selected by the Duchessa de Montaigne herself, to be trained and prepared for her personal service.” Mr. Stephen shouted trying to sound as authoritative as possible. “This means your future here at Hinterlands, is entirely dependent on your full participation in this training. Failure to adhere to the training regimen will result in your immediate dismissal from the estate, and loss of your situation. Is that understood?” There was a general murmuring from the group as each of them contemplated the prospect of losing their situation. This was simply not an option. Banishment from the estate meant certain poverty and possible starvation for most of them. They were the working poor, trained for service, and without a recommendation from one’s previous employer, they would be untouchable to any new potential situation. Mr. Stephen cleared his throat and continued his speech.

  “Your clothes will be removed. There are no clothes permitted here while you are in training.” This was met with shocked gasps from them all. Before they knew what was happening, the six attendants began stripping them of their clothing, forcefully. A particularly large farmhand, built like the side of a barn, approached her from behind. He grasped her nightgown by both shoulders and with virtually no effort whatsoever he tore the thin fabric from her body, laying her naked in the cool night air. Terrified, she immediately dropped her bag and covered herself the best she could with her hands.

  “Hands at your sides! Hands at your sides!” Mr. Stephen yelled his voice cracking.

  Reluctantly and dutifully, they did as they were told, placing their hands at their sides and standing before each other naked. Amelia could feel her pink nipples hardening in the chilly night air. They all stole glances at each other’s nudity, young breast, thighs, and penises exposed in a manner none of them had ever experienced. The tall red-haired girl stood across from Amelia, and she could feel the girl’s eye’s trailing from her small breasts, down to her sex, and on to her legs as they tapered toward her tiny feet. The small oriental girl stood next to an amazingly voluptuous dark haired girl from the kitchens, their bodies in stark contrast to each other. She shivered and tried not to gaze longingly at the wild boy’s body. She couldn’t resist. His chest was strongly defined and broad, his abdomen rippled from long hours of labor. His penis was…standing up slowly, growing before her eyes. He glanced at Amelia’s face and his gaze softened, almost a pleading expression.

  “Eh Boss...look at this one here. He’s off to the races already” one of the attendants had noticed the young man’s erection hardening and growing. It was smooth and handsome, this penis. It looked strong and robust in the evening light. As if her face couldn’t get any redder, Amelia flushed at the sight of it. The skinny Miss Jenkins gawked openly, her mouth hanging open.

  “Close your mouth Ms. Jenkins! Have some propriety young lady!” Mr. Stephen chirped, relishing the irony. “Oh there-look at this! Mr. Howard! You are just a barrel of laughs tonight aren’t you?” Mr. Stephen circled the young man slowly. Amelia was glad to know this lad’s name, even though Mr. Howard seemed so formal a name for one so wild. “What shall we do with you sir?” He mocked, pursing his lips. He then removed a small riding crop from his jacket and held it up in the air for all to see. Without another thought he whipped the boy’s hard penis with a snap. Mr. Howards face contorted with pain, and he exhaled his breath in a shuddering hiss, yet somehow he managed to stand stock still at attention, looking directly forward, right towards Amelia actually. He seemed to be gazing at her body, and she shifted nervously, holding her thighs tightly together. There was simply no way to hide the patch of blonde hair that lay nestled between her slender thighs, nor her small breasts as they stood erect in the chill. She averted her eyes demurely, but she also couldn’t help but notice Mr. Howard’s penis. It had turned red along its top, and was growing larger and angrier by the moment.

  “Do you like her boy? That one there eh? Ms. Kerrick?” Mr. Stephen had noticed that the boy was glancing in Amelia’s direction.

  Her heart was racing. The last thing she wanted was attentio
n from Mr. Stephen. Watching the boy’s penis treated so roughly, had been beastly, but even more alarming was the realization that she was aroused and wet with desire. She could feel the silky smooth dew rapidly gathering between her nether lips, and she resisted the urge to move thighs together, lest anyone take notice. Glancing around she noticed that some of the other girls were panting as well and Ms. Jenkins was actually stroking her sex with her fingers absently, breathing hard, her mouth slightly open again.

  “I’ll take care of him Mr. Stephen!” a female voice rang out from the darkness.

  Coming soon:

  Hinterlands Book II