Chapter 1

 

The lovely peasant girl crouched in the undergrowth, scarcely breathing as she listened hard for the sound of pursuers. Amid the beautiful tranquility of the forest, it scarcely seemed possible that evil could be lurking there. The sun shone down through the trees from a clear blue sky, and all about her birds were singing. Yet it seemed a strange and fearsome place to the youngster as she peered about.

She cupped her ear and cocked her pretty head to one side. The silence that surrounded her gave her unexpected hope. Perhaps she had actually shaken them off. Perhaps the twisted and tortured path she had taken through the undergrowth, with the thorns and prickles scratching at her bare legs, had done the trick. Perhaps she was safe, after all.

In her heart, though, she doubted it. The men who were chasing her were practiced hunters all, and were well used to tracking their prey across the dense terrain in which she found herself. Experience told her that it would only be a matter of time before they were up with her again.

Belita cursed her stupidity in taking the shortcut back to her village. It shaved more than three miles from the journey, no small distance when on foot, but she had been warned time and time again about the dangers of the forest, and of the men who lived there. Now, too late, she realized that they had been no idle warnings.

The men had come across her when she least expected to meet them. She had been hurrying along, intent on getting home as soon as possible, when she found herself suddenly stumbling out of the shelter of the, trees and into an open clearing. They had been standing on the far side of the grassy area.

She had no more than a few seconds to observe the small band as she pulled up sharply, recognizing them at once as a hunting party. The forest was full of wild boar, which provided a plentiful and cheap food for the forest dwellers. The way the men were dressed and armed told her at once that their quarry was food. The sight of the lovely village girl had diverted their attention from their task, however, and she knew they had quite another prey in mind as they began to run towards her, laughing and shouting to one another.

Belita had turned and run at once, careering back and forth through the trees as the men pursued her. Since her childhood she had been told of the cruelty of the forest dwellers, and she knew she was in danger. These people would have no pity on a village girl, and she had few doubts what they would do if they caught her.

Her youthfulness and fitness served her well during the initial pursuit, but she had run blindly from her pursuers. Now, as she crouched gasping for breath, she tried to get her bearings once more. She knew the village was to the west, and the position of the afternoon sun gave her a good idea in which direction she should be heading, but she was only too aware that the forest men knew every inch of this area, and were skilled at tracking their prey. If she were to stand any chance at all of escaping, she would have to move soon.

She rose wearily to her feet, glancing about. Once again she strained her ears, but could hear nothing except the birds and the whistle of the wind through the trees. She took a step forward, then barely suppressed a shriek as a pheasant suddenly rose out of the grass just in front of her with a squawk and a rustle of wings. She watched as it struggled up and knew that the men, if they were in earshot, would almost certainly hear the bird and would guess how it had been disturbed. Now, more than ever, she had to move fast.

She glanced down at herself. The cotton blouse she wore was tight against the swell of her breasts, perspiration making it cling to her. She wished she had worn trousers, as her brown legs were scratched below her short skirt. That too clung tightly to her, showing off her beautifully rounded buttocks to perfection. She had felt good when setting out, aware of how sexy she looked, but now she felt very vulnerable indeed.

She hurried on, constantly glancing behind her and listening hard for the sound of pursuers. Although disorientated, she felt she was going the right way, but what hadn't occurred to her was that they might possibly be ahead of her, and that was her big mistake.

By the time she found herself suddenly confronted by the burly figure of one of the hunters it was too late, and she gave a cry of dismay as she realized she'd made a dreadful tactical error.

Belita's instinctive reaction was to run. She swung round, only to find herself staring into the mocking faces of two more of the men. They were relaxed now, confident of their prey, content to grin at the expression of fear so clear in Belita's young eyes.

The girl stared round from face to face, her heart thumping. They were big men, tall and broad ­shouldered, and she could detect no suggestion of mercy in their expressions as they surrounded her. For a second she considered making another dash for it, but one of the men seemed to anticipate the thought and shook his head.

"There is nowhere to run, little trespasser," he growled. "You must face up to the consequences of invading our territory."

Belita gazed into his eyes. He was easily the tallest of the three, and with the lean frame of one who had hunted all his life. She could never hope to outrun such a man in this environment, and her shoulders slumped as the fight left her. There was no point in trying to flee any more, she knew. They were three fit and athletic men who were intimately acquainted with the forest, while she was a lone girl, lost and far from her village.

'Wh-what do you want of me?" she asked in a tremulous voice.

"Why were you in our forest?" said the tallest.

"I-I didn't know it was your forest," she pleaded feebly. "I was just walking through."

"You're lying," accused another, a shorter man with greasy dark hair and the cruelest eyes Belita had ever seen. "You were here to steal our goods."

"Or to spy on us," said the third. He was older than the other two, with streaks of grey about his temples and a weatherworn face.

"No," she protested. "I was just taking a shortcut."

Moving with alarming speed, the shorter man grabbed her by the hair and wrenched her face up to his. "Lying bitch!" he hissed. "You're a lying bitch, and we'll show you how we treat lying bitches!"

"Stop," she pleaded, "you're hurting me!"

"That's the idea, peasant whore," snarled the man. "And we'll hurt you a whole lot more, before we're through."

Belita stared at him fearfully as he pulled her face close to his. She had known from the start that she had little hope of mercy, but the expression in his eyes told her there was no hope at all.

One of the men grasped her arms from behind, pinning her elbows together and causing her breasts to thrust forward. The men glanced at one another and sniggered as they saw how visible her smooth flesh was through the dampness of her blouse. The tall one reached out and mauled the firm outline of her soft breasts, squeezing them in his palm and sending an unexpected thrill of pleasure through her.

"Look at her nipples," he sneered. "The bitch likes it."

Belita lowered her eyes, and her cheeks glowed with shame as she saw the outline of the treacherous little buds clearly pressing against the straining material, and then she inhaled sharply as another of the men rudely caressed her thrusting breasts.

The tall man said something to one of his shorter companions, who produced a length of rough rope from his knapsack and, almost before Belita knew what was happening, wound it tightly around her wrist. She tried to resist but the tall man held her fast, and then she was backed up to an overhanging tree.

Belita struggled, protesting vehemently at her rough treatment, but the ruffians ignored her cries and the tallest had no trouble tossing the rope over a branch and wrenching her arm up above her head as he made it fast. Then her other wrist was grabbed, bound and hauled up, leaving her straining on tiptoe with both hands held high above her head.

Meanwhile the older man hadn't been idle. He had pulled two stakes from his rucksack and hammered them into the ground on either side of where the hapless girl was hanging, and she begged for mercy as more rope was wrapped tightly about her ankles.

Heedless of her pitiful cries, the men pulled her legs apart and fastened them to the stakes, leaving her stretched in a taut X, the coarse ropes biting painfully into her wrists and ankles.

Once she was secure the three men stood back to admire their captive. Belita stared at them with wide eyes. Her transition to complete helplessness had been almost too sudden for her to take in, but now she knew she was totally at their mercy, and she was gripped with fear.

"That's got the slut trussed up," grinned the short man. "Now let's take a better look at what she's hiding."

He stepped forward and grasped Belita's blouse in grimy fists. For a second she didn't understand what was happening, then her eyes widened fearfully.

"No!" she shrieked. "Not that, please!"

But already the man was yanking at the fragile garment, the buttons flying in all directions as he ripped it open, exposing the creamy flesh of her breasts to his lecherous stare and his companions.

Belita closed her eyes in shame as the men studied her beauty. Her firm breasts were perfectly rounded, her stiff nipples quivering deliciously as she struggled in her bonds. The man released his hold on her tattered blouse, leaving it hanging open as he grasped one erect nipple and cruelly squeezed it between finger and thumb. Belita gave a cry of pain, the tears welling in her eyes at the dreadful abuse.

And yet, even as he released her she felt something else happen to her young body; an inexplicable shiver of excitement had run down her spine at his vile touch. She fought the feeling; what these men were doing to her was wrong, and she shuddered as she thought of what might happen next.

Her captor gripped the torn material of her blouse again. One brutal tug and it ripped completely apart, reduced to a handful of useless rags, leaving her naked from the waist up, her breasts rising and falling as she tried to retain her calm. The men savoured the sight, and again exchanged knowing glances.

Belita gave a hopeless whimper as her skirt met the same fate as her top, simply ripped apart and flung aside by the hunter, and her cheeks glowed red as she hung there, clad only in tiny black panties.

"Very nice," mumbled the older man. "Very nice indeed."

"Let's get a look at the rest of her," said the tall man. "Come on, show us the lot."

"Please," Belita said quietly. "Please leave my panties on, at least."

The short brute guffawed. "You should've thought about your modesty before you trespassed in our forest, you slut," he spat. "Strip her."

The brief panties were snatched from Belita in a single swift movement. She stared at the useless piece of black lace that had been her last concession to modesty, now lying discarded in the grass. Then her eyes dropped to her own pale body. Through the valley between her breasts she could see the dark mound of her pubis. She knew that, with her legs spread as they were, the pinkness of her sex was exposed for the gawping ruffians. She had never felt so naked, stretched taut, unable to meet their hungry bloodshot eyes as they passed lewd and suggestive comments about her.

Then the short man moved closer to her, laying a hairy hand flat on her belly. She tried to pull away, but there was nothing she could do to stop him as it slid possessively down towards the soft downy hairs between her thighs.