1. Lordships Wench Deflowered


    Date: 11/15/2016, Categories: Fiction BDSM First Time Group Sex Males / Females, Prostitution, Rape Romance Virginity Young Author: abroadsword, Source: sexstories.com

    Devon and Cornwall in the far West of England is a land of steep cliffs and wild seas with tiny coves, and wild moorland where two hundred and more years ago smugglers and pirates ruled and lawmen feared to tread. Many were the legends of this time of heroics and derring do but few ordinary tales of ordinary people survive so the story of Emily and John Elliot perhaps deserves to be re told. It's in Devenish dialect though so be warned if thee durstn't speak on it. ======================================== There were I, half way up Danesmoor cline, cart upended, horse gone lord knows where, me and the lordship’s daughter all in a heap together an all of the Fladder gang all around of us, among the trees beside the climb and our ostler and out-riders gone a running and me lyin me head off. Fladder Penhale, his black beard now flecked with white, pirate, highwayman, whore chaser, cheat, thief, cardsharp why there was scarce no one west of Exeter as didn’t know of he and his gang and just our luck they fancied a bit of highway robbery as we was off back from market we a load of stuff and that that afternoon. “You must think I were bore yesterday,” Old Fladder said as he looked at me down the barrel of his pistol, “Her ent no maid, hers old Danesmoor’s daughter ent her.” “No she’s me girl,” I protested seeing as it was her only chance as we had been leapt upon up when she were driving and the daft horse spooked and backed up and up ended us as Fladder’s gang leapt out from all ...
    ... rounds to surround us. Poor Emily, her were no more that a girl really, though as old as I was see but her being of noble family her hadn’t seen no life see, never had a boy her hadn’t, and in her dark cloak she would a passed for a peasant any road less thee looked hard. I looked around the gang, I reckon I knew half on em, Jacob Penwithers, ole Deacon, Denzil from Totnes, Mather Lanscombe, Aubrey Monk, Johnno Cainscross, and there were more, must have been as he had his own ship or some such or so they did say. A distant gun shot rang out, then another, “They caught un,” Fladder said his eyes shining. “Time for ee to stop lying boy, er’ll fetch a pretty penny across the water, they Fenchies likes a soft English wench, we soft hands from sitting on her ass all day, they pay a pretty penny for a pure un.” “I tell thee her ent pure!” I lies, “Her’s me girl in the missus stuff.” “What say you girl?” Old Fladder says, “You hoity toity lordships girl or you this pups piece?” “I do not understand,” Emily protested, “Unhand me!” “Unhand me, what sort of wenching talk be that pup?” Fladder says all jokey like, “I reckon you got the hots for her.” “She’s me girl,” I says. “Are you wench, you his are you?” Fladder asks. Emily shrank away in terror. “They lot ent no good pup, thee wants to throw thee lot in along we us,” Fladder says, “You Danesmoor lot ent such a bad lot, half stupid perhaps, but salt of the earth, god fearing, honest, so why you lying to us boy, you wanna get yer end ...
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