Bridget was startled out of sleep at dawn by infuriated roaring. Beside her, Garrett jerked awake, his arms tightening around her almost protectively and she huddled against him for a moment as she tried to shake the sleep from her brain.

"What the hell," Samuel muttered nearby.

The roaring coalesced into words.

"Gone! The bitch is Gone! Garrett!"

"Bloody hell," Garrett said, releasing Bridget and standing up, pulling on his breeches as he half walked, half hopped over to the tent opening.

Peeking out of the blankets, Bridget saw Blaine turn to give her a speculative look, as if wondering if he could get his morning jollies before his name was called. Fortunately less than half a second later Patrick was calling his and Samuel's names as well.

Curious despite herself, Bridget quickly got dressed, taking advantage of the wonderfully empty tent before creeping out front. The men were standing in a huddle in front of Patrick's tent. He was snapping out orders in a low voice, although he stopped the second he saw her, his dark eyes narrowing in a threatening way.

"You! Maid! Did you know anything about this?" he asked, stalking towards her and pushing through Blaine and Samuel. Behind him she could see Garrett frowning at her.

"Ab-b-b-bout what?" she asked, stuttering a little as she backed up towards the tent, shrinking into herself.

"She doesn't know anything," Garrett said loudly and slightly irritably, stopping Patrick in his tracks as he turned back towards the men. "I've made sure they haven't been able to talk to each other during the day and they definitely haven't had the opportunity to at night."

"Fine," the leader snapped. "Then you'll have to track the princess without any help."

The princess was gone? She'd escaped? For a moment a sense of relief flashed through Bridget. Followed very quickly by indignant anger. The princess had escaped... she should be glad that one of them was out of this mess, but instead of happiness she felt betrayed. All this time her escape plans had all included the princess. The princess' obviously had not. She hadn't even tried to communicate with Bridget about her plans. Instead, she'd left her maid at the mercy of these ruffians, already knowing the treatment she was receiving. Well, the treatment at Garrett's hands wasn't so bad, but the others. And now Patrick. Bridget quailed inside, wondering what was going to happen to her.

"Not a problem," Garrett said confidently. "Come on." And he walked off into the trees without looking back to see if Blaine and Samuel were following him, although they immediately did. That quickly, Bridget was left alone with the irate Patrick. He watched the men walk off and then turned back to her.

The look in his eyes was of anger and lust. "You truly didn't know that she planned to escape?"

Bridget couldn't hide the flash of anger from her face as she shook her head and Patrick laughed, some of his own anger obviously receding.

"Ah... you're angry at her. For not including you? You should be grateful she didn't. She didn't take a horse and we're too far from anywhere useful for her to walk. Besides, she's much too delicate. The men will catch up to her soon enough and she'll regret making the attempt." As he spoke, Patrick stepped forward and circled around her, inspecting her from every angle. Finally, he circled around to her front again, standing much closer to her than he had been before. His tone had softened though, the anger almost gone. "Strip, little maid."

It was as if the entire world had gone off kilter, but Bridget knew she didn't have a choice. Keeping her eyes on the ground to keep from looking at Patrick, Bridget stripped off her clothing and let her hands fall to her sides as Patrick began to circle around her again. She could feel his hot gaze searing her skin and she almost jumped as he ran a finger down her back, but held herself rigidly still as he cupped her buttocks and squeezed the flesh. Moving around to her front he hefted her breasts in both hands, and Bridget's cheeks heated with embarrassment as her nipples hardened without even the benefit of his touch.

"Rather nice," Patrick said, although she could tell he was talking to himself more than he was talking to her. "No wonder the boys haven't been misbehaving much." He laughed at his own joke, as if somehow Bridget was the cause of their improved behavior. Was she? And was their behavior actually improved? Perhaps having an outlet for their pleasures did make men more docile. She had noticed that married men were much less grumpy when their wives were obliging. She remained silent, but that didn't seem to bother Patrick as he played with her breasts.

Perhaps her observation about men being more docile when regularly bedded truly was correct. Patrick no longer seemed angry at all over the loss of the princess. One woman was obviously as good as another. Did all men feel that way?

"On your knees," Patrick ordered before Bridget could go too far in her thoughts. She knelt down, legs slightly cushioned from the hard ground by her skirts. The bandit leader undid his breeches and pulled out his manhood, thick and long with a mat of dark hair at its base. Gripping the back of her hair, Patrick pulled her head back so that she was looking up at him. "Do for me what you do for Garrett and Blaine. If you do it well enough, I won't offer you any... encouragement."

"Yes, sir," Bridget said in a low voice, trying to keep her fear from showing. What did he mean by encouragement? Perhaps he only meant in the same way that Samuel "encouraged" her, by taking complete control of the act and forcing himself down her throat, but she couldn't get the strange sounds that often came from his tent out of her mind. Her imagination had filled in all sorts of strange and terrifying possibilities for those noises. She truly did not want to know the reality.

Keeping his hand in her hair, Patrick gentled his hold on her slightly as Bridget leaned forward, delicately putting her hands on his thighs to brace herself. She swirled her tongue around his tip, knowing that both Blaine and Garrett were more sensitive around the mushroom head and the small slit at the end and assuming that Patrick would be the same. He groaned his encouragement as her tongue explored the underside of his mushroom before swiping over the broad tip. Bridget put her whole concentration into pleasuring him, learning from his groans and the tightening of his fingers in her hair as she licked him thoroughly, up and down his entire length.

"Put me in your mouth," he commanded hoarsely, and Bridget found herself looking up at him. He was watching her with his hard eyes, filled with lust as she pressed her lips to his tip and opened them, engulfing the head and shaft between them and sliding down its length. Thick and meaty in her mouth, she flicked her tongue upwards against him as she bobbed her head back and forth, taking him a little deeper with each stroke. Watching him watch her was too intimate and she flicked her eyes down again, wondering what it would be like to stare up at Garrett's eyes as she performed this service for him. What it would have been like to be able to see his expressions last night.

But she pushed the stray thoughts away, knowing she needed to focus on Patrick in order to stay in his good graces. Which she certainly wanted to. Moaning, he bucked his hips forward, and Bridget concentrated on swallowing him down, taking him further into her mouth until he nudged against the back of her throat. Holding him there for a moment, she suppressed the urge to gag before pulling away to nearly the tip. Lashing her tongue over the sensitive slit, she earned herself some time before she plunged back down onto him, her mouth and throat working convulsively to pleasure him.

Patrick succumbed to her ministrations, seeming to enjoy himself. Between Blaine and Garrett she had been getting plenty of practice in pleasing a man with her mouth, and for the first time she was actually grateful for it. At least Patrick didn't seem inclined to follow through with his threat of encouragement, he was well satisfied with the tricks she'd learned while pleasuring the others. Eager to prove she needed no encouragement, Bridget increased her efforts as she sucked hard, her lips sliding up and down his turgid shaft from tip to base, holding herself with his entire length swallowed down her throat for as long as she could.

The low growl he gave was the only warning she had before fluid blasted into her mouth, salty and foaming as she swallowed urgently. His cock pulsed against her tongue and she sucked hard, hoping that he would be pleased with her efforts. As she continued to suckle his slowly softening member, Patrick's hands went from gripping her hair to smoothing it back, almost stroking her. Bridget dared a glance up at him and was relieved to see he was looking down at her with a satisfied smile on his face.

"You are a bit of a treasure," he said musingly as he curled his hand under her jaw, indicating he was done with her mouth. He traced his thumb over her swollen lips as she stared back up at him. Patrick seemed to have a habit of talking out loud to himself, almost as though he couldn't think without speaking aloud. "I do enjoy the princess' fight but perhaps.... hmmm... Perhaps I will leave her punishment in the hands of others and see for myself why Garrett seems so taken with you. You may make me breakfast now."

The sudden change in topic startled Bridget, and Patrick released her face and turned away abruptly, almost as if he'd dismissed her existence. Slowly she got to her feet and began to pull her clothing back on, watching as he began to tend to the early morning chores that Garrett usually handled. There had been something in Patrick's voice when he'd said that Garrett was 'taken' with her. As if he was jealous? Or that he expected Garrett to be? Something had just happened but his words were so ambiguous that she had no idea what he'd meant about the princess' punishment and Garrett being taken with her. Surely the two had nothing to do with the other. Unless he was suggesting she and the princess switch roles in pleasing the men?

For some reason she didn't like that thought, even though pleasing one man would be easier than pleasing three. How very strange.

She wondered what Patrick had meant by "taken with."

*********

Princess Eleanor slumped to the ground, leaning against a tree, for the first time in her life not caring about what she looked like or whether the tree might get her dirty or if there would be bugs or anything else gross around her. The sun was beating down from overhead and she was exhausted. It felt like she'd been trapped in these dreadful woods forever, with no sign of another person anywhere. Damn Patrick to Hell! He must have exaggerated how close the nobleman's manor house was. After all, she was sure she'd gone in the right direction. Had he somehow known she might try to escape and tricked her?

Feeling quite sorry for herself given the circumstances, Princess Eleanor pouted and sighed. Lassitude spread through her tired limbs. Yawning, she decided to close her eyes. Just to rest them for a moment. She must be close to the manor house now. Just a bit of rest and she'd be able to make it there.

It was only when a dark shadow fell over her that she came to, realizing she'd fallen asleep. Looking up into Garrett's handsome face, she felt disappointed that someone from the nobleman's household hadn't found her first... but perhaps something from the situation was still salvageable. Putting on her most welcoming smile, the princess yawned and stretched attractively, batting her eyes up at the looming rogue. He lifted a questioning eyebrow at her.

"Oh Garrett," she said, doing her best to make her voice sound artlessly breathless. "You startled me... I'm so glad you found me out here in the woods. I was becoming quite frightened." Garrett just stared down at her, the same querying expression on his face. "Please... you can't mean to return me to that... that brute. I know the nobleman's house isn't far from here. Help me escape." She smiled coyly as he lowered his eyebrow, looking like he was considering her plea. Spreading her legs and raising her knees so that her skirts slid upwards, exposing a few inches of creamy thigh, she arched her back so that her pert breasts were thrust up at him. "I can make it worth your while."

"We don't have to bargain for what we can take for free," a gruff voice behind her said. Furious, Eleanor looked over her shoulder to see Samuel standing there. While his blond good looks might be attractive, the princess was well aware that he was a true ruffian. She had no intention of offering her favors to him in anyway.

"Don't you touch me," she snapped, sitting up straight and pushing her skirts back down. "Patrick will have your hide."

"But not Garrett's?" Samuel asked with a laugh.

Haughtily, Eleanor turned her head back around, ignoring him. If only he hadn't shown up right now, she was sure she could have convinced the silent Garrett to help her. He must have seen Samuel coming, otherwise he would have accepted her offer immediately. Now she wouldn't even be able to get a taste of what Garrett had given her maid. As if that common tart was worth the pleasure she'd received from him.

"Come on, let's get her back to the camp," Blaine said, melting out of the trees. Eleanor was rather gratified to see Patrick had sent all of his men after her, even if he hadn't come himself. It showed that he knew her true worth. Although if Garrett had come alone then maybe she'd have been able to garner some pleasure as well as help to the nobleman's estate.

Pouting, because neither of her plans had come to fruition, Princess Eleanor held out her hand for Garrett to help her rise. For a moment something sparked in his eyes, but then Samuel was there, dragging her up by her upper arm.

"How dare you?!" she fumed, jerking her arm out of his grasp.

"Come on," Garrett said, forestalling any further comment from either her or Samuel. And with that he turned and walked away, striding into the forest with every expectation that she was following him. As if she had any choice with Samuel and Blaine crowding her from behind. The princess tilted her head back haughtily, rather miffed Garrett had not seen fit to walk beside her. Perhaps he just did not want to show any disrespect to Patrick.

Yes, that must be it.

*******

It was midafternoon before the men returned with the princess. Bridget didn't know how she felt when she finally beheld the other woman. On one hand, she looked exhausted and ragged, dirty actually, and she wasn't moving with her usual hauteur. On the other hand, the princess had attempted to escape and leave Bridget at the mercy of the bandits. While she understood that in the grand scheme of things that the princess was much more important than a simple maid, it still grated. After all, weren't they both women in this situation together?

Bridget probably could have escaped if she hadn't been trying to factor the princess into her plans. She might have even gotten away with it since she knew how to saddle a horse, which the princess obviously didn't. Now the men would probably be much more on their guard. What on earth had the princess been thinking? The silly chit had ruined it for both of them.

With a small jolt of shock, Bridget realized she was glaring. Lowering her gaze to the ground, she strove to get her emotions under control as Patrick strode over to the princess, anger in every line of his body. It had been a strange day with him, as he'd alternated between occasionally touching or examining her and ignoring her completely. Occasionally he had muttered under his breath. Now he was back to ignoring her while she worked on mending some of his clothing that he'd given her to take care of for him.

Out of the corner of her eye she watched as he spoke a word with Garrett and then grabbed the princess by the back of her neck, fairly hauling her over towards a horse saddle he'd set up over a bench. He'd spent all morning working on the setup. It wasn't until he practically tossed the princess, stomach down, on top of it that Bridget realized what he had been planning. The princess was now sprawled over the saddle, her arms on one side and her legs hanging off of the other. The way the saddle was placed on the bench meant her buttocks were invitingly thrust upwards into the air.

"Hold her in place," Patrick snarled, and Samuel sprung into place around on the side where Princess Eleanor's upper body hung down, grabbing her by the arms and pushing her downwards so she was trapped in place on the saddle. The princess was screaming and cursing, using words a lady of her breeding shouldn't know, much less use. To Bridget's surprise her main complaint seemed to be that they had an audience, she kept demanding Samuel unhand her and Patrick punish her privately in the tent. She showed no chagrin or shame at being caught, not even fear for whatever Patrick might have planned for her, only anger and an assuredness that she would get her way.

Judging by the implacable look on Patrick's face as he tossed the princess' skirts over her upturned rump, exposing her bottom and legs, he didn't care what the princess thought or demanded. Samuel just laughed at her, obviously enjoying her struggles.

Glancing at Blaine and Garrett, she saw Blaine seemed rather amused—whether at the princess' antics or the fact that she was about to be punished, Bridget wasn't sure—and Garrett's face was completely blank. Almost too blank. He looked back at her and frowned and then began walking over.

SLAP!

The princess screamed and Bridget's head snapped back around where Patrick was standing to the side of the princess, his leather belt in his upraised hand as he brought it back down on her tender flesh, making a second long red mark across her creamy buttocks. Bridget gasped. He was beating her. Not only that, but the moans the princess made after she screamed again sounded... well sounded like Bridget had last night when Garrett had used his tongue between her legs. It looked almost as though her hips were lifting upwards to meet the belt as Patrick swung it for a third time.

SMACK!

This one landed across the backs of her thighs, the three stripes almost a glowing red, and then suddenly Garrett was standing in front of Bridget and blocking her view.

"Don't watch. Cover your ears," he said in a fierce low voice. Bridget stared up at him, only now realizing that she was standing on legs that trembled, her eyes wide and fearful. Never in her life had she seen anything like the scene Garrett was trying to shield her eyes from. The glowing lust on Patrick's face as he beat the princess, the hard bulge in his pants showing his enjoyment of strapping her… this wasn't just for punishment but for both their pleasure.

THWACK! Scream. Bridget's body jerked in reaction and Garrett cursed, reaching up to cover her ears himself.

Bridget stepped back away from him instinctively. He was still a man and she was still a prisoner, no matter how kindly he might treat her during the day or how he preferred to pleasure her when it was his turn with her. At the end of the day he was not her friend. Not only had he hunted down the princess and returned her to Patrick, he wasn't trying to stop Patrick from what he was doing now, he was only trying to keep Bridget from seeing it. Hearing it. Knowing what was happening. She recognized these sounds from the evenings the princess had spent in Patrick's tent. This was not the first time he had beaten her, although Bridget was quite sure it was the hardest.

WHAP! Scream. Bridget shuddered and Garrett's mouth tightened, he stepped forward faster than she could back up and caught her up in his arms, holding her still against him as he covered her ears. She shivered against him, comforted despite herself. It was hard not to feel safe and protected in Garrett's arms, even if it was a lie.

Despite his care though, she could still hear the beating and fear was coursing through her. It took every ounce of willpower not to try and run from the terrible scene, even knowing that she could never escape and that it would only result in her taking the princess' place. After all, if Patrick was willing to punish a member of the royal family so brutally, how would he treat a simple maid?

She knew it was over when Garrett finally let her go and turned around. Perhaps he thought that she wouldn't peek around his body, but of course she did. Even though part of her didn't want to see the damage, she couldn't stop herself from looking. Patrick was standing to the side, breathing heavily, with a large bulge in his breeches and the belt hanging down to the ground from his hand. Lust was clear on his face as he looked at the princess' beaten backside, her entire rump and upper thighs covered with red welts. Samuel looked just as lustful as Patrick, now standing and holding the princess down so he could watch the beating. Only Blaine wasn't paying attention, he'd sat down and was eating.

"Damn slut enjoys it too much," Patrick said in tones of disgust. "It can't even be considered a punishment. Let her up, Samuel."

What? Bridget gaped at him and then turned her head back to look at the princess. Really look at her. Her hips were moving up and down in an unmistakable rhythm, her moans eagerly erotic. Most telling was the slick juice coating swollen nether lips and upper thighs. Somehow, Bridget hadn't even noticed that detail when she'd first looked

The princess had enjoyed the beating? It seemed impossible but the evidence couldn't be refuted. Princess Eleanor stood and turned to Patrick, giving him a noble glare worthy of a basilisk as her skirts fell back down to cover her. Any doubts Bridget might have had about the princess' arousal were immediately wiped away when the princess spoke.

"Shut up and fuck me."

The bandit leader laughed uproariously. "Well I have taught you all the proper words, but you are not in charge, princess."

She glared at him. "I know you want to." And gave a pointed look to his breeches.

"I want to fuck, aye, but it need not be you. Obviously you do not appreciate me as you should. Tonight the men may have you and I will take the maid, and tomorrow we'll see whether or not you've learned your lesson."

Princess Eleanor gasped at the same time Bridget did, although the princess' gasp was outraged and Bridget’s was terrified.

Immediately Garrett turned around and pinned Bridget in place with his eyes, which were darkly stormy, drowning out the princess' indignant protests. "Don't worry, he won't treat you the same way he does her. I promise."

Somehow she believed him. The expression on his face was almost as terrifying as what she'd just seen. Emotions roiled in her. Terror, uncertainty, and an overwhelming desire for Garrett to be something other than a bandit who had captured and used her. The more he took care of her safety and comfort, the harder it was to remember he was not truly her friend. For a moment she almost hated him for the conflict of emotions he aroused in her.

"Do no lasting harm," Patrick ordered from behind Garrett. "Otherwise use her as you will. We'll deal with the nobleman's house tomorrow. The difference of a day won't matter."

The princess shrieked as she was picked up over Samuel's shoulder, struggling and hurling curses at Patrick as the grinning Samuel carried her over to the tent, Blaine already following. Feeling rooted in place, Bridget watched as Garrett approached Patrick and the two men talked in low tones she couldn't hear, and she was too afraid to try and move closer to listen. She could already hear the cries beginning in the tent where Samuel and Blaine had taken the princess and she couldn't shut those out either. More than anything, today had driven home how abnormal her circumstances had become, how dependent on these men and at the same time how frustrating. There was no control over her life or her wellbeing other than at the whim of whatever man happened to be ordering her around at the moment.

Even Garrett did so, as if he knew what was best for her. If he really wanted what was best for her then he would have helped her escape before this. He'd made it clear on the first day of her capture that she was there to serve the men's needs, and she'd almost forgotten that until now. While he might promise to keep Patrick from beating her the same way he had just abused the princess, Bridget remembered his words about how keeping her healthy and sane was to the benefit of the men so they could have use of her longer.

Lowering her head she gripped her hands in her skirts and stared at the ground to keep from glaring at the two men across from her. The fragile stability she'd found since being captured was falling apart around her. Surely the men would be doubly on their guard against escape attempts now.

Closing her eyes she tried to buoy her sinking spirits. So it might take longer. She could do this. Deal with it. Lull them. Patrick probably wouldn't care if she tried to escape... and she'd learned from the princess' failure. Take a horse. And food. Know exactly where her destination was and how long it would take to get there. And no need to factor the other woman into her plans anymore. Bridget felt quite cold as to the princess' fate now. Obviously the princess felt no need to help her and perhaps it was selfish of her to adopt the same morals but Bridget no longer cared.

The biggest obstacle to escape was also now obvious. Garrett. The first man Patrick had called for when he realized the princess was gone. The man who had easily tracked the other woman. Looking up at the two men she was struck again by how handsome they both were. Patrick was sunshine and light with his light hair and eyes and Garrett was twilight and shadows. Tall, muscular, and tanned, authoritative men who knew far more than she did about life in the woods. How could this possibly work?

But what other choice did she have?

Bridget looked down again as they both looked over at her, breathing hard with fear. Why did Garrett have to confuse her so? She had to remember that the feeling of safety she had around him was a lie. So he might have seduced her rather than forced her last night... she felt a wash of shame for her wanton behavior. But was it so wrong to want a companion, a friend, in this lonely world of hers? As long as she didn't get attached, as long as she remembered that he was really the enemy, then hopefully it wouldn't matter if she pretended otherwise on occasion just so that she didn't always feel so alone.

Right now she was perfectly willing to feel grateful that he was attempting to convince Patrick not to treat her the same way he did Princess Eleanor. Although, her gratitude didn't extend very far because she knew it was to Garrett and the other men's benefit if Patrick didn't damage their toy. After all, Patrick was truly only interested in Bridget for one evening, from his words he fully intended to take a much chastened princess back into his tent tomorrow.

"Come, maid," Patrick said and she looked up at him. He wasn't watching her, just gesturing imperiously as he turned towards the tent with the men and the princess. Garrett was looking at her though, his eyes dark and his expression almost angry. Had Patrick refused to treat her well? As she moved towards Patrick she looked questioningly at Garrett, but he just watched her as she followed Patrick towards the tent.

Thoughts about Garrett were driven from her mind as they entered the tent and she saw the activities the three were engaged in. The princess was on top of Blaine in much the same position that Bridget had been on Garrett last night when she 'rode' him, but Samuel was behind her, wedging the princess' soft white body between the two hard, muscular ones. The princess was wailing and cursing, although she was also moaning in enjoyment as the two men used her simultaneously. Samuel's hands gripping and digging into her abused buttocks as he thrust energetically into her back hole. Bridget swayed, feeling faint. She hadn't even known that was possible.

A hand gripped her and pulled her over, she stumbled as she practically fell against Patrick, still watching the shocking tableau in front of her. The bandit leader reached into the top of her bodice and squeezed her breast, obviously enjoying watching his two men take the princess in such a rude manner. His fingers pinched her nipple and she bit back a moan as she shuddered. Samuel looked over and grinned at her, his eyes alight with hot fire and Bridget immediately looked away, feeling exposed. It was almost like he was telling her that he wanted her in that debased position, trapped between his and Blaine's thrusting shafts.

Movement caught her eye and she found herself looking at Garrett, whose expression was almost fierce, like he was glaring at her.

"Gawd she's noisy," Patrick said laughing as the princess turned her head to hurl epithets at him even as she moaned louder with pleasure. "Garrett, give her something to shut her up."

It was shockingly difficult to watch as Garrett walked around to the front of the Princess, undoing his breeches and shoving his own rod into her mouth, one hand in her hair to hold her head up. Like the strapping, she wanted to look away but she found that she couldn't. Something sick and jealous churned in her belly, but that wasn't possible was it? Why should she care where Garrett found his pleasure?

Watching him thrust his cock into the princess' mouth, she realized she did care. She barely even noticed as Patrick moved behind her, his erection rubbing up against her skirts as he took both of her breasts in his hands, toying with her body as he watched the princess filled in all three of her available holes.

Feeling nauseous from her traitorous emotions, Bridget looked up and away from the princess' stuffed lips and found herself meeting Garrett's eyes. He wasn't watching the princess pleasure him, he was watching Patrick's hands on her breasts. Although his face was blank, she somehow got the impression he was angry—jealous even? Certainly he was being far rougher with the princess' mouth than he had ever been with hers.

Or was she only fooling herself to make herself feel better about the inexplicable possessiveness that came over her as she watched him with another woman?

Unable to take it anymore, Bridget turned her head up towards Patrick. "Can we go to the other tent?" she whispered to him. While she might not be able to stop him from using her body, hopefully she could at least stop watching Garrett with the princess. If it caused her this much turmoil to see Garrett in her mouth, how much worse would it be later when he used her in other ways?

This was only because he had been the kindest to her, of course she felt a bond with him. And if she had ever needed to know exactly how fake that bond was, this was the definitive proof. But that didn't mean she wanted to watch it any longer.

"Eager are you?" Patrick asked loudly with a laugh, and Bridget blushed and looked at the ground in shame again. It wasn't what she had intended him to think but better that than him realizing the truth of her inappropriate feelings about Garrett. "By all means, let us seek some privacy."

She couldn't help but glance at Garrett one last time as they left, but his eyes were closed and his head thrown back. Not looking at her at all. Hardening her heart, she knew it was good for her to have seen his uncaring. She was nothing more than a body for him to use and of course he wanted that body to be in good condition. Like Samuel and Patrick, he had his preferences about how he wanted a woman to behave in his bed, and just because it was a pleasurable experience being there, it obviously didn't mean anything.

Now it should be easier to remember that.

**********

Bridget was eager to go pleasure Patrick?

What was her game?

Was she trying to gain some leniency from him?

Garrett had already promised her that he wouldn't allow Patrick to harm her. And he wouldn't. Patrick was quite aware Garrett would not countenance harm to the little maid. It hadn't been hard to convince the other man to tread more easily with her, after working his anger out on the princess' soft ass.

She had a talented mouth too, the humming moans working their way up his cock and spine with ripples of pleasure. Gripping her hair he thrust harder, opening his eyes now that he no longer had to watch Patrick fondling Bridget, because with his eyes closed all he could think about was what might be happening in the other tent. He truly did not want to think about Bridget in Patrick's tent. But even more than that, he didn't want to examine why he felt that way.

Staring down in to the haughty face beneath him, attractive as it was with his dick sheathed between her lips, he couldn't stop himself from picturing another's.

*******

The inside of Patrick's tent was smaller than the tent the other men shared, but not by much. His bedroll was in the center and his saddlebags off to the side. Bridget went and stood by his bedroll, looking down at the ground with her heart pounding. The scene in the other tent had unsettled her, not just because of the perverse sexual act she'd watched, but because of her own emotions surrounding Garrett's involvement in it. As if she'd needed more proof that she'd forgotten he was also the enemy.

At least with Patrick there was little chance of forgetting. The large man pulled off his shirt, revealing his muscular chest and shoulders, a thatch of blonde hair curling in the center of his chest, although his stomach was almost completely bare of hair. His body hair was a darker blonde than the corn silk gold of the hair on his head.

"Strip," he ordered as he went over to the saddlebags. Bridget divested herself of her clothing, letting it fall to the floor. When Patrick approached her again it was with a length of rope in his hands. "Hold out your hands in front of you."

Trembling, Bridget obeyed. Fear coursed through her as he twined the rope around her wrists, securing them together and leaving her even more helpless than before. There had been no real need to bind her, it was just another way for him to assert his power over her and to make her even more vulnerable. Despite his words about liking the princess' fight, he seemed to be taking a completely different approach with Bridget... unless he'd hoped she might try to fight her bonds?

"Lie down," he said, smiling almost as cruelly as Samuel, as he pulled out his belt knife. Bridget obeyed immediately, her legs feeling too weak to hold her anyway. "Put your arms above your head."

It was incredibly hard to obey that command, stretching her arms up and over her head as he stood over her with that knife, exposing her stomach and breasts. She was panting, unable to slow her breathing as she struggled not to panic completely. There was no hope of wrestling the knife away from him and stabbing him with it, no matter how much she might want to.

"Spread your legs."

Patrick knelt between them, his beautiful blue eyes practically glowing. He looked like some kind of demented angel, sent to torment rather than save her. With the knife turned at an angle, he slid the cold steel down between her breasts and over her stomach. Bridget whimpered in fear. It was just enough pressures that she could feel it tracing her soft skin, but not enough to actually cut. Instinctively she pulled in her stomach, trying to move her flesh away from its edge. The knife seemed to fill her vision as it traced a path back up and around her breasts, until he pressed the cold flat of the blade against her nipple and the little bud pebbled beneath its touch.

Then Patrick was leaning forward and Bridget's breathe caught in her throat, the knife still pressing down on the soft flesh of her breast, as he licked a tear off of her cheek. "You wouldn't like pain would you, little maid? Not like your mistress. But fear... fear is almost as arousing."

He leaned into her, allowing her to feel the bulge in his breeches as it pressed against her sex as he licked another tear away from the other side of her face. Some of the panic faded, although the fear remained, as he seemed to hint he wasn't going to actually hurt her. But of course, there was always the chance. Pulling back, Patrick watched her face as he trailed the blade sideways across her chest, circling the tip around her nipple as it slowly hardened, pricking it enough to sting without actually piecing her skin. Trying not to breathe too much, to keep her chest from rising and falling while the tip of Patrick's knife was threatening her, she couldn't stop herself from whimpering. Which he obviously enjoyed.

"You're so much easier than the princess," he said in a low, almost gleeful, voice. "So wonderfully docile. I think I'm enjoying this change of pace." She stared up at him, confusion warring with her fear, and he laughed as he slid the blade back down her stomach, scraping delicately against her skin. "Spread your legs further, little maid."

Closing her eyes against his penetrating gaze, she obeyed, trying to stem the rising panic as he began to trace the knife over her creamy thighs, teasing the curls on her mound with the deadly instrument.

"Don't move an inch," he whispered, his voice hoarse with lust. Bridget opened her eyes to see that he was no longer watching her face, but staring between her legs as he began to tease her feminine folds with the blade. A scream caught in her throat as she froze, her muscles trembling with the effort of not moving, afraid that any movement would mean harm.

The blade had warmed slightly against her body but it still felt cold to her heated folds, which were surprisingly slick, as if the terror that had filled her had somehow spurred her body into readying itself for a sexual assault. It slowly warmed as Patrick slid it up and down her slit, coating it with her juices. His gaze was raptly fascinated, watching the steel parting her pink nether lips, the arousing combination of a weapon and sweet female flesh.

When he finally removed the threat of steel from her sex, Bridget's muscles felt like they were suddenly made of water, the tension leaving her body with a rush of relief that she had not been harmed. Patrick leaned over her again, bringing the blade to her lips, his face hovering above hers as he leaned on his arm to the side of them.

"Lick it clean."

Almost relieved, Bridget immediately lifted her head and began licking her juices off of the blade. The musky sweetness with its hint of bitter rolled around her mouth, her scent filling her nostrils. How could her body have become aroused under such circumstances? Patrick pressed the length of his body against hers, warm and hard, apparently enraptured as he watched her lick her own honey from his knife.

Suddenly he pulled back and swiftly undid his breeches before falling on top of her again. She gasped as his weight hit her, his muscled body pressing her into the ground as he stretched out over her. Both of his hands pressed against bound wrists, the knife still clasped in his grip, pushing her arms up further and stretching her underneath him. The blunt head of his cock probed her folds and then he began to move his hips, pushing his thick tip into her body. Groaning, he pushed harder, spearing her beneath him and she spread her legs wider as she cried out, her back arching as he opened her core.

"Bloody hell, you feel good," he said, surging against her and shoving deeper. His hands and upper body kept her pinned in place as he assaulted her sex like a battering ram invading her keep. "Wrap your legs around me."

Bridget shuddered as she obeyed, hating how good it felt to have his hard steel penetrating her, thrusting deep inside of her. His body rocked against hers, rubbing over her swollen pearl and causing her to spasm around him, pleasuring them further. Despite her fear, her own arousal and body's responses were beginning to surge as he rutted within her, his buttocks clenching against her ankles as he rose and fell above her, the slick length of his shaft filling her and receding over and over again. The knife in his hand kept her anxiety high even as she began to push back against him, hips rising to meet him.

Closing her eyes, she could almost forget the weapon, could concentrate on the pleasure her body was feeling against its will. It was almost possible to pretend she was with a man who cared for her, who was holding her hands down above her head without rope or a threat. She moaned softly as she began to writhe beneath Patrick, molten liquid swirling in her belly as her legs tightened, pulling him into her.

His movement changed and she opened her eyes as his hands slid down to her elbows, keeping her arms in place as he lowered his head to her breasts and sucked a nipple into his mouth. She let out a cry of pure pleasure as he suckled on the sensitive bud, teeth nipping at it gently, his hips moving more slowly now as his attention to her breasts hindered him somewhat. Switching breasts, he mouthed her other nipple, his hips doing a slow bump and grind that seemed to draw the pleasure out of her, enhancing the need already burning between her legs. With small cries of enjoyment, she pushed back against him, forgetting about the knife in his hand as she tried to work herself to climax on his stiff rod. The overwhelming urge spurred her onward, swamping her other emotions.

Patrick moved his mouth again, sucking a mouthful of creamy breast flesh between his lips. The sensation of his hard sucking on her tender skin was so intensely pleasurable it was almost painful. Bridget arched her back as she moaned and humped, her breast pressing upwards to relieve some of the pressure the suction his mouth had created. In response, Patrick just sucked harder, and she yelped as the sharp sensation bit at her.

Then his mouth moved away and he stretched out over her again, his rhythm changing to a more thorough pounding, taking her hard and deep. Relentlessly he drove his turgid flesh into her softness, stretching her over and over again. The spot on her breast throbbed where he had left a deep red bruise. Bridget gave herself over to the gathering ecstasy, feeling almost giddy as her fear completely ebbed under the surges of erotic need and the tension inside of her came to a peak. Her turbulent emotional state only seemed to add to the intensity of her climax as it sizzled and burst, flaring and sparking from her loins through her body as she cried out.

The rubbing thrusts of Patrick's cock splitting open her convulsing tunnel drew out her pleasure, the burning ecstasy of her orgasm throbbing through her sex. He bellowed his triumph as he began to spill into her body, thrusting his way through his release, his thick rod rigidly hard as he split her shocked folds and filled her with cream. Each pumping jet of fluid eased the next hard thrust. Bridget had never felt anything like it, his continual shoves into her body even as he pulsed and released, and she writhed beneath him as his assault on her sensitive folds became almost painful with the overload of stimulation.

Finally, he collapsed on top of her, sunk fully into her flesh to the hilt as he gave one last throb. Bridget's body was wracked with small tremors as aftershocks of her climax rippled through her. With Patrick's hard body weighing her down she was short of breath, but she didn't care. She almost wished he would crush her out of existence. Part of her felt that she might as well get what enjoyment she could from her predicament, but another part of her felt a deep sense of shame at having ultimately enjoyed a man who was so vile. Even Samuel hadn't roused this degree of conflict within her. Patrick had strapped the princess cruelly and then threatened Bridget's most intimate parts with a knife, and yet she'd still found pleasure beneath him.

Now that it was over she felt almost sad, as well. The vision of Garrett with the princess Eleanor rose in her mind again and she realized she'd allowed Patrick's tactics to distract her from her conflicted emotions about Garrett.

The overwhelming need to escape rose up in her again. These men were changing her and not for the better.

Pulling off of her with a sigh of satisfaction, Patrick got to his feet, pulling his breeches back up. Rather diffidently he untied her arms. The rope had left red marks around her wrists.

"Here," he said, tossing her his shirt. "Put this on." Then he strode out of the tent, leaving her alone. Standing up on shaking limbs, Bridget pulled the shirt over her head. Patrick was much taller than her and the shirt covered her down to mid-thigh, but it left her feeling rather unprotected. Not as if her bodice and skirts truly afforded her much protection.

Deciding that her best course of action for now was to act cowed by the princess' punishment—not that acting cowed was a far stretch—and continue putting the men off guard with her. While they might be more alert in general towards the women for a bit, Bridget might be able to convince them she was even more docile now. It couldn't hurt while she tried to find other options.

Rolling up the sleeves on the shirt, which hung far down over her hands, she hurried out of the tent, feeling very strange with her legs exposed by the shirt. To her surprise Garrett was seated by the fire, whittling something, although Samuel, Blaine, and the princess were nowhere to be seen. The noises coming from the other tent indicated that the activities within it were continuing. How long had he been out here? How much of her interlude with Patrick had he heard?

For some reason she blushed deeply as she scurried over to the fire, feeling his eyes on her bare legs as she began to slice some vegetables for dinner. Patrick stood watching both of them for a moment. She felt as though there was some silent conversation going on between the two men, although she had no idea what it could be about. Had Patrick dressed her in his shirt to show he had not harmed her? It was even more embarrassing as his seed began to leak out of her and down her legs. Dampening a cloth, she pressed it between her legs to clean herself, keeping her eyes averted from the two men.

After several long silent minutes Patrick went into the tent with the princess and his men. Garrett muttered something under his breath and then came over to where she was preparing their food. Bridget considered trying to stab him and run, but there was no way she could do it silently. And she wasn't entirely sure she could bring herself to stab him either. Damn him.

To her surprise he reached out and took the knife from her and put it down before taking her hands in his and bringing her wrists up to inspect. There was still plenty of daylight for him to see the red marks, which were a little sore but didn't truly hurt.

"Anything else?" he asked, his voice harsh.

Bridget jerked, trying to pull her hands away but his grip tightened. "What do you care?" she riposted, unable to keep the bitterness out of her voice. "Worried that he'll damage the goods and you three won't be able to play?"

She looked him directly in the eye, not sure why she was pushing him or what she wanted him to say, but she hadn't been able to hold it back.

For a long moment Garrett's dark eyes stared back stormily at her, looking almost black.

"Of course," he said in an even voice, devoid of any emotion. "Now strip."

Fighting back tears at his sudden indifference to her, reminding her forcibly of Blaine's treatment of her, Bridget pulled the shirt up and off. Bowing her head, she stared at the ground with her hands fisted at her sides, so that she didn't have to look at him and he wouldn't see the anger and gleam of tears in her eyes. She had only herself to blame, of course, what else had she expected him to say?

The growling noise he made deep in his throat startled her into looking at him, but all of his attention was on her breasts. She looked down and realized that he was staring at the mark Patrick had left on her creamy skin. It was so dark red it was almost purple, standing out clear and stark on her pale skin like a brand. Garrett circled around her quickly, inspecting her, and she watched him warily from the corner of his eye. There was a violence to his movements which hadn't been there before.

Suddenly he was pulling her hard against him and her head snapped back to stare up at him in surprise and his mouth came down hard on hers. It was a brutally demanding kiss, his tongue pushing into her mouth before she could even think of closing her lips against him. He pulled at her, as if he could meld their bodies together, and she moaned into his mouth, shocked by the sudden rush of desire that his touch and lips caused. The taste of him was like a powerful aphrodisiac, her bare skin tingling everywhere he touched her as his hands swept over her back and buttocks, reaching down to grip the fleshy mounds and pull her lower body into his erection, grinding it into her. She found herself pushing back against him, her hands curling into his shirt and pulling herself up and into the kiss, before she realized what she was doing.

Whimpering she pushed at him, but he just clasped her tighter, his kiss gentling as if he realized he was being too rough with her. He tasted spicy and masculine, the hard press of his body against hers made her want to moan as tendrils of need unfurled, like a flower peeling back its petals and turning into the sun. The sweeping seduction of his lips and clever tongue coaxed her, his hands rubbing soothing patterns on her bottom, and she shuddered against him as her nipples hardened of their own accord, the wetness between her legs growing.

"Garrett."

Patrick's voice broke through the moment and Bridget pushed again. This time Garrett let her go. Standing outside of the tent, watching them, was Patrick. His voice had sounded hard but the expression on his face was one almost of amusement. The two men glared at each other as Bridget snatched Patrick's shirt back up and put it on, not caring that it was a little dirty.

"If you need some relief, the princess is available to you this evening," Patrick said blandly as Bridget bent back to her task.

"I'm sure I'll use her services later," drawled Garrett, sounding and looking almost as relaxed as Patrick. The two men stared at each other for another moment and then Garrett ambled over to the side of the camp, Patrick walking just as nonchalantly to the same place. Whatever they had to say, they didn't want Bridget to hear.

She was caught somewhere between mortification and anger. Fury at Garrett dominated, not just for that earth-shattering kiss, but also for talking of using the princess' 'services' almost immediately after. Her rage at Garrett was subsumed by her anger at herself as she realized she was acting out of her new strange jealousy. Again her expectations had snuck up on her and in her head she had built Garrett up into something he wasn't. Just because the man kissed her and occasionally acted like he cared didn't mean that he did, and even if he did, he was still part of this wretched situation. Perhaps if she had a choice she might choose a man like Garrett. But it all boiled down to the stark fact that she did not have a choice and Garrett couldn't care less what female lay in his bed.

But what had motivated that kiss? It almost seemed as though he'd been jealous over the mark on her breast.

That thought made her feel slightly hopeful, which only made her angrier at herself. She bent her head to her task, knowing dinner was going to be important. Going by her knowledge of men, which was growing daily, she felt quite sure Patrick was going to take her again before bed.