Charlotte searches in panic

Charlotte returned to the sandy edge of the ford with an unreasonable sense of accomplishment. She realized that wading across the brook to retrieve her horse was something that any eight year old was capable of, but for her it was an act of independence – perhaps even defiance. All her life she was warned of the dangers of forgetting her place in society, but today she chose to act for herself. She retrieved her stubborn horse, and even her decision to slip out of her undergarments was justified. Except for the small torn sections in the silk stockings, absolutely no evidence of her adventure would exist. She wondered if she could slip away from the manor again tomorrow and return to this spot to splash again.

It wasn’t until she climbed up onto the strip of warm sand that she realized something was wrong. The ruffled hose lay draped over the root of the old willow right where she remembered leaving it, but her stocking were nowhere to be seen.

“Where could they have gone!” she exclaimed in frustration as her eyes move up and down the stretch of beach. She wondered if the fine silk could have been blown by a gust of wind, or perhaps picked up by a nesting bird. As an nineteenth century educated woman of course Charlotte knew that elves and sprites were no more than fairy tales for children, but here on the edge of the great forest it was hard not to imagine that her undergarments were stolen away by some woodland spirit.

Randy smiled to himself as he watched her growing alarm as she searched for the tiny strips of silk that he held in his large hand. Lying behind the thick curtain of foliage he wondered what he should do. Should he try to talk to her or just leap out at her while she was distracted.

One of the things he had learnt to do on the two year whaling cruise was to ‘recruit’ new sailors to replace crew lost at sea. The stockings would make excellent bindings for her slender wrists, and his neckcloth he knew from experience would make a serviceable gag for her pretty mouth. What would he do with her once she was bound and gagged and at his mercy. The sudden throbbing of his cock indicated what it wanted to do with her lithe body. He could drag her into the thick woods on the far side of the brook and use her sweet body over and over again until the fierce anger he felt subsided.

The image of his sworn enemy’s daughter bent over a fallen log with her long skirts pushed up over her round white ass and the bodice torn from her hanging tits flashed through his mind like a bolt of electricity. He could warm her frigid ass with his palm until her muffled screams turned to whimpers of submission. And then he could stretch her pussy and plant his seed deep into her womb. If he stripped her of her dress and left her bound and bloodied by the roadside to be found by the searchers, there would be no way to hide what he had taken from her. Her father’s plans to wed her to some rich noble would be shattered as the rumors spread throughout London.

Of course perhaps her father could be made to suffer even more if her fate was uncertain. Could he keep her hidden for long enough to break her prideful spirit and turn her into his own personal toy – even pimp her out to the very gentlemen who had previously come to court her and win her hand in marriage. That would be the ultimate ****, but for now he had to keep her from leaving.