She doesn't know what to think

A wild range of wild emotions, ideas and images bombarded Charlotte's thoughts as she lay pinned beneath her captor with Mr. Fuller's cock firmly embedded within her filling her completely making any rational thought almost impossible. Black Brand was Randolph Fuller! She knew the identity of this fearsome outlaw, and Charlotte now understood why he had taken the time to deflower her. It was not, as she had naively hoped, that Mr. Fuller had found her beautiful; no, clearly he had violated her as a way to avenge his sister's dishonour and eventual ****. His contempt for her and her family helped explain why she had been secured face down on the bed with her legs tied obscenely open. Charlotte wondered, as he slowly softened within her, if she looked as as blatantly sexual as she imagined she must, spread-out like an ancient offering to some long-forgotten pagan god.

Even more perplexing than her discovery of the highwayman's identity was her own reaction to his use of her. She should despise the man, especially after this second session. The humiliation and helplessness of her position confirms just how coarse and disgusting this common outlaw was, but instead of hating what he was doing she had become excited by his mastery of her. Just like the heroines in her erotic books, she had not only surrendered her virtue to his demands, she had let him take her again and this time actually encouraged him to plunder her innocent body.

Eventually the throbbing between her legs eased to the point she was able to think of something other than how good it felt to be filled by this brawny villain. Black Brand was Randolf Fuller. Really, she would have deduced his identity sooner except her father's agents not definitively eliminated Fuller as a possible candidate long ago. After Fuller's angry outburst in the great hall of Marlton Manor and the way he was soundly beaten by the family's groomsmen many people assumed Black Brand was Mary's brother, but multiple witnesses identified him boarding an East Indies frigate bound for China nearly a month before Black Brand's first appearance. Somehow Fuller must have made his way off that outbound ship and made his way back to Marlton's lands, because Charlotte's captor was most certainly Randolph Fuller.

He climbed off of her leaving her cold and alone, and unable to roll over or even close her legs until he turned his attention to untying her ankle. Charlotte was still securely chained to the bed by her other ankle, but at least she was able to face her captor and even pull some bedding over her legs.

"Take this Lady Marlton," Black Brand was standing by her side with a wooden box in his strong hands, if he was annoyed that she had covered her legs he gave no indication of it. Charlotte blinked in surprise as she tried to figure out what he was holding; what was Mr. Fuller doing now?

"It's a lap desk." He explained as he set it on the bed next to her, "you are going to write to your father and tell him exactly what I tell you to." Charlotte opened the cover of the hinged case, inside she saw a stack of paper, three fine ivory-handled inkpens with tarnished silver nips, a small glass vial of ink and a well worn blotter.

"Where did you get this?" As soon as she asked the question she realized how stupid it was. Where does an outlaw highwayman get anything this fine? "Never mind." She waved off his answer, she didn't want to know. Charlotte ran her hand over the fine grained wood of the writing case before taking one of the sheets of paper and laying it by her side. The simple routine of laying out the paper, opening the inkwell and selecting a pen helped calm her nerves enough that she thought she'd be able to do as he said. She should have anticipated this.

Nearly all Charlotte knew about the lustful behaviors of men came from her hidden erotic romances. The actions taken by this coarse man fit her expectations nearly perfectly. Her captor had bound her and led away to his lair, undressed and groped her sweet flesh as she hung by her wrists, this was just what she had been led to expect. And then, Charlotte could feel the heat in her cheeks as she relived the recent memory, then he had claimed her. He had carried her to the bed in his strong arms, confidently finished removing her clothes and then firmly pulled apart her knees and lowered himself into her. And not just once either, Mr. Fuller had made sure to fill her with his seed from both the front and back, if it were a week later in her cycle she'd be worried about the biological implications of all that semen.

The most distressing part of the whole surreal experience was her shameful acceptance of her fate. She had barely fought him, nor pleaded for mercy; Charlotte hadn't even prayed for a miraculous rescue from her fate. In her books, the pretty young heroine was usually rescued just in time by a dashing officer of the dragoons or a polished Italian Marquise who spoke perfect English with a charming accent. Charlotte had not even wanted to be saved; in the end, both times he pressed his manhood into her she had opened like a flower on a sunny morning and welcomed the invasion, even the pain, as he had taken her.

Charlotte's hand trembled slightly as she tapped the pen gently on the side of the inkwell to remove any excess ink but she had a hard time clearing her mind. It was all to easy to imagine herself an unfortunate. The same warmth that heated her core just minutes ago when he had pushed deep into her again and again and brought her to that most unladylike climax. - Dear Lord forgive me! - Charlotte prayed silently hoping that the Highwayman wouldn't realize how **** she was as she sat on the bed with her ankle chained to the bed post. when wanted her... when he pressed her again to the great bed she'd spread her legs for him again just like Briseis spread herself open for Achilles.

"Are you ready?" Demanded Black Brand and for just an instant Charlotte thought he had read her mind and was asking her if she was ready for yet another round of sinful coupling; thankfully he spoke again before she completely embarrassed herself. "I want you to write your father." He told her curtly. "Tell him that you have been captured by Black Brand and that I have some demands if he wants to see his daughter returned to him unharmed." Charlotte's ardour cooled significantly, the Highwayman did want money. What he said before had been a lie just as his kisses and bold caresses had meant nothing - she had been a fool to think anything else.

She started the letter carefully, addressing it to her father just as he asked but as she wrote, it occurred to her that there was a good chance that this uncultured brigand wouldn't be able to read any of what she wrote. Did she dare add a line or two about Black Brand's identity or to let her father know she was being held at Rainbow Falls?