Virgin Territory: an extract

She couldn't think of any alternative. Much as she loved Anna and Esme, she could not allow them to keep controlling her life like this.

She had to leave.

And she had to find Saul so that she could tell him, so that she could plead with him to take her away from all this.

She headed down the drive, and the sudden shade of the trees sent a chill down her back. After a short walk up the lane she stood before the church, its narrow steeple standing proud, a landmark that could be seen for miles around. There was no sign of the masons, though, and the churchyard was quiet.

She thought the site must be deserted and so was surprised when she rounded a corner and saw Jasper and Patrick sitting on a gravestone, drinking beer and staring at her with blank eyes.

Both men were stripped to the waist, leathery skin glistening in the sun. The hair on Jasper's chest and shoulders was like a rug, it was so thick.

"I... I was looking for Saul," she said.

Jasper nodded. "He's not here," he said.

"He was, but he isn't now," added Patrick.

"I told him to go."

"Told him there was no work today."

And as they spoke, something strange started to happen to their voices. Their pitch shifted, raised an octave or more; their accents became more delicate, refined, their tones less raspy and gruff.

"I thought you might come looking," said Jasper, and suddenly his expression shifted, as if the muscles had been pulled in unaccustomed directions. Now, not only did he sound like Esme, his face took on her expressions, too.

"I said she would," said Patrick, talking with Anna's voice and peering at Ruth with Anna's pale blue eyes.

She hadn't noticed them rise to their feet but they were standing now, hesitating as if waiting for a command.

"Do you know where he is?" Ruth asked. Talking seemed to make things seem more normal, but it didn't last.

"Far away from here, if he has any sense," said Jasper in Esme's voice, running a hand down over his chest, fingers trailing through thick hair. "You need to remember how this place works," he added.

Ruth recalled the sisters' words the previous day before they summoned the village's men to them: they'd said the villagers needed reminding of how things worked...

Before she could even make the decision to run Patrick had her by the arm, his fingers sharp like talons.

Ruth struggled, but he had her securely.

"Time for you to have a little reminder," said Jasper in his sing-song voice as he reached down, undid his belt and then his trousers.

Ruth continued to struggle but now Patrick was behind her, pincering both arms, his reek of sweat filling every breath she took. Hooking one of her arms through his so that he could hold her one-handed, he reached round with his free hand, tore at the blouse top of her dress, and started to squeeze at an exposed breast.

Stepping free of his trousers, Jasper stood before her. His cock was not the longest she'd seen, but it was broad and it stood hard, twitching as if alive, as if Charmed.

"You going to fight some more?" he asked softly, running a finger down her jawline.

With a foot in the back of one of Ruth's knees, Patrick made her kneel, and then Jasper took a fistful of her hair.

"You not going to fight?" he said in Esme's gentlest tones, the voice she had used when she had nursed Ruth through childhood fevers and adolescent traumas. "How disappointing. I do like it when they fight a bit..."

(continues...)


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