Lost

Chapter 13


It was senseless. Why such blatant viciousness? Methos looked down at his hands once more as he clasped and unclasped them while he ran through all the possible scenarios in his head. He listened to the faint hissing coming from the hospital bed in front of him. Joe lay quietly, his head swathed in bandages but not enough to hide the bruising around his eyes or the cut and swollen lips. The hissing was from his efforts to breathe around broken ribs. A robbery he was told during the phone call he’d received from Mike, Joe’s bartender. “I thought you should know...they beat Joe up pretty good...I found him when I opened this morning.” Pain and guilt were evident in the distant voice. Joe had given Mike the night off so he had been alone when he closed the bar. Methos himself had stayed home that night. He’d just gotten the equipment for his foray into the estate when he got the news.

Methos had rushed to the hospital, horrified to find Joe beaten so badly. And with his own prosthetic leg...why? It made the beating seem like more of a statement than just random violence. A thought took hold of Methos brain and the more he thought about it, the more it seemed likely...this was done in reaction to something either Methos himself had done during his investigation…like beating up his tail…or as a reaction to something Duncan might have done in his captivity. And that seemed in keeping with Methos being followed and cemented the thought that Joe, too, was probably being followed. He’d have to tread lightly from here on out...he couldn’t face Duncan if anyone else got hurt through his actions on the Highlander’s behalf.

At least the doctors felt confident he’d recover easily enough. In fact, they expected to release him by that evening. He’ll also make it to the reading of the will...thoughts of the will made Methos scowl. They’d received notice that if no one put in a claim against the estate there would be a reading of the will the following week. Methos didn’t know who else would attend, still surprised at receiving a formal letter requesting his presence. What were you thinking, Mac? He stubbornly pushed those thoughts away, refusing to contemplate the finality of the ritual.

Unfortunately, this also delayed his rescue attempt. Lacasse had upped the stakes considerably either as a warning to Methos or to Duncan. And if they’d been watching Joe, who else did Lacasse have his eyes on? Methos had to delay going to the estate (I’m sorry, Duncan!) until he could either get Joe back on his feet or under protection of some sort. The Watchers could go to hell if they found that situation odd...

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Duncan watched the changing of the guards. He’d noted the time and location over the last few weeks. Soon. The thought sent a pang of nausea through him, but he pushed it away. Louisa stayed with him during the day, accompanying him on walks through the garden and keeping him company as he read or listened to music or watched him as he struggled with the crochet stitches Madame Broussard had taught him. Despite the fact that he actually enjoyed the crochet, he couldn’t imagine the comments it would bring from not only Methos but definitely Richie. But the fact was crocheting reminded him of the long hours at sea practicing the numerous rope knots he’d learned when he served aboard ship. The intricate twists and knots were oddly soothing.

It was nearly five pm. Louisa left promptly at five which left the guards to watch him...except for a certain timeframe. There was a twenty minute window before Andre returned from work where the guards alone kept watch on him. But on alternate Thursdays, he was left alone without even the ever present guards for a few minutes while they discussed schedules and other matters before shift change. Today was his chance. Andre had a large stable and he’d been allowed to ride the estate. With a practiced eye he’d noted the boundaries and landmarks as well as the nearest point where public roads crossed the countryside. Now all he had to do was make sure he was left in the solarium as he had been left a few times before while they talked. Despite his fear, he was going to get away. He’d warn everyone, call in favors, pay professionals, Methos would help, had to help protect Anne and Mary, Joe… Everyone else was a survivor…they’d be fine…they had to be fine… Duncan’s frenzied thoughts were interrupted.

“Oh, I’ve got so much to do!” Louisa picked at the leafy frond near her chair in slight agitation. She was planning her wedding and even though it was over a year away, her nervousness was evident.

Duncan pretended interest in the details of the wedding and the “horrible miscommunication” with the seamstress. “Why not slip out a few minutes early so you can go and speak with her? I’ll be fine here. Just let Paul and the others know where I am...”

“Oh, no, mon petite! I cannot leave until my time is done. It’s just a few more minutes, anyway. Now where was I? Oh, yes! The nerve of that woman trying to tell me the oval pearls hand sewn into the lace was old fashioned...”

Duncan let the words drift by as he fought the fear and nausea over what he was trying to do. It had been less than two days since Andre had beaten and raped him to death several times over, and that had strengthened his resolve to escape, something he’d been too terrified to attempt before now. He started as Louisa stood and moved to lean over him, kissing the air on either side of his face in farewell. Precious seconds went by as Duncan waited for Paul to stick his head into the solarium to check on him before continuing with the shift change. Duncan was ready and had his face bent over a book when Paul opened the door. Looking up, he nodded briefly and pretended to go back to his reading. As soon as the door closed, though, he was up and moving to the small exit at the rear of the solarium. Moving swiftly, he moved around the edge of the building, checking for any stray workers as he made his way through the gardens to the side, where a small gate in the wall led to the open field and tree line beyond. Leaning over, he grabbed the edge of his skirt and quickly ripped it along the seam. He didn’t get to choose his own clothes and today of all days it didn’t come as a surprise that his outfit included a narrow skirt that would prevent him from running. Well, he’d just taken care of that. Crouching just as much to keep a smaller profile as to clench his arm across his stomach, Duncan ran to the edge of the field. This would be the most difficult part. Should anyone glance this way, he’d be completely visible.

He rubbed a hand across the sweat gathering on his forehead and clenched his stomach even tighter to keep from vomiting. He had to go...had to! Memories of that night fueled his determination. He’d died several times and now knew that it was possible to be raped to death, although it hadn’t always been Andre’s cock that battered into him that night. Shuddering briefly at the memory and taking deep breaths, he once again looked around him and pushed away from the gate. Running full speed across the field, it was still a full five minutes before he could make it into the brush at the edge. Winded, he paused to glance back to see if he’d been spotted but found himself vomiting into the nearest bush. Wiping the tears away he looked around and nearly sobbed as he noted the complete silence...it seems they hadn’t missed him, yet. He turned and ran into the trees.

The brush stuck and pulled at his skirt and his pumps kept threatening to fly off, but he kept running. Desperately out of shape, his chest heaved with every breath and sweat poured down his face and body. Fear clawed at his gut, but he took the time to use every skill he’d learned with the Sioux to hide his trail. He’d had to stop to vomit again and did his best to hide the evidence, but generally he’d kept a good pace although the pain throbbed through his skull with every step. He thought longingly of the large bay gelding he’d been allowed to ride wishing there was some way he could have detoured to the stables. But arriving in the stables dressed as he was would have aroused too many suspicions, so he ran.

It was no more than fifteen minutes before Paul again stuck his head into the solarium. Not seeing his charge prompted him to search out the room. It was only a few moments after that that the alarm had been raised and the search begun. The spot where Duncan had gotten sick and subsequently entered the trees had been identified by the time Andre had arrived and changed his clothes. He quickly mounted his horse. He rode across the field at a full gallop followed by five of his men on horseback.

“Georges, you’ve been riding with her. Which way do you think she might have gone?” Andre spoke without turning, keeping his eyes on the men scanning the ground and looking for sign that Sarah had passed through. He was blazingly angry, but he kept his temper under control. Soon they would find Sarah and then he would find out exactly how this situation had occurred.

“Sir, we’ve ridden over most of the estate. But I think that she may have tried for the western boundary. Although it’s the roughest terrain, it is the closest point to public roads and may be the best chance for help. It’s what I’d do.”

Andre nodded his agreement. Although his little pet was very skilled according to her chronicles, Andre was betting that she was smart enough to know how close her pursuit would be. She’d be forced to try for the fastest route. A shout from his men brought his attention back. Yes. They’d found sign headed west. He called for his men to spread out. They’d find his lost little pet soon, he knew, and then she would be most severely punished.

Duncan had to stop to rest. He’d been on the run for nearly half an hour and considering that he’d not had this amount of exercise in months, exhaustion was not a surprise. He knelt down wrapping his arms around himself in an effort to still the horrible trembling. There was nothing to do for the pains shooting through his head. He closed his eyes, but the pains shot like lightning bolts behind his lids. There was nothing left in him to vomit, but the bile still rose as he fought down the panic. Although he knew it was all part of his conditioning, he found it took every bit of will within him to keep moving. A sob tore through his gritted teeth. He was nearly there. An open strip of land separated the woods he hid in from the tree line and small rock wall that marked the estate boundary. He could see the thin roadway down the hill with sporadic vehicles traversing in both directions. If he could make it that far he was sure he could get a ride. But how far behind was Andre? It didn’t matter. He had to move. Reaching out to steady himself against a tree, he stood up and started for the clearing.

It had taken some time, but Andre’s men did find another spot where Sarah had gotten sick. It wasn’t much, but it was enough to know where she was. Andre motioned his men to spread out and head for the boundary.

Duncan looked around him for some sign that there were others in the trees with him. He was sure they hadn’t gotten ahead of him, so he paused briefly to listen for birdsong and other natural noises. Deciding it was clear he took several deep breaths and burst out of the trees, running full tilt towards the stone wall.

Suddenly to his left he saw a rider break through about two hundred yards down. Without turning he knew there were riders to his right. He kept running straight ahead as two horses bore down on him. He knew he’d never make it, but they’d have to take him fighting. At this point the fear actually worked in his favor by shooting adrenaline through him until he was in full battle mode. He allowed the fear to feed his anger, an emotion he kept out of his battles since allowing it to dictate his actions after Culloden. But here...now...he needed it. And although he may not look the part, the Scottish warrior had come to fore.

The riders had circled him, keeping him hemmed in until their employer could join them. Duncan chose not to wait. As a rider came near he suddenly leaped and grabbed the rider, dragging him off his horse. It was Alain. Raising a knee as he pulled him down, Duncan kneed the rider in the stomach as he whirled and screamed at the other rider coming near. The unholy cry caused the horse to rear back and gave Duncan a split second to grab for the reins of the riderless horse. But the two men had delayed enough to allow a third rider to come close and shoulder Duncan’s horse back a step, preventing him from mounting. Jumping back to avoid being crushed between the two horses, Duncan turned to run only to find yet another rider blocking his way. The men dismounted and he found himself surrounded by five of the guards. He knew them all.

“Don’t do this…please!” He didn’t want to fight them but he had to get away. He saw Andre looking on from his horse. Anger boiled through him and at the first move of the men, Duncan was in a fight for his life. Instinct and training took over as he fought the men with everything in him, whirling and kicking, jabbing and punching, nausea and pain disregarded in the heat of battle. But the men had been handpicked not only for their size and strength, but their own fighting ability. Duncan, tired from his run and out of shape, fought like a demon but it wasn’t enough. Eventually they had him pinned down, face into the ground as Andre approached.

Andre looked down at his pet and felt an odd pride that Sarah still had this much spirit left. However, he also felt a deep anger that the conditioning hadn’t taken as well as he’d hoped. That would be corrected soon. He saw his men pin his struggling pet, watched as they tied her hands behind her back. He also watched as one of them pulled her skirt over a shapely but exposed ass cheek. He had good men. He decided he was glad for this little incident for it exposed a failing in the conditioning. And it was fortunate that he’d had the foresight to order another action…one that might come in handy as additional incentive for his pet should there be any other problems with the conditioning. Turning, he re-mounted and waited for his men to place Sarah belly down in front of him. It was going to be an interesting ride home.

Duncan felt his wrists being bound behind him as well as the feel of someone pulling his torn skirt down over his rump. He pushed his forehead down into the grass. Although he still struggled, he felt the anger turning back to fear as he was lifted onto the horse. Andre remained quiet and Duncan refused to look up into the face. The ride back was going to be painful enough without seeing the possessive look in those eyes. It was bad enough having the large hands fondle him throughout the ride. Duncan concentrated instead on gathering his strength for the ordeal he knew would come. Only this time, how much of Duncan MacLeod would be left?

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Louisa stilled her shaking hands as she stepped from Monsieur Lacasse’s private office. He’d been furious when he found out that Sarah had been left alone on several occasions. The corrective action now meant that Louisa had to remain within eyesight of her charge at all times and was not relieved of duty until the guards told her so. The guards, too, would keep their charge in view at all times. She’d gotten the impression that Lacasse’s anger was directed at someone else. Well, as long as it wasn’t directed at her that was all that mattered.

Unfortunately, Dieter knew he was the object of Monsieur Lacasse’s anger. How could he have known that the subject would be capable of channeling the huge amount of fear he undoubtedly felt into such a display of anger and the ability to act on it? If only the Monsieur had listened to his other options for control as he’d originally suggested. Ah, well. It remains to be seen what will need to be done once the Monsieur was done with the subject this time. They increased the estrogen injections so that should help. Dieter turned to his documentation and reviewed where he intended to change his protocols and strengthen the controls established while incorporating some of the self-will modifications he’d suggested before. This time, however, many of the changes would not fade when the injections were terminated. It made for an interesting challenge. He continued his work without knowing that his failure had just cost him his life.

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Louisa had been given time off until Sarah was ready for her again. She briefly wondered in what state she would find her charge. She had privately characterized the different phases Sarah when through after her “treatments.” First phase was “gone”, practically a vegetable. Fortunately, that one didn’t last long. The second phase was “bitch in heat”. That was an annoying phase because all Sarah was interested in was getting “Daddy’s” cock up her ass. The third phase actually gave her more to do because this was the pliant phase, where Sarah learned the most about hair and makeup, dressing and behavior that befitted a lady of her station. Finally, the last phase, although Louisa wasn’t sure if she could call it a phase because it didn’t end. It was more like Sarah became who she normally was, with changes, of course. But at this stage, she was smart and funny and really very sweet. She also told some of the most wonderful stories, sort of like historical romances. Louisa loved to hear her tell the tales that were so real it was like Sarah had been there. That Sarah was her friend and Louisa missed her when she wasn’t around.

Louisa walked down the hallway. Her employer had told her to wait outside the bedroom until he’d left so that Sarah wouldn’t ever be left alone. She waited patiently and was surprised when the door opened almost immediately. She resolved then and there to show up a bit early tomorrow. There was no way she was going to give that man a reason to yell at her again. Besides, he was paying her extremely well to be a good companion and she liked her job.

Andre stepped out of the room and nodded to the man, Louis. “I want her to wear the red silk dress today. Her breasts will need to be pumped by mid-morning and again before you leave for the day.” With that, he turned and strode down the hallway to go to work.

Louisa moved to the door and peered in. Dismayed, she took in her charge sitting on the floor at the foot of the bed. Yes, she was “gone”. Sarah was wearing a mid-thigh nightie made of peach silk and sat with her arms wrapped around her torso and her knees up. She was humming and rocking side to side and knocking her head against the footboard. Well, she had her orders. Might as well get started.