to
make out any nearby buildings and chimney-stacks when a fist slammed into her
face. Yellow Teeth slapped her, and then his meaty fist pounded her
mid-section. Her blurred vision could make out Wool Trousers standing nearby,
cackling evilly while he rubbed his crotch. Another punch sent her reeling, and
she sprawled on the wet, grimy cobbles. Already she was shivering. The October late-night air was cold and damp.
She could smell piss, vomit, stale beer and rotting rubbish from nearby
overflowing bins. A boot made contact with her ribs, and she cried out in
agonizing pain. Her carpet bag hit her in the chest and fell to the ground. She
grabbed on to it as a shipwreck victim clung to debris to keep from drowning in
the cold ocean.
“Here, she’s softened
up. Bend her over the crate there,” Wool hissed.
“We haven’t time for
this...”
“Bugger that, I’m ready
to blow. Couple of quick thrusts, then you have a go.”
Olivia’s insides twisted
in revulsion. No. She glanced up. Her
head spun, and her vision hazy and doubled. Wool Trousers had his cock out in
his hand, stroking it as the two men walked toward her. She clasped the bag
tighter. She wished now she had brought
the riding crop. At least she could have used it as a weapon to fight them off.
She frantically looked about the dark alley for anything she could use to
bludgeon them.
Yellow Teeth wrenched
her to her feet and spun her around. She lost her grip on the bag. Roughly
grabbing her neck he pushed her down. She felt the disgusting stroke of a
hardened cock against her backside. Rough hands grabbed the hem of her
nightgown, pulling it up around her waist.
“Blimey, look at her. I
am goin ’ to fuck that arse .
Hold her still...”
“Here! What are you two
doing?” a woman’s voice rang out. “There’s a copper round the corner. I think
I’ll whistle for him, eh?”
The men backed away, and
Olivia fell to the ground, her shaky legs not able to hold her weight. She
turned. There were five women standing at the head of the alley. Olivia could
not keep the bile down, and she vomited. A black fog covered her, but she
fought it. She could not fall unconscious, not now. Fight.
“It’s just a bunch of bleedin ’ whores. Fuck off, the lot of ya !”
A woman with long, red
hair stepped out in front. Lifting her skirt, she whipped out a large knife
from her garter.
“No, you fuck off. I
meant it about the copper. Leave now and I won’t call for him.”
The men cursed, and
Olivia heard their boots pounding away on the cobbles. The sound grew fainter
until he she heard the jingle of the harness as the carriage departed.
The red-haired woman
kneeled and cradled her close. “ Bleedin ’ hell, but
they worked you over.”
Another woman stood
nearby and glanced down at her. “ Ain’t never seen her before. What street does she work, I wonder? One of the Nichol’s gang prossies maybe.”
“Give over, Cath ! She’s in her nightdress. Here, help me. Can you
stand, love?”
It took Olivia a few
seconds to realize the question was addressed to her. She tried to speak, but
her lip was swollen and split. Blood dripped down her front.
“Can you...take me
to...The Riding Crop?” she managed to say.
The other woman snorted.
“I knew it. She’s a whore, same as us.”
They both helped her
stand. She wobbled, so the redhead grasped her arm tightly.
“Not same as us. The
Riding Crop is a posh place. Classier than the alleys at any
rate. It’s only a few streets over, I’ll take her. You lot get back out
there. We’ve shillings to earn. Pass me her bag, Cath.”
The other woman did and
then moved off. The walk toward The Riding Crop was laborious and slow as
Olivia could hardly stand.
“Chin up, love. We’re
almost there. By God, those pigs were about to rape you. Lucky I came along. We
have to look out for each other, sure as shite .” The
woman had a slight Irish accent. She smelled of beer and rose-scented soap.
Olivia could
Rebecca Hamilton, Conner Kressley