The baying wolves surrounded her yet again. She was still freezing but now she felt naked.  Steam still streamed from her mouth. The silver-colored metal bars overhead gleamed dark and menacingly evil. The air was cold and damp. The light was diffuse and gray, almost misty. She felt that she was trapped in some sort of cage or cell. Her head ached and she felt chilled to the marrow. The wolves started to recede from her clouded vision and disappeared. Sarah shook her head to try and clear her thoughts.
She looked down and saw that, yes, she was indeed naked and lying on some sort of straw mattress with some rude makeshift gray sheets. Sarah felt an uneasy feeling of déjà vu that she just could not quite place. The material felt rough to the skin. Hemp? Sarah shook her head. This seemed all too familiar. She felt groggy.  As far as she could make out she was in some sort of cave or underground cavern jail cell. Dark, granite rock stared down at her. She could smell the sea air.
Sarah looked up.
Everything seemed out of focus. There seemed to be some kind of human shape above her, forcing her to do unmentionable things. She caught her breath. Brown liquid eyes bored into her very being. Her head was spinning. She felt cold and strangely alone - cast out in to an alien world of murky shapes and portentous evil.
Sarah strained hard to concentrate. Her beautiful green eyes opened wide with surprise. She was staring into the cloudy face of a handsome, young man. Her legs were thrust apart and the young man was attempting to thrust his gianormous manhood between her thighs.  Greedy fingers frantically massaged Sarah’s breasts and nipples.
Instinctively, Sarah, her head in a haze of conflicting, overwhelming emotions, felt for and gripped the man’s throbbing member. A river of heat began to course through her body. She grabbed it tightly, almost as if her life depended upon it. Sarah was rewarded with a low, animal grunt of pleasure. The man raised himself and thrust forward. Sarah realized with increasing wonder that it was waiting for the eager touch of her moist, soft mouth. Sarah’s heart beat wildly. It was Hugh St. Owen come to take possession of her at last!
It was then that realization and clarity of thought suddenly took possession.
Sarah gasped and pulled back. She understood who it was trying to penetrate her inner sanctum. Her vision suddenly cleared. She had just realized the horrible truth. This wasn’t her beloved Hugh St. Owen. It was David St. Owen, his crazy twin brother!
Sarah could actually hear the roar of the ocean pounding relentlessly in the distance. She looked up past the crazy young man and saw the words “Saint Owens’s Abbey” carved on the old stone walls.
Sarah tried to raise herself up. She was back in the Abbey underground cavern. She realized she was even in a different cell – this one had bars on it. But she was relieved to see that this time she wasn’t bound to the bed. Sarah quickly reflected that she had been so out of it that the unbalanced young brute had probably not thought it necessary to restrain her.
David St. Owen pushed her back with his large, feverish hands. Hands, Sarah was aware, that were now clawing at her breasts, making hurtful scratches, bruising her alabaster swelling bosom, pinching and needing them with painful, but skilful fingers, swelling her nipples and hardening them, despite the dreadful circumstances of the frenzied moment. His enormous manhood dangled ominously in front of her. Fluid was now dripping on the young woman’s face, stinging her eyes, and revolting her senses.
The young brute grabbed her swollen breasts and squeezed them hard.
Sarah let go a piercing scream and raised her legs. She kicked right at the engorged phallus and David St. Owen let go a huge grunt of pain and reared back on his hind legs.
“You ungrateful bitch,” he shouted in his thick Welsh accent. Sarah watched him massage the groin that had received the full force of her kick.  “I’ll make you pay for that.”
Sarah kicked out once again, this time with great force, smashing into the fiend’s angry face. It crashed right into the stone walls of the jail cell. She heard a soft crack and realized she had broken part of the young man’s jaw.
David St. Owen reared back with a growl of uncontrolled fury and intense pain.
“AAAhhh!  AAAaah!!”
The screams were enough to wake the dead, Sarah thought. The man held his face in his hands. He was too engrossed in pain to notice Sarah at that moment.
Sarah seized her chance. She kicked out once again with all the force that she could muster, right at her jailer’s head.
David St. Owen let out another piercing cry of pain as his face again collided with Sarah’s feet, knocking him backwards right into the stone walls of the underground cavern. Sarah closed her eyes as David St. Owen’s head met the walls with enormous force. There was another horrible sounding crack and David St. Owen crumpled up naked and lifeless on the floor of the jail cell. Blood streamed from the back of his head. Sarah stood up shakily. The effects of the drug they had given her to render her unconscious still had not quite left her body. Sarah reached out and steadied herself. She grabbed the steel bars of the jail cell and looked around her through beautiful, but slightly unfocused eyes. She needed clothes.
She looked down at the motionless body of her captor. He didn’t seem to be breathing. Sarah realized she could not be bothered about clothes right now. She looked around the small chamber. There were bars on the front of the little, damp jail cell, but Sarah could see that the steel barred door was wide open. Freedom seemed at hand, and Sarah did not hesitate.
She put one foot in front of the other. She walked unsteadily towards the open jail cell door, eager to snatch at the chance to regain her freedom.
Suddenly a hand shot out and firmly grasped her ankle. Sarah immediately lost her balance and fell heavily on the hard rude floor of the jail cell. Her ankle throbbed with pain. Sarah looked up – right into the face of a bruised and battered David St. Owen still lying on the ground right opposite her. Blood streamed from his face and Sarah could see that the man was obviously in a great deal of discomfort. The hand would not let go of her ankle.  The brute was trying to viciously twist it in the grip of his hand with whatever strength he had left.
“You fucking bitch,” he whispered through clenched teeth. Sarah cringed as the cruel young man rambled on his heavy Welsh accent.
“You think you can get out of here? Forget it.”
Sarah tossed her head back in abrupt defiance.
“I don’t think you’re in any particular shape to stop me,” she said.
“You are our sacrifice,” said David St. Owen, “And I am not going to let you get away from here.”
“You’re really crazy,” said Sarah.
“The Knights of St Owen’s Abbey will have their way,” David St Owen said. “And so will I.”
Sarah’s beautiful green eyes flashed with outrage and anger.
“Really?” said Sarah, “And is rape part of that philosophy?”
“If need be,” said the young brute.
He commenced to try and twist Sarah’s ankle once again. He would not let go. Sarah resisted.
“You and Vivien are really crazy. And that goes for all your supposed Knights of Chivalry. All of you are absolutely insane,” said Sarah, “And there’s no way you’ll get away with this.”
“We shall see,” he said.
Sarah shook her head.
“No possible way at all,” she said.
“We got you here. We brought you back here,” he said, “No one knows you’re here. It was easy to smuggle you in the back of a rented car on the ferryboat back from Anglesey. No one knows you’re here.”
Even though the insane young man was in great pain, he attempted to smile at this thought, although to Sarah it looked just like an excruciating grimace.
So that’s how they got her back to the Abbey, Sarah thought.  Simple but ingenious.
Sarah’s ankle was really throbbing now as her jailer attempted to increase the pressure on the appendage. Sarah knew what she should do. With another show of strength, and realizing that David St. Owen could not hold out for much longer, she thrust forward with her free foot and again collided with David St. Owen’s already battered face. This time the back of his head met the stone walls of the cell with even more force. Abruptly the confrontation was ended as David St. Owen again collapsed on the floor of the cell and released the grip on Sarah’s ankle.
All at once everything was quiet.  Sarah could not even hear her assailant breathing. But that was the last of her worries. Again Sarah rose unsteadily to her feet. The throbbing in her ankle had stopped, and Sarah appreciated the fact that although David St. Owen was strong, much of the force of his grip had been removed when he had hit his head initially on the stone walls. Still, it had been quite a grip, Sarah mused, and if he had had his way for a little longer, he might possibly have done some damage to her ankle. Maybe even broken it.
Despite combating the assault on her being, Sarah shivered. The air was cold and damp, and Sarah needed some clothes. She looked down at the seemingly lifeless form of her assailant. In the gray light, Sarah could make out that he was lying in a gathering pool of blood. His clothes were soaked with the liquid, so Sarah could not find covering there. There just had to be some kind of material around to offer some kind of protection from the elements, Sarah reasoned.
She looked around her again. At the back of the cell on the crude, straw matted bed, Sarah could make out something glinting in the cold, grey light.  As she moved closer, she could make out her gold necklace and the shapes of what was once the rather lovely low cut aquamarine green silk negligee and one of the green chiffon scarves she had been wearing when she was kidnapped. She held up the negligee and examined the damage. It was somehow still intact, although one of the shoulders had been badly ripped, no doubt when David St. Owen had ripped it off her when she was unconscious. The chiffon scarf was crumpled but fine.
Sarah immediately slipped on the clothes, and wound the chiffon scarf around her shoulders. The necklace was still miraculously intact, and Sarah quickly put it on. The little gold cross shone dimly in the meager light of the jail cell. Although it wasn’t much, the garments did provide some protection from the damp cold air of the cavern.
Gradually, Sarah began to feel a bit warmer. She stepped over the unmoving form of David St. Owen and let herself out of the small jail cell.
Instantly Sarah was guided yet again into the main part of the underground cavern. The icy chill of the air was now enhanced by the larger size of the central cave. Sarah shivered.  The familiar damp and musty odor hit her nostrils, and all the horror of her previous visits there sprang up in her mind. The light was more intense now but still retained its diffuse quality as always.  Apart from the roar of the nearby ocean, Sarah could not hear any movement. She ventured out into the center of the cavern.
The black candles still remained, as did the central black wooden post. But there was something different. Sarah peered through the dim light and concentrated. What was it that seemed so different?
Sarah stared and as she stared, apprehension began to dawn on her lovely face. At the far end of the cavern there seemed to be a very large stone slab. It seemed to exist there inert and forbidding. But wait, thought Sarah, there appeared to be something moving - something moving on the slab.
In spite of the trepidation she was feeling, Sarah advanced slowly across the cavern. She was barefoot, so she had to be careful not to step on some of the sharp pebbles and stones that could scratch and tear the delicate skin of her shapely feet. The stone slab was beginning to come into a much clearer perspective. Halfway across the cavern, Sarah stopped and shielded her sea green eyes from a large, black tallow candle that burnt with a small, yellow flame, illuminating the immediate surrounds near the central black wooden stake. Sarah yanked the candle out of its large, pewter holder and held it gingerly before her as she made her way across the floor of the cavern. She approached the stone slab. The small flame flickered as it was buffeted by the capricious wind currents inside the huge cave. Magically, the little flame resisted the temptation to be extinguished, and guided Sarah to the stone slab. As Sarah approached she could see that it was very obvious that Vivien de Gallois had seconded the cavern and the stone slab because it was so well suited, as in ancient times, to be a place of human sacrifice.  Sarah walked up to the stone slab and looked down at the awesome piece of granite.
As her eyes grew used to the flickering flame of the tallow candle in her hand, Sarah’s eyes widened first in fear and then in consternation and then in shock. A thrill of horror ran down her spine.
Sarah could now make out a human form lying there still and silent on top of the stone slab. As Sarah peered closer, she could see that it was the form of a young man. A naked young man.  Sarah peered even closer and held the flickering flame near the young man’s face. Abruptly, Sarah leaped back, her mind in a whirlwind of terror. She knew that face, she knew that body. With dismay and sheer bewilderment Sarah recognized that the body on the slab was none other than her lover, Hugh St. Owen, waiting to be sacrificed to a heathen god that was now a figment of the insane imagination of her deranged stepmother, Vivien de Gallois-Llewellyn.
Sarah felt herself begin to faint, and, as she felt herself falling to the floor, her mind reeled with a myriad of thoughts.
 

Why was the sexy Hugh St. Owen lying on the stone slab in the cavern of St. Owen’s Abbey? How had he got there and where was Vivien De-Gallois-Llewellyn? Had she killed the crazy David St. Owen after his attempted rape on her being? Was the young Byron St. Owen recovered from the attempt upon his life? Would they be able to make a successful bid for freedom and expose Vivien and David for the evil pair that they were? See the next exciting installment in Chapter 24 of Sarah Llewellyn and the Druid’s Curse coming soon!
 
 

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