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View MoreBut then, to my surprise, the tall one turned up his nose. He glanced at Christine's tangled hair and the dirt and her saggy tits covered in stale cum and he turned away contemptuously. "Let's get out of here!" he muttered derisively. "I've seen better pussy on the Rue de le Putas. Chricky. This place gives me the shivers."What could I say? What could I do? I didn't understand. They were telling us to leave and they weren't going to rape her."Yu not like m d ... daughter?" I asked, genuinely disappointed. What did I say to Christine now? Did I pretend that it had all been part of an inspired master plan or did I confess to her the truth?""Yu l ... let hr suuck yr c ... cock," I insisted. "Sh m d ... daughter! Sh suuck cock gud!"Could the soldiers be leaving?"No, old one," they said, laughing at me. "You keep her. You deserve her. We'll find ourselves a real, living aristotwat. There's plenty of them hiding about here. You couldn't sell pussy like that in the Restaurateur Bouvilli
"Come here, bitch!" the tall one barked, hoisting her up by her arm, ignoring that she was attacking him with her foot and the rake of her nails. She shrieked because he slapped her and because of the pain of the sword and the pike."What happened to your ass?" he hissed."My f ... father hit me," she sobbed, shutting her eyes. "I was horny and I ... I touched..." She pointed delicately towards her bare pussy. "F ... Father says I mustn't fuck myself. He says that I must wait for him to do it.""Your father, eh?" the tall one grinned, looking knowingly at his friend. "So you're the wacko's daughter?" He squeezed her breasts the same way I'd come accustomed to doing each morning, pinching them and checking their weight, tormenting her nipples. "So how did you get to be in here then? You wasn't born without no mother. What is it, an immaculate conception?"I could see the immediate suspicion in his eyes and guessed that disguise was a common deception. The one with the sword ran his fin
I saw that one of the soldiers was short and rotund, his belly flopping over the top of his trousers. His face was the color of beetroot. The other man was skinny, tall, with the nose of a Jew and the face of a Devil.But mostly they were hazy. I still couldn't see them. My eyes were watering, stinging. I couldn't see...Oh God.I deduced that these must be brigands; the criminal thugs that Christine had warned me about, men who wore no uniform and expressed no loyalty either to cause or country. These types were brutes, criminals, bullies: the kind that prospers in times of anarchy.I kept to the shadows, out of the way, but then I saw that one of the soldiers was dragging a woman in his wake. She was wearing a green satin dress with a tight, pointed bodice. The neck was cut square and low, and the front had been meddled with. It was torn. The buttons were open and the breasts were exposed. They were grey, dirty, scratched.The two of them lifted her to the back of the cave and they
Only the mysterious female triangle hadn't changed, except that it had now grown luxurious, for her hair had grown and the surrounding flesh had atrophied.I made her stand there by the wall while I jerked myself off and I wiped my cum across her body because she was mine and I owned her for better or worse, and I wanted her to know it."Soon," I whispered compassionately, rubbing it into her skin. "It won't be long now. The end is nigh. Just a little more patience. Be patient, my dear. Do you have faith?""Oui, monsieur," she sobbed. "I have faith."It was later - and I don't know how much later because I haven't a watch - that I heard the soldiers outside, the steady tread of their leather shoes upon stone. It came from the path leading to the cave entrance. I remember, many years ago, that people used to walk that way often, but then the steps became less frequent, and I haven't heard them at all for a number of years now and so I suspect that the path has become overgrown and lost
"But getting from the theory to the practice took guts. The soldiers stripped her naked and tied her to the table with her legs spread-eagled as she'd ordered them to do. They played with her, taking their time, and then they played their mind games, firstly with the whip, then with Esme, and then they ordered you, monsieur, to put your cock in her mouth while they raped her. Afterwards they offered you the choice of accepting her as your wife, or else, unfortunately, they'd have no choice but to kill her because she'd be a danger to their freedom."Christine rocked gently on my cock, watching intently as I listened. "She didn't want to marry the Marquis, monsieur. It was that simple. Her plan was complicated by the fact that she ended up being raped by five men and not one, but none of it mattered. She was a young woman and you were a man and the rest was burlesque. Her driving motivation was the attainment of her personal freedom and she grabbed it. However, this is my point, monsie
I made her stand with her hands high above her head while I examined her body, and why not? There was little else for me to do that morning and isn't it natural for a man to want to meditate on the natural female form?So I studied her. She was wearing my jacket, but even so, I could see her pussy peeking out at the bottom and the inner faces of her breasts at the front for the jacket didn't close where it ought. I made her turn so that I could admire her ass, and then I asked her to turn again so that I could look at her pussy.Soon, her arms and shoulders began to ache, and quickly they got worse until the ache became a sharp searing pain."How much longer?" she begged, fighting her wavering, fluttering arms."Until I say you can stop," I retorted, stepping forward to caress her front, my fingers tracing along her ribs. "You promised to be obedient. Remember? You're my wife. You must learn to trust me.""I do trust you, monsieur. I have faith in you despite us having no priest or ri
"So eat the meat. Eat it now. Eat it because it'll make you stronger and because I say that you must.""Monsieur! It's wrong!"I stroked the inside of her thighs, and then the outside, and then across to the small of her back. "Eat it, Christine. Don't think about where it came from or what part of the body, just eat it. I command you!"She wept and said that I was wicked, but then, once this emotion was released, she fluttered her eyes at me, and snuggled closer, her head lowered, and she began to eat. She did it slowly at first, but then once she'd discovered that the taste wasn't so bad, she ate ravenously, until there was nothing left.Only then did I tell her that it had come from a dead rat and not from a dead lady."Thank you," she murmured with a happy, contented mewl and a shudder of relief, sliding her hand into mine. "Monsieur," she added, and there was a husky excitement in her voice. "Please fuck me. Monsieur. Please fuck me because your obedient servant whore girl wife n
I closed my eyes, and I recalled my long tranquil evenings with Isabelle after I'd begun spending her money: servants pampering to our every desire, plush rooms with spacious fireplaces, all bequeathed to me as an inheritance from the traveler and her gold.God, how beautiful Isabelle had been: healthy, well fleshed: every naked inch of her a lady, just as Christine was now. "I had money," I muttered, twisting my finger inside Christine's anus."Please, monsieur! I beg you! Torment me! Force me to bend to your will!""I had property, a pretty wife ... And then it was gone, lost forever.""But now you have me," Christine groaned, grinding her teeth to subdue a flood of emotion."Yes," I thought, jabbing my finger deep into her hole, doing so to hurt her, and her ass rocked and trembled each time that I did it. "Yes, I have you..."But she said nothing more. She was eager to please, almost the demure little whore apprenticed to a client.I liked that.There was also a pleasing curve to
"The oil grew hot and mixed with my fluids and it evaporated, leaving a pleasing aroma to the room. You can imagine the rest, monsieur, how I felt. The humiliation and the pain, and yet, the overriding excitement of being looked at and admired. My father sat on his chair and he watched me and he listened to my screams, my writhing - my arousal - and the maid crouched in front of him and satisfied his member. She milked his juice with her mouth, but it was me that he was admiring; me: sizzling and howling, getting hotter and begging that he release me and yet shuddering from a final involuntary climax. It took a long time for me to understand what he'd done and to get over the embarrassment of how he'd made me feel. He never fucked me. He never went further. I am still a virgin just as I told you earlier, but he cooked me. Even now, as I think of it, my skin becomes tender."She slowly lifted the waist of her little chemise and parted her legs, deliberately showing me that her drawers
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