"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

"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 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

But 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