She quickly obeyed, and stood naked before him. He walked around her, stopping behind to press himself against her, his big hands moving to cup her breasts.
“Very nice,” he murmured his approval, “especially considering your age, and the fact you have whelpedtwo brats.” He squeezed her breasts hard, smiling when she winced. He was surprised to find that the mere thought of fucking this aristo was very exciting. He rubbed himself against her, his manhood sliding against the split between her bottom. “Did Jean-Claude ever give it to you there, Citizeness?” he whispered into her ear, “or will I be the first to taste that pleasure?”
She couldn’t answer him. Her heart was beating so fast, and she could feel the bitter fear rising in her throat.
He laughed nastily. “First things first, however, Citizeness. On your knees again, and suck. I will tell you when to stop, and you had best be as skillful tonight as you were earlier today. Ahh, yes, bitch, that is good. Very good!” He closed his eyes, and when he was hard, but not yet ready to loose his juices, he said, “Now, my pretty little citizeness, on your back, and open your legs. Then I want you to tell me how much you want to be fucked by me. How long has my brother been dead now?” He pushed her back onto the bed. “He was a virile man, Jean-Claude, and you’re not so old yet that you didn’t enjoy his husbandly attentions, are you?” He fell atop her. “Now tell me, Citizeness, how much you want me to do it to you!”
“Reynaud! In the name ofle bon Dieu,” she pleaded.
“Tell me, you aristocratic bitch, or our discussions are over, and your children are gone on the morrow!” he snarled, slapping her.
“Please,” she begged him, and realizing that wasn’t enough, she continued, “please fuck me, Reynaud. Oh, do it to me. I want it. I need it. Fuck me! Fuck me! Fuck me!Ahhhhhh!” she shrieked as he rammed himself into her cruelly. His mouth mashed down upon her lips, kissing her hungrily, his tongue stabbing at her tongue as she struggled not to gag. She realized almost immediatelythat if she didn’t exhibit a measure of enthusiasm he was not going to be satisfied. She groaned beneath him, her nails raking down the broad back beneath his shirt. She wrapped his torso about with her legs. “Oh, yes,” she murmured into his ear. “Oh, yes, Reynaud! Do it to me hard!” And he did.
He grunted, and sweated over her body. The walls of her love sheath seemed to grasp him tightly, and he howled with his lust. He could feel her full breasts beneath his chest, their nipples hard as little iron points. Then his excited desires burst, and he was angry for a moment until he realized that he had an entire night ahead of him. He was going to suckle and bite those breasts until she screamed with both pain and pleasure. He was going to make her suck him to another stand, and then he was going to put himself into her rosette. That was something he knew his brother had never done, but he would do it. And she would love it, he was quite certain. He had always wanted Anne-Marie. Now she was his slave for as long as he desired her. He did not think he would grow tired of her too quickly. But when he was, he would sell her to a madame he knew in Harfleur, and dispose of her children exactly as he had planned to do. The boy would go first to the army, and the girl would serve her apprenticeship in Paris. But not, perhaps, before he violated her as his father had once violated his mother. Now that would be true revolutionary justice! He laughed aloud with his silent thoughts, and the woman beneath him trembled at the evil sound.
That she had lived through what was undoubtedly the worst night of her life amazed Anne-Marie d’Aumont when she awoke the following morning. Reynaud d’Aumont lay snoring like a pig next to her. He had violated and degraded her in ways she had never imagined.She crept from the bed, aching and sore all over. Finding a pitcher of water in the warm coals of the fireplace, she attempted to wash his filth from her flesh. She doubted that she could ever erase the memories, but if it would save her children she would do it all over again. As clean as she could be she dressed swiftly, and escaped from the room, hurrying down the stairs to the kitchen where her children were waiting to see her.
“Maman!”they cried.
Then Marie-Claire, aged twelve said, “What is the matter,Maman?Why did Papa’s valet eat with you last night, and then remain?”
“Monsieur Reynaud is now the new owner of Le Verger,” she began slowly.
“Le Verger is mine,” Jean-Robert cried indignantly. “My uncle is the bastard. I am the true heir.”
“Non, mon bébé. Le Verger is now Monsieur Reynaud’s. So the revolution has ruled. We are going to England soon, to my uncle’s home in London. Ohh, you will like London,mes enfants. And Thérèse and Céline will come with us, Jean-Robert. Won’t that be nice?”
“The English are our enemies,” the boy said stonily.
“Grandpapa was English, Jean-Robert. You are named for him,” she reminded her son gently.
“Stupid boy,” his sister said. “Monsieur Reynaud has stolen Le Verger, and there is nothing we can do about it.”
“I will go to the king,” the boy responded hotly.
“There is no king, Jean-Robert,” his sister reminded him. “Not anymore. They cut off his head just the way they did to Papa.”
Jean-Robert began to sniffle.
“Marie-Claire,” her mother scolded her, but she knew her daughter was being practical.
“When are we going?” the girl asked.
“Soon,” her mother promised her. Then she turned to her maid, Céline. “Take the children toPère Andréfor their lessons,” she instructed the younger woman. “Do not come back for a while.”
“Oui, madame,” Céline said, understanding.“Allons, mes enfants.”She led the two children from the kitchens.
“I have hot water,” Thérèse said. “I have filled the little oak tub in the pantry. Go and bathe, madame. Get the stink of that beast off of you now, or you will never get it out of your nostrils.”
The comtesse flushed.“You know?”
“I know that dog, Reynaud, madame. You did what you had to do to protect the children, but do not trust him.”
“I do not. Ahh, Thérèse, I am so ashamed.” And she began to weep softly.
“It is he who should be ashamed,” Thérèse said fiercely. “I would kill him if I thought I could keep us all safe, but nowadays one does not know who one’s friends are, madame. Go and bathe now.”
The Comtesse d’Aumont washed herself thoroughly, and when she had finished she felt much better. She sat down and ate the boiled egg and the fresh bread that Thérèse had prepared for her, sipping at a cup of watered wine. She had no sooner arisen from the table when there came a pounding upon the front door of the house. “I will get it,” she said to the cook whose hands were all floury, and she hurried upstairs to answer the ferocious pounding. Opening the door the Comtesse d’Aumont found herself facing a group of peasants.
