The Debauched Of Antlin 28 Memories To Move On, The Bound Body.

Good reading to all.

...

I'm used to it, though, but having voluntarily placed myself a few steps behind Rhea to go up the stairs and observing her pretty a.s.s that swings slowly as well as her already wet shaved rump, a certain panic insinuates itself deep inside of me.

Perhaps I'm too eager to insert my finger in this little p.u.s.s.y's l.a.b.i.a majora who spreading apart with every step what does this beautiful girl takes? Or would the situation, which is close to a cla.s.sic love dating situation, disturb me?

What a dizzy girl! I was so immersed in my thoughts that I didn't even notice that Rhea has just opened a door on our right.

…

The room is relatively small, but it's a very comfortable one. Rare wooden furniture, two paintings probably expensive but which, in my opinion, would have more place in a small living room than near a bed, gold chandelier with its blue tinted crystals, a large closet to store excess luggage and as a matter of course, the small safe absolutely necessary for any hotel room that claims to be upscale.

I close the heavy door probably made of oak after entering, without taking my eyes off Rhea, who sat down with her legs bent on the purple satin sheets.

She smiles a little shyly at me, however, her sensual gestures are in total contradiction with her face as a pure little angel.

I lean against the door to enjoy the sight of her long slender legs and her stretched thighs that she caresses while laughing.

Little b.i.t.c.h, keep playing with me, but for your own well-being, I hope you understand that I'm going to eat you.

My heart is throbbing, I moisten my too dry lips with my tongue, my p.u.s.s.y is already dripping down my thighs, but when I want to join the beautiful one on her sheets where our sweaty bodies will slide by themselves...

(Knock knock)

"f.u.c.k, d.a.m.n the morons who just shattered my precious moment. Oh! Did I think out loud?"

As if she faced to the Queen of Idiots, Rhea looks at me speechless. Her lips gradually curl, then suddenly, she points her finger at me and bursts out laughing.

How ugly that gesture is. Not feminine, coa.r.s.e, worthy of the vilest peasants who take pleasure in spreading manure. In short, I don't like to see Rhea do that.

I'd like to point that out to her. No, I will certainly tell her that I am opposed to her reproducing this act unworthy of her.

"Our d.i.c.ks have been delivered to us."

She whispers to me, (How vulgar!) before to slap my delicate little b.u.t.t.

"Are you a farmhand or something like that, to possess so many of the idiosyncrasies of a country b.u.mpkin, for whom the word propriety rhymes with burping to let their guests know they've eaten well?"

What's there to think about? All you have to do to rea.s.sure me is say: No!

"Your question is not so simple, because I remember that a few weeks ago, when I was pa.s.sing through a small village on the sh.o.r.es of a large lake, a fisherman had emptied a trout hoping to charm me. I admit that the practice surprised me a little, but moved by this good intention, I woke up the next day with my b.r.e.a.s.t.s covered in s.e.m.e.n, in a bed that wasn't mine."

(Knock, knock)

I don't know how to respond to her most disturbing confession? Strange, rare, unexpected, honest perhaps?

"Yielding to the advances of a man who opens the belly of a fish for you, is utterly repugnant."

Contenting herself with smiling at my positioning and his thoughtless action which, by the way, wouldn't get unanimous support. Rhea opens the door.

"Thank you for picking up the package. Please come in, gentlemen."

On the landing, as expected, the four big immobile soldiers were waiting for us to unlock it. Following Rhea's invitation to enter, I see four erect donkeys looking at each other, not seeming to understand the words spoken.

However, as good professionals, only fulfilling their duties, after a small nod and appropriate excuses, the four muscular men finally allow themselves to cross the threshold of this door.

I scan the one in front to better appreciate what is this curious big tied package he is holding on his right shoulder.

A monk tied up? Indeed, it seems to me that Rhea talked about something like that earlier? However, what's the point of taking a monk to this room where a little orgy is going to take place?

"Rhea, you brought those four men here so we could enjoy their big c.o.c.ks and not for a game of cards, right?"

How could I even ask that question when...

…

Three minutes before,

How long have I spent locked up in that d.a.m.ned mouldy wagon, in cellars, or even worse than an animal, prisoner of vulgar pigsties?

This humiliation, this torture, all for a little moment of so such humane misguidance... f.u.c.k, and to think I'm not even a monk anymore... Come to think of it, now I can fornicate with Rhea as much as I want, but...

...but since I sold her as a willing slave to that crook, it seems she is a little angry with me.

The senior monk had warned me. Why didn't I take his words seriously and listen to the warnings of a wise old man? I remember the philosophical lecture he gave me on the subject one sweet morning in May:

"Little boyo, you're so pure, but so naive. As an elder who has seen the worst, it is my duty to disclose you to the universal truth.

Little boyo because you're starting to get a little hair under your toga, you think you're so tough? How naive you can be! You who doesn't know anything, listen up:

Women are not simples. They get angry over nothing and scream for the pleasure of raising their voices. So, even when you know they're talking nonsense or getting angry for no reason, smile, consent, pretend to listen to their nonsense and all will be well when they come into your confessional."

(Knock, knock)

We probably have to come and meet that sc.u.m Viscount who stole my wife. Him, as soon as I see him, I'll blow his b.a.l.l.s off.

(Knock, knock)

"Muh, muh, muh, muh..."

I want to shout my happiness to the world.

I wriggle like a little puppy who has just been reunited with his mistress after a long absence.

I shake my head to express all my joy to my beauty who watches me with her usual disdain.

I contort myself like a maggot, but my bound body and mouth prevent me from jumping screaming, in the arms of the two huge b.r.e.a.s.t.s that I missed so much.

Stuck on the shoulder of one of my torturers, I have nothing else to do but to beg for help by means of with my eyes to my beloved, who is content to spit out her tongue before inviting the soldiers to enter her fragrant lair.

What is this second big-breasted beauty? s.h.i.t, why is my Rhea putting her little hand on the crotch of this soldier with a look emptier than that of a cow?

Impotent, always on the shoulder of the lucky idiot whose d.i.c.k Rhea has just pulled out to give him a delicate masturbation, I now discover with horror, the second hand of the woman who is mine, resting on the crotch of a second soldier.