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Constance had gone numb with horror. "No, no, he cannot see me like that."
"Or should it be with me, your own sweet Marie? What would your father think to see you pleasured by my tongue? Or should it be as many men as can find some part of you to prod with their cocks? You could handle half a dozen, I'm sure. I know I've done. One up the arse, one in your cunny, one in your mouth, one in each hand, and one rubbing off between your tits."
Constance clutched at her. "But why, Marie? Why must she do this? She did not do such a terrible thing to Lady Beatrice."
"Wasn't hers terrible enough?" Marie smiled, eyes sparkling with the memory. "Oh, my lady, but that was the prettiest sight I've seen in all my days, when they turned that bitch over and raped her good and hard. How I hated her! It would have been worth it, had they killed me for lying and thrown me to the sharks, just for the look on her face when she felt Michel shove it in."
"But in the end, she was ransomed, and not shamed in front of her family," Constance said, on the threshold of tears. "Why do this to me?"
"Because that's the way the captain wishes it," Marie said with a shrug. "That's all I know, my lady, and that's all, really, that matters."
Continued in Chapter Seventeen
