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| Tweet Topic Started: Jun 26 2011, 03:37 PM (321 Views) | |
| John Shilston | Jun 26 2011, 03:37 PM Post #1 |
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early 1504, John is 22, Anne is 18 Oh, much to do, much to do. For a twenty-two year old knight, John was at his peak. Thriving for his chance to rise in his pedestal, for his opportunity to prove he was worth so much than he'd been born for. At his age he was prime in his strength, his charm and athletic capability, and with that came certain responsibilities. John did not manage distractions well, especially when they came in the form of wine and women. Henry VII's Court was modest, yes, but the knight knew that did not stop the ladies from their true desires. Dinner was still for the most part festive, and though the more conservative nature of the palace could prove at times an obstacle, John was hardly deterred. He drank the wine, danced to the music and charmed the ladies as well as he could, often times coming out victorious with one on his arm. Tonight, though, he had no intention of taking one to his bed. For now he would keep it confined only to the dinner Hall, perhaps leaving them hoping for another chance meeting for a night to come. Maybe it would, maybe it wouldn't, but shared little whispers and touches would have to do until then. He spent his time mingling as usual, having caught the eye of a particular young blond that nearly tailed his every step. He enjoyed the attention, but the knight did his own bidding, his own choosing. As the girl implored him for conversation, John acknowledged little. Even as she tried slipping her smaller arm into his, the knight took a polite step to the side and only smiled at her, dipping his chin. He could tell she was frustrated, but he continued his way through the crowds as if she were but a puppy at his heels. The night went on like that, and when John had his fill of food and wine, he finally turned to the blond and enclosed either of his palms on the side of her face. He held them there gently, peering into her eyes as if a man would to a woman he loved. She gazed back up at him, her cheeks rising into a flush, before he finally planted a full kiss on her lips. He did not bother to close his eyes, for only seconds later he nearly pushed her from him and turned sharply on his heels, disappearing within the crowds and hopefully out of her sight. For now, that would leave her standing in a confused, almost dazed state, giving him just enough time to find his exit and ultimately his escape. It came quickly, and as he moved through the hallways, he could think of nothing but getting to his chambers and to his bed. Hopefully where his young, supple wife would be. Oh, how he hoped tonight she would spare him from a headache. Coming to his door, John reached out for the handle and gave it a firm push. It hardly budged, barring the knight's entrance to his own apartments. His eyebrows furrowed and he glanced up and down the door, giving it another shove only to be repelled a step backwards. He huffed, confused and irritated, and placed his hand on his hips. What was the meaning of this? |
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| Anne Shilston | Jun 26 2011, 06:41 PM Post #2 |
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Anne was frustrated. The only thing she had to do in this marriage and she had not completed it. It was four years, four freaking years of marriage and she was still not with child. What the Hell was wrong with her? No more to the fact, what the Hell was wrong with her husband? All she wanted was a child; it was the one thing that would make her happy. Charles had his Prince to play with, but where was she in all of this? The moment she was truly in attendance to court she was married. No time for her to play. Sure she was smitten with her husband, he was handsome, and the sex was amazing! She never thought she could like something so much. But the longer she went without any signs of her bearing a child, the frustrated she got. She had always been fond of flirting, how exciting it was. But she had never let it go too far, until now. While her husband was having the time of his life having some other woman or two on his arm, Anne became an easy target for those men who simply wanted to use her as a toy. It was a game to them, who could be the one to eventually push Anne to spread her legs for them. And it wasn’t like they were taking her maidenhood either; she was married and ripe for the taking with her so foolishly flirting with them. Still at the age of eighteen, she had the fourteen year old’s tendencies. The thrill of the flirt, and acting so innocently when she knew quite well she was playing a dangerous game. None of this though was ever witnessed by her husband or brother, though there were some close calls. To her brother, she was someone different, but since he was rather busy with his Prince friend, she allowed herself the time to let her hair down every once in a while. John though, she knew suspected, but she didn’t care, not now, not when the men she flirted with put it in her head that it was all John’s fault for not having the balls to impregnate his own wife! It was the leader of the pack who was with her now. He had finally got her drunk enough, finally thrilled her to the bone to convince her to open her doors to him. The need for a child was so great she would see whether what they said about her husband was true. She felt a little bit guilty, yes. But she was a mere doe caught by the paws of a wolf. She was indeed in over her head, thinking that if she slept with someone else she would finally fall pregnant. They haven’t even made it to the bed. She had been placed on the closest furniture he had found, which happened to be right beside the door. A few minutes of lustful ways and the table had been shifted, a corner at least blocking the door. Nothing had happened as of yet, but her skirts were high and his tongue down her throat his hands reaching for his breeches just as the door was opened and slammed straight into the table, sending a jolt through Anne and waking her up. For the most part, she was merely furious that someone was interrupting the fun she was having. |
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[align=center]PLOT: :BIO: :TRACKER [/align] | |
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| John Shilston | Jun 26 2011, 07:12 PM Post #3 |
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Why hadn't a servant come to the door? Or something? Letting out another irritated huff, John tried once more, this time throwing his shoulder into the shove until finally the door swept open with nothing less than a loud crash following it. Eyebrows furrowed he stepped through, the dark blue of his depths sweeping the room until the found almost immediately two bodies, intertwined as they were, on the nearest chaise lounge. John took another step forwards, recognition taking only a second to reach him as he realized it was his wife with her skirts up and legs open to this unnamed man atop her. His eyes flashed with a bright jolt of anger, his muscles tensing and jaw gritting as he loudly crossed the floors over to them. He wasted no time in grabbing the man by the back of his doublet, tearing him from his wife and to his feet, where the knight repelled a single fist and hurled it into the man's jaw. Still haven't said a word, the man fell to the ground and nearly crawled out the door, finally finding his feet once John had slammed it behind him. He would deal with that fool later, for now, the true culprit was the bitch behind him. He spun quickly on his heels, his face almost red and veins bulging in both his neck and forehead. "You fucking whore!" He raged, reaching her and striking her cheek with the back of his hand. John's eyes did not leave her as he watched her repel from the blow, his expression twisted with anger, disgust and betrayal all at once. Fuming, he sent his other hand across her other cheek, letting out a loud, quick yell of rage before going for the nearest breakable object and hurling it at the wall behind her. It shattered and fell to the floor, the ring of broken glass still in his ears as he stormed about the room. He threw more things at her, all in his rage before finally going to grab her by the shoulders and work her into a relentless shake. "Who do you think you are?! Huh?!" He cried into her face, almost spitting on her in such closeness. "Some worthless bitch from the brothel?!" He went on, finally releasing her with a powerful shove and turning angrily yet again from her. So many things raced through his mind, John didn't even know what to do with himself. He felt not only his skull was going to explode, but each and every one of his muscles, straining at their very fibers and only yearning to make Anne pay for all of this. His breath was quick and heavy, his chest rising and falling with the heated rage that had sent him into a strong boil. At his sides his fists clenched, his thoughts of such an awful wife fueling the flames of his temper, how she remained with an empty womb, how she had continued to ruin whatever reputation they had as a couple with her flamboyancy, and how she had the guts to lock him from his own chamber! John turned back to her, his eyes wild on her face as he thought of how many fists he could pummel into that Godforsaken face of hers. "Perhaps that is where I shall send you! Have men do whatever they wish of you, whenever they wish! You will be only but the powerless whore you are now!" |
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| Anne Shilston | Jun 26 2011, 08:06 PM Post #4 |
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With the door being forced open and none other than her own husband forcing it down, Anne’s fantasy world came crashing to a halt. Shit! She never thought she would be caught by him. The poor guy that was on her didn’t even see it coming either! Not until it was all too late and the man got a fist to his jaw. Anne could only just stare, watching as he picked himself up and left moments before John slammed the door behind her would-be lover. She was miffed that the he hadn’t even put up a fight either, but then why would he, the fun had just ended and he wasn’t going to stick around when he could find someone else to finish his fun. She was still shocked that her lover hadn’t stayed put that she didn’t even flinch when John’s rage was turned on her. She barely even registered his hand slapping her cheek, not once but twice! Even when he shook her, she gave him no response. But finally, his words got through to her. "Some worthless bitch from the brothel?!" Instead of feeling ashamed, she got angry right back at him. How dare he say that to her when he likely had just returned from comparing the difference of the delight between her legs and someone else’s? He probably had sampled all of her friends by now! They were the whores, not her. Her maidenhead would have been intact if she hadn’t been married already. They, like the wolf pack were always trying to tempt her, dare her into doing some silly little thing or another. Like the day they wanted to find out the truth about William Spencer’s package, no they couldn’t do it themselves now could they? But still she had the courage to do it, well more like she was off her face drunk as she walked right up to the Viscount of Dorchester, sat next to him and made a grab for him. The surprise in his face sobered her and she had blushed bright red, mumbled an apology and ran off. Before later being cornered by her so called friends out in the hallway. The same friends who suggested to her to take her lover to her own rooms, Hell they probably were the ones to tip of her husband! She glared back up at her husband, her face flushed in red from her embarrassment, anger and being struck all rolled into one. And finally, flinched when the items, likely all her belongings were thrown around the room and smashed into pieces. So she gave it all back to him, grabbing anything within easy reach back at him, though anything that would hit the knight would likely be mere cushions. “Me? What about you and all the whores you keep! You would be right to keep me in a brothel, so you could sample every fig you find between a woman’s legs!” Her heart was racing now, but she was so angry, so distracted she hadn’t even righted her skirts, just sat there very much like the whore John was describing her to be. Her eyes slid down then, and finally noticed such a thing; she righted them at least to cover herself, the hem of her skirts still sitting up around her knees. She grinded her jaw a little (such an unladylike thing to do), before she said plainly. “It’s your fault…they’ve all said it. Can’t you hear them? That knight, Sir John Shilston, prides himself being a man who loves women, but can’t get it up enough to impregnate his own wife!” Of course, Anne couldn’t blame herself, when they all told her too that she was doing nothing wrong, at the very least God was punishing them because everyone knew how much an adulterer he was. ((Ah wills I loves you for figs XD )) |
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[align=center]PLOT: :BIO: :TRACKER [/align] | |
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| John Shilston | Jun 28 2011, 08:59 AM Post #5 |
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John just didn't know what to do with himself. Even with Anne. There was an anger raging throughout him, making his skin sweat and his heart race unstoppably; he could nearly hear it in his ears. He huffed and puffed, staring wildly at her as she simply only stared back, her expression reddening as she began to hurl pillows and cushions at his direction. He put out his hands and blocked them easily, almost shoving them out of the way as he progressed towards her yet again. As he drew close, though, she had somehow flung a pillow right smack dab in the middle of his face, causing no harm but leaving him feeling this pang of idiocy. His temper flared and his jaw clenched, hardly listening to whatever ramble she was going on about now. Reaching for her, John grabbed either of her wrists and yanked her to her feet, his eyes wild and angry on his wife's face. "I don't have to go to a brothel to do that, Anne," he spat back, nearly seething through his gritted teeth. But then she had said something that, surprisingly, stopped the knight dead in his tracks. His expression smoothed and lifted, shocked by her words, as if it had rung a sort of clarity within his otherwise clouded mind. He released her then, withdrawing his hands as his eyes slowly drifted to floor in what seemed like defeat. Hurt. John barely made another move, even his breath was silent as he exhaled a long sigh through his nostrils. He took a single step back, his jaw grinding as if in thought, before he suddenly glanced back up at her, expression ferocious, and sent a curled fist into the apple of her cheek. He watched her repel and felt nothing, not even pride as he retracted his hand and took a step towards her, his eyes unrelenting on her stricken face. "You have learned nothing!" He shouted, towering over her. "It is you that cannot carry my child!! God forbid such a horrible thing, for how would I ever know it was mine?!" His voice was straining at its edges, loud and raucous throughout the apartments. No doubt anyone who passed by would hear it. "Thank the Lord you have an empty womb, woman!" He bellowed onwards, a single vein in his forehead bulging beneath the surface of his flushed and sweating skin. "It is what you deserve! You WHORE!" John had the tenacity to slap her again, this time with an open palm so that it rung through both of their ears. "Have you not gained a single clue?! Why I hardly bother to see what monstrosities lay under those ugly skirts of yours?!" Of course, there was nothing there less than pleasing beneath Anne's gowns. And they certainly weren't ugly. Their wealth provided whatever fashion she desired, but with his anger rising and his blood boiling, he paid naught to the words he said. But it was true - John visited the beds of others above his wife's, and for good reason. Rumors spread like the plague, and seeing her there with that blasted oaf only moments ago, well, John knew them to be true. He thanked God he had the littlest chance of recently impregnating her. "Pray you are sent to a brothel, for I would not bother to visit you!" |
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| Anne Shilston | Jun 30 2011, 11:04 PM Post #6 |
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When one of the cushions hit her raging bull of a husband right smack in the face, she felt pride in herself, but wished it had been something a little heavier. Let him feel the pain run through his face for once! When she ran out of cushions, she crossed her arms and tipped her head up as if she were actually better than him. “Oh that’s right…you don’t pay for it. You just whore yourself through court. One day husband you will get what is coming to you if you put your prick where it is not wanted.” For a moment there she suddenly paused and was quiet. Had she actually hurt him? Seeing what she had done to him made her weak. She wanted to cry and fling her arms around him and beg for his forgiveness. But that feeling was short lived when instead of his palm; a fist came her way. With her arms crossed, she had no time to defend herself or steady herself as the blow made her fall to the floor. She sat in a heap leaning against the settee he had found her on. One arm propped up onto it as with the other, she held her hand to face where he had hit her. Tears welled up in her eyes, her cheek stung and turning the blame on her for her womb being empty was killing her inside. She shouldn’t have to live with this. Her brother was good friends with a Prince for crying out loud, why did she end up with the short straw? She didn’t even register what he said about her sex, she knew that he did not mean what he said, for he quite enjoyed sampling his wife’s fig, after all, he was her first. Slowly she gathered herself up, only for him to slap her again. When her watery eyes turned back to him with a glare, her small hands had clenched into fists, but as she could do little damage with them they stayed by her sides. “Hit me all you want John, for we know who here is the pathetic fool! Tell me husband, how many of your mistresses are pregnant, hmm? TELL ME!” She paused for breath, but never gave him the chance to answer her as she answered her own question. “NONE OF THEM! NOT ONE! NOT ONE SINGLE ONE HAS YOUR BASTARD CHILD IN THEIR WOMBS! SO DON’T TURN THIS ALL AROUND ON ME!” She paused again before adding, her voice calmed only ever so slightly. “Go back to the empty wombs of your whores and see if you can fill them with your nothingness!” She was done with him now; she couldn’t stand him; not when her face still ached from his blows. She strode past him to the door, hoping to God that she could reach it in time. |
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[align=center]PLOT: :BIO: :TRACKER [/align] | |
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| John Shilston | Jul 1 2011, 01:27 PM Post #7 |
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"I assure you, wife," he seethed back, eyelids narrowing as he glared at her. "It is always wanted." It seemed no matter how much he struck her, Anne would always be there to spit through it with stupid, worthless pride that would only land her a broken face anyway. He took a deliberate step forward, his shoulders squared and jaw tight as his eyes remained firmly trained on her reddened features. Even when he'd sent a curled fist into the apple of her cheek, John had expected her to climb back to her feet the moment she fell from them. But she'd stayed there for awhile, a hand flying automatically to her beaten face and swelling tears. He cared not for those tears. He'd seen them hundreds of times before, had caused them thousands of times, and with her on the ground at his feet, he realized this was nothing new. Would this stupid woman ever change? Would she ever just get a clue? Oh, had he been thinking, marrying her?! Four years of a betrothal, he had so much time to somehow claw his way out of it. He could have spared himself the past four years of marriage! But he hadn't. He'd been stupid enough to think the Anne Brandon would please him, that a wife of his own would be just what he needed to begin his image, his reputation, his rise to fame. No one told him it was going be like this. A woman he didn't even want a reputation with, an image, Hell, he didn't even want children with her. But there was no other choice; she was the woman assigned to bear them legitimately. The only woman. The thought nearly drove him crazy, not being able to do anything about it, and all he could do was blame her for his misery. His thoughts went briefly to his mistresses and as Anne had declared them all to be with an empty womb, John shook his head and chuckled. His grin was evil, anger still obviously boiling in his expression, and even as she went on to scream and yell and thrash, the knight remained for the most part unmoving. "As far as you know, that is." He chuckled again, a little slow reacting to the way she began moving past him and for the door. John was never sure about pregnant mistresses. He had never stayed with them long enough to see a bloated belly, and by the time it seemed relevant, he hadn't bothered to analyze. Even if any of the children his previous mistresses had produced, thank the Lord there was always another man in the picture to claim it as his own. He had never tried, intentionally, to plant a child in a mistress's womb. And how a bastard never followed seemed more like a blessing to him than lack of fertility, and if only his wife had the intelligence to see it as the same. Just as she moved past him, John whipped around and grabbed her by the arm, yanking her backwards and forcing her to face him. "Shall I go now, then?" He asked, rather casually as his hand tightened around her arm, sure to leave an imprint. "Conceive the boy you want with the woman that actually satisfies me?" He went on, lifting a single eyebrow as he peered deeply into her swollen features. "Or maybe a daughter? A pretty little girl, looking just like me, one that I can spend our coin on and give all that I have to. A girl that doesn't belong to you." Oh, the knight could go on and on. "Because I think you know, Anne," he seethed, pulling her just a step closer to him, his hand still unrelenting around her slender arm. "That I could, if I wanted. So very easily." There was not a single fiber of doubt in all of John's body, no doubt that told him he couldn't. No, he knew if he walked out those doors, went to a mistress or two of his, spread their legs and deposited his seed far within their moist depths, a child would follow. He knew, that if he wanted it, he could do it. "What would you do then, hmm? Once you saw my mistress, fat with child.. my child?" Hopefully, she would blame herself for all of her stupidity, her defiance and ignorance. "So. Shall I go now?" |
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| Anne Shilston | Jul 2 2011, 06:38 AM Post #8 |
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It was Anne’s turn to look hurt now. Everything little thing John said to her hurt her to the core. Why did she have to marry someone who prided himself in seeking out so many other women and yet when she attempted to do the same, he had a hissy fit? What a strange marriage this was. She may as well jump from the tallest building and be done with it and then he could marry and sleep with whom ever he damned well please, without hurting her feelings. Why she even thought she could care for this man, she did not know. She had the silliest girlish crush on him when it was deemed that she would be his wife and now? Now he didn’t want anything to do with her! So why did she feel deep down that she cared for him, that she hated this mess they were in, that she wished for God sakes, they could act a little more like a normal married couple? Oh how she hated him and loved him all the same. Wow, was that true? Did she actually love this man? Shit! Why did her life just get more complicated? When he grabbed her and stopped her escape, she flinched as his hand bore down pressure on her arm. The combination of the pain she felt and his hurting words brought the tears back to her eyes, but she never shed them. She hit him then, as he stepped closer to her. She was so damn frustrated. This couldn’t be the marriage she had dreamed of! She was meant to have children attached to her skirts already and another ready to burst forth from her womb, but no there was no evidence of that, none of it! With her free hand, it was with her closed fist that she had hit him. She hit his chest repeatedly in her frustration, yet no matter how many times she did it, it would never compare to the pain caused by his own fist to her face. Trying not to sound as hurt as she was. “No! No, no, no, no! Stop it John! Please!” Why did he have to be so cruel to her? Having their child, having any child was what she had dreamed about ever since she was a little girl and he cannot, she will not let him take that away from her! She slapped him. Hard. She didn’t even know why but still she immediately regretted it. She was meant to make up with him, not make things worse. She was such a pathetic little fool. She hated this, she hated everything! But before her husband had the chance to react she grabbed his doublet and shirt front roughly and yanked him ever closer, bringing her lips to his in a fierce kiss, fierce enough she might actually draw blood. |
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[align=center]PLOT: :BIO: :TRACKER [/align] | |
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| John Shilston | Jul 2 2011, 03:32 PM Post #9 |
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Standing here, towering over his wife, peering down at her with the wildest, bluest of eyes, John remembered what his father had one day told him. It had been only two years after marrying Anne, and already the young knight had run to his father with complaints. The older, calm and frustratingly mellow Michael Shilston had only chuckled at his son, patted him on the head as if he were ten years younger, and told him he would see soon all the Anne Brandon was worth. Seeing her now, face swollen from his hands and eyes red with the tears he caused, John still saw nothing. A void, if anything. A complete and total abyss, good for only to drain the very life out of anything that came near. His mother Jane had adored the little Anne, thought she would become a beautiful mother with beautiful grandchildren to give her, but four years of marriage and still only hatred had been born and raised. There was a part of John that was infuriated that he was still without a child, an heir to call his own, but the rest of him only breathed a sigh of relief that she had not brought a little Devil into this blasted realm. Besides; it was obvious she had the willpower to open her legs for another man, and essentially it was her womb open for the taking. If any child sprouted in that belly of hers, John would vehemently deny relation to it. Her little fists might as well have been pebbles against his chest, tilting his chin only marginally upwards as he bore the easy blunt of her throws. They came again and again, and soon enough the annoyance was starting to hurt more than her delicate knuckles did. He said nothing as she pleaded with him to stop, his expression stiff and for the most part plain while she cried and cried. This inefficiency to bother him truly seemed to ignite something furious within his wife, and before he knew it, his face had been whipped violently to the side and a loud pop! rang through his skull. His cheek stung, more than it should have, and as he slowly turned his head back to look at her, there was nothing less than merciless rage wrought about his half-reddened face. He had half the mind to tell her this, everything -the broken glass, her tears, her beaten face, her empty womb- was all her fault, that if she had just been the wife everyone, even God, expected her to be, and not the whore that deserved an empty womb, then she would reap the benefits. But suddenly, before he could open his mouth to say this to her, she had wrenched him by his doublet and rammed her lips against his. He wanted so badly to repel, but he was more shocked by the pain of it than anything. It was a sloppy kiss, wet and hard and in no way desirable. He could see her face, so close to his, swollen from his hands yet closed shut with the gesture of poor affection. God, if she kissed him any harder, he knew his lips would surely bleed. The side of his face still stung from the memory of her open palm, and coupled with her kiss, all he could do was press his hands to the tops of her shoulders and push her forcefully away from him. Only moments after she'd found her footing, John had sent again an open palm against the lesser damaged side of her face, payment for her strike against him and for having the insanity to kiss him like that. To even try! But after that, the knight was frozen. He could say nothing, for it all seemed to have been spoken before. He could only glare at her, wild and ferocious while his heart raced and breath quickened. The memory of her mouth was still hot and nearly painful on his lips, and for a moment or two it seemed as if he was going to rise yet another hand to her face. But instead of striking her, John only stepped forth, grabbed her by the waist and yanked her violently forwards. Their torsos nearly clashed, as did their mouths, and what seemed like only seconds he had ripped her free of her skirts and gowns. Anger surged through every fiber of his being, yet it seemed no matter how many times he hit her, there was no resolve for it. His temper only grew with every strike, almost as if it wasn't enough, but as their tongues collided and he made quick use of removing her chemise, this maybe seemed to finally be his outlet. Pushing her to the very chaise he'd found her on earlier, John quickly removed every bit of his clothing and, with every bit of anger, resentment and frustration pulsating throughout him and into her, the knight made violent love to the very woman he hated. *** |
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| Isabel Leigh | Aug 9 2011, 09:41 AM Post #10 |
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Virtue alone is invincible.
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[align=center]Mistress Leigh Isabel is in 8 threads and can has more! App | Plot[/align] | |
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6:26 AM Jul 11