Free The Price of Hannah Blake by Walter Donway

had been thinking that. Refuse to do anything? Fight? Never commit the sin of cooperating, of going along? She looked into Charlotte’s face intently, listening.
    “They gave her to the guards. The guards leave you alone, here; in fact, you don’t see them much. They would not dare to bother you; you belong to the duke.”
    Hannah nodded almost imperceptibly. Charlotte said, “But when they give a girl—or a boy,” she added, thoughtfully—”to them, they just devour you. Every crumb. I couldn’t believe what Myra was telling me. Like nothing I ever heard, imagined, dreamed.”
    Hannah was shivering. But she had to understand this.
    “It was a guardroom, somewhere by the outer wall. About five men,” Myra said. “Two wardresses brought her there, struggling, and the men dragged her in. The room was bright, like a lighted stage or an operating room. They stripped her, of course; the women here had not been able to do it. But two minutes after the men had her, she was naked, screaming and pleading. They tied her hands behind her back, pushed her to her knees.
    “She knew about being raped, she was born the daughter of a former slave and she knew all about rape. She thought they would do her right away. Instead, they shoved a funnel up her arse and filled her with warm oil, filled her until she was shrieking with the cramps. She said she forgot entirely that she was naked. Forgot everything but her belly. When they had filled her, they shoved in a bung…” Charlotte paused, “You know?”
    Hannah shook her head; her face felt stiff, and inside her heart beat so rapidly it made her nauseous.
    “A cork,” that Charlotte. “They forced a huge cork into her arsehole so no oil could escape. All Myra wanted to do, or cared about, or could think about was taking a shit. Her body was screaming for it.”
    The language again so rude, “taking a shit.” Hannah barely could see in her mind’s eye what Charlotte’s words described. She did not want to see. Bright light, the big black body on the floor, men standing, watching, listening to her shriek and plead.
    “One of the guards grabbed her shoulder and put his mouth close to her ear. He shouted—I won’t use the words—that she must satisfy them all before the cork came out. Myra said she couldn’t stand it one more second; she thought the pain was so bad she couldn’t even get off the floor.
    “Then all the men had dropped their trousers. And Myra could see their pricks standing up; her tears were so heavy she couldn’t see much detail, but she saw the pricks. She cared about nothing, she said, nothing, but ending the pain.
    “Its lucky she had seen things in Jamaica. I wouldn’t have known what to do even I wanted to do it. I wouldn’t have. But she did. She rolled to her knees, screaming, and scrambled on her knees to one of the men. She forced herself to rise higher on her knees to reach him. She said that to straighten her body almost made her faint. I think if she hadn’t been who she is, she would have fainted.
    “She did everything. Her hands were tied, but she has the most wonderful lips. She couldn’t do it fast enough. She pressed against the man’s knees with her titties and rubbed herself on him. Looking up, she hardly could see his face through the tears of pain.
    “Finally, the man grabbed her head and started shoving himself until he was done.”
    Hannah’s mind veered crazily. She had to understand. What was this…the man’s seed. In the woman’s mouth. Hannah kept nodding, her gaze locked on Charlotte’s face.
    “So then she crawled to the next man, screaming with each move; it had gotten worse and worse; she said it was as though they filled her belly with oil, and then started boiling it inside her. Like fire inside her. She became dizzy. But the men were getting more excited, now, watching, hearing her. Her body is magnificent, and her face. So she did the same thing to the next man, and it was faster.
    “They knew she