A little sigh escaped his lips, and then his whole body went limp as the jug shattered against his skull-cap into thousand pieces, spraying all over the bed. Yet not before an enormous ejaculation had escaped Little Willy's own head. Sidetracked by executing her assault she had forgotten to remove her hand, and now the viscous liquid was running into her hand, stickily gumming up her fingers. Disgusted, she shook her hand violently to get rid of the icky substance. She wiped the remnants of his ejaculate on his pants and used the leftover water in the basin of her washstand to thoroughly clean her fingers.
After washing and drying her hand she stared hatefully down at her landlord's still-unconscious body. For one moment she thought to take a knife, cut Little Willy off and feed this pathetic piece of meat to the watchdogs in the courtyard behind the house. But although she was longing for revenge her sense of reality told her that this act wasn't worth the trouble. Besides she didn't know how long this slob would stay in the land of dreams. It was better to hurry, before he would awaken in a filthy mood and with a nagging headache.
First she changed from her nightgown to the old and darned peasant dress she brought with her from the farmstead. After lacing its front tight she took her washed-out and patched cape from the wall peg and flicked it over her shoulder, wrapping the thick woolen cloth around her body to fend off the chill of the night. Finally, she gathered the small amount of her belongings and sneaked down the back stairs and out of the house....
... As in the memory of her hapless flight from the greedy landlord, the streets now were almost equally empty, save for some die-hard nightowls who had celebrated until the early morning hours and were now on their way back home. Some windows were already lit, and she could hear faint clatters accompanying the early preparations for breakfast.
Silently she followed their lead. Stinker was now the front man of their small group, while Scarface had returned to yesterday's position and trudged together with Slaphead behind her. After leaving the watchtower, they made a lot of suggestive comments about her detention last night and how she would be treated once they had her securely under lock and key in the citadel. She cringed with disgust when they pictured every one of the gruesome abuses and tortures she would be subjected to and how much they would enjoy watching her suffer.
Still, Annie didn't know what they had accused her of, or why they had snatched her so brutally away from her home. She thought about asking them, but then dismissed this idea as valueless. She was sure to get no useful information from them, either because their lord hadn't told them much at all or because they would spitefully carry on swearing at her. They had treated her like she was the scum of the earth all the while, so why should they suddenly change their mind and become nice and polite? Ultimately, they were merely the spitting images of their masters. The nobility in this part of the land at the edge of the empire were known to make their own rules and didn't much care for the rights of the peasantry. As arbitrary as they were, their underlings and henchmen were even worse. They were well-known for their crudeness and savagery. Almost everybody in the city avoided crossing their paths needlessly or getting deliberately in their way.
In the meantime the semen combined with the grease from her breakfast had dried on her face and bodice, but still clung like a sticky mess to her skin. When the little group passed a small square with a draw-well in the center, she asked them against her better judgment to stop and allow her to wash her face and quench her thirst. She felt so dirty and soiled, and her throat was so parched, she had to give it a try. Maybe they would deny it to her, but at least she would had asked.
At first they laughed about her plea, but then a sneaky smirk passed over Stinker's face and he pulled her in front of the well. Someone had recently used the bucket to draw up water, and it still rested well-filled on the broad stone rim. Annie knew that it was useless to ask them to untie her hands and so she bent over and took some sips of the metallic tasting water. After quenching her thirst she plunged her face into the water. Its coolness soothed her skin and, although she had nothing to rub her face with, she shook her head right and left to dissolve some of the dirt and muck from her skin. She felt refreshed and cleansed when she stepped back from the well.
"That's all?" Stinker asked. "More like a cat lick. Here, let me help you!"
With one swift move he grabbed the bucket and emptied the entire contents over her head. She yelped when the water hit her in one cold gust and splashed all over her hair and clothing. The torrent spilled from the bodice down her skirt and soaked every part of it to the skin. Her hair stuck wetly to her head and hung down over her face to her chest. The remnants of the goo and dirt that had gathered since her capture mixed with the water to produce a greasy swill, spreading out over her body and soiling her clothes from head to toe. Her drenched and slushy garments now clung like clammy rags to her shivering skin and made her feel like a drowned rat. She clenched her fists and pressed her jaws tightly together, else her rising anger would have prompted her to jump at her smirking captors were standing idly around her, battering them with whatever was available to her.
"Hey, come on! Be glad that we didn't dump you right down into the well," Slaphead laughed at her. "We´ve really done you a favour. You look much better now—even somewhat clean—and you don't stink like a pisspot anymore."
Annie didn't want to dignify these pests with an answer, and instead turned her back on them. Scarface gave her an encouraging pat on her back when they once more got under way. The next hour was filled with stony silence, as she kept her mouth shut and stared mostly at the ground before her feet. Besides an occasional slap on her butt or a sudden jerk of the leash, they desisted from harrowing her, and so she was able to resume her ponderings of the last events unmolested...and Scarface's accusations from the morning in particular.
"A whoring bitch" he had called her, and not only once. She couldn't figure out why he spoke this way, because she had never before in her life met him or any of his comrades. They seemed to belong to the sort of brutalized men who rode roughshod over every woman who crossed their path. Not that this was unusual behaviour; she had experienced it quite often since she had come to this city. Back in the countryside men too called the shots, but they treated a woman with some respect, especially when she was a hard-working one and kept the house tidy and clean....
... After the hasty departure from her first dwelling place Annie had spent a cruel month on the streets. It was a harsh and brutal experience for her, and she had been glad to get a job as a tavern maid, serving dishes day and night. Most of her fellow lasses had tried to add to their meager wages by offering more bawdy services to their tipsy customers. But she had refrained from getting involved in such dirty games, and didn't mingle at all with the more randy customers. Not that it was possible to avoid a slap on her buttocks now and then, and more than one bloke had tried groggily to make a grab at her bosom, but she was lucky and such ribaldries had always been successfully fended off.
Playing shy or acting deaf, as the case may be, it was possible for her to evade possible suitors or stop their advances short in due time. Although she listened extensively to the salacious tales of the other tavern maids, she didn't mess around with men. It wasn't that the one or other handsome guy hadn't caught her attention, but somewhere deep inside her heart she was sort of proud that she was able to stay chaste and even keep her virginity.
Not that she minded much about the fuss the duplicitous priests made upon this circumstance. But as her old grandma had once told her, it was sort of a token that could be traded for higher gains at a certain time, and not thrown away at whim after the first pretty face that came along. But though her time as a tavern maid was ended, now, she had heeded the advice of her granny all along. Although it had taken her some time to gather enough money, by saving drastically she could eventually quit her job and run a more decent business, free of the need to expose oneself to every challenge....
... Out of the corner of her eye, Annie watched the city slowly come to life during the early morning hours. More and more peasants were filling the streets, and the first beggars emerged from their ramshackle lairs to snatch a good place for their daily collection of alms. After some time the group passed a big market square where some merchants had already begun setting up their wares and goods. She was trotting along a row of stands when she heard a croaky voice calling her name.
"Isn't that Annie? Oh dear, I didn't recognize you at first, with all those sodden rags on and your hair sticky wet!" an old crone hauling a small vendor's tray exclaimed and stepped to her side. When she recognized her miserable conditions, she groped around her goods and pulled a towel out. "You've come a long way from the west side," she crooned, and then eyed the goons around her suspiciously. "What sort of bad company are you hanging around with?" she continued on, and then began to wipe Annie's face clean with the kerchief.
"Oh, it's you Miriam!" she exclaimed. "Please...." When she recognized the rising anger shading Scarface's look she added hastily, "Please, tell Jean where you have seen me. And that they are taking me to the citadel...."
That was all she could pant out, before Scarface grabbed Miriam by her shoulder and shoved her roughly away. "Get lost, you ugly hag!" he snarled, and raised his hand threatening to hit her. "Leave us alone, else I will break your neck!"
"Oh no, good lord!" Miriam squealed and backed off hastily. "Don't do that. I am right on my way!" She took a few more steps backwards and then scuttled off to vanish behind some market stands.
"Filthy pest!" Stinker muttered, and when he recognized a faint smile of satisfaction on her lips he spat, "And you? Did we allow you to talk idly?"
