Susan felt like a rabbit with a pinched ear, humiliating and painful. The man's hand behind her was more like a sharp blade that could stab in at any moment, scaring her.
Then she felt the clothes on her back being yanked, the buttons crumbled to the ground, and the man's hand drove in without any pause.
Susan struggled desperately as if the fire was licking her body. The sharp pain coming from her throat stopped her. She coughed painfully, feeling the hand encircle her breast and ribs under her dress. His fingers were trying to find the opening of her linen shirt.
"Let go of me ... let go of ...," Susan's voice broke apart.
"Hush, I know the tricks you female spies play, and I know where you'll hide things." The man's hot breath sprayed on the side of her neck.
He kept her in a deadly grip. His hand groped under her dress, the callus on his fingers scratching her skin.
Susan shuddered as if she was standing between ice and fire. She felt such shame and humiliation. She desperately writhed her body to avoid his hand. Yet this only brought her closer to his body, as if she were trying to please him.
"I'm not, I'm not," Susan said in a quavering voice, then alarmed that the man's hand had found the opening of her shirt, paused briefly, and then thrust in without hesitation.
'No! 'Susan burst out in tears.
No one ever touched there! Never!
"You bastard! You beast! You are shameless! "
She struggled, tearing the man wildly, grabbing and biting.
She was so angry that she did not notice that the man had already released his grip on her, nor heard the sound of swords out of the sheath around her and the man's ordering in a deep voice: "Put your swords back! Stay back! It's ok."
When she finally came to her senses, drained and disoriented, she found herself in the man's arms, her face smothered against his velvet coat, one of his hands holding the back of her head and the other one patting her back.
Silence had fallen outside the door, and the only sounds in the house were the crackling of the fireplace wood and the man's hypnotic whisper, "Hush, be quiet, little girl, be quiet."
She pushed him away so violently that she almost threw herself down.
However, she forgot about her dress, which was already loosely buttoned at the back. The top part of her dress suddenly slipped off . she hastily pressed it against her chest, staring indignantly at the man in front of her and gritting her teeth: "You should go to hell!"
The man stood beside the fireplace, the firelight casting his tall figure on the wall, majestic and cold. It looked like really the demon king of hell. He wore a dark cloak, a sword at his waist, and his face was lit up and turned darkened in the orange fire shadows.
"Need me to help? Little girl?" The man's voice is still low but now has no death cold.
"You dream!" Susan yell angrily, "Don't call me little girl! I'm 18!"
The man raised an eyebrow, seemingly surprised by Susan's age.
Susan shivered with anger. Is this guy playing nice now? The bastard just assaulted her a few minutes ago. How could he be so shameless as pretending to be a gentleman? He should go to hell.
Susan had one hand on her chest to prevent the dress from falling while the other on her back, groping for buttons. But she was so angry that her hands kept shaking, as if against her, and she had not been able to button even one. Not to mention some buttons have been ripped off by that bastard.
Then she heard a faint murmur of laughter. She turned quickly and was surprised to find that she and the bastard were not the only ones in the room. There were four or five men in black cloaks scattered in the corners. They looked at Susan with a smile. When they caught Susan's eyesight like she was about to kill them, they bent slightly and turned away.
Susan felt all the blood rush to her head. Wonderful! So she was not molestation by one bastard, but by a bastard in front of a bunch of jerks!
Susan felt all the blood rush to her head. Wonderful! So she was not molestation by one bastard, but by a bastard in front of a bunch of jerks!
Then she felt someone close to her, touching her back: "maybe I can do a bit of help?"
"Don't Touch Me!" Susan snapped back and whispered angrily.
The man lifted his hands and said dryly: "My visitor will be here any minute if you don't mind showing off your underwear to my guest..."
Susan gritted her teeth and stared at the man, her chest heaving. After a while, she turned around and gave him her back.