Bride of the Revolution Read Online Free PDF

Grace watched the hooded eyes become heavier, the smouldering smile become broader, and tried not to shudder in apprehension. A gentle finger and thumb parted her plump sex lips, baring the inner folds. ‘Do you see the delicate pinkness, Philipe? A virgin if ever I saw one!’ The woman pinched her nubbin, held it in soft fingers, rubbed the sides of its little shaft, drew back the tiny hood.
    Grace could not help but let out a sigh of pleasure. The seat upon which she lay was padded in velvet, cool and plush beneath her buttocks. She felt her breasts swell and her belly quiver under the woman’s touch. She could not help the growing heat within her. It was as if her innards were melting.
    â€˜Virgins do not know how to be sensual,’ grumbled the young man, who Grace now knew was called Philipe.
    â€˜Some women are born with that gift,’ retorted madame, and Grace felt the butterfly brush of a fingertip upon the bud between her pouting love lips. She moved under the touch. She could not help herself. She wanted more; so much more. ‘Just as I was,’ whispered madame.
    â€˜Open your eyes, my darling,’ Grace heard, the words as caressing as the fingers.
    For a moment she hesitated. The raven lashes remained tightly closed and she felt the warmth of a fat tear trickle down her pale cheek.
    â€˜Oh, how sweet,’ purred Madame. ‘Isn’t it delicious to see tears in a young girl’s eyes? Doesn’t it show her innocence? She is innocent as I said, Philipe. Didn’t I tell you she was the one for whom we have searched all these weeks? Come now, sweet one, open those lovely eyes.’
    Grace, at last, managed to allow her eyes, round and glittering with tears, to flutter open. With the very tip of her pink tongue she moistened her parted lips and gazed up at the woman who held her across her broad lap.
    As madame let her hands flutter away from Grace’s body she found herself falling, quite naturally, into a sensuous pose. Her slender legs, marred by streaks of grime and the drying dew of rain, fell gracefully apart. Her breasts, firm and tip-tilted, were peaked by hard and dark little buds. The tatters of her rags, draped beneath her breasts across the slight swell of her belly, parted above her mons, enhanced rather than spoilt the beauty of her body.
    Her gaze flew nervously from one to the other of her two captors. A young man, handsome as a Greek god, looked at her across the narrow space between the luxurious carriage seats where they sat. He frowned, but touched the sudden bulge in his breeches, stroking its length hungrily.
    Grace averted her eyes, focussing them, once more, upon the woman, pleading for gentleness and mercy.
    â€˜Are we going to bind her?’ asked Philipe. ‘Truss her wrists and ankles, make her helpless as a kitten?’ Grace heard him groan and, from the corner of her huge hazel eyes, saw him release his cock from his straining breeches. It was so clean and darkly pink, the fine skin stretched by its fullness, its bulb bursting out at the broad tip. It was not at all like those of the men in the cemetery. It made a hunger grow, a strange hunger in the very pit of her belly. Her lips parted at the sight of it. Her tongue tip trembled as her mouth formed a perfect O and a sound, soft as a kitten’s mew, sighed from her lips.
    â€˜She wants my cock,’ said Philipe thickly.
    Madame frowned at him and wagged a warning finger.
    â€˜Is it not beautiful?’ she asked of Grace, her voice husky with lust as she looked at the spearing cock.
    Grace said nothing. She felt the flesh of her thighs flinch, her plump mound pout higher and the warmth of seepage between her love lips.
    â€˜Yes, it is beautiful,’ said madame, answering her own question. ‘And, one day, when I have trained you to perfection, I shall allow you to take it in your mouth.’
    Grace could not help but gasp at such a suggestion. Her dear mama,