The Chief, documents in hand, explained to Relena the circumstances of the injury, and the lonely place, accomplice par excellence of passivity and, sometimes, of will and hypothetical action.
Relena kissed his groins, moved by her partner’s psychic upset, and listed for him the many base actions (she almost always kneeling or at the foot of the bed) which, in the first years of puberty, she had submitted to for hopes of fame and money.
The Chief begged her to be quiet, but for sure his erections, while listening to those tales, were more raging. And more raging was the force of revenge that quenched the flow of Relena’s sins, claiming property of her every orifice, and sweet-smelling liquor.
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