"Who are you?" she said, after clearing her throat a couple of times and spitting.I told her I was an American soldier, a Continental."These were beas...s, animals," she said, gesturing at the bodies. "They killed John for no reason and let that boy, that bastard, have at me for sport." He won't hurt anybody else," I said as I helped her to her feet and handed her the coat of the man she had killed. She struggled into it, covering a fine pair of breasts pushed up by her tightly laced whalebone. There were only six, it was far more pleasurable when there were twenty-four as the woman was usually still crying as she rubbed her bottom.However, she felt that Emma was different to most of the women she dealt with as she wondered even whether she was coming here because she wanted to rather than because she was forced to. She decided to test her theory as she rubbed Emma’s bottom allowing her hand to stray to the backs of her legs and then her inner thighs. She was more certain as Emma. More

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