Madeleine had backed to the door. The czar inched closer against her. He said: "You know what that information cost me?" He laughed. "Twenty dollars… enough for a gallon of booze. And you know the value of that same information my pet?" Once more, he laughed… slowly at first, then, in a rising crescendo. "You! You, my dear, are the ultimate value of that twenty dollars so well-spent. You, with your young, voluptuous charms will crawl to me unless you want me to destroy your world. You will give yourself entirely to me to do with as I see fit… otherwise, I'll completely destroy you not only with Antoine, but wherever you go. Now… say something, darling… say something intelligent, you luscious creature."
Madeleine stood frozen in mental horror. Her entire body seemed a part of the door as she pressed backward against it and stared at the metamorphosis of human into monster before her. She watched him raise his drink to his lips and sip, and she watched mesmerized in abject terror and instantaneous hatred, the salacious leer ever contorting his evil face as inch by inch he moved in closer to her.
"Oh God! Please… Uncle Gaston… My God! You can't tell Antoine," she pleaded, for nothing else mattered. "Let me! I'll tell him! I swear it…!"
"Stupid cunt," Larreau spat and Madeleine cringed at the vile insult. "What good do you think that'll do, now? The damage is done. Do you think he would want someone else's bastard child?"
"But you don't understand! She's just a little baby. Stop calling her those names! Damn you…!"
Larreau widened his grin. "So… you do have some spunk, after all. I… I was beginning to wonder."
"She's not to blame! She's an innocent baby…!"
"Shut up! You hear? Shut up, cunt!"
She did, gaping at him. His smile had disintegrated; his eyes were emblazened with rage. He raised his glass and drained it, then threw it on the davenport beside him, the ice dribbling out to wet the expensive cushions, his vile epithets cutting her to the quick. Heavenly Father, she had never been so abused in her life. He came next to her and tore the glass from her grasp, then wound his pudgy, brutal hand in her hair and forced her mouth to his.
He kissed her! His vicious tongue stabbed at her lips and she fought it, clenching her teeth until his hand twisted the long length of her hair, until tears streamed from her eyes and her mouth gaped from the pain. His tongue, hot and wet, plunged to her throat and his short arm encircled her waist powerfully, crushing her to him. He ground his belly overwhelmingly against hers, his groin tightly against her own soft, tender pelvis, until she could feel the hardness of his swollen member undulating in a near-pulverizing motion at the juncture of her full, warm thighs.
Mon Dieu! Antoine! Please… come quick! I need you! I need you!
Finally, he eased back from her, smiling as if he had just brought her great pleasure.
"There now," he said, "Not so bad is it?" He lifted the glass he had taken from her and drank from it. "Why satisfy yourself with the parasite when you can have the king, my pet?"
"I-I-I love Antoine."
He drank again. "Love? Humph!" he grunted. "A word… not a very meaningful one either. Only an excuse for attachment." Again, he drank, "Never mind, it isn't important what you think, or want. It's what I want that counts… and I want you, my dear." He backed away and moved in a small circle before her. "You'll do what I say from here on… unless you prefer to be completely destroyed… along with your illegitimate daughter."
"What are you saying? You… you wouldn't do anything to hurt Igat…?"
"Why not? Bastard kids are born every day. What's one more? If she or he holds me from getting what I want… then, it's time to destroy them."
"My God! My dear God! You're horrid! An unadulterated monster…!"
Larreau set down his glass and moved against her once more. His left hand encircled her small waist while his right darted to her left breast, encompassing its full, rotund protuberance, squeezing and kneading, working at its nipple through the several layers of garments until it stood hard and erect, and in her helplessness she submitted to him.
"No… I'm not what you think," he said, letting his hands trail down her slightly delineated ribs to her hips, then moving behind her while she stood spellbound, and slipping downward to envelop her soft, warm, full buttocks in cupping fashion. He pulled her to him and once more she felt the hard unbelievable length of him grinding against her pelvis. "I'm human enough. Trouble is… you don't know what made me the way I am. It isn't important, anyway. What's important is that I want you… and I know I'm ugly. So… I have to take you… to force you. I-I-I'll make a deal with you. You be 'nice' to me and I'll get your kid back for you… make Antoine accept it. I promise, I will. Girarde is a nothing… a Ministre Of Gouvernment, but a nothing. I'll get the child, I swear it… if you're nice to me…"
"And… and if I'm not?"
His face changed. Before, when he'd spoken of returning Igat, he was almost the man she had come to know. But now…
"I'll completely destroy you and the kid! I swear it! I take an oath on it!" Once more he grabbed her, clutching her to him. "Christ! I want you, pet! I'll give you anything… just be nice to me. Don't you understand? I've got to have you…"
And then, she felt his small pudgy hand moving down her outside thigh, brushing up beneath the skirt of her gown along the nylon-encased column of her smooth, tensed, long leg. Dear God! What was he going to do? Should she scream… create a scene? She was entrapped! His hand felt hot… repulsively hot against the frightened, twitching flesh of her thigh, while the other brazenly cupped at her buttocks, holding her firm, unable to move away from his insulting hand. Even so, tiny, unwanted prurient twinges seemed to erupt within her at the attentions of a strange touch, while simultaneously, she fought the vile idea of his lewd suggestion.
"Please… please, Uncle Gaston, don't! Please don't…!"
"Christ! I've got to. You understand? I've got to have you…!"
"No… No! Please… I understand… yes, I understand… really, I do!" she pleaded and babbled, frantically struggling both physically and mentally, but she was no match for his strength and her brain refused to function in her fear and shame. "L-Let's think about it… tonight, we'll think about it… Oh God…!"
His hand reached and played at the tight, concealed portion between her legs where only the narrowest, sheerest strip of nylon protected her secret, sensitive genitals. She felt the knuckle of his hand press the material of her panties between the soft, fleshy lips of her vulva as it stroked again and again into the warm, moistness of her womanhood. She whimpered helplessly. Mother of God, no woman alive could endure such galvanic touches at her most delicate parts without knowing sensation, she swore it. Yet, she was near-overwhelmed with the abasement he was heaping upon her; it could not go on like this! He had to listen to reason!
"In heaven's name, Uncle Gaston, you've got to stop! It's not right! Please… I-I'll never be able look at you again, think of Antoine, if not me…"
"I'm thinking of me, damn you!" he hissed at her. "And I'm thinking if you want that kid of yours, you better be nice to me, understand? Nice! Now… do you want her or not?"
Madeleine wagged her head in confusion. She felt the hot tears welling onto her cheeks as he continued to stroke tauntingly at the now trembling, nylon-covered aperture between her legs.
"Well…?" he rasped.
"Yes… yes… you know I do! What would you expect? My God, I'm her mother! I want my baby…"
"And you'll do anything to get her back?"
"… Yes… anything… I'll do anything! My God… oh, my little Igat…"