Keeping your head down, you use your sword's broken blade to learn of any movements.There are wounds on your chest, where swords met flesh, and your left arm is broken. You can hear your own heart wildly pumping blood as you hold back your rushed breath. Pain is the only thing that is missing.As far as you can see, you're the only one left. Playing dead in the blood-soaked soil managed to fool your attackers, but it won't be long before you're spotted in the open field. You either die by martial law for deserting or by fighting in a hopeless war, and you definitely can't run as fast with a useless chunk of iron weighing you down."Whoever holds a mace, I'll break your fucking arms!" a man shouts, "The armor is broken! The swords are broken! We can't use this shit, you idiots!"Fiddling with the blade, a distorted image eventually projects on it. Combined with clanks of metal and a voice, you conclude that the opposing army is collecting the spoils of this battle. You're sure there will. She was wary about what he might say next. ‘Well, it seems my belt has become a little tight. Do you think you could help me?’ No, she thought to herself. ‘Of course,’ she said, hesitantly and meekly. Sarah was not that sort of girl. She did not want to touch this pervert’s crotch. She’d been a prude even with her own boyfriends — she’d only lost her virginity about a year before, and as far as blowjobs and handjobs went, she was almost totally inexperienced. But it was true what she had said. She didn’t have the money for the ticket and she could not afford to waste hours at a station — not if she wanted to get to her sister’s in time for her birthday. She stepped out of the car and the officer took went round and sat sideways on the passenger seat so that no passing cars would be able to see. He threw her the rug from the car and she laid it on the ground in front of his legs. She knelt down dutifully in front of the officer’s spread legs, his boner visibly pressing hard against.
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