EXTRACT FOR
Virgin Bride Of The Visigoths
(Alexander Marquis)

Klaw, Wolluf and Gundemar repeatedly toasted each other and began singing rousing songs.



"These are the songs of the ancient ones," Trula informed us. "The great warriors of the past sang them to work themselves into a frenzy before battle. Before each battle, they enjoyed the bodies of their slavegirls to the fullest, because who knew if death might not take them at any moment?"



"An interesting tradition," Margaret remarked as she filled Wolluf's cup with the fiery liquid.



"Yes," the lovely native girl replied. "The men will begin to ravish us in a few moments, I expect. It is the way of the Visigoth."



Trula wasn't wrong. 



Only moments later the proud Klaw seized my wrist in a powerful grasp and pulled me close to his burly body. I smelled sour sweat and the stink of the rotting reindeer hides that made up his ragged clothing.



Blowing his alcoholic breath in my face, he stripped off my short slave's tunic in a single fluid motion.



A rousing cheer came from the crowd of tribesmen that had assembled in the shadowed area of the tent near the door. Would Klaw share my young body with these foul-smelling louts? Would they ravish me in trains, laughing and joking in their harsh dialect as they spurted their jellied essence into me? And if they did, could I take it? Would they push the envelope, not only of my sexuality, but of my very sanity?