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France was in chaos. The economy? Terrible. The monarchy? Collapsing; the king and queen were imprisoned and awaiting their trial, and the verdict was clear.
But for normal citizens like Félicité, despite these conditions, they still had to carry on. Despite the terrible economic conditions, this very job as a maid helped keep her income stable. Her mistress, Madame de Noailles, was a stern yet compassionate woman, and she paid her fairly. Life was a beacon of paranoia, distrust, and violence, but overall?
Félicité was doing okay.
However, this very day, as she was sweeping and shining the gleaming, palatial floors, an occurrence, so unusual, so scarring, and so long-lasting, would occur right in this chateau.
Sweep. Sweep. Cough.
A sudden pop. A yelp.
Another pop.
Curious, alarmed, and slightly frightened, she picked up her skirts and began to quickly trot towards the source. She checked every door and nook until she came across the second-to-last door in the middle hallway. She could hear everything a little more clearly; was her mistress or coworker being attacked?
She opened the door and gasped, her legs frozen in place. A pool of blood marked where Madame de Noailles stood—now fallen and towered over by a revolutionary.
" Oh my god! Somebody help me! " Félicité screamed. She made an attempt to bolt out the door, but the revolutionary caught up with her.
" You stupid—you traitor—you're supporting the one thing that is killing us all; the monarchy, " he spat, dragging her by her hair.
" No! No! I only work here to get paid! Please, I need to support my family—just let me live, I beg! " she sobbed, her expression and eyes frightful.
" You're going to regret this. Justice renders to everyone his due. "
He suddenly pushed her down to the ground, and she saw the now pale body of her mistress. She screamed, before being dragged once more on the floor and eventually—plopped down on the bed.
Slap.
A plea. Sobbing.
A punch, causing her nose to bleed greatly. The revolutionary forced himself on her, taking advantage of her weak state.
" I can't do what I'm about to do without being modest, correct? "
Félicité let out a shrill wail, " Oh god! You can kill me, but you must not deflower me! Pardon me, please! I'll do anything, just don't ravish me! "
Those words were nothing but empty, as he began to pry off her clothes with such force despite her fierce protest. Eventually, in spite of the kicking and attempted shoving, her bare body, shivering in the intensity of the moment, was revealed.
" Ah, and your nipples are hard already. You know you enjoy this. "
" I don't! Please, don't hurt me any further! I will not tell a soul about what has happened, for I am bound to silence thanks to you! "
That sentence alone was enough for him to begin removing his trousers.
Shift. Shift.
Félicité attempts to stray away from the plush pillows.
A harsh squeeze. He's grabbed her thigh to prevent this from happening.
" Goddammit, you make easy shit like this so hard to do. Stop fucking moving and submit to the revolution, " he huffed in her ear, pressing more of his body weight against her, " and by the way, your cunt's wet. You know deep down inside, you want to get used up like the slut you really are. "
" That's not true! That's not true! I can't control what my body does! " she pathetically sobbed.
That wasn't enough to deter him from putting his length inside her, and she moaned.
Not of pleasure, but of pain.
She could do nothing but weep as he continued to thrust into her at a brutal pace. God, he was all up in her guts and she hated every moment of it.
" Lord, please have— "
A slap.
" Where's your god now? "
" Somewhere, " she retorts.
He spits in her face before replying:
" Nowhere. "
" Please—you've done enough— " she continues to plead.
Hands on her, groping her now reddish breasts.
A sudden yank of her hair and push sends her hanging at the edge of the bed.
" You're right, " he provocatively remarks almost in mockery of her pain, " I have done enough.
He enters into her once more, making her scream and cry.
He steps on her, as a way to sort of humiliate her.
" I—can't—ah— " she groaned, accompanied with a sudden climax and a river of tears.
" You're no fun, finishing so quickly. Whatever, you're just a cumrag. A cumrag that has no purpose in life. "
After this final utterance, he deposited his load into her, making her yelp and sob even harder and louder. It was over, but the pain would last.
" God, shut up! "
A slap.
" You're lucky I haven't killed you yet! "
A hand digging into flesh.
A rough shove unto the floor, knocking over objects.
Fluids, blood and come spilt everywhere alike.
Clothing going back up.
Door slammed.
He was gone, and it was over.
The pain would last forever.
Félicité could do nothing but force her weak, sore body unto the bedstead , and cry uncontrollably.
She clung unto it like it was her mother and she was 5 again, roaming through the market and laughing with friends while eating sweets and fruits alike.
All of that heavily contrasted her current situation.
Everything hurt.
Everything felt dirty.