A Whore's Gallimaufry

While many celebrated news of the re-conquest of Calais from the hated English, young Marie worried continuously about the fate and health of her young brothers. They already worked small jobs given as much out of charity as need back in her home village, but made a pittance for their unskilled labors. As for Marie herself, she’d earned most of her recent coins prostituting herself to the victorious soldiers from a cheaply rented room. It was exhausting work, involving very long hours which left her intimately sore and occasionally bruised. In just two weeks she felt as if she had aged far beyond her seventeen summers. The increasingly heavy bag hidden within her straw mattress told her it was worth it.

Towards the end of her busiest day, as yet more soldiers traveled back from the coast, Marie squatted painfully over a bucket of filthy water and washed away the last customer’s accumulated filth as best she could. The man had possessed a pig’s stamina, exclaiming his sheer joy to be alive while rutting her hard into the rotting mattress. He’d been drunkenly oblivious to the pain he caused the girl as he aggressively jabbed his organ deep inside her swollen flower like a stinging bee. Finally he had rightly paid, and left.

Marie pushed matted black hair back from her tired brown eyes, and momentarily enjoyed the water’s cooling relief. The door crashed open, shockingly loud, and two men entered. She could tell immediately that these were no mere peasants forced to fight, but veteran mercenaries. They’d probably seen action from Burgundy to Florence as the King flexed his muscles. Dropping her ragged skirt, she stood unsteadily as the smaller man approached.

"Food, whore. Any you’ve got. The fucking tavern’s like a burst corpse and that fucking merchant’s hiked his prices and proven smart enough to have paid brutes to enforce them."

"Kind sirs, I have none to spare, barely any of my own. I’ve not even enough to prepare the meanest gallimaufry!"

Growing up in a rural poverty had left Marie well acquainted with violence, but the vicious backhanded blow still surprised the girl as it claimed two of her remaining teeth. Being so close to exhaustion, Marie folded under the blow and collapsed face down upon the mattress. She choked back sobs as thin blood filled her mouth. From behind came the sounds of her assailant ransacking the small room as if it contained unlikely hidden treasures.

His comrade, a particularly bad example of a career soldier, tugged his pox ridden cock free from his pants even as he pushed Marie’s skirt up. Previously, her only rapes had come by deception; when men refused to pay for services rendered. The soldier clearly didn’t intend to pay. He scooped the watered down semen still leaking between Marie’s bruised labia, and slathered it betwixt her buttocks.

"No, oh, please, sir, no!" cried Marie as she spat blood

"Shut up, whore! Be silent, or I’ll have your tongue."

Marie’s sobs took on a high pitch as the soldier penetrated her untried ring. He pulled back hard on the whore’s once beautiful black hair; used it for leverage. With rotted black teeth gritted, he thrust and twisted until Marie felt him burning deep inside. She stifled her cries against the mattress, exhausted and suffering, as the grunting soldier cruelly took his pleasure from her bleeding ass. The other had stopped his search, a tiny handful of food his prize.

"Alain, the way you’re pounding that bitch, I guess it isn’t true you prefer them ditch rotted? This one might as well be dead though, there really isn’t enough food here to feed a whore."

Marie’s spine felt like it was going to snap between her hips as the soldier pulled harder on her hair. No longer needing leverage, he sadistically hurt the girl for the pleasure it brought him to do so. She could feel his other warty calloused hand painfully groping at her neck, her breasts, even down the curve of her thigh. Roaming like a bandit in the forest, with each lusty squeeze rendered worse by the throbbing pain of her anal violation.

"There’s meat enough on her bones. I believe we’ve just to find her purse and we’ll be able to pay the merchant. I’ve checked the whole of this hole, so it must be in the mattress!" he clapped his fellow on the shoulder, "Aside, my friend! We’ll empty her purse and fill our bellies!"

At the realization that she was to be robbed of earnings her brothers needed, as well as humiliatingly raped, Marie finally tried to fight. She twisted her body and pleaded in an incoherent babble. Her sudden burst of energy and clear despair was enough for the cruel Alain, who pulled her away the mattress by her hair. He snarled in her ear like a beast as he reached the climax of his rutting. She swore she felt his hot explosion inside, before he pulled out and left her torn and gaping on the dirt floor.

Marie recalled the degrading hours with soldiers, and the happy memory of better times raising her brothers. No force besides God himself would take that hard earned money from her. Though hardly able to stand she stumbled to Alain, and drew his dagger. The two already fought over shares of her unexpected wealth as she cut the rapist’s throat from behind. The smaller man fatally reached for his own blade rather than fighting the far weaker girl for hers and, with a desperate lunge, Marie thrust it wetly through his eye.

Panting, sobbing, bruised and bleeding, Marie knew she had to avoid death for murdering the men. As a whore, her word would be denied. Half crazed with fear, pain and adrenaline, she contemplated the meat cooling before her. After a battle, returning soldiers often feverishly succumbed to wounds; their bodies mutilated by carrion feasting beasts

Marie smiled. She would prepare a fine gallimaufry.

A/N: Story written for AFF forum weekly prompt 31 - Gallimaufry.

The second definition for this word, provided as part of the prompt, is "A hash made from diced or minced meat". Bon Appétit, Marie!

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