Vices and Virtues

Abstinence:

Frollo opened his eyes suddenly piercing them at the darkness in front of him. Gradually as he became used to the night, he was able to recognize the silhouettes of the objects surrounding him. He removed the cover from him and pulled himself towards the side of the bed and sat there. His bare feet touched the cold floor, but he did not seem to bother. For a moment he stared absent- mindedly in front of him to the door, and then he suddenly turned and looked towards the empty bed. He had not been having a good sleep for days and he was not able to sleep well this night, too. He suddenly stood up and went to the small table in front of the bed and lighted a candle. He looked towards the door again- there was nothing there. Everything around looked peaceful- the door, the bed, the room- it was disturbed only by the moving shades from the candle light. However something was drawing him to the door and he did not wish to fight that urge. When he exited his bedroom he had just now realized that he was already dressed with his daily black gown, pants and shoes. The corridor looked empty, silent and cold. The entire house was in complete darkness and peace. The minister walked mechanically, passing the doors around him. He got down the stairs and proceeded further through the living room in another corridor. He was walking as if in absolute trance, but he seemed to know the way and where he wanted to go. He opened another door as he found himself in the library in his house.

The room was big, full with rows of shelves loaded with books, and everything looked in its order. However it seemed to the minister as if there was a cold wind passing through the entire space. He went further in the library, as he lighted with the candle that he was holding the labels of the sections. He stopped himself in the second row as he read before it the words "Catholic Literature." He proceeded further in the corridor between the two rows, as it seemed getting longer and longer. The fire from the candle suddenly was put off by the wind, but the minister could still see well the things around thanks to the moonlight that was coming from a large window and it seemed to light exactly the way before him. Frollo noticed a figure standing still at the end of the section and he mechanically walked to it. As closer as he was getting he was becoming more and more certain that the standing figure was of the gypsy.

Now he was just a few steps away from her. She did not seem to notice him. Around her there were several piles of books, put carelessly on one another. Esmeralda was with her back to him, as she seemed fixed her entire attention on a book in her hands. It was an old, big and heavy book, and she had turned it on a page with a picture that Frollo could not clearly see or recognize. The gypsy's black hair was freely falling on her shoulders, and the girl was only with her white night gown. She suddenly dropped the book in front of her and turned, piercing her green and big eyes straight at the minister. Frollo was motionlessly looking at her as well. He wondered what she was doing here, why somehow he expected her to be here, and why she was acting so strange. Everything was in complete stillness and peace for a while, as suddenly the soft voice of the gypsy destroyed the silence.

"I am cold," she whispered as her words echoed around the big room. She moved a few steps towards Frollo as now she was so close to him that he could almost taste her. Her head was circling slowly, looking at one time down to his body at the next up to his eyes. She was breathing deeply and heavy. The minister observed how her chest was slowly filling up with air and then emptying it. He reached with his hand to her face but she abruptly turned her back to the one side of the book shelves. She was still observing him intensely when she pulled a few steps away from him, as her back was now supported by the bookshelf behind. The minister carefully observed her. The moonlight was now lightening her entire body. She put her head back, facing the ceiling, as her body curved, letting her chest emerged in front. The minister's eyes slid pleasurably along her dress- the night gown seemed loosely to outline the gypsy's figure, as the robe was transparent enough to let Frollo enjoy everything beneath it. In that moment her breasts seemed completely bursting as the gypsy was now delightfully rubbing her head and shoulders onto the shelf behind, letting her arms randomly stretch around her. She was breathing heavy as her hands went on her thighs and slowly started to slide up to her body along her stomach, ribs and breasts. Frollo came closer to her as he observed with fire in his eyes how her delicate fingers rubbed her nipples, which the gown did poor to cover. She sensed him as he was now standing very close in front of her, and she opened her just a moment ago closed in satisfying trance eyes. The enchanting light seemed to have made the color of her eyes even deeper shade of dark green, as the minster felt drowning in them.

"I am cold," she repeated as she breathed deeply surrounding her breasts with her arms and turning her head aside. She huddled in herself as she closed her eyes and let her arms fall down her body. Frollo looked down at them, as her hands were now gathering the white, transparent cloth, revealing more and more of her legs. When the cloth finished she folded her arms, exposing more and more of her flesh, and swiftly pulled the rest of her gown up and through her head, remaining completely naked. She tossed the gown aside as she closed her eyes. Esmeralda started slowly to rub in ecstatic movements her head, arms, and back onto the bookshelf behind her. Frollo trembled, not able to restrain himself- he could almost feel the so closed elated motions of her naked body, he reached to her for a second time. She suddenly slid down, escaping his touch, as she huddled in a ball down before his feet. He looked down to her, as the silver moonlights fell on her bronze skin. He came down, kneeling in front of her and just now he realized that she was freezing and trembling.

This time his hand moved quickly and he succeeded to grab her arm- her skin was surprisingly warm. She looked at him in alarm, but did not do anything further. This encouraged the minister, who gently pushed her arm aside, taking and doing the same with the other. Esmeralda did not resist none of this, and after her folded legs before her were free from her hug, she started stretching them aside, leaving the minister between them. He advanced closer to her, as he felt her soft arms surrounding him. Esmeralda pulled him even closer, as her legs now were around him. Frollo breathed in delight, feeling her all desperately grabbed in him, and started hungrily to kiss her dark skin. She moaned in ecstasy when his firm hands pulled her and one of them slid across her breast, excitedly rubbing it. Her fingers dexterously unbuttoned his gown and opened it, as the pale chest of the minister completely contrasted with his dark clothes. Esmeralda started heavily to groan, as her delightful screams echoed noisily around the empty room. The minister felt growing harder, as he eagerly grabbed her down the waist and positioned her closer to his throbbing member. She pressed herself closer to him, as her fingers pleasurably went through his silver hair. She leaned her head to his, delicately rubbing her cheek in his, and lightly touching her tongue on his ear. Her moans had stopped. She breathed heavily into his ear.

"Look what you've done," she whispered with strange, echoing voice. Then she suddenly pulled from him, looking at his eyes with panic. "I am cold," she said as her sexual desire seemed to have disappeared and to have been replaced with fear.

She pushed him weakly, as she turned, falling aside on her front body. She started crawling; pulling her arms with great effort one after another, as it seemed she had suddenly been completely smashed. Frollo grabbed her firmly by the leg, not letting her to move further, as she started sobbing and screaming in terror. She tried reaching a further distance, as her stomach, breasts, and elbows were rubbing helplessly into the red carpet beneath her. The minister was stronger than her; he got on her with his body, as now she was not able even to move. She started frantically to spread her arms randomly in front of her, pushing the piles of books that were around her, as they noisily hit the ground. Her screams were becoming more and more piercing. Frollo tried with one hand to contain her random motions, as with the other he roughly pushed her legs aside, positioning himself between them. His ache for processing her was becoming greater and greater, as he was feeling the struggles of her warm, naked body beneath him. He breathed heavily, trying to compensate for the lost air while restraining her. The pain between his legs had become intolerable; he felt that he would explode if he did not release it immediately; he needed the gypsy and he needed her at this very instance. His hand reached to his pants, but it was pushed by the struggling body of the gypsy, which was so close underneath him. His other hand grabbed her by the neck and uncontrollably hit her to the floor. The hand that was pushed aside roughly slid between her legs, as his cold fingers started to feel her tightened genitals. He pushed harshly one of his fingers inside of her, as she loudly screamed. He put two more in her, eagerly exploring her warmth inside, as her screams increased, but were mingled with yells of terror and pleasure. She was not struggling anymore, as her head sunk into the carpet, quieting the noise of her screams. Frollo suddenly stopped. When she had moved her head, the minister noticed the book, which was next to her- the same book that she was holding when he saw her. Now he could clearly see the picture that the gypsy was studying so thoroughly. On the top of it there were saints seated as the ones in the Notre Dame cathedral, as in the one side there was placed the Holy Virgin. Her face, arms and dress were covered with blood, which was dropping all the way down the picture. However, there it seemed it had transformed into fire, which peasants seemed to carry to a pyre. On the pyre a person was burning, as the flames which were surrounding him were transformed into shadows of demons, which were eating from his flesh. Frollo with horror saw that that person was him and the empty stare of the Blessed Virgin was dooming his soul for eternal sufferings.

The judge unconsciously had loosed his grip from the gypsy, as she used his moment of shock to push him off her. He fell aside on his back, as Esmeralda turned on her back as well next to him. Frollo was still in shock as he sensed the moving gypsy next to him. Now she was on her back, staring at the ceiling, as her breaths had increased, transforming more and more into moans. Her legs started to move around in erotic motions, as they were rubbing into the red carpet. Her knees were folding and stretching her legs, joining and separating them, as her entire body became shaking overjoyed. She became screaming with pleasure louder and louder, as her hands clutched into whatever she could first reach to hold. Her moves had become greater and more apparent, as her naked body was now rhythmically curving itself into sexual pleasure. Suddenly she folded and opened her legs aside, as her moans did not sounded joyful anymore. Her body was expressing painful, jerking motions, as her screams reminded, to the minister, the ones that he had heard when he sent her to terminate her pregnancy. A large drops of sweat started sliding across her face, as her shouts were becoming more and more deafening. She could barely breathe anymore, uncontrollably shaking in pain. Frollo automatically grabbed her arms, trying to relieve her jerking motions and to help her calm down. She pushed him with incredible strength, as he fell again on his back, but this time the gypsy followed him. She laid above him, as her dark skin touched the pale one on his chest. She was not screaming anymore. Her green eyes pierced at his, as she swiftly slide her body down to his.

Esmeralda was now gathered above his feet, as she slowly started to climb back up, rubbing her naked body onto his pants. Her hands traced his legs, starting from his ankles, slipping them back along his calves, massaging his knees and sliding them delicately across his thighs. Frollo gasped in delight as her fingers approached his manhood, but she pulled them aside, firmly grabbing his hips. He felt as her fingers clutched harder into him and moaned with pleasure. Her body had been slowly going up and had kept up with her hands, as her breasts were now pressed around his knees and her head was just below his already arising member. She slowly rubbed her head upper, making sluggish and circling motions around his genitals. Her soft dark skin and her moistened lips became warmer by the friction with the dark cloth of the pants. The minister was becoming more and more impatient. His breathes had increased as he put a great effort not to finish before he had even got the chance to get inside her. Esmeralda stopped her circles as her eyes libidinously looked towards him. He had stretched his head back, staring blindly the ceiling and completely surrendered in the sensations that she was giving him. She gradually lifted her head from his lap and slowly moved it forwards, climbing a little bit further to him. Her chin lightly touched his already fully hardened member as she passed through it. She got on her knees and hands, as she reached his chest and hungrily approached it. Her moistened lips sluggishly slid along his skin, as she folded her arms, getting on her elbows and still being on her knees. He trembled with pleasure as his chest was deeply inhaling and exhaling air. She stopped on his stomach, where his pants started. She pressed her tongue on his skin, and started teasingly to circle around his pants. She pulled it further as she slid it under the black cloth, making the minister gasp in ecstasy feeling the cool moist of her tongue. She played like that for a while, as she suddenly rested her entire head on his stomach. She was still very warm. Her hands made their way to his stomach as well, as they opened more of his gown. The gypsy firmly clutched her fingers into his pants and pulled them down enough to reveal his manhood. Then she lifted herself, kneeling as he was between her legs.

"Why my Hell is on Earth," she asked with cold and freezing whisper, as her eyes were pierced at the ones of Frollo. She did not waited for an answer, she thirsted herself on his hardened and throbbing member, giving him the so longing moment of pleasure. They both gasped, as the minister pushed deeper in her. Esmeralda stretched her back, curving it in pleasure backwards and emerging her breasts in front. She rhythmically started to bounce on him, pushing him more and more to the floor. His hands had reached her legs, as he uncontrollably held on them, getting as much flesh from her as he could. He was insatiable, roughly pushing his hands upper and upper along her curved, euphoric body. He wanted to consume her entire naked flesh. She suddenly grabbed his wrists pulling his hands to her breasts and pressing them harder to them. She became faster and faster, as her hands dropped down aside him on the floor, in order to balance her better. Her hips pushed him harder and harder, hungrier and hungrier, becoming more and more to resemble his own ways with her. Her entire body was covered with sweat, her dark hair was falling in locks before her face and her roars of pleasure were getting louder. She frantically took again his hands and pinned them to the floor above his head. Esmeralda became more and more lustful, possessing the incontrollable desire of the minister to her; however Frollo did not seem to mind. His joy was overflowing, as he had entirely given in her rough and harsh motions, which were causing him both pain and incredible pleasure. He felt completely lost in her. The friction between them had warmed up his skin, which was getting hotter and hotter. Her moans were overstepping, as she was now wildly riding him, looking straight at his eyes, but as if she was not caring for anything else despite the received joy.

The minister felt conquered, defeated, and weak underneath her insatiable lust, but he wanted her more than ever- he wanted her to do this with him more than anything else. He groaned loud, feeling the emerging of the ultimate bliss. He shoved his penis deeper and harsher into her, and she screamed joyously, as if lost her all senses in that indescribable gratification. She returned him with the same burning roughness, as they thirsted again and again in themselves, draining the last drop of pleasure from their bodies. Frollo felt the hot liquid spurting out of him into her moistened inside. She rapidly pulled off him, leaving some of the sperm to spill on his thigh, as he felt its sticky texture. Her green eyes pierced at his.

"Why did you touch me," she whispered with miserable and crying voice. The minister looked at her in confusion, as in his head millions of her pleadings, begging him to stop, curses and his own mocking laughter screamed at the same time. He felt as if his head would explode, only that the voices were not anymore in his mind, but everywhere, surrounding him, laughing at him, accusing and condemning him to the eternal hellfire of misery.

FROLLO opened his eyes, as drops of sweat had started sliding across his forehead. He rapidly stood up in his bed, realizing it was morning. From his opened window the shouting and the laughter from outside were coming into the room. The sticky wet feeling between his legs made him mechanically remove the cover, revealing the still warm spots of sperm on his night gown and white sheets. He frantically got up and went to clean himself and change in his daily clothes.

The dream that he had was not the first odd one, which had happened to him recently, and it was not the first one that had left his sheets with stains on them. It had been passed more than three weeks since the minister had taken the gypsy to that strange house and woman, and had terminated her pregnancy. Since then Esmeralda was sleeping in the guestroom, in which Frollo had put her when they got back from Amparo. She was ordered to stay in most of the time in the bed, but she did not really need a command to do that. The first week she was too weak to do anything but lay there, barely eat and sleep, but gradually her strengths had started to return. At the end of the second week she was as usually- locked and bored in the room, which did not even had shelves with books as in the minister's bedroom. Sometimes she was eating downstairs with Frollo, but the minister rarely called for her. He was not coming too often in her bedroom, but he was constantly asking the servants in what health she was. The gypsy on the other hand was trying her best to look as bad as she could before him, trying to extent her time away from him as much as she could. After a lot of pleads and threats, the gypsy was again allowed to leave her room when supervised by one of the maids, but only when the exits to outside of the house were locked. Frollo seemed as usually severe to her, but the only fact that he had let her outside a single room was prove that he was becoming softer to the gypsy. He knew that and he blamed his newly rediscovered abstinence for it, which he seemed to tolerate less and less. He had not tried to do anything to the gypsy yet- partly because he wanted her to recover, partly because he was scared that this might repeat again- but his lonely nights were becoming more and more unbearable. He had even started to see her rarer and rarer, afraid that if he did he might either ravish her to death, or fell in her feet and beg her for forgiveness.

Frollo had completely dressed up, as he took his hat in his hand and left his bedroom. As he stepped in the corridor he quickly glanced to the door leading to the gypsy's room, but he put a great effort to restrain himself from entering. He was already late for his daily duties, and his dream still had a controversial influence over him. He decided to visit her later when he was back- he was always leaving the house with that thought, but his guilt or his reminding that she was still weak was always stopping him to proceed to the end of what was constantly in his mind and what was appearing even in his dreams. He sighed heavily and headed downstairs.

WHEN the minister returned back from work it was already dark. The situation with the civil riots, the constant burning of gypsies and the fight to contain them out of the city had not become any easier. There was as well many of them on the streets- the ones that were not captured when the judge had found the Court of Miracles because they had been elsewhere. Now they were wandering around Paris making tricks, begging and steeling from the people as they were more than ever poor and homeless. And even though that was not what was constantly in Frollo's mind he was more than obligated to put his entire efforts to deal with it. That sometimes distracted him from his burning, bursting and torturing him thoughts of the gypsy, other times his desires were greatly stopping him from concentrating on what was the present problem.

The house looked as usual- big, clean, dark and rather empty. He proceeded to upstairs, determined to end up the agonizing abstinence once and for all. When he was just steps away from the door of the gypsy's bedroom, it suddenly opened and Corrine emerged from it. As soon as the maid noticed Frollo she respectfully bowed, remaining with her head down.

"How is she," the minister asked coldly.

"She looks rather fine, sir," the servant replied. She knew pretty well that the gypsy was trying as much as she could to conceal her well being from Frollo, but even though the maid did not want Esmeralda to get into any trouble, she did not think herself capable of lying the minister.

"Good," the judge replied dryly. "You may take your leave now."

"Yes, sir, but I have to return back and help her…," Corrine said bowing even lower.

"That will not be necessary," Frollo sharply interrupted and added with his usual freezing voice: "Make sure no one to disturb me or her for the rest of the night."

"As you order, minister," the maid said not separating her eyes from the floor and after that headed downstairs.

Frollo stared for a second the wooden door. He found himself trembling and immediately scolded himself for that weakness. He had to stay strong and determined, he needed to put himself in order, or otherwise he knew that he would not have his way. He opened the door rapidly and entered the room.

"Oh, Corrine, you returned really fast…" Esmeralda started, but stopped in panic as she saw that at the door it was not the maid, but the minister.

For a great surprise of the judge, the gypsy was standing in the middle of the room, soaking wet, and now nervously trying to cover her naked wet body with a white sheet that was just a moment ago loosely put on her. Frollo watched in some kind of trance while she had backed a few steps behind, and had completely huddled into the white sheet, making sure that her shoulders, feet and even fingers were not to be seen. From the moment she saw the minister her head automatically dropped down, trying really hard to avoid his stare. Water drops had started coming down from her now even dark, wet hair, as the floor and the sheet were absorbing them.

"I didn't think it was you," the gypsy said dully after a moment of awkward silence, as the judge did not appear to plan to start any conversation. Her words seemed to have snapped him out of his carefully studied view, as he looked to her face. He did not answer her; he just advanced further to her, making her back a few more steps away, but eventually bumping to a desk behind her and stopping. Frollo stopped before her, still leaving her some private space.

"You are wet," he, on his turn, stated pointlessly, as his eyes were again libidinously consuming every part of the white sheet on her. His mind involuntary wondered how hard it would be to pull this thing off her.

"Yes," she answered immediately, which however did not seem to draw his attention entirely. "I… Corrine- she offered me to take a bath… to wash up the dried blood… well I guess I needed it…" Esmeralda stuttered, trying to think a way of withdrawing from this awkward position.

Frollo's thoughts had completely taken him over, and he seemed to hear her words somewhat in a distance. He imagined how he would approach her and would take her firmly by the shoulders. In an instance he would throw her to the bed, as she would lose the hold of the already wet sheet on her, letting it carelessly cover her when she fell on her back on the bed.

The minister looked at her, realizing that had passed a long time since she had stopped talking.

"Was it your first," he asked with his usual cold voice.

"What," she asked, confused and scared, pushing herself harder to the desk behind her. "What are you talking about?"

Immediately after he had looked at her, he was again busy staring at her body as his imagination progressed further. When her naked body would touch the bed, the cold drops would be gradually absorbed by the bed sheets. The pillow would become instantly wet from the gypsy's hair, which would be also stick along her dark skin occasionally on her cheeks, neck and shoulders.

"Bathing," he drawled still consumed by her body, and hearing in a distance her worried confusion. This time their eyes met, as he added, "was it the first time you took a bath."

"Oh, yeah," she answered, feeling stupid of overreacting, "there is no actually a bathtubs on the streets." However, the gypsy had noticed the persisted stare of the minister, and she was becoming more and more certain where all this would lead.

"Did you like it," he said with the same cold and distracted voice. Esmeralda looked the floor again, not able to look at his eyes any further.

"No," she replied quietly, "it was too wet, cold and it left me trembling." There was another pause.

Frollo's eyes were again blindly staring at her, as his mind continued drawing lustful pictures for his delight. He would slowly advance to her, observing her trembling, wet body- so desperately surrendered between the wet white sheets. He would hastily open his gown, tossing it aside, remaining only with his pants, as he would get on the bed, in her feet. He would slid his fingers across her wet legs, as he would very slowly and gradually remove from his way the white sheet, which she was holding before, but which now was just loosely covering her. She would shiver from the cold, as he would then press his burning lips on her leg covered with water drops, feeling its fresh cold. He would slowly slide his tongue along, consuming the remained cool drops of water from her.

"And the whole bathing thing weakened me even more," Esmeralda added in alarm after she saw with horror the libidinous expression of the minister. "I am feeling very bad; I even don't think that my legs would hold me any longer."

Frollo looked at her disbelieving, as he smirked coldly.

"Then you better sit," he suggested, sounding more like a command, "or even better- why do you not lay on the bed so you could have a good rest?"

Esmeralda shivered. She knew that she could not escape him forever, but she desperately needed to try harder. Her eyes hastily scanned the room, searching for a chair, but the minister had pretty much restricted her way only to the bed. She looked at him once more, knowing that he would not step aside to let her pass him and sit on a chair, and that if she did not do anything, he would just drag her to the bed and once having his hands on her he would not restrain himself only with it. She slowly walked to the bed and set on its edge. Frollo made several steps to her, still standing on his feet before her.

Then, when his lips and tongue had reached her thigh, he would pull back from her, removing the rest of the covering her sheet. She would tremble, feeling the cold water on her. The minister would then go over her, pressing her naked, vulnerable body, with his, and blissfully cooling the burning fire in his skin with hers. He would slowly remove the sticky locks of hair from her shoulders, neck, and face, pleasurably putting a passionate kiss on every freed part. Then he would reach to her lips, pushing his tongue deep in her mouth, and consuming the entire fresh, cool moist from it. The water on her would be no longer cold, but warm; hot. His aching member, yearning so desperately for the warmth inside of her, would then be released and the minister would finally have the chance to conquer her again. Their bodies would start twisting in uncontrollable and pleasurable convulsive movements, feeling the warm moist all over their skins. The sensations, the cold, the hot, the agony, and the pleasure would all mingle in one eternal delight and….

The minister did not have control over his erecting member anymore. The only thought of having her had made him arouse, and he knew that he did care anymore neither for her health, nor for her feelings. He made a few more determined steps to her, as he was now standing just before her. He reached to touch her.

"Wait," the gypsy said dully knowing that she cannot do much to stop him. With panic she had observed his fiery eyes, watching her persistently for a while and the emerging of the gown between his legs. However he stopped. "I am not well… I mean," she started stuttering not knowing really what excuse to use this time, now when it looked like she had actually drawn his attention. "I am still feeling pain down… and I still bleed since that Sunday…," her eyes were fixed down to the floor, and her words were sounding very indecisive and full with embarrassment.

Frollo pierced his eyes at her bowed head, staring at her for a moment, as if trying to figure something out. His hands were clenched into fists, and he gnashed his teeth in frustration. However, when he finally said something, his voice was sounding rather patient and unmoved.

"But of course, it is not in my intention to make you feel… uncomfortable. I am a patient man, I am able to wait a few more days," he said with fake grin, as his fists tightened even more. He headed to the exit, leaving to the wet gypsy some privacy to dress herself. When he opened the door he took a key from his pocket and put it in the locker. Before he left, he looked one more time the huddled and bent girl at the edge of the bed, who seemed not to even dare to breathe now. "But remember, Esmeralda," he drawled coldly, "even a patient man can lose its tolerance." He smashed the door with great force and rage, locking it angrily behind. Esmeralda breathed heavily several times, as if still trying to believe what had just happened. Before the minister had never taken into consideration her words, so what had changed now? She did not really wanted to think for that, she knew it would not last long, but as long as she could still lie to him for her condition she was determined to persist on it.

SINCE that day four more days had passed. However the minister had not tried to have the gypsy again. The days had passed as he was constantly occupying himself with work- with the riots, with judicial matters, with the interrogations and the torturing of prisoners in the dungeons- anything that could possibly draw his attention away from the already intolerable abstinence. However the things in his work, which had before fulfilled him with meaning and passions, were sounding so hallow now when his new desires had been so severely restricted. He was not even seeing the gypsy these days, he was going very early to work and was coming back after midnight. His nights had not become easier so he was not minding avoiding sleep and the persisting half erotic/ half filled with guilt dreams, which he had whenever he closed his eyes. He was becoming more and more negligent in his appearance- his silver hairs were falling in disorder, he had very dark and apparent circles under his eyes and he seemed to have become paler than ever.

In Friday, however, he had returned significantly earlier than usual. It was still bright outside, and it was not even became time for dinner. When he entered the house he saw Paulette, one of his maids, in the living room dusting the furniture there and arranging the stuff around. When she noticed him she respectfully bowed and mechanically went to him, waiting if he needed anything from her.

"Where is she," was the first words of the minister. Even though he had not seen the gypsy these days he always inquired a detailed report from the servants, explaining what she had done during the day, and if she had been out her room with whom she had been, and whether she had tried a second attempt for escaping.

"She is in the kitchen with Corrine, minister," the maid returned automatically. She was surprised to see the minister so early in the day, but she knew better not to question anything that the judge was doing.

"Very well then, you may continue your work now," he drawled absent- mindedly as he headed to the kitchen.

The door of the kitchen was opened when the minister approached it. He did not seem to be noticed by the two women inside. Frollo's eyes immediately fell on the gypsy, who was as usually wearing the green dress that the servant had given her. The two women were both sitting in big, wooden chairs near the table, which was full with meat, herbs and other stuff on it, but neither of them was directed to it. Instead the chairs were turned to one another; there were two pots between them, as it was appearing the one was full with fresh onions and the other with water. Corrine was taking the vegetable, cutting its knobbed ends off, peeling off the papery brown skin, and putting it in the pot with water. She was talking to the gypsy for events of her daily life, outside her work, which were of no importance to the minister. However, for his great surprise he saw the gypsy as well holding a small knife, similar to the one in the hands of the servant, and was as well assisting her in the peeling of the onions.

"You do not really have to do that, Esmeralda," the minister overheard the maid saying to the gypsy.

"I know, but I don't want only to sit here and watch you work," Esmeralda objected softly, "It doesn't feel right. And helping you also reminds me for the time when I was free and was able to work- it's funny how the work and the streets can miss you so much," she said with sorrow in her voice. "Anyway, tell me more about your home- you said that your younger brothers had started visiting school, right? I have always wondered what that feels like…"

Frollo observed the gypsy as she continued talking to the servant. She looked so bright, so happy, as if she had forgotten in an instant everything that the minister had done to her- or she was just really doing a great job of ignoring it. However her misery was not completely gone- even when she was smiling and laughing along with the maid whenever they were discussing something amusing, even then her eyes were expressing sorrow and pain.

An involuntary shiver ran through the minister as he was observing her like this, it reminded him for the first time when he saw her- so full of life, spirit and light. So enchanting… He wondered whether her expression would change in the second she see him. He could not restrain himself anymore, he imagined going to her and the servant automatically disappearing, leaving him all alone with the gypsy. He would take the little knife in her hands, and of course she would resist it. He would slowly start sliding it along her neck and further down, making her feeling the cold metal on her. When he reached the dress he would shove the knife between her breasts and would abruptly cut through the gown, enjoying the delightful view of her bursting chest. He would playfully start circling the knife around her nipples, every time pressing a little more and more. Eventually, there would be a time when he would press deeper than usual and he would cut her, making her bleed. She would scream in pain and hatred, but it would be of little importance. He would forcefully push her, making her sit on the table, and in the same time the things on the table would start noisily to drop on the floor. When the table would be free, he would make her lay on it, roughly taking her legs into his hands and positioning himself between them. She would struggle, causing the wooden table to squeak and shake, but the minister would restrain her. He would cut with the knife the cloth of her skirt, destroying most of the dress and leaving the gypsy naked. Then, when she would be warm from the fight, and her hot blood would be coming out of the superficial cuts that would have been made during the struggle, in that moment, the minister would thrust in her, giving her the pleasure that she had always wanted. He would have her, he would conquer her, he would defeat her, and she would like it.

The minister smirked libidinously. He had not realized when the blood in his veins had started to boil up and he was feeling again the so painfully familiar urge between his legs. No, he would not tolerate it anymore, he would not tolerate the devastating him abstinence. He would prove to the gypsy once and for all that he would not let her threat him like a fool anymore, that she was nothing and she better remembered it. He would not have a gypsy rule him and it was time to make that clear for her.

He noisily entered the room, startling both the servant and Esmeralda. Corrine immediately stood up, interrupting her conversation with the gypsy, and bowing her head respectfully to Frollo.

"Minister Frollo, I did not notice when…"

"Leave us," he said coldly and impatiently. The girl did not wait a second order. His vicious voice scared her so much that she did not even dare to look away from the floor. After a second the gypsy and the judge heard the door closing behind them.

The smile on the face of the gypsy when talking to the servant had instantly disappeared, and now her head was bowed down in despair.

"Get up," the minister commanded loudly.

The gypsy obeyed. She dropped the onion that she had been peeling on the floor, but kept the knife in her other hand. Frollo looked for a second to the dropped vegetable, which bumped noisily on the floor. Esmeralda noticed that and abruptly after that felt as the judge roughly grabbed her by the chin and forced her to lift her head and look at him. He stared at her eyes for a moment.

"If I wanted another maid, I would have hired one," he drawled with freezing voice, piercing her with his stare.

"I was just help…." The gypsy started, but it was abruptly interrupted.

"I do not care about your excuses anymore, gypsy."

He roughly grabbed her wrist with his free hand and twisted it, making her drop the knife in pain. The fantasy of playing with her and the knife was a tempting one, but the minister knew better that in reality having sharp objects around gypsies was not really a wise thing to do. He did not wait for her to scream or object; he roughly pushed her to the nearest wall. She closed her eyes and exhaled in fear and pain. Frollo pushed her harder to the wall, pressing his entire body to hers. It had been so long since he had felt her forms, her skin, her smell, her taste… He shoved his tongue in her mouth, not allowing her to say a word. His kiss was long, deep, and rough. His lips, teeth, and tongue all participated in the hungry attempt to completely possess, consume and devour her. He did not want this moment to stop; he wanted this kiss, this feel, this flavor to last forever. His hands slid down to her waist and he started gathering her skirt, as in the same time he pressed with all his strengths his yearning, hardened member to her thigh and genitals. The gypsy abruptly turned her head aside, breaking the painful kiss. While his hands were still occupied with her skirt, she succeeded to push him a step away from her. He gnashed his teeth, knitted his eyebrows and looked at her with incredible anger.

"Please, don't," she started with horror, not able to catch her breath and feeling how her heartbeat would break her chest. She was in such a state of panic that she could barely gather her thoughts. "I… I am not feeling good, I still bleed…"

Frollo angrily grabbed her arms and pinned them forcefully back to the wall. He pressed her again hard, as he hissed in her ear:

"I shall not tolerate your lies anymore, little fiend. Your sheets have been clean for weeks. Did you really think that you could lie to me, that I did not know about it? I told you that patience has its limits and you just found mine," he pushed her harder to the wall, making her whimper in pain. "I think it is time to remind you why you are in this house," he said maliciously, as he roughly pulled the top of her dress, revealing her shoulder.

"Please, don…"

He pressed his throbbing member between her legs with great force, in the same time preventing her from having the chance to move again.

"And if you are still "feeling pain down," well, then it would not be much different from the other times, would it be," he hissed with mocking, but dreadful voice, as he hit her again to the wall. He could almost sense the so longing moment of pleasure. He tore the rest of the front part of her dress, exposing her chest and lustfully going all over it. She screamed one more time, as tears had started coming from her eyes, and uncontrollably spilling all over her face. As the minister continued mapping harshly with his hands the rest of her body, she started to whimper, sob and cry louder and louder- what else had she left? She knew that that moment would come, but still she could not help it. She could not fight back either, and even if she was feeling completely physically recovered from what had happened to her, she was more than ever horrified from the thought of him being again inside of her.

He had flipped the most of her skirt, now completely exposing everything beneath her waist. The only remains of the dress were gathered around her stomach and beneath her breasts. He pressed himself harder to her, as he started to unbutton his gown. Her sobs did not decrease. When he had halfway opened his gown, he turned her face, making another attempt for a kiss. When his lips touched her he seemed as if now to realize that her entire face was wet and red from her tears. He pulled a little bit his head from hers, staring her agony unmoved. He observed as one of her tears slid down her cheek, dropping on her bosom and proceeding further to the gathered green dress beneath her chest, where the tear was absorbed by the cloth, leaving a miniature wet spot. He looked at her in rage as he harshly pulled away from her, letting her collapse on the floor. He clenched his hands in fists and started angrily to make small circles around the room. The gypsy had fixed her eyes in one spot on the floor, prepared that he would just come and crash her, but as she did not see him approaching, she dared to look at him. When the minister saw her face, he furiously kicked one of the pots that was before his feet and pushed with rage the wooden table, making everything from it to fell noisily. He abruptly grabbed the gypsy and dragged her along the wall, back on her feet. He looked at her horrified face and hit with incredible wrath the wall next to her, making her close her eyes in terror.

"Stupid, foolish witch," the minister yelled just before her face. He grabbed her harshly by the shoulders, shaking and hitting her to the wall. "Look at me, look at me I am telling you!" The gypsy did as told. "Why you have to always damn everything," he hit her one more time, "why have you come to torture me," he hit her to the wall again, "why, I asked you!"

He stopped and stared at her big, red, but not crying anymore eyes. She looked so confident, so fearless, and so cold, as if she was not afraid of him anymore, as if she knew all his weaknesses. He suddenly put his hands off her, backing a few steps away. He started to button up his gown, as the gypsy used that moment to put back the torn dress as much as she could, so to be at least a little bit more covered. When he was ready he went to the door, noisily opening it and yelled:

"Paulette!"

The servant appeared not much longer after it, followed by Corrine. They had both heard the shouting and the cries coming from the kitchen, but none of them dared to say anything about it. However the younger maid was more than concerned about the gypsy, so she could not help it but to follow the other one. As they emerged at the door they could not conceal the confusion and surprise from their faces when they saw the pushed and broken furniture, the spilled on the floor products and the half naked girl.

"Locked her immediately back in her room and clean up this mess," the minister ordered coldly, ignoring their expressions. He quickly glanced to the gypsy and added: "And for goodness sake, cover her with something more decent."

Frollo did not even wait the servants to realize themselves from the view and as usually to bow their heads and say "Yes, sir." He simply pushed them aside as he hastily walked to the stairs and up, heading for his bedroom.

WHEN the minister entered the room, he closed the door angrily. He turned, leaning his back on the door, and gradually came down to the floor. He looked blindly before him- it was nearly dark and the room was not lighted with any candles. He felt as if the cold darkness was surrounding and consuming him entirely. He was still full with rage. He was furious to the gypsy, but also with himself. Millions of thoughts were torturing him in the same time, not leaving him a moment of peace. He was not sure why he had stopped himself, he felt wanting her more than ever, but as if something was preventing him from having her. He felt weak, pathetic, and wretched. He should have finished what he had started and freed himself from this intolerable abstinence. But why then he stopped? He knew the answer of that, but it made him only angrier with himself. He had not care before about her misery, about her pleadings- all that just made him enjoy conquering her even more. However, when he saw today the same agony in her eyes, which had before always gave him pleasure, something was different- he felt sorry for her, wanted to comfort her, and even he felt the need to drop on his knees before her and beg her for her forgiveness. Today he had felt something that he thought that he would never feel towards any gypsy- he had sympathized for the misery that he himself had cost.

Frollo closed his eyes in anger. He hated it, he hated feeling compassion, he hated feeling weak, he hated wanting so much to make her feel happy. It was all because of his restrain- that was the only reason. Seeing her today talking and laughing so carelessly and lightly with the servant had made him remember when he had seen her for the first time. On the Feast of Fools her confidence, her smile and her lively eyes had enchanted him, had bewitched him to desire her and readily to refuse the virtue of abstinence. However, now they were influencing him controversially.

He opened his eyes again piercing at the darkness before him. In a moment, a spark of red passed across the room. He stared harder at the empty space, as suddenly the image of the gypsy from the day of the Feast of Fools appeared before him. She looked even more supernatural than he remembered. Her red and tight dress was emphasizing her delightful figure; in her black, raven hair a yellow tiara was blazing I the sun lights (even though the room was completely dark), and all around her the colorful, gypsy scarves were making her appear even more magical, marvelous, mysterious, and celestial. She started moving, spinning, sliding, arising, curving, and dancing. It seemed to the minister as if every motion of hers was completed with a thrilling tune, which was echoing around the entire room. He was not dreaming, he was awake, but his mind was so deeply lost in the fantasy that he did not care anymore what was real and what was not. He could not have the actual Esmeralda, not yet- something unexplained was preventing him from causing her further pain, but he could have this. He could have the fantasy, which returned to his emotions with the same burning passion.

She came closer to him (in the same way as when the gypsy had jumped teasingly on his chair on the Feast of Fools while dancing). But this time she slowly and ecstatically started to take off all her colorful scarves, and after she had finished them she pulled her red dress down, letting it slide slowly down her dark skin. The minister felt arousing. During the last weeks, even though he was feeling constantly sexually frustrated, he never dared to pleasure himself. All his life he knew that it is a sin to violate his own body, and despite that he was ignoring so many vices that he was doing recently, somehow it was feeling wrong for him to add this one as well. The only time that he had done such thing was the first night that the gypsy spent in the house. Throughout the day he had been imaging what things he would do to her when he returned back, but his work had kept him busy until very late, and eventually Esmeralda had fallen asleep when he had returned. Now it was feeling as if it was all repeating again- the same unsatisfied desire, the same unreachable gypsy, and the same ache begging for relieving. He cared neither for sins, nor for virtues anymore. All that he could think of was the intolerable abstinence that needed to be deadened, even just for a little. He watched as the gypsy came down to him and opened his gown, sliding her hand in his pants. He inhaled heavily with pleasure, as her hand grabbed him firmly, pleasuring and releasing the so long restrained lust of the minister.