Three days had the patriotic forces been fighting for the reconquest, three days of incessant rain and freezing winds. The humid and cold climate of the town that was Buenos Aires did not help either side, the streets converted into barriers and the ditches dug by the artillery, full of muddy water were mortal traps for those who dared to venture out.
The men had been recruited by Liniers' troops, without distinction, Spaniards, Creoles, merchants, and slaves fought to recover their land, property, and honor, taken away from them months ago by the British invader.
Private homes seemed like small fortresses, doors and shutters closed, the password that changed day by day was the only communication with the outside. Women, locked up with the sole company of maids and some old slaves who had not been recruited, spent the day praying and trying to do their domestic chores between the atrocious thunder of cannons and the horror of combat cries.
The Vizgarra family's house was no exception; Mrs. had handed over her husband and brother to the patria, prisoners since the invasion. Young still, but worn out from exhaustion, she knelt in front of the household altar, praying for it all to end finally, asking that the brave soldiers return her life and husband.
A cry startled her from her thoughts; a man was screaming with pain beneath the window of the living room. She barely opened the shutter and saw an invading officer fallen under his horse, which had been hit by artillery fire.
The man was pounding on the window and begging for help; Mrs. hesitated between Christian charity and hatred towards the enemy, observing for a good while the soldier's efforts to free himself from the weight that held him down as the rain threatened to drown him. Finally, she ordered the old slave to help the fallen officer and place him in front of the fireplace.
The invader in his red uniform stained with blood The clay lay exhausted and frozen. With distrust, he looked around while Mrs. gave orders that he didn't understand but resulted in him ending up undressed and disarmed in front of the owner's harsh gaze. He then tried to improvise something in Creole but was ignored by those present. A maid brought a chair and candelabra, closing the doors as she left.
The woman looked at him with a mix of rage and anguish, thinking about her husband. In her brother, who surely didn't receive such friendly treatment from the enemy. She approached him with a cup of aguardiente and the soldier, warned that it would be easy to take the house, grasped the woman's wrist and tried to stand up to reach his sword. This movement made him stumble and fall to the floor, the mistress took the sword and placed it on the officer's neck while shouting for help. The maids and the old black man returned with ropes and the prisoner was then firmly secured to his chair.
This episode awakened something in the invaded woman. She took the officer's dagger and holding him by the hair, she pressed it against the agitated chest of the man who looked at her with fury. She dared more, cutting without care the intimate garments that covered the enemy's masculinity and releasing a mocking laugh: With so few balls does he think he can win this war? The invader didn't understand the words but the gesture and the mistress's mockery in front of his wrinkled and shriveled virility due to the cold were more humiliating than any insult. He tried to free himself from his restraints. But the woman brought the dagger perilously close to his flaccid penis, so he endured the shame and remained motionless.
The woman felt a power she had never experienced in her life, there was a battle being fought within her beyond what was happening on the streets. Without witnesses and without caring about tomorrow, she was going to settle all her life of reserve and submission with her own prisoner.
She brought a cushion to the chair and knelt in front of him. The man ran his arms and neck with the tip of the dagger. The prisoner's breathing agitated and tried to protest, and to prevent him from shouting he gagged him with his handkerchief. With the edge of the weapon resting on the Englishman's groin and with luxurious slowness he rubbed against his member, the lady's face very close to the scene so that her warm breath filled those parts so suffered. Escaping the will of its owner the penis began to fill and rise, she let out a laugh enjoying the power she exercised over her dangerous caress. Her skilled fingers in embroidery and manuality moved with exact precision producing a macabre dance between the dagger and the masculinity of the soldier. With his left hand he took the enemy's balls firmly while the red cock casaca rose fully before his eyes. He raised his gaze to the man's face which seemed to be in a trance, despite his efforts to avoid it, the invader was excited in a way that only the restraints holding him back could control. She herself was possessed by lust and releasing the dagger worked with her right hand under the petticoats and between the legs, touching herself in a forbidden way and enjoying for the first time in her life, her left hand released the British balls and slid wildly down the pirate pole. At the sound of a twenty-four cannon the officer and the lady collapsed exhausted while the walls of the house crashed over their bodies.
23 comentários - The Invader
Dejeme decirle que es un relatazo...!!! Besos y puntos. (Los puntos mañana...) 😘
¿esa dama patricia sera un antepasado suyo?
por las calles de Buenos Ayres por aquel entonces era popular esta copla
"Ingredientes de que se compone la quinta generación del marqués de Sobremonte":
Un quintal de hipocresía,
Tres libras de fanfarrón,
Y cincuenta de ladrón,
Con quince de fantasía,
Tres mil de collonería;
Mezclarás muy bien después,
En un caldero inglés,
Con gallinas y capones,
Extractarás los blasones
Del más indigno marqués.
Ni "la Perichona" lo hubiera hecho mejor.
Genial su relato mileidi, un placer leerlo y, por suerte me quedé sin balas, volveré y releeré cuando recargue.
Gracias por compartir y feliz 2016 👍
Yo comenté tu post, la mejor manera de agradecer es comentando alguno de los míos...
Volví a dejar los merecidos puntos y a deleitarme nuevamente con su relato.
Yo comenté tu post, la mejor manera de agradecer es comentando alguno de los
míos...
Felicitaciones amiga!! +10
Espero también que tengas un hermoso año 2016 junto a tus seres amados!!
Es excelente el relato hermosa !
Puntines y Reco !
Gracias por compartir.
Angie te deja Besos y Lamiditas !!!
La mejor forma de agradecer la buena onda que se recibe es comentando, al menos al que te comenta. Yo comenté tu post, vos comentaste el mío?
Compartamos, comentemos, apoyemos, hagamos cada vez mejor esta maravillosa Comunidad !!!
Menos mal que fue un final feliz !!! ..... 😀 😀
Pero a la vez todo el mundo interno de una familia tipo que describes con tanta y esmerada exactitud.
Realmete los leños en la estufa, el esclavo y la domestica... El desarraigo de los convocados hombres de la familia...
Disfrute cada letra de lo tuyo.
Bueno de pronto surgió la trama entre la muerte y el erotismo, entre una sexualidad reprimida de la mujer de la epoca y la exitacion animal del sentirse exitado que surgió desde lo casual.
Como no felicitarte con tan bella lectura.... la metafora final es un poema digno de un libro de antalogia.
Simplemente decirte que del nostalgico recuerdo de la secundaria a la exitacion transgresora de la sexualidad con el enemigo.
sin palabras .... Obvio puse 10 puntos
(Los que hacemos teatro sabemos que cuando el publico se queda con "ganas de mas" es porque la obra esta perfecta así tal cual ... se traslada tranquilamente a la escritura, pero bueno, mi ego peca y quiere otra parte).
Todavía sigo pensando en el relato del ascensor (mira con lo que me quede).
Hablando en serio, me llenan de satisfaccion tus palabras al fin y al cabo el comentario aqui es como el aplauso del teatro. Asi que reverencia y gracias
Un relato de alta calidad literaria con una dosis de erotismo que me dejó atónito.
Merece estar en papel, con tapas duras.
Gracias por compartirnos tanta exquisitez.
Feliz año !!
Mamita !! Perfecto !!
Jajajaaaa !!
No recordaba haberlo leido antes. Mañana paso con puntaje, porque me queda solo +1 y sería una injusticia.
O sea: me volaste la gorra Lady!!!