Every man who was old enough was drafted to fight. Unfortunately, by the end of the conflict, the two armies had all but wiped each-other out. The two...tribes eventually called a truce, and merged into one, but by then, the damage had already been done. The fighting had all but wiped out the entire male population of the tribes, leaving only the children and the occasional disabled man, or a few who had managed to escape the fighting. Due to this, the females of the tribe now outnumbered the men. You fucking feeble useless arsehole. You frail wimp. Call youself a labourer? - you're pathetic - you cripple."Stung by these insults, just as Gwen intended, Harry managed to lift the heavy box and carried it over to join the distant heap of spoil. Her muscles stood out like steel bands and the veins in her forearms and upper arms looked fit to burst out of her skin. A steady stream of jibes and insults caused her to hurry up and she never once paused to lower her burden to the ground. She was. Captain Hardbotham decided to send a very real message to other 'catamites', as he called them, and murdered Sir Needmore using his steam powered vehicle to push the wheeled chair into the river. You see, 'shame' had been brought upon the unit. Then he displayed his contempt for his fellow officer by hanging Sir Needmore's motto above the mantel of the fireplace in their mutual club. Somewhat as a battle trophy, one might say. That much we had deduced, except for the captain's motive. Now it. Miss Evans encouraged me to lick and suck on her pussy. I must have been doing something right as she was moaning and groaning on the desk as I continued to pleasure her. Eventually she lifted herself up and instructed me as to how I should lick at the harder nub just above her pussy. She encouraged me to flick my tongue towards it and to lap over it with my tongue and mouth. It was the first time, I think, that I did everything Miss Evans told me to do without question. Miss Evans was panting.