“What time is it?”

“The sun’s been up for hours. Why do you want to know?”

Why does he want to know. Hmm. Maybe he’ll go back to sleep, here. “Your mother upset with you, or something?”

“Oh, she’s gone out of her mind, she just accused me of having an affair with Thanatz. Madness, of course we’re good friends, but that’s all… if she paid any attention to me she’d know that.”

“She sure was paying attention to your ass there, kid.”

“Oh, dear,” lifting her dress, turning so she can also watch Slothrop back over a shoulder. “I can still feel that. Did she leave marks?”

“Well, you’ll have to come closer.”

She moves toward him, smiling, pointing toes each step. “I watched you sleep. You’re very pretty, you know. Mother also said you’re cruel.”

“Watch this.” He leans to bite her gently on one cheek of her ass. She squirms, but doesn’t move away.

“Mm. There’s a zipper there, could you…” She shrugs, twists as he unzips her, red taffeta slides down and off and sure enough there’s one or two lavender bruises starting to show up on her bottom, which is perfectly shaped, smooth as cream. Small as she is, she’s been further laced into a tiny black corset, which compresses her waist now to the diameter of a brandy bottle and pushes pre-subdeb breasts up into little white crescents. Satin straps, adorned with intricately pornographic needlework, run down each thigh to hold up stockings with tops of dark Alençon lace. The bare backs of her legs come brushing softly across Slothrop’s face. He starts taking giant, ass-enthusiast bites now, meantime reaching around to play with cuntlips and clit, Bianca’s little feet shifting in a nervous dance and scarlet nails digging sharp as needles underneath her stocking tops and into her legs as he goes planting hickeys, red nebulae across her sensitive spaces. She smells like soap, flowers, sweat, cunt. Her long hair falls to the level of Slothrop’s eyes, fine and black, the split ends whispering across the small of her white back in and out of invisibility, like rain… she has turned, and sinks to her knees to undo his pleated trousers. Leaning, brushing hair back behind her ears, the little girl takes the head of Slothrop’s cock into her rouged mouth. Her eyes glitter through fern lashes, baby rodent hands race his body unbuttoning, caressing. Such a slender child: her throat swallowing, strummed to a moan as he grabs her hair, twists it… she has him all figured out. Knows exactly when to take her mouth away and stand up, high-heeled Parisian slippers planted to either side of him, swaying, hair softly waving forward to frame her face, repeated by the corset darkly framing her pubic mound and belly. Raising bare arms, little Bianca lifts her long hair, tosses her little head to let the mane shiver down her back, needle-tipped fingers drifting then down slowly, making him wait, down over the satin, all the shiny hooks and laces, to her thighs. Then her face, round with baby-fat, enormous night-shadowed eyes comes swooping in as she kneels, guides his penis into her and settles slow, excruciating till he fills her, stuffs her full….