“We’re like broken pieces glued into a vase. An ugly, magnificent vase. If you think about it.”

Carly in her breath and pulled up her glasses as she stared at the younger girl in front of her. Carly herself wore a long, ruffled black skirt with white stocking and shoes that were two size’s too small. Her skirt was held tightly by a white ribbon tied in a neat bow, her bust raised up and proud due to a restricting corset. Ruffles reached to her wrists, her fingers covered in elegant, silky white gloves, clutching an umbrella. Her neck bore a choker, a picture of the late Queen of England.

However the woman before her, wore a simple black dress, and stockings; not even bothering to wear shoes.

“You’re a Marquis though, how did you ever wind up here?” Carly’s eyes traveled from the girl to the background. She could not see what was lurking in the shadows, but she could hear noises—moans and groans.

“What brought you here then?” the girl sharply retorted, sneering.

“You know we drag in the naïve, love.” An arm wrapped around Carly’s waist, tugging at her bow.

“People should not wonder around aimlessly at night.” Another arm, sneaking around her bust. It was soft to the touch and small, a girls.

“Get your filthy hands off of me!”

“Ah, yes, there’s the world’s finest ,” he says admiringly. “But, unfortunately, that is not the apparatus which is to provite me with the pittance I intend to consume. Here, take hold,” says he,  putting his buttocks into my hands, “that’s the source whence all good things do come, be so kind as to help me .”

Reneey rolled her eyes, and crossed her arms.

"Just because I like doesn't make me a , I have standerds too." Leaning against a thin, man. He looked perhaps fiffteen or even sixteen at the most. He had a tux, dressed elegent and simnple, however he himself wore a mask. A shining, sliver mask to concil his identity.

"You tried to me! And then have with a man! In front of my eyes too!" Carly shouted, shaking with anger and disbielf.

"You can not the willing." came the disgusting remnark from the man.

“Oh, the buggress!” said he, frigging himself assiduously, “the tramp, look at her there, gorging herself with the dogs, that’s how one should deal with all woman, and if  they were to be handled thus, we’d have no more sauciness from them, ah no! Domestic animals like those dogs, why should they not be treated the same way? Ah! Impudent that you are, , slime, scum!” he cried, stepping near and spraying his over my bum, “buggress, I’ll have you eat with my dogs.”
 
"I can not love you anymore, I'm sorry."

"Why not?"

"Because I'm married! Because I'm an aristocratic!"

"Because you're husband beats you, because you're not allowed to even look him in the eye, because you're still scum to him."

"Arn't you all scum?"

"We're like broken pieces, glued together into one ugly, magnificent vase." 
 

*Underlines are exerpt from Marquis De Sade-- "120 Days of Sodom"