Anonymous - The memoirs of Dolly Morton

Uttering a startled cry, I shrank away from him, plucking my nipple out of his mouth. Keep still, whatever I do, he said sharply. Then, taking my other nipple between his lips, he sucked it and rolled his tongue over it as if it had been a bit of candy.

I forced myself to lie still, and, after a moment or two, he let go my nipple. Then he stroked my belly and ran his hands several times over each of my thighs. Finally, separating my legs a little, he touched the spot, twining his fingers in the hair and pulling it rather hard.

Now he inserted the tip of his forefinger between the lips, making me squirm and quiver from head to foot — but not with pleasure-and extracting from me a stifled shriek: Oh! Oh! Don’t do that! I exclaimed. Oh! Do take your hand away!

Don’t be silly, he said. You’ll feel something else there in a minute or two.

With a strong effort I controlled myself and lay quiet again. Turning me over onto my face, he looked at my bottom, saying: The marks of the whipping are not quite gone. There are still a few faint pink lines on your skin.

Then he played with my bottom in all sorts of ways, stroking it, pinching it all over, gently spanking it and squeezing the flesh with both his hands. He finished up by separating the cheeks and rubbing his hand up and down the division from the upper part to the cleft of my thighs.

The whole of these proceedings had been intensely repugnant to me, making me feel quite sick; moreover they were totally unexpected. When he laid me down on the bed, I thought that he would at once have advouted me. I had not the slightest idea that I should first have to go through so much preliminary handling!

He now turned me onto my side and again took me in his arms, kissing my face, throat and bosom and inhaling the sweet odor emanating from my flesh. He evidently was pleased with the charms of his victim.

You are a pretty little woman, he said. Your figure is very good and you are plump without being fat. Your skin is beautifully white and smooth, your flesh is firm. You are fresh as a rose and as fragrant as one. I am fond of the delicate perfume of roses on a woman when I have her naked in my arms, and that is I told Dinah to give you the bath with the Turkish powder in it.

After toying with me a moment or two longer, he laid me on my back, saying: Now, Dolly, I am going to do the job. To use plain words, I am going to poke you. You will feel a little pain, but you must bear it. Every woman suffers a little the first time she is poked by a man; but afterwards she feels, no pain at all-only pleasure.

Now the fatal moment had come! Closing my eyes and covering my face with my hands, I waited for the stroke, feeling greatly frightened, very much ashamed and intensely sorrowful.

Taking hold of my knees, he stretched my legs wide apart. Then, getting between them, he laid himself down upon me with his breast on my bosom, at the same time removing my hands from my face and pressing his mouth on my lips. With his fingers, he opened the way, and, immediately after, I felt the tip of his member inserted between the lips of my spot. I shuddered and uttered a low cry. My martyrdom had commenced!

Clasping his arms round me with his hands under my bottom and holding me tightly, he began to move his loins up and down. I felt the column beginning to penetrate me, stretching the parts and causing great pain. Because I was utterly ignorant of the size of the erect male organ, and because I was in a state of great fright, the weapon seemed to be of enormous dimensions-tit really was not very big)-and I thought that it could not possibly be got into the sheath.

Oh! Oh! You are hurting me dreadfully! I shrieked, beating my hands on the bed and shrinking away from him as much as I could, Oh! Oh-h! I can’t bear it! Oh-h-h! Take it away! O-h-hl Stop! Stop! Oh-h-h!

He worked away steadily, gradually forcing the implement deeper. I felt as if a wedge were being driven into me and I was being split like a melon. I winced under his thrusts, quivering all over, kicking up my legs and squealing with pain.

The weapon, however, was driven deeper and deeper until its further progress was checked by something inside the sheath. My ravisher-for such, in reality, he was-had reached the membrane which barred the passage: my maidenhead!

Increasing the vigor of his strokes, Randolph battered at the opposing rampart. The pain grew sharper. The tears rolled down my cheeks. I writhed and I squealed. But, at the same time, I instinctively arched my loins to aid him in his efforts to break through the barrier.

He paused for a moment to take breath. Then, gripping me tighter, he resumed the assault vigorously.

Oh! Now it hurt me! I was small in comparison to him, and the parts now seemed to be stretched to bursting. Stiffening myself and clenching my teeth, I lay groaning as the horrid thing was being driven with increased force against the obstruction.

Randolph quickened his strokes. The membrane began to yield. Then suddenly it gave way, and his member went right into me up to the roots. At the same instant I felt a sharp, tearing pain which made me utter a shrill cry.

Randolph went on working, while I, quite involuntarily, moved my bottom up and down, keeping time with his thrusts, though I had not the faintest sensation of pleasure-quite the reverse. His movements

became quicker and quicker. I writhed with pain but still kept heaving up my bottom to meet him. He gave me two or three more furious pushes, then the gush of fluid came, and, at the same moment, a curious spasm seized me. I could not help wriggling my bottom and squirming from side to side as I felt hot jets spurting unto my very vitals.

The thick fluid, ’as it flowed over the lacerated edges of the ruptured membrane, seemed slightly to assuage the pain. When all was over, I lay in his arms panting, my naked bosom heaving, my face wet with tears and my whole body jerking spasmodically. There was a buzzing in my ears, a mist before my eyes and I thought I was going to faint.

After a moment or two, Randolph got off me and, giving me a kiss, said: There, Dolly! It’s all over now! It won’t hurt you so much next time!

When I had recovered a little I became aware that I was wet between the legs, and that something was trickling down my thighs. So, sitting up on the bed, I looked at the spot and saw that blood was oozing from it. I noticed also that the towel under me was stained with the proof of my virginity. I was dreadfully frightened, as I had no idea that there would be an effusion of blood, and my terrified imagination made me think that I actually had been split open.

Oh! Oh! I am bleeding. What shall I do! I exclaimed, wringing my hands and beginning to cry again.

He took me in his arms and petted and soothed me, saying: That’s nothing, Dolly. You needn’t be alarmed. Every woman bleeds a little the first time she is poked. Then, getting off the bed, he brought a basin of water and a sponge. Making me again lie on my back with outstretched legs, he sponged the spot and my thighs until he had removed all outward traces of his bloody deed. He then told me to put on my nightgown and to get between the sheets. I did so, glad to be able at last to cover my nakedness.

After he had washed himself, Randolph put out all the lamps except a small one. Then he got into bed beside me, but did not touch me. He seemed to be tired, and, after giving me a kiss, he turned over onto his side with his back towards me. In a short time, I knew by his quiet breathing that he had gone to sleep. I heaved a sigh of relief, heartily glad that all was over-

for a time, at any rate.

My spot was sore, and the parts felt stretched. I had a curious sensation, as if his stiff member still was sticking in me, and I kept as far away from his as I could in the broad bed. At first I could not go to sleep. I was far too miserable, and I lay crying bitterly for the loss of my virginity.