Pierre le Valle - The Pleasures of Bankruptcy

Francis Freeman drew the borders of the garment carefully away from her crotch..

“Now ask me to finger your cunt!” he said calmly.

Shocked to her very depths by the indecency of this new demand made upon her, Rose groaned and writhed upon his lap, careless now of that fact that by thus moving she afforded his throbbing sex a fresh delight.

“If ever again I have to tell you something twice…” he said sternly.

“Ohh! Ohh! For pity's sake-don't… don't-I mean do… do please finger… m-my cunt!” quavered the distressed Rose.

Pale with horror at the words she had just uttered, she sank back in his arms once more. But the contact which she dreaded was long delayed. She stiffened in an intense and nerve straining attempt to endure without crying aloud her shame and her intolerable excitement.

Her thighs — with the delicate charms between them totally unprotected now against attack… were pressed upon by the male fingers intruding from the rear-while in front his other hand toyed gently, through the fine silk of her gown, with her genital mound.

Rose could have screamed aloud. She bit her lips to restrain it She even parted her thighs to the inevitable approach-wishing above all things to get the ultimate horror finished and done with.

Suddenly she gasped and quivered. The touch had come-but so very delicately that it was as if a feather had floated from somewhere to rest quiveringly on the lips of her sex. The feather was the top of a single finger — a finger that was controlled with such artistry that it seemed destined to drive her into a delirium of unsatisfied desire.

And the feather was blown now in the capricious breeze of the man's desire, not only to revel delicately in this silken sexual warmth and intimacy-but also to drive her into wild and irrepressible acknowledgment of a sensual delight which would surmount even her great burning sense of shame.

The finger moved indeed-but it moved so very gently, so perfidiously, upon the outer lips of this entrance to the sheath of ripe womanhood, that Rose sank white teeth into her soft lower lip and clenched her fingers into small fists in the attempt to restrain her long, groaning sighs from becoming actual cries of sensual passion and yearning.

With what firmness she could muster, she had made up her mind to endure the indecency and insult of the firm grasp and the instantaneous attack upon her sex which she fully expected from this man of purposeful action.

And after the consummation he would withdraw. Each of them would gradually regain poise and self-control… then he would mutter an apology-and after a while she would agree to forgive him — and forgive also his having forced her to tell her shameful story and thus unveil her intimate and almost indecent past. She would hint that he had become temporarily unbalanced as a result of this story, and add that she herself had lost self-control.

This was the dream which flashed across her mind as she involuntarily almost projected her naked sex forward for the lewd and hasty grasp of the man. But that assault did not come-and this which had come upon her instead was of a nature to render her incapable of any clear thought.

There were two fingertips now-and now three, or so she thought, and then only one again. She could not tell quite clearly. She only knew that mere zephyrs dwelt upon the pink cleft and lips-and that they kept her vibrating and almost breathless-and that now she could feel her slit literally pouting, confessing its intolerable desire for firmer touches, for more compelling pressures.

Little flames of desire that burned and ached deliriously shot, through the nerves down there-and then spread all through her quivering body.

Rose abandoned herself completely. She could not even speak and if she had been able to articulate she would have probably pleaded that this marvelous torture should end-and that Freeman should do anything and everything he wished to end the exasperation of her disordered senses, and to bring facility and ultimate repose to her shaken nerves.

She was not aware that she had grown pale with this torment that was yet a delight. She did not realize that she had breathed a long drawn “Ohh! God!” that was just one moaning sigh of passion. She did not know that she had writhed up until she lay in a shivering ball in the man's lap-and that now his other hand played no longer upon her silken gown, but directly upon her sexual nakedness.

She became vaguely aware at last that both his hands were lustfully engaged in toying with her secret flesh- and that a finger of each, from front to rear, bore down more firmly now and travelled to meet each other along the hotly pouting, throbbing furrow of her cleft.

And he shook her by what he held-so roughly that all her body was in movement Rose wailed hoarsely in a keen delight that overcame all sense of shame or fear. In a moment it seemed that she must explode… spending-spending-spending. The animal treatment she was now undergoing… even the pain that she experienced- served as a palliative for her sensual passion… yet it was a palliative that increased instead of banishing the tumult of her senses.

If she had a thought in the midst of her confused and frantic desire, it was not of resentment at being treated as the target of his caprices. Instead, it was the firm conviction that now, now he would take her body. That immense thing on which she writhed as her flesh and hair were so deliriously tugged would be buried deep within her body. Her chastity and all her vows of chastity would vanish like smoke before the tempest of his unchained desires.

Scarlet and quivering, she acknowledged to herself that she did not fear the prospect at all. He would possess her-he must possess her! She believed that she would die if he did not take her-and take her instantly!

Ahh! Now he was releasing her tormented flesh from the grip of his fingers. He was stroking her thighs, her loins, her back-as if to calm her. He was breathing quickly, but otherwise there was no sign on his part of that desire which corresponded to her own.

Rose emitted one long, despairing sigh as his hands were withdrawn from beneath her skirt It had been then, just a terrible, lovely dream. He did not intend to take her at all. He had just meant to torment her, to work her up to a state of palpitating passion and submission-so as to shame her more than she had already been shamed — by abandoning her.

Calmer now, she extended her body from the ball into which it had been rolled-not minding, if she noticed, that now the lovely nudity of her thighs protruded quite noticeably below her disordered skirt. She was beginning to awaken to a sort of gratitude that he had decided to spare her chastity… to be thankful in spite of her hotly throbbing pulses, that he had proved incapable of thus consummating her final disgrace by taking her in a sexual embrace while she was ecstatically incapable of any sort of resistance.

But what was that low demand he was making-in firmly measured tones?

“Show me your pussy… and your pretty little cunt, Rose!” he was saying quite calmly.

Ahh! Dear God in Heaven! A minute earlier he might have done anything he wished… seen anything he desired… by his own volition. But no… he had to wait till she had regained her composure-and then compel her to the utter degradation of denuding herself as indecently as possible-in cold blood.

She had no thought that she could escape doing what he demanded. And yet she protested. “But — but, Mr. Freeman,” she quavered, “after what you have already done… to m-me-am I not disgraced sufficiently… in your eyes and my own?”

“Are you going to do as I tell you?” he inquired, in a tone that sent a quiver of fear through her body.

“Yes-ohh… b-but-y-yes… I will!” she promised, and her voice rose crescendo with fright as he grasped one of her rounded arms.