Danny Starr - Go Down Payments

She whimpered, terrified that this man should treat her so cruelly. He was the most frightening thing she had ever encountered. Cousin Walter was one of the good guys compared to him.

"Uuuunngghh!" she squealed, jumping as she felt the cold of the palate knife press between her breasts. Her eyes opened and stared at it, and she gasped, seeing him press the edge of the knife lightly into her flesh, tracing chilling trails around each of her breasts, being careful not to touch the fleshy mounds. Then the knife moved slowly down the flatness of her belly, stopping only at her navel. Marge was thankful the palate knife didn't have a point on the end of it. From the wicked gleam in the man's rheumy eyes, she thought he might be tempted to dig into her belly button. And then the knife slid lower, moving through her blonde pubic curls.

"Golly! Golly! Don't… no!" she screeched insanely, trying to pull deeper into the mattress to escape the probing, poking prod of the blade at her naked tenderness.

The man grinned his evil smile at her, getting a perverse thrill from watching her cringe. To him, she was one of many frightened rabbits, good for toying with. He felt thrills curl through him, knowing he was the cause of her fear. Yes, at the moment he was God, and if he so desired, she would bow down to him. Even if the girl didn't realize it, she had been made for his pleasure, and if it pleased him to watch her scream and shudder, then he would make her do so. And if it pleased him to make her bleed, then he would do that, as well.

"Look at all the pretty colors on my palate knife," he said to her. "Aren't they beautiful?" he asked, lightly pressing the cold, flat of his blade against her vaginal lips, making her violently tremble.

Marge felt herself shaking beyond control and realized she might cut herself on his knife with her trembling. But she was unable to help herself.

"Pleeeaassse… " she gasped. "Oh, gosh! Don't hurt meeee… "

Her body tightened with horror as tears drib bled down her cheeks.

"Tell me," Bessel asked, "would you prefer I use my cock over here? Huh? Would you prefer it if I stuffed my fat cock into the tight little pussy between your legs? Or should I stick my palate knife into you?" And he began lightly scraping the instrument up and down against her tender vaginal lips. He pressed the outer labia a little. more insistently, and Marge was afraid he was cutting into her.

"Not that, not that," Marge screamed involuntarily, her torso trembling in terror from the vicious touch of the cold metal.

"You'd rather have my cock, wouldn't you?" He continued, tormenting her, knowing it was expectant that she answer in a positive way. He had to hear her say it out loud, so she could hear herself admit it!.

His free hand reached out and tangled itself in her blonde hair. Her eyes moved like rolling marbles, alternating between his diabolical face, and the palate knife she could feel pressing against her vaginal lips. As she watched, he slowly moved the knife higher until it once again rested between her breasts. Then he pressed the dun edge of the blade against her right nipple.

"Don't… don't… " Marge begged, looking up into the man's face, hoping to find some compassion. But the look hadn't changed. His dark eyes glowed with feral lust, a raw animal craving with no sense of right or wrong. And she knew he was hungry for her young, virginal body. Stretched out on the cot, she felt so totally at his evil mercy.

"Tell me," he insisted. "I want to hear you IY it. I want to know whether or not you'd prefer my cock filling your cunt to this knife. Come on, kid. Talk! I haven't cut out your tongue… yet."

He sneered at her, wickedly pulling her hair as he spat his obscene desire to her. She didn't know what to do or say. She was trapped. Her mother wasn't here to help her. No one could help her. This man could kill her and dump her in one of the empty apartments where she might not be found for days.

But to let this foul, disgusting man touch her? To allow him to make use of her naked body for his own lascivious, wanton desires? How could she submit to that? Yet, if she didn't, he might hurt her with his palate knife. Would he really harm her if she refused him?

Her eyes looked once more at his face. He seemed even older, now, the face seemingly prematurely lined and hardened with contempt. She saw many emotions in his face at once, but none of them was mercy. He might even kill her after he was through with her, but as long as he ravaged her body, she would be alive, and maybe, just maybe she'd be able to escape from him.

"O-okay," she finally gulped, dryly. "I prefer it."

"Prefer what?" he screamed like a raving maniac. "What would you prefer?" he asked, moving the edge of the knife over to her other nipple, all but cutting into it.

Gee! she thought to herself, feeling the pain of the knife-edge against her breast point. Why was he behaving like this? She was letting him do what he wanted. Why was he trying to make her say so many things out loud?

"Okay, okay," she sniveled. "Your cock. I'd prefer your cock to the knife," she managed, feeling ashamed and helpless, trembling to think he might be toying with her before starting to mutilate her body.

She thought of her Cousin Walter and how rough he had been with her, at first. But his roughness had been an act more than anything else. She had been able to sense the genuine affection he'd felt for her as the minutes had passed. And whatever he'd done to her, he had done with a strong desire to please her as much as he had made her please him. But this terrible man was only interested in himself.

Her grudging agreement to let him use his cock seemed to satisfy Elliot Bessel, and she heard the metallic zzzzz of a zipper going down. The weight on the cot shifted as he moved between her thighs. With almost wicked force her long, smooth limbs were tugged farther apart, baring the delicious pink trough of her vagina. He stared at it, taking it in, admiring the rich coral color surrounded by the heavy blonde fluff of hair. He thrilled to see the outer folds protectively closed around the narrow strip of curried inner lips. The delicately fluted inner labia were almost completely hidden. Just staring at her tender young pussy made him lick his lips, his eyes pasted to the luscious sight of them. He quietly put the palate knife down on the floor, his attention completely riveted to the white, trembling body of the young girl under him. She felt like heated satin, and her flesh was soft, yielding foam rubber.

Marge lay there, terrified when he moved, more terrified when he didn't. His hesitation seemed to unnerve her all the more, and she noticed he still had his dirty slacks on, even if his cock was protruding from the fly. Some of his jet-black pubic hair was also visible, making everything appear even more obscene. She couldn't pull her eyes away from it. Her body shuddered with revulsion as fear continued spasming through her. She knew he would be forcing it into her at any moment, and it would hurt. He wouldn't know she was a virgin until afterward, but she was certain her telling him beforehand would make little, if any, difference. Considering how thin and lanky Elliot Bessel appeared, his throbbing cock seemed immense. Maybe it wasn't quite as large as Cousin Walter's, but it was big, very big.

"I'm going to fuck you now, kid," he snapped, evilly. "You might say this is my way of thanking you for warning me, last night. I got a good cock, so you'll really like it."

Marge tried not to listen to the stupid things he was saying. He kept talking about how lucky she was to get his cock, but she knew, all she really wanted was for him to get this over and done with. She dug her heels into the flimsy mattress, preparing herself for his vicious onslaught, trying to make herself totally unfeeling.