A. Verse: The Violation of Marcia Thomaston

“This is a nipple, to give suck,” he said brutally, as if he were a professor illustrating his lecture on the blackboard.

The whip described a circular motion over the naked breast, retained by the uncut part of the satin and more voluptuous in its enticing carnal appeal because of that half nudity and lascivious proffering from the cut fabric than if entirely bare.

“And this, a tittie, bubbie, otherwise known as breast, to hold on to and milk in the throes of passion, Marcia,” he said.

“Pity… pity… oh… my… God I am… dy… ing… of shame,” she groaned, her voice ebbing in her deep mortification, her body governed by uncontrollable shudders.

The whip lowered to her belly, the tip, in deliberate and poised hand, ferreted out the delectable almond-indentation of her navel.

“This is your bellybutton, darling, which grinds against my own, the two fitting together when we fuck.” His words were merciless, curt, his eyes narrowing to witness her cringing timidity, her delectable body fettered and prepared to yield to the crushing burden of male lust!

Transferring the whip to-his left hand, he bent over the bed and, as her head rose up, her eyes staring, widened with terror, he applied his right hand on the dainty red shell buttons which patterned down-the crotch of her satin panties.

His thumb and forefinger savored the task and now she was helpless to his will, for the whip was ready.

The first button… loosened.

She was made aware of the terrible, the inevitable, the inconceivable shame, to which all these ordeals had been but prelude.

“Ohhh! No, no, Bob, don’t… oh my God, have pity on me… don’t shame me so mercy, Bob… Bob… let me go… and I’ll try… to… to… love you… but I can’t I can’t… bear… to be… shamed… and… and… forced… oh, oh… pity!”

Her voice rose stridently.

The second button unhinged from its satin inlet!

Her body arched up; she strained against the fetters, but the silk was strong and reinforced by doubling; her exhausted plight, her terror, her shame, weakened her and made her vulnerable.

Indeed, he had chosen the silk to fetter her purposely, for even if she managed to wrench away her bonds, he would show her that it would be to no avail; the illusion of freedom was to be forever denied her!

Her lips formed incoherent plaints; her half naked breasts heaved, pantingly, overwhelmed by her emotion; she tried to close her thighs, widened by the pinioning, but it was to no avail; her belly shrank, then, reacting in her aghast apprehension of his pillaging fingers, rushed up as she strained to fling herself up and free!

Tears, tears, of bitterest defeat, filled her widened, limpid brown eyes, those eyes which hid gazed so coldly on the male!

A third button was loosened and then, despite her shriek of consternation, the fourth and last!

And, with the unfastening of the buttons, the satin flaps parted, on either side… and there, there, nestling before his lustfully gleaming eyes, was that chalice of such arrogantly sacrosanct turpitude!

He savored the terrible confusion which pervaded her: her eyes started, wild, frantic with humiliation and revulsion; her lips palpitated and trembled, her head turned from side to side and the streaming mantle of her raven hair accompanied her movements; her body was stricken by nervous tremors that made delicious to watch the columns of her thighs, the curves of her gloriously svelte calves, the chiseled perfection of her ankles, still enclasped within the coquettish black suede pumps.

With his left hand, he brought the tip of the whip toward the revealed temple of her quimshrine, foliaged by the luxuriant raven down, which sheltered-but not for long’-the pouting, insolently up-surging coral petals of her love nook’s supercilious mouth-yes, supercilious, for that counterpart of her arrogant lips was as cold and pretentious as her presumptuous, pouting mouthful And now, to her shame and terror, thee plaited tip of the thong grazed the quims rubbery of her delectable Venus-orifice and she heard him say, contemptuously, “And, to go on with our nature lesson, Marcia, this is your cunt, your twat, dunny, cooze, pussy, quim, or, as the Indian-tutored Englishman might term it, your choot. Beneath that bush of coarse hair is the groove down which my cock will plunge very soon! Oh, perhaps I teach you too much too fast… I mentioned my cock and you haven’t even touched it or seen it yet.”

And, heedless of her pleas of “No, no, Bob, don’t… don’t, for mercy’s sake!” he unbuttoned the fly of his trousers with his right hand and drew out a shaft which, while it was not so vigorous in dimension as Gregory’s, could nonetheless give excellent account of its penetrating self.

“Look well, Marcia, look at it! This is a man’s penis… cock… prick… ramrod… fuckshaft… Oh, you close your eyes, do you! That will teach you a little respect for my demonstration!” And the whip flashed down across her shuddering belly, marking that divine alabaster goblet with a cruel stain of torment.

“Arhahhhhh! Oh, oh… Bob… how can you be so cruel!” groaned the unhappy, exhausted beauty, tears streaming without restraint from her widened eyes… for she had complied under duress of the lash to obey him! “Look… that’s it, Marcia… feast your eyes on it, for soon it’ll be hidden out of sight deep down inside that noble, untouchable little snatch of yours!

Yes, I think it’s time now, Marcia, darling! Get yourself ready to be royally fucked until the sperm gushes out of your shell pink ears, my wealthy, spoiled little bitch!”

And, discarding the whip by placing it across her belly, so she could feel and see the reminder of his domination of her shuddering body, he quickly took off his trousers, shoes and drawers and stood naked, manfully erect, before her.

“Now then… beg me to have you,” he said, stooping and bringing his face close to her contorted visage.

Ah, how magnificently sensual it was to feel this mastery of a beautiful, haughty, disdainful girl, cold in manner and overhearing in mind, hypocritical and coyly deceitful, sterile in her emotions… to feel her terror, for Marcia emanated an aura of the most abject and trembling apprehension conceivable… to see the treasures of her body unveiled, helpless and doomed to sacrifice to Priapus-Pan.

He studied her, heard her groan and sob, heard her tearful plaint, “Oh… oh … Bob… I’ll do anything… only – not this… pity don’t make me… oh … if you knew how I am suffering… Bob… no… no be merciful…“

And finally, when her voice trailed off and she could summon only the-appeal of her dilated, tear-drowned eyes to aid her in her beleaguerment, he spoke mockingly, with finality: “Say your prayers… they tell me that when, a – girl gets the prong put to her for the first time, she wants her mother call your mother, Marcia and think of her; for she got rammed to have you, mores the pity!”

“Oh… oh… n-no… oh… ohh… B-Bob… don’t… don’t,” she gasped, choking with sobs, shuddering, her head turning from side to side.

“I think I shall let you keep your panties on, to spare your modesty, Marcia,” he said, gloating over her distress. “I can prong you through. the gap here and you’ll feel my cock just as forcefully inside your twat! All right, dear, keep your legs wide open, for I’m getting set to ride you to kingdom come!”

And he mounted the bed, to the accompaniment of her shriek and as she tried to raise her shoulders and head from the sumptuous, lush bed, he set his fingers down on the sweet hollows of those ivory shoulders and, looking into her c-yes with an intentness and purpose that stunned her, he forced her down… down … placed himself over her, throwing his right leg over her: left to pinion and maintain the distension of her columns. to bliss-cuntdom!