Anonumous: The prodigal virgin

With blind fury he shot the arrow to its mark, feeling it tear its way through the obstructing membrane with a kind of brutal ecstasy. Marion screamed with pain and fainted away. Unheeding her pale bloodless face, and of the lips writhing in pain, Herbert continued his goatish attack until he had spent himself. It was not until he had risen to fetch a towel from the bathroom that he became aware of her condition. Then, trembling with fright, he fell to her side, covered her face with the tenderest of kisses as he pleaded with Marion to open her eyes.

“Oh, my darling Marion, forgive me for being such a beast! I was so carried away by my desire for you that I lost my head. Oh, open your eyes and speak, my darling, and tell me that you forgive me.” Humbled now, by fear and anxiety, he covered her naked thighs with the towel, and, taking the half-conscious Marion in his arms, he implored her to show by some sign that she was not in danger. He stroked her wrists, shook her head gently, and at last, springing to his feet, tore open his handbag and brought forth a bottle of brandy that had been placed there by his thoughtful valet. A few drops of this strong liquor, forced past the girl’s lips, caused her to shudder slightly and open her eyes.

Herbert cried joyously at this evidence of life, and, taking her gently in his arms again, covered the pretty face with loving caresses. “Oh, my sweetheart, I was afraid I’d killed you. You must forgive me-I was temporarily gone mad. I have not stopped wanting you since I saw you clasped against Stan Cochrane’s naked body. You have haunted me since that moment-I could not help it.”

Marion gazed up at him with troubled eyes. She was still numb with fear and pain. The brutal entrance had given her a devastating shock, and forcing her as he had, at a time when she was filled with shame at having so lasciviously embraced his organ with her lips, the experience had given her nothing but pain. Although Herbert had inundated her with his boiling fluid, there had been no like response from her shock-ridden loins.

Herbert seemed to realize this, for he gathered the exhausted girl gently in his arms and laid her on the bed. Then, shamefaced, he placed a damp towel in her hand and went into the bathroom, feeling that Marion would appreciate the chance to attend her wound with no audience. After a safe period of waiting, during which he made his own ablutions, Herbert returned to the bedside. Marion had crawled beneath the covers. She looked up at him, saying nothing, and Herbert, seeing that she was trying to ask for temporary mercy, kissed her softly and told her to go to sleep. He too felt weakened by his two hasty losses, and was not averse to a few hours’ rest. He lay down beside the frightened girl, and. patting her reassuringly, sank into a sound sleep.

Marion awoke several hours later, at first not realizing where she was or what circumstances had brought her to the strange room. She stirred, her body coming in contact with that of Herbert, who still slept. She recoiled, starting up as if to leap from the bed. Then remembering that she had been married that afternoon, she sank back against the pillows. Lying there in the gloom of the darkened room she tried to untangle the queer jumble of thoughts that raced through her mind.

First there had been Stan, breaking down her resistance with sly arguments and bolder caresses, subjecting her to one embarrassment after another in the process by which he had awakened in her mind ideas which she would have rejected at the time of her arrival at the Dunes. Thinking back, she recalled that day when, paying no heed to her entreaties, he had exposed her body and driven her into spasms of delightful torture with his obscene caresses.

Then there had been that night when with her own sister’s cooperation she had been a witness to that act politely known as the conjugal relation. Trembling with shame and excited lust, she had shared Mildred’s bed, and, as their naked bodies fused in lascivious heat, she had thrown maidenly innocence to the wind and become as much a party to the orgy as the other participants would allow. She recalled with recurring shame the mad delight she had taken in thrusting her lips against the genitals of both Mildred and Stan as they writhed and pitched their bodies in mutual excitement.

She thought too, of the wild desires the feel of Stan’s scepter had aroused in her, and how eagerly she had looked forward to the consummation of her marriage with Herbert; how when alone with Herbert at last, and stripped of her clothing, she had confessed-yes, boasted without shame of her pre-marital initiation-and had kissed that noble weapon with all the ardour of a bacchante. Then, reminded of the shocking climax-amounting, in fact, to rape, as Herbert so rudely forced his way into her tiny crevice, impaling her helpless body until she had fainted away-she felt extreme nausea and thought for a moment that she would become ill. Her loins still ached from the recent bombardment, reminding Marion of the merciless assault, and she feared to move lest the pain increase.

At this moment Herbert awoke. He turned on his side, facing her, at first with surprise, then remembering the events of the day before, he took her gently in his arms, fondling her lovingly as he begged again for forgiveness. Pouring out words of endearment, he asked that she not be frightened by what had happened, and Marion, calmed by his tender tone, assured him that she had been as much as fault as he.

They lay thus for some time, murmuring in low voices as, still half-asleep, they exchanged mutual confessions of blame for the violence of the night before. But soon, as Marion’s seductively curved body came into closer contact with his own, Herbert felt his excitement returning, and although, to give him his due, he brought every mental exertion to bear in an attempt to dispel his carnal thoughts, his weapon refused to cooperate and came to a stand in slow, methodical jerks.

Marion was not unaware of this happening. Feeling the touch of it against her thigh, she at first thought it to be his hand, and she had shrunk from the contact. Then, noting that he held her with both arms, she gave a little cry of fear as she realized the identity of the groping object.

“Oh, Herbert-please-I can’t do it-not now. Oh, please, dearest Herbert, how can you do such a thing? Is that all men think of?”

Herbert looked at her with an astonishment that was not wholly simulated, then he laughed softly, reassuringly.

“Why, Marion, darling, I assure you that the disturbance you feel down there is not due to any deliberate thought of my own. The rascal is merely responding of his own accord. You see, my dear, a man’s self-control has its limitations. To take you again at this time, while you are sore and exhausted, is furthest from my mind. Nevertheless, that stiffening brute is not equipped with a conscience. He knows only that he is within reach of an adorable resting place, and, despite anything I feel, will not be satisfied until he comes to his goal.”

“But-you’re not going to-let him have his way, are you, Herbert?” Marion asked timorously. The now throbbing monster scraped menacingly against her thigh, and, thinking to ward off any sudden attack it might make, she grasped it timidly but firmly in her hand. The touch of the pulsing organ quickened her breath, and, although she shrank from the thought of it once more tearing into her vitals, she could not resist the desire to feel its smooth hardness, to caress it with tingling fingers.

“You’re not helping to allay its hunger, you know,” Herbert protested. “If you continue that delightful manipulation, the poor fellow might break loose, and if that happens, my darling Marion, I cannot be held responsible for what happens next.”