I turned my face away and stifled back my sobs as I felt his fingers pry open the lips of… my spot… and then at once I felt the hard spear of his… thing… enter between them. The sensation was such as I had not expected or dreamed of… a curious feeling… the filmy thing he had put over the head of his thing… kept me from feeling how hot it was, which I knew from having had to hold it before. “Oh, oh, Mr. Raleigh, oh, please, oh, no, no,” I groaned, and my hands started to push at his shoulders.
“Be careful now, Lucille,” he warned sternly, his voice very hoarse and shuddering with his greed to have me. “You just hold me tight with those arms and don't fight me off or you'll suffer for it and you know where. A good whipping now on that lovely reddened backside of yours, my dear girl, would really make you scream.”
“Oh, don't, don't, I will, I'll obey you-M-Master,” I sobbed, and frantically hugged him with my arms.
At the same time, I felt him thrust deeper into me, spreading me apart there till I felt I could not bear it any longer-and then the savage twinge of pain I felt, so much greater than when his finger had pressed into me-made me try to close my legs and I cried out, “Oh, it hurts me there, it hurts me. Oh, please take it out. Oh, you're going to hurt me dreadfully. I know you are.”
“Yes, on that lovely backside, you timid little piece,” he snarled. “Are you going to spread those bare legs of yours wider and kiss me, or am I going to ring for the servants?”
Sobbing hopelessly, I tried to obey him, even though my entire body stiffened to resist the pain, the shame… the terrible wickedness of what he was going to do to me, who had never even kissed a strange man before. I put my trembling mouth to his, and felt his tongue drive hard into it-and at the same time, he threw himself against me violently.
I shrieked aloud, but his mouth covering mine as it did muffled the sound. It felt as if my body was being torn by the twisting of a dull knife inside my most intimate flesh. My bare legs tried desperately to close, but he had his left leg in between mine, and had thrown his right leg over my left, preventing any defense. My head flung back on the pillow, and I tried to shove him away with my hands, but he was furiously determined now, and thrust once more… I felt something give way with an… excruciating pain, and then I felt his… thing… plough deeper into my body till his belly was grinding against mine and his hands mashing down my heaving bare breasts. His mouth kept fused over mine to stop my cries from being heard, and then-
He began… to… to poke me… as he called it… drawing back his body, then thrusting himself back to me, and his spear thrust back into the hole it had made for itself with that tearing. I felt… moist… there… and I guessed that it was blood. But it hurt abominably; the laceration was a good deal, and his rubbing back and forth against it as he thrust back and forth into me made me writhe and twist and cry in my suffering. He only spoke to me to tell me fiercely to keep kissing him and holding on to him, and to put my free leg over his and try to arch myself up when I felt him thrusting into me… I was delirious, confused, in pain, and I hardly knew what I was doing… It was an eternity… this constant in and out movement in my lacerated, throbbing… spot. And then suddenly he cried out and crushed my mouth down with his and I felt a strange, vigorous throbbing… and then he lay panting, crushing me down. My spot… seemed to be thrust apart and choked up enormously… And then slowly I felt him rise off me and draw himself out of me… and get out of bed. I buried my face in my hands and wept disconsolately.
“There, now, Lucille, my dear, you didn't die after all. And as for the pain, I assure you there won't be any more… at least not in front,” he chuckled, and I trembled at the gloating, the cruelty in his voice, the thickened drawl of satisfaction to see me naked and conquered, and ashamed there before him. I couldn't bear to look at this man who had bought me, examined me naked before my own parents, then tied me up and whipped me cruelly, and finally made me do… what only a decent married woman is supposed to do with her own husband.
“Stop your crying, you silly fool, or I'll give you something really to cry about,” he ordered, and I managed somehow to control my sobs. “Now get up and go to the bathroom and take a shower. Then come back and I'll put your nightdress on you. Don't get scared at the blood. It's what every virgin has the first time her sweet pussy is poked. Here, I'll help you, my dear.”
Trembling, half fainting I managed to get out of bed, stark naked. I glanced down at my body… Blood smeared my upper thighs and the hair of… my spot. I tottered, but as he held me and led me to the bathroom, ordering me sternly to fend for myself, because I wasn't as badly off as I thought. And the shower did revive me, but my teeth were chattering with fright. I dried myself, and there was no more blood, but I felt wrenched and torn and sore, and that, with my bottom still hurting me, made me almost faint with feverishness. When I came out, he had my nightdress waiting, drew it over me, not without holding me to him and stroking my breasts and bottom and making me kiss him. Then he lifted me and put me back in bed, drew the sheets over me, and bade me goodnight… It was a night of terror for me, the slightest sound awakened my fitful nightmarish-ridden sleep with a start, for I feared it was he coming back to me again. But he did not return. At least, not again that night…
He entered my room the next morning. He could tell from my manner that I was in dread fear of him, and he seemed to enjoy that. He adopted toward me now a dominating attitude, that was both patronizing and condescending. Although he spoke to me in words of endearment, they were such one might use toward a child one has scolded.
When he remained in the room, he ordered me to get up and remove my nightdress. Remembering the events of the night before, I hesitated to appear nude before him. But, knowing what would happen if I gave him the least excuse to whip me, I slipped out of bed and pulled my nightdress off.
CHAPTER 5: AN EMBARRASSING SCENE
“Lie over my knees so we can see how your naughty bottom is this morning, Lucille,” he directed. He made no direct reference to what he had done to me after he had whipped me so cruelly last night, but his manner and attitude, his possessive behavior were so obviously referring to that cruel, animal act that I turned a vivid red and lowered my eyes as I obediently crossed over to where he was seated. He laid me face downward across his knees, then examined my shivering, tensing upturned naked bottom very thoroughly to see the effects his painful ministrations had had upon it. Modesty was a luxury which I was denied, and no treatment was too embarrassing for him to subject me to.
“One would hardly know you had been spanked last night,” he declared, his hands stroking both the cheeks of my trembling bottom while I continued to lie across his lap, eyes closed and face turned to the floor, abandoning myself in fear and submission. “I was afraid I might have whipped you a bit too hard, and I didn't want to do anything to mar the beauty of those pretty plump cheeks. It is nice to make them an interesting shade of red so one can know you have gotten a good taste of the strap, but I hope I never have to whip you until the skin is broken. It would really seem outrageous to have it all lacerated. But that will all depend on you, my dear. If you show hesitancy to be obedient and do just what you are told, then I shall have to keep on whipping you until you are more susceptible to orders. But I will just give you a spanking now to keep you on your good behavior till I have more time to devote to you. So get up and get me your hairbrush.”
He lifted me from his lap, then gave my bottom a smack with his open palm to start me toward the dresser, where I had put my hairbrush. When I got it and took it back to him, he turned me over his knees again and spanked me.