“Oh, dear God in Heaven, have mercy upon me… no, no,” she had screamed. “Please, please, I… I… can't any more, my whole body hurts.”
“Nonsense, hurry up. Spread those legs, and stop that stupid false modesty of yours. A soldier's wife should be quick on the draw, or she'll spoil the battle.”
“But--not-now-you-hurt-me-so… hurt… ouch… ooh… I-can't stand it… any longer!” Her last words came out with a terrifying scream. She squirmed like a trapped animal, but it was of no use. The madman had taken possession of her body, and he did not listen to her pleas for mercy. It left him cold. Now, in her old age, she knew that her pleading only spurred him on to greater atrocities. The tears, the screams and her pure terror were the ingredients that the monster she had married needed for tearing down the barriers that existed between the sexes. It was the only way the brute could complete the act of intercourse.
Her husband-and what mockery he made of that sacred title-placed his instrument of torture with uncanny accuracy before her narrow pleasure gate. Fear tightened her entrance, but this did not deter him. The first pressure of his heavy knob, only the tip of this horrendous club, felt like the heavy blow of a sledgehammer, ramming into the soft folds of her tiny crevice. Despite the pitiable situation the new Madame Briquart was in, it became horribly clear to her that one of the two had to give. And it was also obvious to her that it was not going to be her husband's rock-hard ramrod. Either his stout cudgel had to become smaller-which was most unlikely-or her poor little tender wedge would have to stretch enormously, or explode. The latter seemed most probable to her, and her terror-stricken body shook with fear.
Then it happened! A tremendous jolt shook every fiber of her body, removing the last little vestige of doubt about the outcome of this uneven battle. A glowing rod, hard as a steel piston, rammed into the soft folds of her tender flesh, making the two bodies one as required by the Holy Scriptures. But, Good God, did it have to be that way? The regular, never-ending up and down motion of this dreadful piston, whose devilish constancy reminded her of the blind, puppet-like motion of a platoon of foot soldiers, started to pound into her. Unfortunately, this time she was continuously aware of what was happening to her. No blessed unconsciousness, no saving grace of fainting, gave her any relief-every single, painful jolt registered with incredible accuracy upon her tortured nervous system.
She would have never believed it; the monster had succeeded in penetrating her… two-thirds of him had disappeared into her belly. And still, the good Lord had not answered her pitiful prayers to let her die. Up and down it went; with each thrust the ramrod pole disappeared deeper and deeper into her squirming insides. Each jab burned her abused little opening worse than the one before. It finally hurt so much that she no longer felt the welts and blisters on her back and behind which she had incurred during the thrashing. She could only think of the incredible pain which her tortured lovenest had to endure. The burden that pressed her down upon the mattress, almost choking all the breath out of her, kept snorting and grunting, repeating over and over. “Ooh, fantastic, great, what a marvelous fuck. Ooh, what a delicious little cunt. It squeezes around my prick like a nice warm glove. It's so much better than the first time. And the little bitch is getting wet, too. No wonder, when she's being laid with a prick like mine!”
The helpless young wife was nauseated to the point of throwing up. Not only had she been shattered by the unbearable pain and the extreme humiliation, but the ghastly vulgarity of the man whom she had promised to honor and obey only a few short hours before left only one feeling for him in her bleeding heart… that of utter disgust. And those wild thrusting jolts! They penetrated her defenseless body mercilessly. It seemed to her as if she had been pierced through and through, the enormous prick filling her completely, rubbing her raw and bloody. And with each succeeding jolt- ohh, would this torture never end-the rod seemed to grow larger, heavier and harder. It pushed deep inside her, tearing her innermost linings, and the pain of it shook her in bone and marrow. She could no longer bear it, and her poor, tortured mind escaped into hallucinations. She had visions of purple animals, pink clouds and stars bursting in fluorescent colors. She was sliding down a snow-covered mountain and suddenly she was on a sailboat during a rainstorm. And the pains kept tearing into her, though she was now beyond caring.
“Well, little one, don't you love it! That's what they call a good lay. Now you can really lap it up; I'm going to give it to you every night for as long as we will be married. I'm going to fuck you as long as you want because it takes me quite a while before I come. The longer it lasts, the more they love it. It's funny how all those broads keep asking for more.”
The young bride almost choked. Tears took her breath away, sobbing shook her body almost continuously and only shrill, piercing screams escaped her throat.
The convulsions, shaking her body without stopping, and the cramps which made her shiver and jerk constantly, only seemed to excite her husband because suddenly his enormous tool grew even larger. The horrible thing which had kept her pinned to the mattress began to throb and behave as if it had a life all of its own. She could feel it stiffen within her weakened flesh. She gave one last scream and tried to grab with both hands at the monstrous thing which was tearing her body to pieces. This last, desperate effort on her part caused the crisis to occur. A hot jet shot into her, the poor thing thought that it was boiling water and the blistering agony made her faint. At the same time the Colonel's fearsome spear slipped out of her burning hole. A strange, warm juice came gushing out of her, running down her thighs, wetting the marital bed.
She had lost consciousness again, and for quite a while she lay lifeless upon the bed. She could not remember exactly what had happened, but, possibly to protect her ravished body, she had turned herself over on her stomach. Then, suddenly, a stinging and indescribable new pain tore through her body, a pain so incredibly tormenting that it made child's play out of what had just happened before. She tried desperately to scramble away, but she was too weak, and the heavy burden upon her back made it impossible for her to move. The Colonel's hands grabbed for her breasts and squeezed those tender globes savagely. The hands went down to her belly, held her firmly and… the poor young bride was forced to undergo a true impalement, according to all the rules of the perverted game.
The Colonel had made use of her fainting spell to enjoy a form of debauchery common among professional soldiers who have been deprived for a long time from the company of women. The pain which called her back to life was again caused by his immense organ. This time, however, it was not stuck into her still raw and burning love nest, but in the other, much more narrow gate… her delicious behind.
“Your asshole is more appetizing than that little twat of yours,” her husband snorted. “It's nice, tight and warm… goddamn tight, I would say, but that makes it even more exciting. I'm coming already. Dear God in Heaven… You have a beautiful ass, my dear… Jesus, aaah, that's the thing. A tight, appetizing asshole… I'm coming… I'm coming…!”
The third onslaught during Madame Briquart's wedding night was the worst of all. A doctor had to be called to put sutures in her behind and it took a long time for her to recover. The doctor, who had been a friend of her family, used his influence to secure a Royal letter which could be used to demote the Colonel to the rank of a common foot soldier upon his wife's request.
With this weapon she was free from his love-making, and she graciously allowed him to return to the field of honor, back to his whoring greensleeves and his orderlies. She performed the duties of a perfect housewife in all departments but the bedroom, and people whispered behind her back that she was a true virago.