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She paused-sighing and quivering. Already she felt the touch and light pressure of this intruding flesh upon her clitoris. And the added flames thus kindled gave her courage to do what she must. And suddenly she gave a tremulous cry of triumph and gratification.

For the entire bulb had slipped slowly past the outer lips. The strain was greatly reduced-and even the light pain was converted into a sort of rapture. From now on. Rose was quite confident, she could endure it without crying out-unless it were with bliss. The hardest part was over-for she trusted to the natural resiliency of her inner passage to make room for even so huge a guest.

She would not have yielded up her place now for that of any queen in the world. Like a gourmet she meant to savor every second of her sweet impaling. Fears vanished before the quick realization that he was allowing her to be mistress of the situation-that she could proceed as slowly or as quickly as she chose.

Yet she hissed sharply through her clenched teeth as she admitted just the tiniest fragment more of that darling prick into her secret person.

Trembling like a leaf she felt her inner tissues yield to the knob of his masculinity and encompass it like the tightest of gloves. She heard the man emit a long, low sigh of pure gratification-and this sound was an encouragement to immolate herself more readily at his altar.

Yet she worked with the utmost caution as she gradually forced his weapon into her tender body. She had to pause between pressures-sometimes to emit a wee groan of pain and passion as the surprised and reluctant fibres within her tried to give and adjust themselves to an enormity unprecedented in all their previous experience.

The blood returned to her fine features. Scarlet now- trembling with an ecstasy that no discomforture of her secret tissues could combat, she felt gingerly beneath her with the tips of two fingers.

It seemed to her that miles of this stuff tissue had passed the portals of her sex and thrust upwards within her. That it had not pierced her heart-emerged in her throat-dimly surprised her.

“Ahh!” she gasped-as her exploring touch apprised her that hardly an inch of the shaft still remained outside. She caught her breath. She lifted herself up-and poised on her naked toes for an instant-and then cast herself forcibly downwards.

She cried out huskily and involuntarily. Ohh! God! It was done! They were yoked together as closely as it was possible for two bodies to be. Her little pang of pain died away-and was replaced by a tide of clear, burning rapture so immense that she felt born anew, and shook and writhed and cried out in a felicity almost too great for endurance.

It seemed to her that her body was nothing now except a shell-a shell ecstatically crammed with the throbbing flesh of this man. But the wee movements of her writhing upon the shaft which filled her determined the issue of her congested femininity.

She wailed clearly in that golden voice of hers-and then she quivered violently for an instant-while her dew flooded down to greet this dear invader of her body. It was easier after that. She dared attempt no abrupt movements-yet she found that the moisture of her warm emission made it more possible to rise and fall very gently upon the shaft which pierced her.

It seemed to her now that her seed flowed constantly. And the fact was that jet after jet issued every moment or two from her delicate, excited inner glands. It was as near as possible to that continuous emission, whose raptures, we are told, would slay if prolonged for more than three or four minutes.

She could feel the head of his prick filling her cunt to bursting point, and it seemed to her that the mouth of her womb was nipping at the invader in frenzied delight His sperm seemed to burn as it jetted up the hot passage — which writhed and clung in a lascivious passion which she would never have dreamed possible.

She moaned with rapture as she pressed herself to him, twining her body to his, wrapping her legs round his loins, holding him to her with every fibre of her being.

“Once more!” he gasped hoarsely. “Once more-Rose… you are so wonderful!”

Wilder than ever with delight over his eulogy, she met his hot kiss and fell against his body. Yet, on tiptoes, she did not cease the slow upwards and downwards motion of her lovely body.

Knowing her to all intents and purposes out of her senses with ecstasy, he admired the infinite restraint with which she continued to make no move to increase the rapidity of her movements. Every little while she quivered and spent-but after a brief pause, there she was again- measuredly cherishing and nourishing both his rapture and her own.

Suddenly, with a gasping inhalation of his breath… Francis Freeman grasped her by her soft shoulders with fingers that sank like talons into her yielding flesh. And his sperm jetted once more into her body in ecstatic proof of his frantic bliss.

And the ecstasy of the woman was such that, mingling her semen with the spurts of his, she gave a gurgling little scream and then-as their spend ceased, she wilted and sank to the floor.

Be raised her to discover if she had fainted-and she smiled up at him ecstatically — but there were mauve circles under her beautiful eyes, and her lovely face was drawn and haggard.

“It has been too much for you, dear. You must go to bed at once. I can't have you getting ill, you know!”

“I did not know,” she said simply, “that such an ecstasy was possible on earth.”

“And I did not know,” he whispered, “that the woman lived who could make me so happy.”

“After hearing that, my darling,” she whispered with great glowing eyes, “I could be whatever you wished me to be…”

“You're persistent in your sentimentality at least,” he observed-but softened the effect of his words by kissing her gratefully.

“Nevertheless,” he said, a little later-after he had carried the exhausted Rose up to the little suite she occupied, and had put her to bed to recuperate, “Nevertheless, no one has ever acted toward you with such brutality before. Nor am I in the least repentant.”

“Nor I…” she murmured. “Not even sorry!”

“Of course,” be conceded-with a somewhat grudging and reflective admission, “you seem to have established a rather stronger hold on me-a more important place in my life-than I had expected.”

“I had no conscience in the matter. I meant to use and abuse you as my desires dictated-with no thought of your own modesty and refinement and self respect.”

With her head half turned on her pillow, she still eyed him fixedly. Her face, in the unbound masses of her long hair, was even more charming, he thought, with its traces of sexual fatigue-than it had been before.

“I haven't complained much-have I?” she whispered, as he seemed to pause for her reply.

“Damned if I don't believe you enjoyed it from the first!” he burst out. “Of course-the more sensitive and well bred a woman is-the more keenly she will respond to a forced and licentious servitude.”

“Thank you,” she murmured-with a wry little moue — “I don't really know what has happened to me. But I do know that I detested you when you were just the landlord to whom I owed money which I could not pay-and that I ceased to detest you from the instant that you imposed upon me a physical and mental fear of you.”

“I had a dread and shame more bitter than I can say, as you allowed me no intimacy or reserve unviolated-but I didn't dislike you. I can see that now.”

“And that means, Rose, that you will never be quite free as long as I live-or I either. And yet I could quite cynically do the most abominable things to you-at the expense of your pride and womanhood. I had, indeed, thought more than vaguely of showing you naked to some of my libertine friends and of making you endure the most extraordinary ordeals.”

“Please!” she said tremulously. “Not in the near future — not until I get perhaps a little-toughened.”