Maddened by fear, she summoned her fortitude, waning as it was, to achieve the task and he had the gloating triumph of witnessing this naughty, beautiful socialite push the scissors off the table with her arrogant, aquiline nose. On the rug near it, it was now simple to bend down her head, pick up the handle of the scissors in her teeth and turn, shamefacedly, to make the chargrinning trek back to him on the divan.
He let her taste the dregs of shame to the last, without a word, his eyes fixed harshly on her, pitiless in their contemplation, he saw her blushing, tear-stained face, her widened eyes, clouded by suffering.
He extended his right hand for the scissors, took them from her mouth and then, transferring them to his left hand, cuffed her across the cheek with his open right palm, saying, “That’s for taking so long when I asked you to hurry! Now, then, come close to me, on your knees and rest your hands on my knees! Look into my face yes, I want to watch your eyes, see your lips quiver… I want to know the full extent of your snobbish pride’s defeat, you teasing, puritanical slut!”
Groaning piteously, Marcia obeyed. He uncrossed his legs leisurely, making her wait a moment in agony before she could apply her gloved, trembling hands upon his knees.
And then, burying his left hand in her hair, he drew her head closer and applied the scissors to the incision from which her left nipple so lasciviously protruded and said, “Hold still, or I’ll cut off your nipple by mistake!”
“Oh! Bob! What are you going to do to me! Oh, don’t hurt me any more, for God’s sake,” she pleaded, weeping, oblivious to pride, oblivious to everything but this maddening and relentlessly pursued torment and exploitation of her.
Never in her life had she felt so helpless, so weak, so much the slave!
He deftly probed, till he had caught the under edge of the fabric with the lower blade of the scissors, then began… slowly… carefully… to cut… the slit widened… elongated… more and more of her nacreous breast flesh appeared and her eyes widened with horror and apprehension.
“Don’t dare to move! The whip is here and I’ve only to turn the blade of the scissors to punish. you for disobedience,” he told her harshly.
Her fingers turned,., pressed; writhed, clenched in martyrdom upon his knees; her breasts rose and. fell quickly, enervated.
He completed his handiwork; now, the aureole and crest of the globe emerged from the cut in the satin, the pear-slope of that globe naked to his eyes, accessible to his hands, his tongue, his lips!
And he commenced to cut away at the other slit now, she groaning, murmuring incoherent plaints, shivering and flushing with agony.
He tossed away the scissors.
Then, still holding her by the hair, he reached round and down behind her with his right hand and attacked the eyelets which held the elastic band snug upon her satin panties.
“Bob! What are you doing! Oh… ohhhhh… noooooo! Not that, oh, in God’s name! Pity!” she shrieked, wild with horror.
He drew away his right hand, tugged her hair unmercifully with his left and, his lips com~ his words cutting, biting, sibilant, he threatened her, punctuating his words with vigorous smacks of his open right palm against her reddened cheeks, her panting mouth.
“I’ve paid for you… for all of you, do you hear! Yes, for that pure and arrogant twat between your legs, your big bare legs, you bitch! Paid for every inch of you… your armpits your breasts and the valley in between those obscene teats… your calves… yes and your ankles, do you hear! All of you and I’m going to have all of you now! Are you going to tell me I haven’t any right, when I’ve put cash on the line to knock off a piece of you! Are you?”
“Ahhh! OhhmyyyyGoddddd! Stop… oh… oh… you’ll kill me! Ahagghhhhh! Not so hard! Ohh, pity, pity!” she shrieked, writhing, trying to turn to avoid the deliberate, cruel, sonorous attainments of his crashing, stinging palm on her tender flesh.
“Then will you obey me?”
And he pulled her hair so hard that she shrieked in pain, her eyes revulsing, her mouth agape with agony… ah, how her breasts heaved, almost entirely naked, almost entirely emerging from the clasping cup-sheath of the satin brassiere! “Y-yes… oh… stop. I can’t… bear any more… oh… oh… my God,” she whispered, sagging against him.
The ivory perfection of her satiny cheeks was cruelly marred by evil, glowing splotches the red incarnadine of her lips was deepened at one corner, where a trickle of blood marked a savage slap… her body was shaken by a tumult of martyrdom, of exhaustion.
Cruelly, he said,. “Put your head between my legs so I can get at the elastic better!”
And opened his knees to receive the defeated sacrifice of her drooping head, her streaming raven hair; her hands clung weakly to his legs, sustaining her half erect, half falling against his limbs. And, without more ado, his right hand returned to its quest.
In a moment, the elastic band loosened and she groaned aloud in her terrified, shattered woe.
“Stand up!”
She tottered; she would have fallen had not he thrust out his right hand and placed his palm against her shivering belly to sustain her as she rose; he released her hair, took up the whip in his left hand, held it ready.
“Now, Marcia, walk into the bedroom and get on the bed!”
Her eyes widened…her mouth trembled… she could not speak… but a terrible spasm rent her body.
He rose, the whip whistled before her aghast eyes…
“Didn’t you hear me, you stupid bitch?” he commanded.
She could not bear the knowledge that his eyes blazed…
She fell on her knees once more, but this time absolutely devoid of arrogance or ruse, dominated,. subjugated, by her revulsion and fear of the ultimate degradation of her psyche and her vain flesh.
And, prostrating herself, groveling at his feet, her fingers writhing on his ankles, clambering to his calves, drawing herself along on her belly, on her knees, her eyes raised up to his and dilated, humid with an unbearable horror, she sobbed, piteously, “Oh… Bob… oh… Bob… won’t you… let me go … don’t do it… to me… oh… I’ll be your slave… whip me. Don’t… don’t… force me… in God’s name, I beg of you… I’ll kiss your feet I’ll kiss the rug they walk on… only be merciful!”
The whip was her answer. Setting down his foot on her neck, he bent and descended the whip remorselessly upon her satin-sheathed bottom, her flanks, her naked back… again… again-again…
Lasciviously vivid weals of suffering sprang up on the ivory back, the thighs.
“Ahrrrri Ohh… hoooh… no… no… pardon… aharahhh… Bob! Oh… oh… you’re killing.me… no more. Oh, I can’t stand it, I can’t stand it!”
And, breaking away from the spurning foot, she rolled over and over on the rug, throwing her head to this side and that, writhing in agony from the searing radiance of pain that invaded her Sensitive body…
He threw away the whip. He went to her, stooped, picked her up in his arms and carried her, half fainting,, weeping, groaning piteously, her body shuddering with tumultuous agitation, into the bedroom, threw her brutally on the bed.
Then, seeing that one of the white sheets was drawn back on the other side of the bed from that on which she shudderingly lay, swooning in torment, he wrenched it loose and began to tear strips of it with strong hands.
Before she could regain her realization of what was occurring, he had flung her on her back and, seizing her wrists, bound them with a double loop of the strips, making the other ends fast around the bedposts; and as she struggled, he was on her, pinioning her ankles with other strips, so that soon she was spread-eagled on the sumptuous, wide bed, her breasts virtually naked and heaving passionately with terror, clad only in her pumps and the satin tights, which no longer assumed their protective snug enclaspment of her magnificent loins.
So dazed was she by his mastery of her body and spirit that she had now not enough strength to attempt to free herself; that he counted on, for the element of fettering, however ineffective, must only serve to heighten. his lust.
He took off his belt, as an idea came to him; looping it round her neck, he buckled it tight and then, attaching a doubled strip of the torn sheet to the end of the belt, applied the ends of the material to the nearest wrist fetter.
She was prepared-she was 3oomed-to that which all her life she had resisted so arrogantly and deceitfully-to the fulfillment of a man’s desire for her flesh!
Behind the panel, Gregory’s eyes narrowed and glowed with fiery expectance.
Marie’s bewitching face was flushed, her lips parted, her nostrils quivering…
Travers returned to the salon, retrieved the whip and then went back to his captive, holding the lash triumphantly, prepared for the final domination of her flesh-for he-had won the conflict of her mind.
Then, standing at the foot of the bed, his eyes fixing on her, he said harshly, deliberately, “And now, at last, Marcia, your nature lesson!”
Then he approached toward the side of the bed; she, trembling, shuddering, her eyes humid and dilated with terror, watching his every gesture.
Along her creamy thighs, there ran exquisitely sensual, fleeting tremors which betrayed her protestations.