“Yes…yes…see… I obey!”
With alacrity the debutante rope, trembling like a leaf.
“Now then, your hands on your hips!”
Marcia obeyed.
“Turn around!”
Again, panting, sobbing, she obeyed.
He leaned back again against the cushion, indolently surveying her sweeping, supple naked back, the startlingly lewd provocation of her jutting posterior hemispheres so delectably encased in the satin tights, the long, sensual, feline sweep of her thighs and calves, the flexing of her chiseled ankles, constrained to delicious tensioning and arching in the up bearing clasp of the pumps.
“Now take a few steps toward the door… slowly…“
Marcia began to walk… hesitantly… he saw the right thigh undulate along its wonderful column, the tremor rippling the intimate niche of her knee hollow … the calf curve sinuously tense, the ankle flex and flex again… then the left leg paralleled its sister and the delicious interplay of muscles and satiny skin made a voluptuous cadence of sensuous enticement to his eager gaze.
“Stop!”
Trembling, fearful that, unseeing as she was, he might approach her with the dreaded lash, Marcia complied at once… and the sudden immobility of her body reacted sensually… the full, oval globes of her bottom jiggled lasciviously, contracted, relaxed, their pantomime lewdly delineated by the lustrous satin tights whose cut revealed the tantalizing curve of the commencement of her ivory behind.
“Bend over, now, your hands still on your hips!”
“Bob! Bob! I beg of you!”
“I’m coming to you with the whip, Marcia!”
“Ohh! No, no!”
“Do as I ordered, you stupid slut!”
Sobbing distractedly, the debutante slowly bent over, gradually tautening the satin sheath of her bottom till it had attained the maximum tension on her oval half-moons and molded them so tightly one would have thought it a second skin that wedded the ivory fundament of her ripely inviting behind.
Her hair, disheveled and undone by his cruel imprisonment, fell in a rippling, loosened cascade of raven beauty down her face, streaming with her tears of anguish and furious shame and fear; her back, arching deliciously, was assailed by involuntary spasms, her naked calves tensed and writhed and contracted sensually before his entranced eyes.
“Now, without rising, spread your legs apart as far as you can!”
“Oh, Bobbbbb! Pity, not No, it’s… it’s unworthy!”
“If you don’t obey at once, I shall come to you and apply this effective lash right between your indecently. naked legs! Would you like to feel the whip kiss your cunt, Marcia?”
“Oh, my God! Have mercy!”
“I am coming now, Marcia!” And he rose from the divan, in a mock threat to carry out his pledge.
Frantically she obeyed; without leaving her position, she hesitantly widened the gap between her legs, taking short, faltering, tentative steps because she feared the high heels might cause her to lose her equilibrium and make a spectacle of herself… and there came to his ears the exquisitely sensuous sound of her shifting, down-applying heels against the velvet rug, which gracefully, sensually accepted the weight of those spurning, high heels and drew them down, down, into lush softness which was, nonetheless, no solace to her now! “Good! Now look at me through your legs and smile!”
“Oh… I’ll fall… these high. heels…“
“If you fall, you’ll be whipped till you get up and complete the order to my satisfaction,” he told her.
Steeling, herself, her hands pressing hard into her hips, she fearfully bowed her head; the raven hair laved the rug and, slowly, not daring to breathe in her trembling pose-a position which forced involuntary shivers to flex the length of her wonderful ivory thighs and calves and brought lewd contractions and inward-fusing shudders to the appetizing globes of her satin molded bottom globes-she regarded him through the indecent, exaggerated straddling of her own legs and forced a smile to appear on her palpitating lips.
“In that position, you’re almost inviting enough to make me want to take the cherry of your bottom hole,” he commented and, before she could credence the droning nightmare of her hearing, he resumed: “Lie on your back and wave your legs back and forth as if you were bicycling for exercise along Bellevue Drive!”
“Bob! Must you torture me.so?” she groaned.
“You really want the whip, don’t you, Marcia?”
“Oh… oh… no… no… I’ll do it… please please don’t hit me!”
And, frantic, panting, she rose erect and then, lying down on her back, raised her long, svelte naked legs high in the air and began to work them back and forth.
“Draw them closer in to your body… you’re too languid… you must work up the circulation in your cunt and perhaps dilate your cherry so you won’t feel too much pain when I ram home in your pussy, Marcia!” was his lewd jesting comment.
Her waning hope was that in complying she might cause him to relent. And so she tried to obey: her thighs drew in closer, her bended knees neared each other and the sight of this patrician, aloof girl of blue-blooded New York aristocracy wantonly parading her ivory, naked legs whose creamy beauty was accentuated by the contrasting midnight hue of her sumptuous pumps stirred his desire.
“Get up now!” he said after a moment that was an eternity of anguish to her humiliated soul.
She obeyed, her eyes wide, terrified, fearing his next command.
“Now walk back to me, raising each leg very high and holding it in the air a second so I can observe how well your panties fit your sleek ass!” he commanded.
And he cracked the whip; she, trembling as if attained, began to advance, her eyes fixed on him with a terrified fascination, curving first her right leg high in the air, bringing the polished, ivory knee up to her belly, then descending her high heeled pump-heel to the rug and arching up the other leg, forcing a smile to her wan face in a desperate aspiration of placating him… to mercy.
But the mercy he was to show her would be only in terminating-by consummation!-his vengeance upon her!
When she had reached the divan, he remarked, casually, “I see a pair of scissors on the boudoir table. Get down on all fours, go over to the table and bring them back in your mouth… I forbid you to use your hands in retrieving them!”
“Bob! Mercy! Haven’t I pleased you enough by now, surely?” she pleaded, sinking down on her knees and resting her entreating hands on his crossed knees.
For answer, he raised his foot and, applying the sole to her chest, pushed her away from him, crying out in her shame-scarlet, weeping, humiliation in the abysmal woe of her degradation.
“On all fours, bitch, or else the whip!” he ordered and the lash whistled in the air like a viper ready to strike!
Weeping, cowering, she began to execute his order and he had the spectacle of her up rearing bottom, weaving lasciviously to and fro with her advance along the rug, before his lasciviously glowing eyes.
He felt the stirring manifestation of desire in his loins.
And he knew her to be arrived at such an emotional state that his progress to lust’s fulfillment on her shuddering flesh would be savoringly delightful to his sense and his body’s concupiscent flame!
She arrived at the boudoir table. The manicure scissors lay on the edge. She up-tilted her head, approached her mouth to the dainty implement and her lips attempted to take the handle between their petaled surfaces-without success.
“I am waiting, Marcia,” he observed insidiously, seeing her distress.
Again she tried, without success once more.