The Pleasures of Bankruptcy Read online

  “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.”

  “How does the notion affect you?” he asked, watching her keenly.

  She considered this gravely. “I think,” she said at last, “that if I were your wife-instead of being apparently just a property of yours!”

  She twisted her naked legs luxuriously beneath the sheets, and a curiously lambent light began to glow in her eyes.

  “I think that then I could find something voluptuously indecent and-well-exciting… in being exposed nude to crowd-with, perhaps… other wives compelled to the same display of their naked bodies to each other's husbands. Or perhaps even-!” She hesitated.

  “Even if you allowed one man to strip me naked and possess me-to obtain some ends of your own with him — but only provided you were present could I become impassioned with such a surrender-and only providing it delighted you!”

  “A very frank statement,” he remarked pleasantly. “But I can see that I shall often make you very unhappy. For example, I proposed to enjoy some of your more lovely and patrician customers-who are helpless because of their obligations to you. And you will have to-assist me-very actively at times with these.”

  “Oh… that!” she whispered, wide-eyed. “I had a feeling that you had something like that in mind. The way in which you made me describe some of the girls I had seen unclad-or very nearly so-suggested it to me.”

  “But why should you think that would make me unhappy? Am I not sure to do anything I can to please you? If I were inclined to lie jealous I should always remember that none of these lovelies could possibly usurp my role in your life.”

  “You must go to sleep.” he said, rising to his feet. “Kiss me goodbye!”

  With lovely bare anus emerging from under the covers she embraced him warmly. And there was something in the tender touch of her soft lips on his that moved him delicately. And then the delicacy fled in dismay-for suddenly the bedded woman was sighing-and licking his lips feverishly-and squirming her red tongue between his parted lips-and taking his own tongue hotly.

  He had let her take it-realizing that she was practicing on him the lessons learned from her husband- and that since she had found pleasure in the earns, she wished to give him the same pleasure too.

  He let her eager, wet little to
ngue have its way with his lips, his own tongue, the depths of his mouth. His tongue was moved to respond, and he was startled to feel a vivid delight in the process. Amorously clinging to his neck, with half closed eyes. Rose was dragged to her naked hips from under the bedclothes in her reluctance to let him go as he stood up once more.

  “Pretty fresh-pretty fresh!” he said in mock rebuke, as he shook his head at her. “Did anyone invite you to give that demonstration, young lady? You may just kiss me elsewhere, another goodbye kiss-as a penalty for your daring.”

  She pressed her lips instantly to the bulge in his nether garments-and quivered with astonished delight.

  “Are you utterly insatiable, then?” she gasped. “And I thought-that I had drained you to the last drop-even as I was drained!”

  He smiled and nodded as she looked up at him questioning and beseeching. And now, naked to the thighs, her soft fingers fluttered dextrously about his buttons. As the huge monster which she adored burst forth from concealment Rose exclaimed in agitation. Taking it in both her hands she nestled it against the warm velvet of her cheeks.

  Her kisses were fervently scattered upon all its swelling length. And finally she opened her soft red lips to the tip and sucked it delicately-as her fingers caressed its long hot shaft.

  “No more!” he said at length, thickly.

  “How mean you are to me!” she pouted. “I could go on sucking you for ever! And-and the juice was-was all coming in another minute! And now I shan't sleep a wink all night-longing for it!”

  “Very fresh you're getting-just because you think that you've found my soft spot!” he mocked. And he swung her nude body around so as to lay two or three hard ships on her soft white bottom-slaps under which she capered and cried out melodiously. Then, as he released her, she lay back on the bed, her lovely limbs all open and displayed, looking at him with bright, birdlike eyes.

  “If you think you could ever gain emancipation from your yoke by the use of your lips, why, you're crazy,” he said, as he motioned to her to rebutton his trousers. “For the pleasure you give me thus is so wonderful that I would keep you for that if you did nothing else! Good night, dear fool!”

  Modesty seeming a small thing now, she slipped from the bed in all her snowy nudity to accompany him at least as far as the door. But he waved her back with a smile. And too tired and prostrate to realize to the full what had happened to her. Rose lay back on her bed attempting to recover mentally the savor and feel of his huge, warm virility in her own warm mouth.

  How-ohh. how it had shaken her with sombre rapture to suck him-to be compelled to suck him! The sensation had been comparable-although so different… to the indescribable and thrilling spasms she had endured when mounted on his lovely prick.

  So wearied that she was like a child once more, she just whimpered softly in the gathering darkness-whimpered because he had finally withdrawn that dear prick from her lips-just as she was trembling with delight over being allowed to suck it once more.

  She did not realize the infinity of her surrender to his domination. She had room for only one thought-he had gone away-when she would have been so happy-scorning scandals that might ensue. If he had only stayed!

  She would not have asked anything of him if he had only remained. She would not have bothered him in the least. She would even have slept on the rug by the bed and given the couch to him, if he had wished it. Her bodily longing for him was terrific-even though he had but just left her.

  Her unreasoning agitation enhanced by her weakness, she wept a little there in the gathering darkness. She was no longer vibrating with passion. She just felt alone and quite deserted. But the one idea that he would return after she had slept, struggled through the shadows of her prostration. And so she let herself slide slowly down into deep slumber.

  Too-fatigued even to dream, she was awakened hours later by clear sunlight streaming into her chamber. At first she had the familiar but pleasant sensation that she was just awakening to a wonderful occasion-that something marvelous had or was about to happen to her.

  And then she rediscovered full consciousness-and recalled the past, remembered everything. And realized that presently a master-not just a man but a master-would come, to once more dominate her life. With a silent pain within her being her resuscitated pride and modesty that had recoiled.

  There must be a way out-she could not endure that her normal life should end thus-and a life of serfdom begin. No, she must flatter him-appeal to him-say that he had swept her off her feet. She would insist that she was a free woman just as he was a free man-that their relations must now be readjusted-but-and Rose realised that her mind had been working towards this climax- but she would be is mistress if he wished-with the clear understanding that it was a free will offering on her part.

  It was a rather pale but quite determined Rose Bolton who sat at her desk that afternoon waiting for the arrival of Francis Freeman. A firm footfall outside made her shiver nervously. And then the door opened, without even a knock, and he entered assuredly.

  With a glance his keen gray eyes detected her changed attitude. Perhaps he had expected it. At any rate, he greeted her courteously enough.

  “We have some business matters of yours to go over, Mrs. Bolton,” he said. “Permit me to sit here beside you…”

  Off hand the sensitive woman surmised rather than perceived a faint trace of amusement on his part-and she stiffened at this embarrassing attitude. She had rather expected to have to engage in verbal battle with him for the preservation of her self respect and personal liberty, and she was quite baffled by this disconcerting courtesy. It was almost as if he recalled nothing of the earth shaking events which had occurred yesterday.

  Yet she began slowly to tremble as she sat thus by his side and listened to comments which appeared to be all strictly business in their nature. She was furious with herself for not being able to emulate his own composure. She almost did deserve, she told herself disgustedly, to become what he had made of her yesterday-the chattel he had taken and used and abused at will.

  She was aware that she was flushing-and then suddenly he was speaking of things which no self respecting woman should hear-or countenance.

  “By the way,” he said casually, “I understand that girls of the most select families are prone to take roguish pictures of each other in the dressing rooms of such an establishment as yours?”

  “Sometimes they give the favoured dressmaker herself some of the photos, I am told. Have you any such pictures — especially of the girls whose names are included in this packet of unpaid bills?”

  “Well-really-Mr. Freeman!” said Rose… trying to show surprised indignation. And then she burst into the nervous admonitions she had planned.

  “I… I must tell you,” she said feverishly, “that I now realize what a terrible mistake we committed yesterday- I blame myself as much or more than I blame you-we must start afresh.”

  It was as if she had not spoken-unless the queer gleam in his eyes signified a certain anticipatory pleasure at the frail obstacle offered by her newly imposed dignity.

  “You will speak when addressed. Rose,” he said. “We shall return to this matter later. For the present I am asking you to tell me whether you have any such photographs as I have just indicated?”

  She gasped faintly. She was shivering-unable to pursue a discussion which now seemed like unbelievable temerity on her part. He glanced at her enquiringly.

  “I… I think-” she stammered weakly, “that I have just a few-locked in a drawer-and not to be seen, of course, by any men-even if they are relatives of the girls who gave them to me!”

  “Ah… yes,” he replied, almost indifferently. “Remind me to look at them before I leave. Just now I must put down certain data on the sheet of paper. Give me an old fashioned pen and ink, please-I prefer them to fountain pens…”

  Rose complied hastily with his request. She was in a panic still, she needed more time, she thought, to prepare for such an ordeal as this intervi
ew with him.

  He had dipped the pen profusely — and was looking about-apparently for a place to shake the nib before writing. She indicated the new sheet of blotting paper on the desk in front of him. But he shook his bead.

  “Too clean,” he said. “I will not soil a clean blotter that cannot be washed, when there are other things available that can easily be cleansed. Lay bare your bosom. Rose, and I shall select a spot.”

  Scarlet and panting, the woman raised both hands to her breast in a gesture of protection. She gazed at him- wide eyed-incapable of speech.

  “This very instant!” he said emphatically. “You have no idea what will happen to you if you keep me waiting even a few seconds longer!”

  She moaned feebly-her dark eyes suffused and swimming with tears. Her look of pleading-of horror-fell away before his fixed glance.

  “In ten seconds,” he said calmly, as he took out his watch, “your breasts must be naked under my eyes!”

  The words were odious enough-but it was the threat underlying them that shattered her resistance. Her slim fingers wrested open her corsage with feverish rapidity, and pushed her lacy chemise downward over her full and lovely breasts.

  “You did it in nine seconds flat,” he said approvingly as he put his watch away. “You must be trained to such promptitude. Now then — bare yourself further — for I think I will not stain either of these lovely mounds- whose nipples betray a certain rising emotion which I cannot approve. Press your clothing down to the waist- I will blot this upon the skin beneath your left breast — just above the heart!”

  Cynically he spattered the ink upon her snowy skin. She shrank back and murmured in shame-and in real distress too, as from the irregular splash some drops began to trickle further downward on her naked body.

  Rose regarded them in dire dismay-drawing the silk and lace of her chemise further away from the stain-not daring to rub it off without his permission. He bent over and took out his own handkerchief-with which he removed the traces of ink and much of the stain.