The Pleasures of Bankruptcy Read online

She sobbed bitterly in the shame which consumed her. And she buried her face once more on the rough tweed of his coat. Strangely enough, she was not conscious of any real aversion or hatred for the man at the brutality of his treatment of her. All that she felt was a fearful shame and growing agitation, and she burrowed her flaming, finely moulded, distressed features on his shoulder almost like a child.

  And there was an additional cause now for her confusion. For an incredible, huge swelling had grown and hardened there beneath her. She gasped — and clung weakly to him-fearing to shift her position so as to avoid that monster just below her hip.

  From her slim tones upward she was palpitating at the sensations evoked by that fumbling hand between her thighs. The lone button yielded-and Rose sighed with momentary relief as the torment of those hot, searching fingers ceased.

  Francis Freeman drew the borders of the garment carefully away from her crotch..

  “Now ask me to finger your cunt!” he said calmly.

  Shocked to her very depths by the indecency of this new demand made upon her, Rose groaned and writhed upon his lap, careless now of that fact that by thus moving she afforded his throbbing sex a fresh delight.

  “If ever again I have to tell you something twice…” he said sternly.

  “Ohh! Ohh! For pity's sake-don't… don't-I mean do… do please finger… m-my cunt!” quavered the distressed Rose.

  Pale with horror at the words she had just uttered, she sank back in his arms once more. But the contact which she dreaded was long delayed. She stiffened in an intense and nerve straining attempt to endure without crying aloud her shame and her intolerable excitement.

  Her thighs — with the delicate charms between them totally unprotected now against attack… were pressed upon by the male fingers intruding from the rear-while in front his other hand toyed gently, through the fine silk of her gown, with her genital mound.

  Rose could have screamed aloud. She bit her lips to restrain it She even parted her thighs to the inevitable approach-wishing above all things to get the ultimate horror finished and done with.

  Suddenly she gasped and quivered. The touch had come-but so very delicately that it was as if a feather had floated from somewhere to rest quiveringly on the lips of her sex. The feather was the top of a single finger — a finger that was controlled with such artistry that it seemed destined to drive her into a delirium of unsatisfied desire.

  And the feather was blown now in the capricious breeze of the man's desire, not only to revel delicately in this silken sexual warmth and intimacy-but also to drive her into wild and irrepressible acknowledgment of a sensual delight which would surmount even her great burning sense of shame.

  The finger moved indeed-but it moved so very gently, so perfidiously, upon the outer lips of this entrance to the sheath of ripe womanhood, that Rose sank white teeth into her soft lower lip and clenched her fingers into small fists in the attempt to restrain her long, groaning sighs from becoming actual cries of sensual passion and yearning.

  With what firmness she could muster, she had made up her mind to endure the indecency and insult of the firm grasp and the instantaneous attack upon her sex which she fully expected from this man of purposeful action.

  And after the consummation he would withdraw. Each of them would gradually regain poise and self-control… then he would mutter an apology-and after a while she would agree to forgive him — and forgive also his having forced her to tell her shameful story and thus unveil her intimate and almost indecent past. She would hint that he had become temporarily unbalanced as a result of this story, and add that she herself had lost self-control.

  This was the dream which flashed across her mind as she involuntarily almost projected her naked sex forward for the lewd and hasty grasp of the man. But that assault did not come-and this which had come upon her instead was of a nature to render her incapable of any clear thought.

  There were two fingertips now-and now three, or so she thought, and then only one again. She could not tell quite clearly. She only knew that mere zephyrs dwelt upon the pink cleft and lips-and that they kept her vibrating and almost breathless-and that now she could feel her slit literally pouting, confessing its intolerable desire for firmer touches, for more compelling pressures.

  Little flames of desire that burned and ached deliriously shot, through the nerves down there-and then spread all through her quivering body.

  Rose abandoned herself completely. She could not even speak and if she had been able to articulate she would have probably pleaded that this marvelous torture should end-and that Freeman should do anything and everything he wished to end the exasperation of her disordered senses, and to bring facility and ultimate repose to her shaken nerves.

  She was not aware that she had grown pale with this torment that was yet a delight. She did not realize that she had breathed a long drawn “Ohh! God!” that was just one moaning sigh of passion. She did not know that she had writhed up until she lay in a shivering ball in the man's lap-and that now his other hand played no longer upon her silken gown, but directly upon her sexual nakedness.

  She became vaguely aware at last that both his hands were lustfully engaged in toying with her secret flesh- and that a finger of each, from front to rear, bore down more firmly now and travelled to meet each other along the hotly pouting, throbbing furrow of her cleft.

  And he shook her by what he held-so roughly that all her body was in movement Rose wailed hoarsely in a keen delight that overcame all sense of shame or fear. In a moment it seemed that she must explode… spending-spending-spending. The animal treatment she was now undergoing… even the pain that she experienced- served as a palliative for her sensual passion… yet it was a palliative that increased instead of banishing the tumult of her senses.

  If she had a thought in the midst of her confused and frantic desire, it was not of resentment at being treated as the target of his caprices. Instead, it was the firm conviction that now, now he would take her body. That immense thing on which she writhed as her flesh and hair were so deliriously tugged would be buried deep within her body. Her chastity and all her vows of chastity would vanish like smoke before the tempest of his unchained desires.

  Scarlet and quivering, she acknowledged to herself that she did not fear the prospect at all. He would possess her-he must possess her! She believed that she would die if he did not take her-and take her instantly!

  Ahh! Now he was releasing her tormented flesh from the grip of his fingers. He was stroking her thighs, her loins, her back-as if to calm her. He was breathing quickly, but otherwise there was no sign on his part of that desire which corresponded to her own.

  Rose emitted one long, despairing sigh as his hands were withdrawn from beneath her skirt It had been then, just a terrible, lovely dream. He did not intend to take her at all. He had just meant to torment her, to work her up to a state of palpitating passion and submission-so as to shame her more than she had already been shamed — by abandoning her.

  Calmer now, she extended her body from the ball into which it had been rolled-not minding, if she noticed, that now the lovely nudity of her thighs protruded quite noticeably below her disordered skirt. She was beginning to awaken to a sort of gratitude that he had decided to spare her chastity… to be thankful in spite of her hotly throbbing pulses, that he had proved incapable of thus consummating her final disgrace by taking her in a sexual embrace while she was ecstatically incapable of any sort of resistance.

  But what was that low demand he was making-in firmly measured tones?

  “Show me your pussy… and your pretty little cunt, Rose!” he was saying quite calmly.

  Ahh! Dear God in Heaven! A minute earlier he might have done anything he wished… seen anything he desired… by his own volition. But no… he had to wait till she had regained her composure-and then compel her to the utter degradation of denuding herself as indecently as possible-in cold blood.

  She had no thought that she could escape doing what he demanded. And
yet she protested. “But — but, Mr. Freeman,” she quavered, “after what you have already done… to m-me-am I not disgraced sufficiently… in your eyes and my own?”

  “Are you going to do as I tell you?” he inquired, in a tone that sent a quiver of fear through her body.

  “Yes-ohh… b-but-y-yes… I will!” she promised, and her voice rose crescendo with fright as he grasped one of her rounded arms.

  He seemed to read her mind-and to disapprove of her mental attitude.

  “You will, indeed, show me your cunt,” he said. “And not because you are afraid of me at this moment… nor because we have both been passionate together and you are still sexually aroused and unsatisfied-but because- listen to me…”

  “You are going to stand up in front of me and expose all of your intimate body as fully as possible-and then you will lie on your back in my lap and spread your legs apart for such examination as I may wish to make-and then you will ask me to have you… to fuck you!”

  “And you will do all this because you owe me money that you cannot pay. You will pay that bill with your body — like any woman of the streets… and in any way that I choose!”

  Rose Bolton was standing now before her persecutor. She looked at the door-as if contemplating flight He gave her a smile as he strolled over to the door and locked it, pocketing the key before he returned to his seat.

  “Proceed with the penalty-the poor debtor's penalty — imposed upon you…” he said.

  The distracted Rose descended to argument-when she would have wished to crush him with material force if such had been at her disposal.

  “I am not a poor debtor,” she murmured. “If I could only collect what is due to me I should have forty thousand dollars in the bank.”

  “But you are my poor debtor,” insisted Freeman, “for you cannot pay me! And you shall be penalized later for your carelessness in ruining a good business. You will offer me things which you never dreamed of-if only I will show you how to extricate yourself from your financial difficulties…”

  She gasped faintly at his clear reading of her earlier thoughts-that his friendship would be invaluable to her — once it were acquired. Of course, any idea of such a friendship with a man of bis character must definitely be abandoned.

  Meanwhile the unspeakable thing was inevitable. There was no way out of it. She clutched suddenly at the hem of her skirt-in haste to terminate the ordeal.

  “Slowly-quite slowly…” he enjoined her. “Raise up the curtain on your hidden charms very gradually- try to make it as pleasantly tantalizing to me as possible… try to yield your nudities to me rather than flaunt them before me too defiantly!”

  So he was quite determined to plunge her as deeply as possible in her bath of shame, she thought vaguely. Her slim fingers were quivering on the thin silk which she raised slowly to the tops of her stockings… and then upward over white nudities which were faintly rosy and yet luminous-the beautiful naked thighs of a lovely woman.

  For an instant the edge of her garment faltered and stopped below the convergence of her thighs. Freeman lifted his eyebrows… and Rose hastily evidenced her fear of continuing her delightful revelations.

  The summits of the tightly closed thighs-with dark brown tendrils clustering there… then the entire forest of silken curls in the mystic triangle — and the white, quivering belly to the navel was displayed to his eager gaze…

  Holding her skirt and her unfastened undies around her waist-undergoing a shame beyond words… Rose found herself fascinated by his apparent imperturbability.

  Could he look upon her thus-in a state of such naked and lascivious abandon and complaisance as no other person had ever witnessed… and remain unmoved? A sensuous and uncontrollable irritation at him possessed her suddenly, and entirely without her own volition she found herself giving a lascivious movement to her hips which thrust her sex forward in a gesture of invitation.

  He raised his lashes for an instant. She could not meet his gaze-for her own cheeks were scarlet at the secret impulse which had overcome her. Hurriedly she dropped her own dark eyes… but she had seen, for just a moment, such a devouring hunger and gleaming anticipation in his gaze as roused sensations of both passion and terror deep in her heart.

  “1 should think,” he decided, “that if you held your garments even higher… clear up to your armpits… and then walked around the room in front of me… you would be paying off some more of your debt.”

  The hesitation of the distracted woman was evanescent. With an effort she raised her crumpled attire as high as was possible… till even the slopes of her lovely breasts were revealed to his watchful eyes.

  She walked-or rather, faltered… across the room. She did not, perhaps fortunately, since her shame and bitter confusion were already so great as almost to deprive her of the power of locomotion, hear the gasp of delight he gave as he watched the nakedness of her lovely buttocks swaying as she walked.

  She turned again towards him. Catching his mood and so feeling herself under the necessity of catering to it… and feeling stronger too as little thrills arose which she found just would manifest themselves when she thus exhibited her nudity-she walked all about the room.

  She was more conscious of the utter indecency of the picture she presented… shod and stockinged but nude from her bosom to her long hosiery-than of the fleshly loveliness of it. Yet she knew this beauty to exist-and she knew too that she was setting this man's senses on fire-and this knowledge added poignancy to the involuntary thrills which overran her as she paraded round the room with bowed head and flaming face.

  Francis Freeman halted her with a word. “Come here now!” he said slowly. “You know what you have to do! I want you like an opened package directly beneath my eyes…”

  Not venturing to lower her attire, Rose stumbled over towards his chair. With a gesture he showed that he wished her to lie transversely over his parted knees. She lay thus-and her nakedness shivered ripplingly under his inspecting eyes.

  And then with touches that not only suggested but aided her in acrobatics of the most licentious order, he caused her to raise her knees and spread them apart Her feet rested on the arm of his broad chair. Her naked thighs were widely parted-and little quivering and involuntary movements flexed their muscles in a most suggestive manner.

  “More-more… still more!” he ordered. “That's it! Now raise your bottom… hang your head and shoulders over the arm of the chair! I want your crotch right under my eyes!”

  Chapter VI

  ROSE succeeded in achieving the infinitely indecent posture he demanded. She was trembling like a leaf as she yielded him thus every inch of her intimacies for closest personal inspection. Her legs were so distended that the delicately rosy slit which began on the lower slope of her plump and delicious mound and continued downward in seductive charm within her crotch-was pouting visibly.

  Further back he could discern the puckered brown of her tight little rear opening. Although her eyes were shut tight, she seemed to sense the flame which shot from his inspecting eyes. His gaze seemed to scorch her intimate flesh. For several minutes-perhaps three or four-he sat there and scanned her charms.

  Beneath her back that swelling protrusion in his lap seemed to be more formidable than ever-an unbelievable monster of throbbing flesh. And Rose was not aware that, despite the shame born of her odious compliance with his demands, she was vibrating now as much from sensuality as from distress.

  She did not realize this-until he touched her. And with the thrill of that almost imperceptible touch on her warm pouting cleft, the unhappy woman quivered violently — and moaned with passion. For once more her state of tense lust was such that his merest touch sufficed to drive her wild with desire.

  And now he was more cruel to her than ever. For just when she could have screamed aloud for more precise caresses, just when she would have welcomed the invasion instead of the mere caresses of that finger-just when he could have thrown her on her back on the rug and taken her body wit
hout any protest-he desisted from touching her any further.

  He closed her legs and raised her to a sitting position. His left arm held her by the bare waist-but he smoothed down her garments quite decorously in front, save where her naked thighs peeped out from her disordered skirt One hand still remained with its controlling fingers buried within the patch of curling hair above her crotch. And those same fingers moved mouldingly… forbidding her senses to entirely subside.

  He released her, at last with words which astonished her. “You may show me these books-these accounts- that are pertaining to your business. Sit here by my side and show me.”

  She slipped from his lap-and shook down her garments about her body. But Francis Freeman was eyeing her as she prepared to take her chair beside him-eyeing her and shaking his head.

  “For a woman who is noted for the beauty and good taste of her attire, Rose…”he observed, “you are certainly in a sad state now. Just look at the crumpled condition of that pretty gown! You should at least be suitably dressed when you are working with me!”

  Rose flushed and hung her-head like a child. She could find no words with which to reproach his mockery.

  “You may discard the gown,” he said tranquilly. “And your shoes and stockings as well. You will sit here beside me in whatever underwear you chance to have on.”

  Another ordeal to go through-and she underwent it with a fascinated submission that astonished hen Clad in her still unbuttoned panties, with the silken strap which should have closed them hanging downward between her legs, she sat and removed her shoes and stockings under his interested gaze.

  “Your feet are really very pretty,” he said simply. And he made her lift one naked foot after the other to his lap for a pleased appraisal of their soft whiteness and symmetry and of the manicured pinkness of her small toes.

  They sat now-and he pored over her books. Uneasy at first over her scanty apparel-which seemed even more shocking not that she was engaged in a business way-Rose soon became absorbed in replying to his real sharp queries as he ran rapidly through her files.