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- Herausgeber: Olympia Press
- Kategorie: Erotik
- Sprache: Englisch
- Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2015
On Her Wedding Night, the Lush, Young Bride Wore Boots! The Bizarre Story of a Beautiful Woman Who Practices the Kind of Sex She Preaches.
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Flesh on Fire
Lloyd Darden
This page copyright © 2009 Olympia Press.
FLESH ON FIRE
BY LLOYD DARDEN
On Her Wedding Night, the Lush, Young Bride Wore Boots! The Bizarre Story of a Beautiful Woman who Practices the kind of Sex she Preaches.
FLESH ON FIRE
“Harley dropped to his knees, head bowed, his hands crossed over his head. Only then did his merciless mistress cease her torture and hold back the fearful rain of biting whiplashes. She stood over him, panting, triumphant, as Harley pulled his naked body slowly toward her across the carpet, reached her feet, and slavishly licked the whole length of one of her spiked four-inch heels....”
—From FLESH ON FIRE
LLOYD DARDEN
BOOK ONE
CHAPTER ONE
When Estelle Romaine decided to accept Harley Wentworth as her husband, she had the experience of two previous marriages to guide her choice, and it could well be said her selection was made “with malice aforethought.” Only two objectives ruled the choosing: one, that the man be wealthy, and two, that he be amenable to the discipline she meant to impose upon him. Estelle Romaine sought from life an existence of luxurious ease and the adoration of some male upon whom she could vent her strange impulses. Both her former spouses had possessed these requisites and each, upon his decease, had left her considerable wealth. But Estelle's mode of living gradually dissipated those resources, and she was casting about for a fresh victim when Harley Wentworth entered her life and fell under the spell of her sleek body. That body, so well cared for, thrilled all males with its appeal of virginal sweetness, with its svelte youthfulness, with its promise of pleasure in the close contact of amorous embrace. Estelle knew well the libidinous effect of that body upon men and how its anticipated possession brought them to her feet in proffered slavery, a slavery which she soon changed from a blissful love dream to a stern matter of fact.
It was a simple matter to check on Harley Went-worth's share of wordly goods; to determine his adaptability to enslavement and subsequent debasement was a little more difficult, but not too much for one so well stocked with worldly knowledge as Estelle. It required only the shrewd observation that Harley was a fetishist of catholic tastes; she knew that every fetishist is at heart a masochist, even though that trait be a latent one. His peculiar passion, whatever form it may take, grows on him with time and indulgence, and becomes an obsession that gradually overcomes his powers of reason. It is not difficult for the discerning entrepreneur to cater to those whims and feed those strange appetites until the procurer becomes identified with the objects of desire and assumes the role of dominator of the victim's destiny. Early in his whirlwind courtship, in their moments of intimate confidences, Harley confessed his devotion to high heels, his admiration for such enhancements of womanly allure, his pleasure in Estelle's customary appearance in such objects of his fetishistic adoration. He more than hinted that, although he considered himself the normal, masterful male type, he obtained delight in the thought—the thought only!—of being spurned under the stilted heels of a beautiful woman.
Little did he dream of the satisfaction Estelle obtained from this admission of his peculiar trait. For she would see this quality developed and sensitized until it overwhelmed all normal instincts, all sense of good or evil, right or wrong. And when that stage was reached, he, under Estelle's domination, would descend rapidly to depths from which he could no longer extricate himself. His health would fail under her vicious regimen until his weakened body would succumb to the demands made upon it.
Estelle's two former husbands had been thus disposed of; although the circumstances of their demises had aroused some suspicions among the authorities, nothing definite could be laid at her door; surviving family members, in their desire to keep a family name free of disrepute, pushed the matter no further. Then too, each mating and its subsequent tragedy had taken place in widely separated parts of the country, which enabled Estelle, to resume her operations in still a new part without the past reaching out its dead hand to unmask her.
They first met and were introduced by mutual friends at a semi-formal function, where men of wealth drank and danced with feminine companions who were but huntresses engaged in the world-old game of male conquest. Harley was immediately entranced by Estelle, as was practically every male, and he forced himself upon her at every opportunity and loosed all his personal charm to engage her attention. He presented a well molded figure of good proportions, clean cut features, and a personality that was altogether pleasing and appealing to women. Well educated, widely read, broadened by considerable travel and good at conversation, Harley could be pleasing indeed when he was given an incentive, as in this case, to gain approval and admiration.
The more time he spent in Estelle's company, the more enamored he became. Man of the world as he was, and as cynical and skeptical as such a one is apt to be, Harley had to admit to himself that he was highly desirous of this woman. He was madly aroused to possess her, even if he had to sacrifice his legal freedom to bring about such an occurrence. Harley was no novitiate in the matter of an affaire d'amour; a discarded wife and a string of mistresses were testimonials to the fact that he usually had his way with a woman. But never had he felt stirring in his loins such yearning as this creature aroused; as he leaned over her and gazed down at the wonderful projections of her bosom, he was aware of an erection that he felt surely would be observed by all.
Estelle had breasts that were immodestly protuberant. Her large, pointed cones swelled out a full six inches; mounted on her slender figure, they presented a spectacle that was positively indecent, although she had them modestly covered by a dress that closed up about her throat. The nether section of her gown clung closely about hips and thighs and revealed her long, tapering legs ending in very high-heeled slippers. With the elevation gained by these stilted aids, Estelle's chin reached just the proper height to cuddle sweetly against Hartley's neck—one of the discoveries he made when holding her against him in the dance, the other being that those arousing breasts with their hard nipples were innocent of brassiere. This naturally stirred Hartley's desires to even higher pitch and, as his erection increased in size and rigidity, he knew its existence could no longer be concealed from his fair companion. She felt his body tense as she deliberately pressed her breasts against Hartley's chest, and she rubbed them to and fro until their points became as resilient as a baby's bottle nipple. She raised her head slightly and blew her perfumed breath into his ear. Taking advantage of a movement of the dance, she slipped her long thigh into his crotch and felt his turgid organ imprisoned between their abdomens. She heard him groan deeply as she leaned back in his arms and dented deeply her soft belly with his aching penis as she pressed hard against it.
The dance came to a close, the music ceased, and Estelle gave a final hard push that made Harley groan again with pain as he felt his iron-hard cock forced back until he feared it would be broken. His face was flushed and damp, his legs felt weak and his vocal chords paralyzed. Never in his life had he been so stirred, never had he felt so utterly lost to feminine witchery. He was at that moment her utter slave; no request, he thought, however shocking it might be, would he refuse this alluring creature. He would kneel and kiss her bared bottom, should she demand such an outrageous action from him—or perhaps he should suggest it to her! He was mad for this girl-woman, he was determined to have her, he would grant anything, perform anything, if his ultimate reward would be the carnal enjoyment of her warm body.
Harley was glad when Estelle acceded to his request to sit out the next dance with him. He knew a resumption of their amorous act on the dance floor would result in embarrassment for him and he sensed that Estelle realized it, too. They walked onto a balcony lit only by the moon that shone also on the garden below them, and there on a bench behind flowering shrubs they resumed their love-making. Harley was extremely ardent, and Estelle's lithe body was soon quivering under his practiced lips and hands. Very deftly she unbuttoned Hartley's trousers and held firmly in the cool fingers of one hand this fevered and tortured ramrod. Harley now became vocal again and painted a picture of paradise: an apartment done to the queen's taste, a maid, clothes, jewels, automobile—all this in return for the privilege of a duplicate latch key and the right to demand her favors when his lust needed quenching. Estelle replied in tones that implied she did not feel offended by his proposal.
“I like you very much, Harley. Almost enough to take you up on your offer. But riot quite. Goodness knows I'm no prude,”—she gave his member a hard squeeze with her imprisoning hand, a mischievous look on the face she turned toward him—“but I made up my mind years ago and no one will ever succeed in changing it.” She turned a determined chin up at him in challenge. Her level gaze and firm mouth left him no doubt as to the forcefulness of her will power in adhering to a chosen course. He merely nodded his acceptance of her statement.
“I made up my mind that I would never accept any man intimately except in legal manner, no matter how much he meant to me,” she persisted, sternly and forcefully. Estelle was silent for a moment. “I hope you understand how I feel about this,” she resumed more softly, adding, “darling.”
Harley recognized strength of character when he met it. He realized immediately that Estelle meant every word she said; she would never engage in a liaison with him; to possess her, he must yield himself to the bonds of matrimony. Instantly contrite, fearful lest his proposal of an illicit union had offended her to the point of jeopardizing his chances of winning her, he began his stammering apologies which she quickly hushed with a hand over his mouth.
“Hush. I understand fully. I'll forgive you,” Estelle said, in a tender voice. Then she added, with a quick change to a highly imperious tone, her mouth set firmly, her gray eyes flashing, “If you'll kiss my foot as a symbol of your sincerity!” She advanced one highly arched foot forward, the chiffon sheath of stocking gleaming in the moonlight. Harley was startled. This sudden change revealed a new Estelle whom he did not know existed, did not quite fathom. He felt a little troubled in spirit, but the sensation was a passing one. After all, it would be a hedonistic thrill to subjugate one's self to this beautiful little tyrant; later, he would reverse the roles and assert his natural male dominion over the weaker sex. For the present, let her play the tyrant; after the courtship was ended, things would be different. Anything to win her favor, now. Besides it was a far-from-unpleasant task she had assigned him, and he felt his temporarily lessened sexual urge burn strong again as he dropped to his knees before her, bowed his head and kissed her straining instep. His hands fondled her slipper and stroked lovingly the smooth length of the towering heel. His naked penis rose in adoration.
Estelle's eyes glittered at this manifestation of her power over Harley; not only did his readiness to bow to her whims augur well his utter submissiveness, but his libidinous reaction to her pump-shod feet gave her a clue to his fetishistic spirit and a hint of the innate masochistic nature her experience told her would be revealed later on. There was no doubt in her mind that she could dominate him completely but, before making any practical use of this power, she must ascertain his other necessary qualifications.
When he rose and resumed his seat against her, Estelle was again the woman of the earlier evening. Harley felt much encouraged and renewed his suit. Soon, they were again engaged in hot exchange of kisses, in feverish touches with hands that explored and titillated. At last it was time to part; voices of other guests departing signaled the end of the party.
“Then there still is a chance for poor, smitten me?” he queried in a half-jesting tone. Estelle still had her grasp of his stalwart cock; she had never relinquished it save for the illuminating moment of his gesture of devotion at her feet. “I do want so much to see you again, to call on you—at your home, if I may,” he added with a touch of daring. “If you would permit it, I most certainly would like to come.”
“I would be delighted to have you come!” With this perverse emphasis on the verb, Estelle tightened viciously her grasp on Hartley's straining member, gave it three or four hard up-and-down strokes, then released her grip. The action proved too much for his exacerbated nerves. He tried to restrain the eruptive orgasm that shattered his control, but realized at once it was too late. With a low groan he took three short steps to the balcony rail and, cock in hand, spouted a vast load of steaming sperm onto the garden below. When the last spouting jets of his manhood ceased, Harley sank weakly to his knees, exhausted and enervated by this devastating release of damned-up desire. When he regained his composure sufficiently to turn about, Estelle had disappeared.
CHAPTER II
Estelle Romaine lost no time in checking on Harley Wentworth's financial position, and the results were highly pleasing to that mercenary creature. Her mind was made up; she would most certainly accept Harley and, once the bonds were sealed and he was in her power, she would see to it that good use was made of his wealth. Best not to act too anxious though; it would be wise to permit him to press his suit in true male fashion, lest he be frightened away before the trap was sprung. Estelle would make good use of the intervening time to build up his desire for her to a yet higher pitch, to give him brief glimpses of a promised land which would banish any doubts from his mind as to the desirability of exchanging his carefree bachelorhood for this Eden of sensual bliss.
Harley visited Estelle at the first opportunity granted. At her suggestion, it was in her own apartment, a modest affair which emanated an air of dainty femininity and seemed permeated with her delicious allure. With drinks and cigarettes and soft lights as inducement, the two were soon engaged in what promised to be their favorite pastime—amorous embraces, long, drawn-out kisses, lascivious touches and fondling. Except for her very exciting perfume, Estelle presented a picture of enchanting modesty in a billowing gown of organdy and tulle. Its many folds and ruffles effectively concealed her salient beauties, except for a highly narrowed waist line, compressed in the bonds of a tightly wound sash. Save for the aphrodisiac perfume and very high-heeled slippers, Estelle was a model of chastity—if one excluded the fact that underneath this virtuous attire she wore exactly nothing!
This was an exciting discovery for Harley, but again he subsided into appearing content to suffer the subtle torture of an enchantress with full control of his emotions. Soon Estelle emphasized her domination by her grip on his rampant and bared member. This maneuver on her part served to symbolize her mastery of her suitor, offering a very practical control over him when his desires threatened to overpower his reason and cause him to fulfill the invitation her love play promised. At those moments of weakness on his part, Estelle's surprisingly strong hand would simply bend his rigid cock until the agony made him desist and with tears of pain promise to “be good.”
Harley could not bring himself to analyze this bewitching creature, to question the incongruity of her insistence on observing the conventions before yielding completely to his embraces, as against her extremely lascivious behavior and utter lack of inhibitions. It was more pleasant, much more so, merely to give in to her moods, to allow her sweet torture of denial to continue, to reject any doubts in his mind as to her ultimate purpose or any debate as to what his fate might be; he felt he would like to drift forever on this river of sensuousness to an Elysium of delight. If anything, the future held only promises of still greater carnal pleasures after Estelle became entirely his. For he could not harbor the thought that she would not finally yield to his suit. The idea was unbearable; complete fulfillment and even satiation would be granted him in time.
To this end he continued his eager courtship, but Estelle evaded a direct answer by various feminine pretenses. She enjoyed this fawning adoration by one of the so-called superior sex, and delighted in allowing him full sway in his display of fetishistic fervor. Always when he called, his virile cock was kept bared during the entire visit, always before he left, his manhood was depleted by an act of onanism brought on by Estelle's irresistible machinations. In place of her hand, she later substituted a ribbon of satin. Banded tightly about his prick, just back of the enormously swollen head, it was a very effective rein on his passions. The perversity of her idea pleased Harley greatly and added to his stimulated libido—to say nothing of his organ's measurements!
Estelle had always new and novel ideas to stimulate Harley; her wanton imagination continually devised means to keep him in a fog of carnal desire, in a haze of delirious expectation, so that he never even dreamed of checking on her past or her background. For Harley there existed only the present with its delicious sensual experiences, or the future with its promises of mad joys after Estelle finally became his, when he could vent on her body the wild lusts she inspired. Then no longer would he have to bear this exacerbating frustration, perversely pleasing as it was. Then would he deposit his love juices in the exact spot nature had designed for them—right in between those firm, slender, smooth thighs of hers! He could bear to await his time; in fact, he had to admit that this period of denial was far from unpleasant and that he was deriving more and more keen enjoyment from it.
Subtly, Estelle led him further and further along sovereign will. She blended skillfully the ingredients that intoxicated him and gradually she increased that portion of the mixture which would in time deprive him of all supremacy. She made shrewd use of his fetishistic traits to blind him as to what was actually occurring.
One evening, held in leash by the satin ribbon about his ever-hard member, she led him to a shoe closet and there let him feast his eyes on innumerable pairs of shoes, slippers and pumps, of many varied and exotic designs, all featured by very high heels. It was a feast for the eyes of a footwear fetishist such as Harley, and he was both dazzled and extremely stimulated sexually by the sight. He begged her on the spot to adorn herself with a pair of slippers with the most extreme heels he had ever seen, and secured her compliance when he agreed to permit the binding of his wrists behind his back with still another ribbon of satin. His joy was complete when Estelle later, slowly and tantalizingly, frigged him to an excruciating spend with those same slippers.
On a later occasion, she put him into a frenzy of delirious anticipation by hinting that after their marriage, if marry they did, she would adorn herself for his benefit in footwear whose heels would put to shame those he had seen so far. Also with intriguing perfumes and clothing, Estelle kept Harley in a high pitch of erotic expectation. But, however stimulating her fragrances might be, hinting of lustful scenes in scented boudoirs, her gowns always bespoke a modesty that made them doubly bewitching; they were perversely incongruous when matched with her perfume and the utterly lewd character Estelle exhibited to Harley whenever they were together. Cunningly, she presented this outward appearance of youthful sweetness and highly feminine, almost virginal daintiness, so that the eager male would think only of the day when he would strip her of those chaste draperies and savagely sate his lust on her white body. Harley was permitted almost complete liberty in his caresses; he could learn by touch each curve and hollow of her form—but always through her attire of the moment; never was he allowed any more sight of her feminine charms than were revealed by the modes of the day. He was ravished by her perversity and thrilled almost to the point of orgasm at her hints of what parades of delight she had in store for him, when and if they became man and wife.
Harley was by this time so thoroughly enmeshed by her lures that nothing else mattered. He visited her every night and, though relieved of sperm on each occasion, his cock remained mysteriously hard and his testicles acquired a continual, agonizing ache. Except for his amazing display of virility, he felt weaker, and his eyes were shadowed by dark circles. What he did not know was that Estelle had been feeding him a very small dosage of aphrodisiac, not enough to bring about a real delirium of lustful yearning but sufficient to keep him continually vigorous, despite his daily depletion. Estelle did this not merely to hold him in subjection through his erotic desires; she wanted to see before her this constant proof of undying adoration of her womanly charms, this symbol of her womanly allure and its power to enslave the supposedly stronger sex she despised.
For a whole month Estelle thus played upon Hartley's desires. By that time, the ribbon leash on his cock had been replaced by a light chain that chafed cruelly; his wrists were bound by handcuffs, and even leg-irons had been added. Gradually too, his clothing had been subtracted, until now he spent his entire evening nude and in chains before this enchantress. Finally Estelle agreed to a marriage ceremony and, to repay him for his wait, on that momentous evening Harley was rewarded with three orgasms—which left him in a prolonged half-stupor. Estelle made him wait another week, though, for the actual ceremony. During this time she secured Hartley's signature to a pre-nuptial agreement which, if he had taken the trouble to read carefully, might have startled him with its implications.
CHAPTER III
The week passed slowly for Harley Wentworth, as Estelle professed being too tired, after a busy day spent in furnishing the home they were to occupy, to engage in evenings of love-making. “Besides, I want you to be strong and manly on the day you claim me as your own. So get lots of rest until then,” was what Estelle put him off with, adding under her breath, “for you will need it!” They had selected a fenced-in, isolated home in the suburbs; a grove of trees shut it off from neighboring houses and roads. Estelle took complete charge of the furnishing, directed the few remodeling changes that were to be made, then moved in with a maid of her own selection. Harley was not allowed to view these installations, his bride-to-be informing him she wished to surprise him later.
The wedding was on a warm day in the fall; instead of the conventional good-luck Saturday, Estelle selected the ominous Friday. She desired only a quiet affair at the home of a minister, another selection she also insisted upon. There were no attendants, no party or reception afterwards, merely a simple ceremony and then a honeymoon, to be spent in their new domicile.
Estelle laughingly permitted Harley the age-old custom of carrying his bride across the threshold in his arms. The door was held open for them by the maid, whom Harley now saw for the first time. She was a petite, very light-colored quadroon with highly intelligent features and large, piquant eyes. A very short, black dress, snug-fitting, exposed a long length of straight, slender legs, tightly stockinged, shod with high-heeled patent-leather pumps. A satin blouse revealed a pair of pert breasts that ran a close second to Estelle's in their provocative prominence. She was quite young, not more than sixteen, Harley hazarded, and a dainty, delicate dish that any normal male would like to savor.
Harley and Estelle retired immediately to their bedroom, a large, luxuriously furnished room already permeated by the aroma of Estelle's perfume. Two beds occupied opposite sides. One was a huge affair, capable of sleeping at least four people; near it stood an elaborate vanity with an array of feminine toiletries. The other was a small, narrow bunk with four corner-posts. Harley was entranced with the sight of the satin-draped large bedstead; hereon would be consummated his fleshly desires; he looked with disfavor at the other, small bed. Oh well, he thought, there are certain periods in every woman's life when she prefers solitude in slumber.
Harley was mightily stirred at the thought of now having the complete right to possess Estelle at his pleasure, to at last put an end to the fever in his loins in the manner intended by nature. He seized his bride in his arms and pressed her tightly to him so she might feel the mighty erection that bespoke his yearning for fulfillment. He attempted to lift her in his arms to carry her to the huge bed on which he intended to consummate the mating, but a surprisingly strong Estelle defeated his efforts and beguiled him with pictures of a more appropriate approach to his projected tourney of lust.
“No, Harley, no. Please. This is such a big moment for both of us. Let's not be so impetuous. Let's not act like a couple of kids just married. You've waited so long for this, haven't you, and looked ahead to it so anxiously?”—with a coy glance upward from under her long, curving lashes, and then downward very meaningly at the tremendous bulge in his trousers— “And so have I!” With her arms about him she pulled herself tight against him. “We'll make this a night never to be forgotten. I'll prepare myself and dress for you—oh, you never dreamed of what I have for you! And I've got shoes with heels that are simply impossible. Then we will have a grand time together, just we two, until—well, until you want to fuck.”
With such word pictures of an evening of mad delights with this wanton virgin attired in exotic costume and stirring footwear to stimulate him through his fetishistic appetite, Harley was soon won over to Estelle's plea for appropriate ceremony and rites before the altar of fornication. When he conceded, she said, “All right. Oh darling, I'm so happy that you are so thoughtful! I know you will be well satisfied and have such a good time! Now you go into the next room and strip naked, and when you see the door open and that the lights are low, come on in. I'll be ready and waiting for you!” Hartley's hard-on, at these intoxicating words that painted such a promise of sensual delights, became almost painful. Estelle missed nothing. She touched gently, almost reverently, that massive threat to her slender body. “Oooh! It's so big! I'm almost scared to death! I know you'll half kill me!” With those words, spoken half seriously, half in jest, Estelle propelled Harley toward the door, mad with the lust she had aroused, but willing to prolong his own torment so that in the end he could avenge himself that much more thoroughly. “The bigger and harder she makes it,” he thought, “the longer she makes me wait, the worse it will be for her! We'll see who is boss before this night is over!”
CHAPTER IV
Hartley's sixth cigarette burned low and his wine glass stood empty as he sat naked in the huge easy chair in the little ante-room just off the main bedroom. His waiting had not lessened his ardor nor diminished the huge erection before his proud eyes; his active imagination had seen to that with endless conjectures, each more pulse-stirring than the last, of what visions of salacious dress and exotic accouterments Estelle would present for his lust arousement.
Harley turned his head; a slight sound proved to be the door opening, and his nostrils were assailed by a faint wave of perfume, a hint of some delicious fragrance. He rose and stepped inside the bedroom, closing the door behind him. His pulse speeded tremendously, he felt it hammering in his temples, he sensed an increased erection at the spectacle afforded him.
The room was but dimly lit. Cowering against the huge bed, to which she had retreated after opening the door, stood Estelle. One hand reached behind her to seek support from the bed's headposts, the other crossed over her breast as if to conceal her body from avid eyes and to fend off the invader. She was a vision of sensual appeal, of chastity eager for man's caresses yet fearful of the savage violation of her body which her behavior had invited. Estelle's features were vividly made up, the lips a hard red that was emphasized by the pallor of a face heavy with powder. Long earrings hung from ears left uncovered by the hair that had been brushed straight back, fastened by a clasp at the back of the neck, and then allowed to fall in a dark wealth of curls far down her naked back. One earring, because of her bent head, caressed a rounded, satiny, bare shoulder.
For Estelle was nude to the waist, but for her wrought-silver brassiere. Estelle needed no support for those voluptuous cones of flesh; this needless article of attire, as well as the rest of her costume, served merely to call attention to and enhance the desirability of those bodily charms. From silver cups, modeled after the nipples which they covered, passed half a dozen small chains, also of silver, to fasten to a heavier chain which snugly encircled the breasts at their, base. This was held in position by one light chain passed tightly around the body, underneath the arms. Thus Estelle's highly appealing breasts were almost totally revealed by this openwork chain-mesh which also served as a protective agent, as Harley was to discover, for the silver cups that concealed the areoles were armed with small, very sharp points.
A tightly wrapped sash about her waist held up a wide skirt of several layers of billowing tulle, falling to her ankles, through which could be faintly discerned the outlines of Estelle's long, shapely legs. Harley could see that she wore shoes with extremely high and narrow heels; the toes were sharply pointed and the tops of the shoes were not visible to his eyes. Harley soon discovered that this footwear was really a pair of very high boots, reaching almost to her crotch, made of the finest of very thin leather, so snug in fit and so tightly laced over their entire length that they encased Estelle's slender legs like a second skin, yet they were so pliable that they offered perfect freedom of movement.
Estelle shrank back yet more against the bedpost and extended one hand toward Harley in a gesture of half-hearted resistance. She was not altogether acting a part now and her face showed real fear. And well she might, for should her plans go awry the results might be rather unpleasant. Harley was a man transfigured by a seething lust as he slowly approached his bride, his rigid cock a menacing bull-prick of terrifying dimensions. Christ, he would rape this entrancing, tantalizing bitch, he would split her in two, he would fuck her to death! Harley was no longer a sane man, and this madness Estelle read in his devouring eyes.
Now he stood within arm's reach of her. Suddenly his hand shot out, grasped the folds of her skirt, and with one savage yank, ripped it away from her body. His action revealed two things to Harley; he saw now the full particulars of Estelle's wonderfully constructed boots and he also discovered that the shrine he intended to violate was not unprotected but was covered by a small, heart-shaped piece of metal, armed with a sharp stud and curved to fit her chalice. It was held in place by a fine chain passing low around the waist, with another going between the thighs and buttocks to engage the first one in the rear.
Harley did not gaze long at these strange devices that adorned Estelle; dropping the dress to the floor, he grasped her slightly extended arm by the wrist and jerked her perfumed body against him with a strength so great that her breath was explosively expelled as she slammed into his naked chest. His arms encompassed her and with all his might he crushed her to him, his lips seeking for her red mouth. But a sharp cry of pain burst from him as the metallic projections of her breastplates punctured deeply into his skin, and he repeated with an even greater shriek as Estelle thrust her studded mid-section against him. He released her and stepped back a half step, dropping his head to ascertain the extent of the injuries inflicted on him. As he did so, Estelle moved quickly so as to place herself almost in his rear. Observing her action under lowered eyes, Harley whirled and reached out an arm to halt her apparent flight.
What happened next occurred so rapidly that he was never able afterward to satisfactorily account for it. It was only an elementary judo trick, but it was extremely effective. Estelle seized the extended arm by the wrist and twisted her body to put it over her shoulder, pulling Harley against her back; now she bent her knees and then immediately straightened them to send her husband flying with sickening force against the wall. He collapsed like an empty sack on the floor and for long moments was too stunned to move. Estelle strode over to him and stood before his limp form, hands on hips, breasts heaving, eyes gleaming. A savage joy overspread her features. This was her moment of glory, a naked male helpless at her feet. Finally Harley stirred and roused himself to a half-sitting position, looking up at his wife with glazed eyes. He took in the look of triumph on her face and gradually his eyes assumed the expression to be expected of a man who has suffered both insult and injury and is furious for revenge.
“Estelle—you dirty bitch! I'll fix you good for that dirty trick!” He reached out to grasp her ankle. “I'll...” What he intended to say was never finished. Very coolly, Estelle drew back one slender leg clad in its marvelously fitting boot, and with all her force deliberately kicked him with the sharply pointed toe, right in the testicles. With a shriek of insufferable agony, Harley fainted and sank to the floor.
CHAPTER V
Harley Wentworth returned to consciousness with the awareness of a dull ache in his loins; in fact, he ached all over, but it was in his testicles particularly that the agony seemed to have its seat. He also experienced a feeling of extreme coolness in that region. A slight sweat beaded his brow; he attempted to raise a hand to wipe his forehead and found that he was unable to do so. He discovered through a gradually increasing wakefulness that his arms were shackled by chains to the bedposts. Further investigation disclosed that his legs had also been chained to opposite bedposts. Ankles and wrists so fettered, he was spread-eagled to the bed, helpless and naked under the covers.
As the hours passed and Harley half-slept, he found his pains lesse [...]
