Case History 1
Subject: Mary P. Age: Eighteen
INTERVIEW ONE
I was expecting Mary this morning. I tried in my own mind to prepare some sort of introductory therapy, a gentle format to encourage Mary to relate her story, and to try to resolve some of the guilt, and despair. I had spoken to her on the phone a few days ago, when she made the appointment, briefly telling me of her horrible encounter. I have diagnosed a number of cases like Mary's, but each new one rekindles the immense sorrow I feel, along with a barbaric rage to avenge the seducer. That I still receive many requests to analyse the feelings, and symptoms of the innocent victims is a small satsifaction I can still meekly claim, in the midst of perhaps the most crucial and ugly crisis a young woman will face in her life. The knowledge, too, that I am helping a person, weakened and fallen, to get up and fight to attain a pleasure so hopelessly thought lost, is slightly consoling. However, I was barely prepared as usual, to lead a sensitive, helpful encounter with Mary, in hopes of her regaining her lost sexual powers. But this was usual, and I was not unconfident.
A minute later, Mary did enter the office. We exchanged formal greetings, and I offered her the couch to lie down on. She was a remarkably pretty girl of eighteen, with thick black hair set in soft wavy curls two inches above her shoulders. She stood five feet, six inches tall, and wore plain-looking pants and shirt beneath her navy blue midi coat. Her face was expressionless through confused brown eyes.
After she was in a comfortable position on the couch, I instructed her of the general therapy procedure. I advised her that, unfortunately, truthful and precise dialogue was not only the best way, but the only way to cure her condition.
Mary then proceeded to relate the details of her seduction by her father.
"It happened five years ago when I was thirteen. My father had given me permission to throw a party. I invited practically everyone I knew. We have a great house with a swimming pool, and for so long I thought I would be great to give a party. So he finally let me. He promised not to snoop, or spy, unless things got too unruly.
"Well the party was going great. About forty-five people showed up. Most of them brought booze with them. I was glad, because I had been drinking a few times before, and I liked it. Now all I had to do was keep the place from getting rowdy.
"I was drinking vodka, and orange juice. My tolerance was pretty low, so I got high real quick. As the night went by, and most people behaved themselves, I figured everything was okay, and I was home safe. Someone had turned the stereo louder, but that was alright.
"About midnight. I took my boyfriend down to the basement. Ten or tweleve guys and chicks were dancing, and sitting around drinking. We snuck into a storage room down there. I had a key, so no one else could come in. There was a window on the door, I looked for something to cover it up with, but couldn't find anything. I didn't really care.
"We sat down on a stuffy old sofa. I was flying high, so when Mike started kissing me, my head spun; He gradually brought his hand down on top of my breasts, outside my dress. The kissing got heavier. Then casually his hand undid the top button of my dress. And the next. And two more. I would not allow him to feel between my legs underneath my dress. He got the message. He was content to roam my chest. I was wearing a modest bra.
"Outside the room, some slight commotion startled us. The talking grew louder. Somebody must have knocked into a table, because we heard some bottles smash on the floor. Somebody yelled out a few obscenities, but there was loud laughter right after. I thought I should go out and tell them to cool it, but I figured, 'Ah, the hell with it."
"But when I looked up, my old man was staring at us through the window in the door. And there I was sprawled out on the couch with my top wide open, and Mike's hands inside my dress. There was a bottle of vodka on the floor. He must have heard the noise, and come down to look. He took out his key and slammed open the door. He was fuming. The basement had cleared. Mike got up, mumbled some apology, and tried to squeeze out the door. The old man took a swing, but missed him. Mike just ran like hell.
"I buttoned my dress, and tried to leave the room. Four-letter words filled the air, but there was nothing I could say. Suddenly I felt him grab me. His arms were around my waist, dragging me to the couch. He sat down. I was across his lap now, my stomach resting on his left knee, while he extended his right leg to hold down my own legs. Both my wrists were locked in his powerful left hand."
I listened attentively as she recounted the details to me.
Her father was saying "Now, young lady, you shall receive a lesson which I hope you will remember for the rest of your life. That was a damn stupid thing you just did, especially right inside your own house." He lifted up her dress until her blue cotton panties were exposed to him. His hand fidgeted to jerk them from her waist against her pleas, and struggling limbs.
"Daddy, I'm sorry! Don't do this to me! Don't take my panties off, I'll die! I won't ever do it again, I promise! You can't do this to me!"
He scolded back, "You sure as hell won't do it again, but I want to make sure of it." Finally he forced the panties down to her knees. His right leg ensured that she could not twist loose. Now the bare cheeks were in front of him. He brought his right hand down on her ass. One, two, three ... a dozen sharp slaps to her bare derriere. It continued. The count was up to two dozen. Her precious globes were dancing up and down with each hit. What perfectly formed white mounds they were. Round, supple, symmetric. They shook noticeably, the tight muscles flexing and contracting. They stood out like snow-capped mountains between the valley of her lower back and her trim, slender legs. The smacking sound was intoxicating, intensified by the screams of terror accompanying.
"You bitch, you cheat" hollered her old man. "No more, never again, you understand?"
She sobbed back, "No, never again, dad! I've had enough; stop, you're killing me!"
He showed no mercy. The hitting continued. The milk-white mounds were taking on a crimson hue. He knew it was hurting, but knew when to stop. She could stand more. Each spank was landing with a distinctive 'crack', the noise no doubt adding immensely to her suffering. "Dad, please, I'm so ashamed, I can't take any more!"
"Shut up!"
Noticing the vodka bottle on the floor, he picked it up. Sadistically, he poured a generous amount all over her pinkish buns. She screamed, "Ah, that stings, it's burning me! I'm on fire! Dad, let me go, I'm on fire!"
Poor Mary was truly a sight now. Her young cakes were glistening under the vodka. A portion found its way into her crack, causing her to wiggle uncomfortably. Her father went back to his punishing. He spanked and spanked her burning backside. It was actually warm. The vodka was causing an additional unbearable stinging. He made sure to attack every inch of white skin until it was transformed into a crimson color. Thirty more smacks. Mary was just crying now, the pain and the stinging being overwhelming. She had ended her struggle, hoping that he would tire and end it all. Instead, his sharp eye caught sight of a scrubbing brush on the table in front of him. Picking it up, he applied it to the stinging red globes. It caught her by surprise and she shrieked as the stiff bristles came crashing onto her ass.
He was tiring, so he wanted these brush spankings to really hurt. They made little white spots on the skin, disappearing in an instant. It felt like thousands of little needles stabbing her. She jerked and screamed with renewed energy. Fire couldn't be hotter she imagined. He dumped the remainder of the vodka on the enflamed skin. Mary screamed in utter agony, pressing her waist downwards in an effort to escape the fiery vodka. But there was no escape. Now she was crying heavily, really wailing. The last few slaps with the scrub brush landed solidly, causing her to wince. Twenty smacks she had received with the brush.
He threw it down, and just as quickly grabbed the panties at her knees and dragged them down her legs and off, over her red and yellow platform shoes. When she could catch her breathing again, she practically whispered, "Can I have my panties back? I'm so ashamed."
"No."
Mary was soothing her burning buns, gently stroking them. Her hands lightly made contact with the red globes, passing her palms over them as if to absorb some of the hurt. "Ow!" she yelped in a few instances. "I can't even move." It was a lovely picture, Mary's hands behind her, massaging the flesh of her delicate seat. Ever so slowly did her hands roam the hills, smarting painfully every second.
Her father rushed out for a minute, leaving her to lament her humiliating ordeal alone. When he returned, she still had her hands stroking the rump. "Get up!" he ordered. "I'm not finished with you yet!"
"Give me back my panties, please?" There was no answer. Turning around to face her tormentor, Mary nearly died when she saw what he was holding. It was an enema bag, tube, and nozzle. Her back just dropped onto the sofa, her hands covering her face which was flushed with humiliation. "You can't give me an enema, dad. I'm too big now. Mommy hasn't made me take one since I was so small."
He was laying out the black rubber tubing, attaching it at one end to the nozzle, and at the other end to the two-quart bag. Mary turned over again, hid her face between her arms, and moaned her pitiful situation. "I told you that you weren't finished yet. Now take off that dress."
"No, I won't do it." He picked up the brush, and smashed it across her protruding posterior.
"Take it off." Shamedly, she sat up and slowly unbuttoned her pretty red and yellow dress. The last button was two inches below her knees. She let it fall to the floor.
Now her knees were locked together, in an effort to shield her naked vagina, and its dainty little black bush. "Stand up!"
Slowly, nervously, her body moved into an upright position, her back to the tormentor. Her red asscheeks shone like red cherries on a sundae between her curvy white back, and her long, white legs adorned in sheer nylon stockings. "Turn around and face me."
It took a minute before she obeyed the command. Now Mary stood facing her punishing father. Her head drooped below, to conceal the tears, and to avoid meeting his glaring eyes. "Look at me."
Her head shook from side to side. "No," she whispered.
"Look at me," he repeated, smacking the brush on her stockinged thigh. Lazily, she lifted her head until she was staring at his shoulders. "Look in my face," he roared impatiently. Through her tears, she aimed her eyes at him, gazing hypnotically. "Now put your hands behind your back." Nothing.
"Daddy, I can't," she cried.
"Do it, I said." Hesitantly she brought her fragile hands away from her young virgin cunt, and around to her back. They clasped one another, and rested in the small of her back. Mary was completely mortified, standing submissively in front of him, with her cunt fully exposed to him. "Now take off your bra."
This was it, she felt, when the shock of his statement settled in her. When she wouldn't move, he threatened her with the brush. She trembled, and proceeded to the degrading task of unfastening the hooks in her pretty blue bra. In so doing, her chest was forced outwards, making her budding little tits stand majestically at attention. The bra fell on the floor next to her dress and panties. She bit on her lips to restrain her fearful emotions. Clad only in her stockings, and her red and yellow platform shoes, she was forced to stand in naked judgment by her father. Her weight was shifting back and forth on both legs while she moved her feet nervously.
"Keep your hands behind you and keep still." Quiet. More mental anguish, as the absence of sound forced her to dwell on her punishment. "Follow me," he said harshly.
She dragged her feet defeatedly, following him to the rear of the storage room. There was a mirror leaning against one wall. The adjoining wall was cluttered with junk. He grabbed an old heavy wooden chair from next to the couch, setting it up facing the mirror. He ordered her behind the chair, looking into the mirror. She saw her reflection, but quickly looked away.
"Look into the mirror," he cracked at her. She focused her attention down at her feet, and at the clunky red and yellow shoes. The sheer nylon hosiery was barely distinguishable, except for the darker two-inch band of the garter belt at the tops. Otherwise it was her birthday suit. "Bend over."
Meekly and lingeringly, she bent her torso over the upright back of the chair, its edge making a faint crease in her slender belly. She resigned herself to receiving the enema as bravely as possible. Her hands were resting on the seat momentarily, when he snatched them and secured her wrists with some rope. Tying a knot around the wrist, he fastened it to the front leg of the chair where it came up and joined at the underage of the seat. It took her by surprise, hence she was powerless to resist. Moments later, the other wrist was fastened in the exact same way. Mary had known sue to receive an enema, but this was now turning into a bizarre torture.
"What are you doing?" she demanded.
"Shut up," he replied, spanking her lovely asscheeks which were in an irresistible position.
"Ouch!" she screamed. The buns were still stinging from the severe clouting of a few minutes ago. At least her body was not so exposed in this contorted state. Her mind, though, was renewed with despair and humiliation.
She was next aware of his presence down at her feet. He tied another piece of rope in a secure knot abound her dainty ankle, then fastening it to the rear leg of the chair. He repeated the bondage on the other ankle, leaving about two inches slack in each rope. She was struggling in obvious discomfort, unable to move. "What are you doing to me? I thought you were giving me an enema!"
Instead, he stooped down and slid the rope on her ankle an inch higher. She felt him undo the ankle strap of her shoe, and slide it off her foot. Now without the aid of the platform, she was forced to support herself on her tiptoes, the slack in the rope now being drawn tight. He removed her other open-toed skyscraper, and now her entire body was perched up on her delicious slim toes. Her slender foot was now curved exquisitely along her insteps, nearly perpendicular to the floor. He examined her immobile feet, still sporting the delectable nylons.
Then, just to amuse himself, he proceeded to glide his fingers gently across Marys defenseless, ticklish soles. His head spun at the grainy touch of her sheer nylons. His fingers danced along the soft sensitive flesh on the bottoms of her feet. She could not move them, so had to accept the torment. "Don't tickle my feet, please, I can't stand it! You know how ticklish they are!"
She was screaming, "Stop it, don't tickle me any more!" His fingers tickled down on her arches to her gorgeous toes. Her toenails were polished in fire-engine red, and stood out invitingly from underneath her stockings. He teasingly massaged her toes, while she begged him to end the tickling. But he wanted to titilate her slim ankles before this session ended. So he trailed his fingers, lingeringly, the distance of her soles, enjoying her agony immensely. Finally, he was caressing her ankles which were no less responsive to the tickling. He travelled all around the ankles, touching, pinching. His hands absorbed the sensations from the stockings. When his own arousal had been generated, he ended it, in the midst of incoherent pleas or "No more tickling!"
Quickly he left the room, returning with a pail of warm, soapy water. When Mary saw it in the mirror, she was almost relieved. She felt like cursing him out with all her might, but in her position, it wouldn't be too wise. Besides she had enough trouble to deal with already.
Her old man picked up the nozzle, with the tube already connected, and inserted it up her asshole. She fidgeted and squirmed against the bulky thing being placed in such a vulnerable area. "Get it over with," she stammered.
"You have a might big mouth, there, lady. Haven't you learned anything yet?" She felt like crawling through the floor when he said that. It had a ring of 'other things to come' in it. He took the pail of soapy water and drained it through a funnel into the top of the enema bag. The pouring seemed endless to Mary. "How much are you giving me?"
"Two quarts. It'll be good for you." He elevated the bag above his shoulders so that the tubing sloped downward into her hole. He squeezed the bag, forcing the fluid through the tube and gushing into her body. Before one quart was gone, she was complaining, "That's enough. It's too much, it's all I can take!"
He paid no attention, planning to empty the two full quarts inside her. As the process continued, she bitched and moaned about being full. "It hurts, oh, don't give me any more. I'll explode!" But she persisted until the bag was empty. At the completion, he left the nozzle up her ass to ensure against temporary leakage. He left her that way for a short time. Her back was hurting, her stomach had cramps, her stretched arms were stiff and tired, her petite toes and legs ached significantly. She was still forced to stand on her toes only. Straining her neck, she looked up into the mirror, seeing herself clothed only in her scanty stockings and wondering why this all wasn't only a dream. Damn, if she could be released from standing on her toes.
She got her wish. Returning shortly, he untied her wrist bonds, allowing her to stand flatly on the floor. The enema tip was still inserted inside her. Shortly, though, he took her arms, and tied them to a pipe above her in the ceiling. She had no idea what this was all about, and he didn't tell her. She hoped only that he would remove the damn plug from her ass and let out the soapy water which bloated her. Now her body was perfectly upright, her arms above her head, while her ankles remained fastened to the legs of the chair. She could do nothing, but he forced to stare at herself in the mirror. The stockings still protected her from total nudity.
"I'm going out. When I come back, there had better not be a drop of water on that floor below you." With that he yanked out the tip, leaving only her self-control to prevent a spill. And to ensure that she started with an unfair advantage, he spent a few minutes tickling her exposed underarms. It caused her to wiggle and twist, and the liquid sloshed around in her belly. "Don't spill a drop," he warned.
"It's inhuman," she protested to deaf ears. Then he went out.
She was steaming. The enema was punishment enough in the first place, and the retention was worse. But not knowing how long she must retain it was plain cruelity. How long-half an hour? an hour? four hours? Not only that, but she could not move freely. The only way to hold it in was to twitch her hips and do ridiculous stationary dances. At least if she were allowed to walk it would be easier. And now all alone to ponder his nightmare. It was hell. The only place to look was in the mirror, to observe her own maturing, semi-naked body in disgrace. And the stockings made her feel slutty, like she was performing as some call girl, and the uniform required seamless nylons. It was pornographic.
Time passed. She couldn't tell how much. Fortunately the initial discomfort (due to his tickling) was minimal. Her arms and legs were tiring. She daydreamed, and contemplated the whole matter, wondering how she would act towards her father tomorrow. She did love him, but felt he was carrying things a bit far tonight. What she felt now was rage and resentment.
Gradually the load in her tummy became a burden, causing her muscles to twitch in order to retain the enema. He'd been gone over an hour. She thought of letting it go, but figured she could stick it out until the end. She tried to shift her weight from one foot to another, or lift one foot off the ground to relieve the tension, but she couldn't. She was cursing her fate, when she detected an annoying itch on her back. Now she was mad. The itch spread to include about half her back. It was so damn unnerving. She didn't know whether to cry or scream, so she just let out with "Shittttt!" But the tickled remained, compounding the enema predicament.
Soon everything got to her. The ropes were into her wrists and ankles. The itch would not go away, and the enema was close to spilling. She had just about reached her breaking point, when her old man returned. She was relieved slightly. She immediately asked him to scratch her back. "Hurry, it's driving me crazy." He thought a moment.
"First give me a kiss." Mary didn't know if he was serious or not.
"You're not for real, are you?" But she saw there was no choice in the matter. And by now the damn itch had her in agony. "Oh, alright!" she consented. Leaning toward her, she quickly planted a peck on his chin and pulled away.
"Now scratch my back."
"Give me a nice kiss first." Annoyed, she bestowed a very tasty kiss on his chin. "Now scratch my back, and let me spill this enema."
"Give me one more kiss and you can drop the water." She gave him a plump kiss, at the same time discharging the horrible fluid all over the floor. She gasped in ecstasy when the last drops rolled down her thighs. So great was her relief that she hadn't noticed that the itch disappeared.
Mary had no way of knowing but her father's well-intentioned punishment lesson was heading toward fulfillment of his own sexual desires at her expense. His outburst at finding her with the boy led to the domination of her spanking, the bondage, and the enema His arousal was triggered by the sensual spanking, and the intoxicating foot-tickling. Now his daughter was tied up in front of him, a helpless virgin, a veritable feast screaming to be captured. She was completely submissive to him. Most of her fighting and struggling was gone. The most intimate parts of her body she had displayed to him, which he violated. He had conquered her physically and mentally. All that remained of her spirit was a sense of endurance, and the expectation that it had to end sometime.
As she stood there, Mary was a picture of elegance. The old man finally fully awakened to that fact. Now because of his own selfishness, and momentary insanity, he wanted his own daughter in the name of Eros. He studied her perfect body: rich black hair, tender face, brown eyes; firm, round breasts with dark brown nipples. Her waist tapered off into gorgeous symmetric curves, flowing smoothly into full ripe hips. She had a flat belly ending a croppy black bush which guarded her womanly cunt.
Her legs were long, sleek, with voluptuous thighs and slender calves. She still had on the stockings, filling head with countless fantasies. Her toes were wiggling in the stockings against the position they'd been made to remain in during the past hours. The toenails sporting that red polish stood out like a red light on a dark night. She turned him on like no other female ever did. He couldn't control himself any longer. He only hoped she might forgive him.
He went to her, kissing her helpless body. He kissed her face, eyes, nose. His mouth went to her lips, which were defenseless against his. His lips explored her mouth, nose, chin. He returned to lick her lips, tasting the film of her saliva. His tongue went inside to brush along her pearly whites. They glistened as his satanic symbol drank up the juices from her mouth.
He returned his attention to her flawless forehead, where he repeated the passionate kissing. His hands were combing through her hair, clutching at the flowing silken strands, like cave men did to cave women. Lust was the whole motivation behind him now. Her face was smothered under kisses and tongue caresses. His fingers toyed with her tiny ears, concentrating on her erogenous lobes. His hands slid over to stroke her neck, powerful hands soothed her aching neck, and along her shoulders.
Now the father's mouth traveled slowly to the daughter's breasts. Mary protested this out rage verbally with a quick firing of obscenities.
He slapped her face soundly six or seven times, bringing her to tears. He picked up her panties and bra, shoving them in her mouth to gag her.
His oral delight at his daughter's tit resumed. His mouth was upon the tasty swelling, sucking on the nipple like a piece of candy. His hands drew circles around the base of the tit, then crawled upward toward the rounded summit. The subtle titilation caused her nipple to become erect. It forced its way to the eager teeth of her attacker. He seized the hardened nipple between his teeth, bestowing little love bites and playful nips upon it. He delicately chewed the dark brown tissue, pulling at it, and drawing it away from the skin. It excited him enormously being able to take such sacred erotic liberties as he chose to. Again he bit into the nipple tenderly, rolling it along the sharp edges of his teeth. As he let it go, he caught it between his lips. He commenced kissing it adoringly. Then his mouth opened wide in an attempt to devour her breast. He made giant sucking motions all around the supple flesh.
His tongue darted, next, into her cleavage, exploring that valley of her breastbone. She gave a small involuntary shiver as the chilly air evaporated her saliva-coated bosoms. His mouth was on her other breast, tasting the unique substance of the velvety and swollen mound. He bathed every inch of tit with his fiery tongue. He worked at licking the entire surface of the round-like treasure. He could not open his mouth wide enough to swallow as much as he'd like to. He just flickered his lips tantalizingly over the elastic brown nipple.
His hands then went up, each to capture a boob. They massaged the saliva into the juicy meat, bringing the nipples unwillingly to life. Fingers stroked lightly from the base of the tit upward along the slope until reaching the little brown buttons. They were playfully squeezed between the fingers, causing Mary to wince breathlessly.
Then father held his daughter in a passionate embrace. His chest pressed up against her breasts. His arms were around her waist, rubbing against her back. The muscles in her back stretched firmly, as her arms were raised above her head, still secured to the pipes by the rope. He instituted a massage, kneading the flesh from her lower back to her rib cage. His knuckles grabbed at the meaty substance, wringing out the aches and the stiffness. His palms and thumbs worked against her skin, soothing and refreshing. She became giddy as he slid his fingertips up and down her spine. She arched her back forward, goose bumps appearing on her skin.
He descended to her bare buttocks, still crimson and painful from the spanking. The cakes were still so sore that the slightest titillation brought about evasive twisting, and screams from underneath the gag. He would have indulged himself at her painful expense, had his half-mast pecker (inside his pants) not brushed against her wriggling hips, reminding him of his ultimate goal. For an instant, his cock was pressing rather close to her box, indicating to Marty exactly what his demon plans were.
Soon his hands were exploring her inviting belly. The creamy skin felt exquisite to him. Her slim, supple belly was squirming against the ticklish touchings of her disgusting, horny old man. The texture was electrifying. His mind raced as he realized the scene: taking advantage of a beautiful mistress, captive in bondage. This was especially true as he feasted on her belly, truly one of the most erotic specimens of the female anatomy. He lost himself in the endless strokings of her tummy, from just above her jewel box, all along her rib cage. His fingers played across the visible ribs, as if he were strumming a harp. His hands went up, and teased lightly under her breasts, then returned to it as if it had springs attached.
Mary's fight had given way almost to indifference. She couldn't believe the son-of-a-bitch was raping her. But she had endured ruthless indignation already, and the gag had diminished her vocal disagreement to nil. She prepared herself as he went to attack her cunt. Her tired body possessed little resistance.
She felt his mouth snake its way through her bush, while a hand was sliding down each thigh. The curious tongue penetrated the fibrous outer lips of her slit. The loss of privacy of such a private part of her body made Mary brood in a state of guilt. The slithering tongue went to work along the perimeter. It made smooth contact with her box of earthy delight. His tongue actually tingled as it swept upward inside the roomy womb. He pretended his tongue was a prick, sliding it in and out with a fucking motion.
Father was all fun and games at this point. His daughter's naughtiness, his rage, the spankings, the enema were all forgotten in his present state of madness. His stern, moral effort to punish Mary was out of the window. All his ethics, and good intentions for his daughter unfortunately became overshadowed during his frenzied state of passion.
His tongue licked at the womanly flesh. It searched out her budding clit, drawing it out from amid the thick tissue. His teeth bit gently into it. His lips kissed it feverishly. Then his mouth sucked on the magic button, as it had done with her nipples. His hands, meanwhile, stroked with nervous energy on the inside of her stockinged thighs, still slightly spread apart, and fastened at the ankles to the chair.
As he continued the oral worship, her virgin juices began to flow. The walls of her cunt trembled slightly under the pressure of the determined tongue. As he drank up the forbidden nectar, an astounding thing occurred. Mary's dormant virgin clit sprang to life, despite her valiant efforts. That he succeeded in arousing her, against her strength and will, this finalized her shame and humiliation. She had never experienced sexual excitation before, so the overwhelmingly titillation sensations running through her body were a mystery. But she decided she would fight them, not allow them to overtake her. She knew it was no use to plead through the gag. Her fight would be a silent one.
His hands had not rested either. Her stockings kept him occupied so greatly. He was no longer content to just stroke them, but he rolled the nylons up and back over her knees. He grabbed at the sheer fabric, clutching it religiously in his fists.
Back in his mouth, the awakening of her clitoris served to inspire him. He stroked his tongue back and forth over the hardened little button. He licked at the flesh, then trapped it between his lips. There, his biting lips squeezed it softly. Pivoting his head from the neck, her clit was contorted in small fashion.
To Mary's puzzlement, her fight had ended shortly. The erotic sensations overwhelmed her. She gasped breathlessly with reluctent delight as the old man performed this dreadful act. Yet she became passive, and now longed to feel his mouth attack her clit. The trembling of her muscles became substantial. It was not long before her walls began to quake. The pulsations in her box were mounting unbearably. An indescrible tickling plagued her clitoris. Her back had arched forward, sending her breasts high out in front of her. She was beyond control now. She was awaiting some unknown, inevitable climax she sensed. Suddenly an enormous rush of energy invaded her cunt. It seemed to burst her clitoris. She shivered for a moment. Her box then exploded with the first contraction of her premiere climax. After that, her pelvis vibrated furiously as she pounded out the final spending of her virgin discharge.
When the immediate ecstasy had passed, she looked at her father. She felt horrible-violated, raped, degraded. But the worst was still ahead. Daddy was as horny as a sailor in a Chinese whorehouse with twenty pounds of rice. Like an animal, he untied her wrists from the pipe overhead. When Mary dropped her arms to her side, he swiftly grabbed them and tied them behind her back. Next he undid one of her ankle bonds, and with one foot still tied to the rear leg of the chair, pivoted her so that the newly-freed ankle was in position at a front chair leg. Still some slack remained in the ropes. In this manner her knees were away from the chair, and were free to bend.
He ordered her to lie on her stomach on the floor. First she drooped to her knees and then fell forward-face down. Again, she was a helpless creature in his command. Quickly he shed his pants. He then ripped away the panties-and-bra gag he'd stuffed in her mouth earlier. Finally, he assumed his position on the floor directly in front of Mary. He spread his legs open so that his mammoth hard-on was staring her in the face. Now he lay back.
"Lick it, suck it!" he sternly ordered. When she saw the stiff prick, she screamed in horror. But he was in no mood to be frustrated, or denied. He grabbed her by the hair and pulled her head so that her mouth was right up against the massive organ. "Suck it, I said!"
On putting her lips on the hard-on, it revolted her. But his persistant fistful of her lovely hair caused her to work a little more diligently.
"Lick, it won't kill you!"
Her teeth parted, sending out her innocent, thirteen-year-old tongue. Frightfully, it slid along the blood-filled rod, reaching the twin balls. Her naive tongue sent a wave of tingling excitement up his enormous cock. She reversed her route and came in contact with the evil blue helmet. Her lips brushed against it.
"Kiss it!" he stammered. Her timid lips placed skimpy kisses on the ugly helmet with a hole in the top. She switched her attention to the less sickening chore of licking the rod-He had to drag her head around so that she licked the sensitive underside. The pressure she applied was so slight, yet it made the blood pound away in his erection. He made her take his hairy balls into her mouth, and suck on them, and blow them. He tried to speed her meek mouth up, to suck harder. He was horny beyond belief. He was berserk with arousal.
As she continued the blow job, he felt his urge mounting to the limit. Unknowingly, Mary was prolonging his climax unbearably. When finally he shoved her face down onto the trembling cock, her mouth succeeded in bringing on the first semi-shots of his come.
But he was in a rage of lust now, his patience gone. He got up from the floor, went to the chair legs and untied her ankles. Then he freed her wrists. He turned her over on her back, and pounded on top of her. She tried to push him off her but he easily overpowered her. His cock was practically spurting all by itself, dying for the comfort of a warm pussy. He aimed his weapon into her clit, which first closed up in fear. But when he forced open the lips and dug it into her love button, the muscles relaxed, and he shoved it in there.
Mary cried out in pain. "Take it out. You're tearing me open!" Her fists pounded at his back and her nails scraped his flesh. But it only aroused him further. His weapon was spreading her love juices on those first tight strokes. Now he was in all the way. He jerked himself in and out of her, smashing her hymen, and sporting the blood on his prick. She was in agony under the force of his driving pecker. She felt as though she would split down the middle.
It wasn't long before the agitated cock shot out the hot filmy come into her hole. He was slamming against her body, making her brace against him. As he thrust his pelvis forward, the white liquid spilled out and drenched her black pubic locks. He drove like a wild man to extract those final manly juices. When he had totally spent, he got out and went out.