Honeymoon Bondage Sex
In The Unholy Master by John Reskind (LLP-126, Liverpool Library Press 1968), our newlywed couple’s honeymoon cruise is not going well. She came virgin and chaste to the altar and was horrified by their first bout of connubial sex, and her husband? He’s not having it:
She had rolled her back to him, as if he were not speaking, not even in the room. Rage had welled up inside him.
“Damn you!” he swore, ripping the sheet from her to expose her luscious white body to him once more. “You’re my wife now, and you’ll act like a wife!”
She had stared at him, her eyes widening in fear once more as she saw him jerk the robe from himself and his thick cock leap into its rigid state yet again.
I must’ve looked like a madman that time, he thought, remembering how he had thrown himself on top of her once more.
“You beast, beast, beast!” she’d gasped, trying to struggle with him, clawing at him with her long nails and kicking wildly as she writhed beneath him.
It was then that he had groped for his robe, pulled loose its tie-cord and brutally secured her hands behind her. Her struggles weakened. She was exhausted. Tears of humiliation and heartbreak stained her cheeks. He hardly knew what he was doing, only that she belonged to him and that she had to be made to know this. All resistance left her and he pulled her back across the bed so that her hips rested on the edge, her legs trailing down to the floor. She wept, hatred and shame spewing from her eyes. He pushed her thighs wide apart once again and she began to sob louder as he thrust his cock into her cunt once more, half standing, half laying across the soft, naked flesh of her buttocks and as his hot, fleshy staff drubbed up and up into her wide-stretched passage, he couldn’t contain his almost obscene gasping grunts, which mingled with her sobs and then lost itself in a continuous pant of lust…
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