Vanishing Virgins

Chapter Two-2

“Yes, Master Valentine. I know just how to make it most interesting for you.” He waddled over to a stepladder by the bookcases and dragged it back beside Edith, positioning it so he wouldn’t block Dr. Valentine’s view of her body. Scrambling up its steps, he reached out and snipped at the elastic lace cuff at her wrist. With a snap it parted, and Borga resumed his task of snipping away inch by square inch of her embroidered sleeve. Edith choked and gagged at the musky male c*m-scent of the unwashed, bobbing c**k so close to her dismayed face.

He worked slowly and deliberately, taking a full fifteen minutes to expose her dainty arm up to her elbow. She gagged again as he stroked his face across the bare skin of her forearm, pressing his lips against her with a drooling, sucking sound. When he finally cut away the entire sleeve, revealing her bare feminine shoulder to Dr. Valentine’s appreciative stare, he clambered down off the ladder and dragged it around to her other up-stretched arm.

The grandfather clock ticked away the time, the masculine persona of its gears and hammers chiming out each quarter-hour stage of Edith’s increasingly uncovered body with musical glee. There was a great whirring of gears and clanging of the hour when Edith’s other shoulder was exposed at last. The final hour of Edith’s modesty and untainted virtue had come at last. Captive, chained and defenseless, Edith’s bare arms and bare legs stretched out from her torso. Nothing remained of her pitifully ravaged gown but her deliciously low-cut bodice, and her scandalously abbreviated skirt. The clock’s loud ticking began its triumphant task of measuring out the ever-shrinking amount of fabric shielding Edith’s most precious, and soon to be deliciously revealed, intimate secrets of feminine beauty.

“Easy, Borga,” Dr. Valentine said. “Start with cutting away the fabric concealing her belly; then work upward, snipping away her bodice, going ever so slowly while approaching the very edge of her pink-nippled twin beauties before revealing them. Then go back to her skirt, shortening it with half-inch increments. And linger a bit from time to time. And when her gown is gone, let us have a moment to admire her lacy pink silk panties. Make her dance and whimper for us by stroking your hands over them, caressing her thighs and buttocks awhile before carefully removing her panties for my collection.” The men glanced up at the four walls of the room, smiling at the dozens of picture frames brazenly displaying Dr. Valentine’s collection of girl’s lacy panties. Displayed under the glass, below their crotches, was a delicate muff of shaved-off p***y hair. He grinned and laughed softly, “I look forward to adding yours to my collection, Miss Odette, but let’s not spoil the fun for you by rushing things.”

The two henchmen laughed and nudged each other.

“Yes, Master Valentine,” Borga said with a wide, toothy grin, “it will be my pleasure to obey.”

Edith’s head drooped forward, her long, glossy auburn tresses cascading down beside her trembling breasts, their curling ends flounced against the curves of her adorably swelling hips.

Borga grasped the fabric of Edith’s disappearing gown with his finger and thumb, pulling it out and snipping into it. Then he slipped one blade of his scissors under the cut fabric and sliced, a quarter inch at a time, a spiraling opening in the fabric. With excruciating slowness, Edith felt the bare skin of her belly exposed to the men’s leering eyes. When he had cut a ten-inch opening, Borga paused to grip her slim, still-clothed thighs and stretch up on his bare toes to lick into her belly button with the tip of his slimy tongue. He snorted his pig-grunting laughter around his extended tongue as Edith tucked in her belly and shrieked, throwing her head back, unable to escape the slimy, worm-like sensation aggressively poking and twisting into her unprotected navel. Borga’s oily saliva trickled down her quaking, naked belly, soaking into the remaining scrap of her gown and her pink panties. She was weeping hysterically now, desperately trying to blot out of her consciousness the horror being forced upon her.

“Now let us have the pleasure of watching her delightful mounds slowly emerge from hiding, Borga.” Dr. Valentine signaled the girl cowering on the floor. She rose up on her knees and began fondling his c**k and balls with both hands. She quickly coaxed him into a rigid erection, and then carefully and gently caressed his c**k with her crop-bruised breasts to keep it in full glory without the accident of a premature ejaculation.

Borga gleefully snipped away around the bottom of Edith’s ravaged bodice, revealing, bit by tiny bit, more and more soft, creamy naked skin of her trembling torso. Around her side, across her back, then along her other side, scrap by tiny cloth scrap fluttered to the floor like silky snowflakes as Edith’s frail guardian of modesty surrendered and deserted her defenseless body to the leering eyes of the men. Her ample breasts jiggled and jounced with her soft, heaving sobs. Inch by inch, those evil scissors snipped away bits of the retreating cloth guardian of modesty. Her face flushed crimson in humiliation; her heart ached with the certainty the precious purity of her sweetly guarded virginity was living out its final hour.

“Stop! Oh, ple-e-e-ase, stop!” Edith sobbed; her head thrown back, her eyes squeezed shut, the tears flooding down her cheeks.

The now-severed scraps of the remaining lower portion of her ruined wedding gown slid a few inches down her hips, exposing the erotic beauty of her sheer, almost-transparent, wedding-night panties. Edith was dangerously close to revealing the sweet, lacy-haired muffin-treasure snuggled in them. The ever-shrinking upper bit of her wedding dress, unquestionably losing its futile struggle to guard the modesty of her bountiful breasts, danced and twitched with her fitful, gasping breaths.

“Pause a bit with your scissors,” Dr. Valentine said to Borga. “Let’s spend a few minutes drinking in the amusing beauty of her desperate, but futile, struggle to defend her lovely femininity from our male observation. Give her time to imagine the dreadful methods we will use on her for our amusement and s****l gratification.” He patted the blonde head of the girl kneeling between his legs. “How I love to watch a terrified, defenseless girl being slowly stripped in front of lusty males. It would be a shame to rush the finale of this delightful entertainment.” He sighed. “How satisfying it is, taking my revenge on those troublesome titled aristocrats by kidnapping, humiliating and deflowering their daughters and brides. Then, when we become bored with f*****g them, we sell them to illicit brothels hidden in the mountains on the continent.”

When Edith heard his words, her whole body shook with her sobs; her head still flung back, shaking it from side to side in desperate denial. “No, no! Oh please, pity me.” Tears coursed down the sides of her face. “Please, no more. Let me go home!”

Dr. Valentine’s voice was a soft, mocking sympathy. “You will go home, my dear.” He turned and grinned up at his henchmen standing beside his chair, then turned back to Edith. “Your home is a cage in my cellar. You’ll have many others of my female captives to keep you company, where I and my men will visit you often for the delightful pleasure of f*****g your lovely captive body.”

Borga took advantage of this pause to lay aside the scissors and reach up to slide his stubby hands all over the extent of Edith’s now-naked belly and lower ribs. Her gasps and panting whimpers sang a forlorn melody accompanied by the lively metronome of his waggling erection. She shrieked each time he slid a stubby finger under the ragged remains of what now was only her makeshift miniskirt, and wickedly tugged it down another fraction of an inch.

Edith trembled uncontrollably as his hands explored the lush curves of her widespread, naked legs. Her head flopped forward, her long, tresses caressing the top of Borga’s bald head. He giggled, twisting and nodding his head, savoring the sensation of her silken caress on his baldness and across his face. His hands slid up and down her naked legs, sweeping around their luscious curves. Edith shrieked and strained at her vibrating chains as his stubby fingertips fiendishly tickled her inner thighs, and the sensitive skin behind her knees.

“You see, my dear Miss Edith Odette,” Dr. Valentine said, “there are unimaginably repulsive ways for us to pleasure ourselves with your enslaved body. I’m sure my devoted servant, Borga, will enjoy taking advantage of your captivity every day until we grow bored with your body and sell you to a foreign brothel. He is a genius at inventing new and fascinating ways of tormenting defenseless girls for our amusement. That’s the genius of my organization; humiliating and punishing you severely is my revenge, and the limitless ways to enjoy s****l gratification with your captive body is my pleasure.”

“No, no,” Edith moaned, “Please let me go. Please! I beg you; have mercy on a helpless girl.”

“Mercy?” he replied. “Was there mercy for me when I was laughed out of the University for my unconventional genius? Where was their pity for me when I stood in the defendant’s box at my trial? Did anyone care that I was imprisoned for testing my theories? Did you or anyone else care when I was stripped naked and beaten by sadistic guards? When they locked me in a six-foot by two-foot square cage and hosed my naked body with icy water, laughing at my pleas for mercy? No, aristocratic society either laughed at my pleading for humane treatment, or worse, ignored my existence, blissfully neglecting me and my cellmates, leaving us to rot while having nothing to eat but the foul scraps the mocking guards tossed into our cells.”

He nodded at the men sitting beside him. “My companions and I planned and schemed until the goddess of chance delivered us from our foul cells and we escaped into the sheltering darkness of that blessed night. I vowed then that my companions and I would have our revenge on society, beginning with the abduction of the beautiful young daughters of the aristocracy that condemned and imprisoned us. You and your sisters in bondage, my dear—or more accurately—your captive, naked bodies, are our revenge against your families for the months of torment we endured; beaten, starved and kept caged in the dark, stinking belly of that foul prison.” Dr. Valentine stood up and leveled an accusing finger at Edith. “And it was your father; curse him, who was the judge that sentenced me to life imprisonment in that stinking hell-hole, with no hope of parole.

“Society was frightened and repelled when I published my illustrations and explicit descriptions of ape mating behavior with female ape mates held captive in their cages. I recommended that men and women should use my detailed drawings to experiment with each other to increase their s****l pleasure. Then, to twist the knife in my back, your uncle, his brother, stole my research and patented my discoveries in his name, and became enormously wealthy while I and my fellow researchers rotted in that hell-hole. We were treated worse than apes, forced to sleep on a concrete slab, shivering under a threadbare, filthy blanket, and with no provisions for sanitation. We lived, ate and slept on the soiled floor, and forced to inhale the fetid vapor of our own urine and feces.”

Apparently exhausted by reliving his ordeal, Dr. Valentine sat down again and nodded to the naked girl at his feet to resume pleasuring his c**k. “That is why you and all the other beautiful young brides and daughters were abducted and imprisoned here; you are our revenge and our extremely pleasurable repayment for all the cruel injustice we males suffered at the hands of your fathers. Most of them, like your father, had no mercy or fair-minded idea of justice. All that mattered was their ambition to rise in their profession and get rich while innocent men languished in their putrid prisons. Other aristocrats were owners of factories who worked my fellow-companions to exhaustion, then threw them out the door to starve in the gutters.

“Some were tradesmen, shopkeepers, who embezzled money from their own company, then had their employees arrested and imprisoned to conceal their theft. The worst ones were sadistic, high-ranking military officers who beat, cursed, drove to exhaustion and despair their troops, then sacrificed many, many of them in a stupid, bloody charge against the withering cannon fire of their enemies; wasting their lives to glorify themselves and then win medals and promotions while standing on the dead bodies of their troops.” He glanced down and caressed the smooth, silky shoulders of his s*x-slave. “We seek out and hunt down their beautiful young daughters and abduct them. Now we keep them imprisoned here for our perpetual revenge, and the satisfaction of whipping and abusing their beautiful bodies for our entertainment and unlimited s****l pleasure.”