Vanishing Virgins

Chapter Two-3

“But...but...” Edith sobbed, “Why punish me? I had nothing to do with how my father treated you. I’m innocent.”

Dr Valentine leapt to his feet and stabbed his finger at Edith. “As was I innocent!” he thundered. “And just as I and these men here suffered for some aristocrat’s corrupt gain, so you and all their daughters will suffer pain and service us sexually for our revenge and pleasure.” He sat down heavily and gripped the blonde hair of the girl between his legs. “Get back to your duty,” he growled at her. “I want to enjoy your loving caresses while I concentrate totally on the final humiliation and degradation of the judge’s daughter.” He released her hair and she renewed her c**k-fondling kisses and caresses.

“Now,” said Dr. Valentine with a wicked grin, “my loyal harem-keeper, Borga, let us now have a roguish look at this charming young girl’s naked breasts.”

Borga giggled and reached up, standing on his toes, sliding the jaws of his scissors into the narrow band of frail cloth that was all that held together the last beleaguered bit of tattered fabric trying to conceal Edith’s swelling breasts.

Borga glanced back at Dr. Valentine, grinning impishly.

Dr. Valentine nodded.

SNIP!

Edith screamed as the ragged scrap, like a wounded dove, fell away from her trembling breasts. A deep, predatory animal moan of lust rose from the men’s throats as her robust, strawberry-nippled breasts surged forward into the air, free and lovely, explicitly undefended. Her shuddering dread set them quivering in all their creamy, naked vulnerability, delightfully inviting men’s fingers and teeth to a lewd feast.

“No—no,” Edith’s voice was reduced to a weak whisper, hoarse with the fear and shock of these evil men leering at her twin feminine charms. “Let me go, oh please, I beg you, let me go free and do not touch me.”

Her reward was a quartet of male laughter.

“And now, Master Valentine,” Borga said in his croaking voice, “I beg your permission to remove the fragment of rag insolently shielding the lady’s love-muffin from our eager eyes.”

“Granted. Complete your fascinating task, my faithful and devoted attendant.”

Borga pressed his palm over his heart and bowed low to his master and the two men, then straightened up with a huge grin. Momentarily, he flaunted his flashing scissors in front of Edith’s face, and then with agonizing slowness, slid one blade along her goose-bumped naked thigh, up under the fragment of her gown barely covering her hip. “Here I come,” Borga whispered to her with a fiendish giggle, “ready or not.” The scissors bit into the frayed remains of the elegant, expensive cloth, the gritty sound of parting fabric was a tolling bell of doom in Edith’s ears. With a final snip, the defeated custodian of her respectability abandoned its duty and slithered down one of her widespread legs and sprawled on the floor. All that was left of Edith’s expensive wardrobe was her hopelessly inadequate guardian of silky pink, delicately lace-ruffled, translucent panties. The men leaned forward, their glittering eyes fixed unblinking on the beauty of her swelling hips, and the dainty final barrier to the cotton-candy muff garnishing her defenseless p***y.

Borga’s lust-labored breathing came raw and ragged as he stroked his hand down the silken sheen of her panties and around its lacy trim circling her thigh. He drove Edith into repeating shrieks and whimpers by sliding two fingers along the narrow bridge of silk dipping down between her desperately struggling, twisting, thighs.

“Don’t damage it,” Dr. Valentine said. “I want to add her charming panties to my collection.” He gestured to the dozens of framed display of girl’s panties, bawdy memoirs of the numerous young girls his gang of henchmen had abducted and brought to his lair.

Borga nodded and strode to the large-geared wheel on the pillar behind Edith. He gripped it and twisted, grunting with the effort. The floor ringbolts securing Edith’s ankle chains began to move in jerky increments in a semi-circle forward and around in front of her, drawing her legs together. When her ankles were almost touching, Borga released the wheel and wiped his brow in mock exhaustion.

He looked up into Edith’s tear-drenched face. “Time for the Coup d’grace,” he said, gleefully rubbing his hands together. He stood at her right hip, pressing his face against her thigh as he reached out around her and pinched the waistband of her panties between his thumb and forefinger. With deliberate, pitiless glee, he nudged her panties down bit by tiny bit, with agonizing slowness so the men could enjoy Edith’s lingering humiliation as long as possible.

“No! No! No!” Edith shrieked, violently shaking her head.

With tantalizing tiny jerks of Borga’s hands, the delicate golden-hued fur of Edith’s lacy feminine muff crept out to begin its s****l slavery in a male’s world. Down to defeat her panties slid, until the lust-treasure of her p***y was at last revealed.

Now Borga quickly scooted her panties down her thighs, down her curvaceously-calved legs and over her feet until they lay in surrender on her ankle chains. Carefully, he unlocked one ankle cuff, gripping her struggling foot in his powerful hand as he slid the panty free of that chain. Locking her ankle in the cuff again, he scuttled around to her other foot and did the same, then lifted her lacy pink fabric in triumph. He giggled and stuffed it against his mouth and nose, deeply inhaling Edith’s intimate scent of p***y and golden dew.

“Bring it to me,” Dr. Valentine said.

Borga pranced over to his master and bowed as he handed the panties to him. Then he returned to Edith and cranked her legs around again to their widespread position.

Dr. Valentine gave the silky treasure to the naked girl kneeling between his thighs. “Caress me with them.”

She spread out Edith’s panties on her upturned hands, and then wrapped them around his c**k, slowly and repeatedly sliding the silken fabric up and down his throbbing shaft. He moaned and leaned back in his chair, his lust-glittering eyes gazing entranced at Edith’s totally naked beauty displayed so openly.

Never before in her life had Edith been forced to endure the humiliation of males gazing boldly at her body’s intimate love-treasure. Her head drooped forward, tears streaming from her closed eyes, her abundant breasts dancing out a naked ballet in cadence with her shuddering sobs.

Dr. Valentine squirmed and moaned as his girl artfully stimulated him. Soon he was gritting his teeth in a willingly endured struggle to retain his sperm until the moment when he could pump it deep into Edith’s p***y.

“Take her to the deflowering bed and get her ready,” he grunted to Borga. “You know my favorite position to f**k virgins.”

The two men beside him strode forward and gripped Edith’s frantically shaking body as Borga unlocked her chains. Edith moaned one last plea, then fainted. The three males carried her out the parlor door, the butler leading the way along the hall leading to the master’s specially-equipped bedroom.

“Slower—slower!” Dr. Valentine moaned to his naked brunette girl. “Just maintain my erection. You’ve watched what punishment my girls get when they make me c*m too soon.”

Her face paled and her bruised breasts shivered. “Yes, Master Valentine. I’ll be very careful.”

He leaned far back in his soft, upholstered chair, his face tilted up and stretched out his long legs straight and wide. His arms draped over the cushioned armrests, his wrists and hands hanging limp. Dr. Valentine closed his eyes and sighed. “Give me a dream of ecstasy to inflame my lust,” he whispered to her.

She glanced up at her master with a coy, blissful smile now that they were alone. Her shining eyes tear-dewed with tender affection, and she whispered in reply, “Yes, master, my love, I’ll perform a dream of ecstasy for both of us.”