It was not a punishment he was submitting her to, but a form of sadistic pleasure he derived from sprawling naked in his huge, leather reclining chair with his feet raised while she straddled him as she was now, her long, white, rounded legs astride and folded beneath her with wide-spread thighs, her crotch completely exposed to him, the stretched open lips of her sparse, blonde, hair-covered pussy disclosing her delicate, pink-hued inner-flesh as he forced her to absorb his elephantine prick up into her unprepared vagina without benefit of the least mercy.

When the last guest had left, he'd turned to her and ordered her out of his sight. He'd seen enough of her whorish face for one night, he'd spat, and in welcomed relief she had gone to her room to think and dream of Antoine and their rendezvous the following afternoon. She had no more than climbed into bed when he'd walked naked into her room, surprising her by plopping obscenely down in this, his favorite chair and snarling: "Come, sow! Get over here and squat down on this prick of mine… All of a sudden it's acquired an itch that needs servicing, and that's what I keep you around here for."

Of course, she hadn't hesitated even for a moment; to do that would have meant a beating with a belt or his fists, however he happened to feel; instead, she had jumped from the bed, stripped away her night gown and immediately mounted him, taking his giant, stone-hard cudgel into her hand and quickly drawing the huge, rubbery, purple head through the sensitive, hardly moist coral-flesh of her vulva and placing its tip at the snug, unwanting and unprepared mouth of her vagina, catching and holding her breath in dreaded anticipation of his first inhuman thrust that she knew was to come. And it had… a vicious spearing penetration of the blunt headed shaft, expanding the tight elastic-like mouth of her passage in an instantaneous piercing pain as he lunged his hips upward, simultaneously forcing her by the waist down onto his colossal instrument with bestial fury.