Gradually the light dawned. I had to deal here with two exquisite young masochists, who though they were both products of our smug Victorian society secretly experienced the same lustful desires as a tavern wench or others of that same lowly station in life. Now, they rationalized, if they could both be forced to yield to the will of a man, they would be able to tell themselves that they were not guilty of any sin because they had been made to do the bidding of their assailants. And then they would be free to unleash all their inhibited passions under the guise of being coerced to obedience and docility.

It was a highly ingenious scheme, and already my prick was longing to take part in it. I had greatly misjudged Miss Molly Bashe. Either that, or the instrument which now began to throb and turgify between my thighs had proved a catalytic rod and untapped the damned-up sensual force within her voluptuous young being. For I will say that this psychology is not uncommon with many women who profess the greatest chastity and the sublimest virtue: they tell themselves that if they are obliged against their will to surrender their fair persons, the sin is not theirs and therefore they remain inviolate amidst the most heinous violation, pure amid the riotous erotic fantasies which make of them a sexual plaything for the will of a male.

At any rate, my lonely and neglected prick would now have reason to show the utmost gratitude to this fair charmer and her sycophant, and I was instantly ready to show her how even a prick which is said to have no conscience could pay its debt of gratitude!