Jon Reskind
The unholy Master

CHAPTER ONE

The voluptuous young woman with the strikingly beautiful face and shoulder-length, golden-blonde hair was the vivacious new bride that all aboard ship were buzzing about.

What breathtaking loveliness!

And the handsome young husband was Paul Arden, son of Cornelius Arden of the brokerage millions, enroute to Paris where he would accept a diplomatic post with the American Embassy.

A dashing young man, ruggedly so… sort of Errol Flynn-ish, if I may.

Such unions must be made in heaven.

On the contrary, in a Board-of-Directors' chambers, I'd venture. She is of the Boston Clintons, you know… oil.

You are not a romantic soul, M'sieu'.

I'm a practical soul, Phillipe.

Ahhh, what a marvelous way to spend one's honeymoon… five glorious days… and nights at sea.

Hmmm, the marvel is the lovely Madame's legs, Phillipe. Have you ever in your whole existence laid eyes on such splendid specimens?

Frankly, I am an eye-man, M'sieu', and the enchanting creature has those long, almond-shaped, sea-green orbs that invariably throw me into ecstasy.

You both must be suffering from a hardening of the wrong arteries, I swear. Have you not yet swooned at the sight of her gorgeous hips and magnificent breasts?

Ah, then… but here she comes tripping along the deck… and I do believe I detect a trace of haughty anger to her step… yes, and a tear-stained cheek…

Janet Arden had been injured more mentally than any way else, she finally concluded, as she quickened her pace past the three old lechers ogling her from their deck chairs. Not that his horrific battering and pummeling hadn't bruised her physically… and of course, she had bled with an alarming profuseness, but it was the psychological damage that was almost more than she could bear.

She had not spoken to Paul in twelve of the last twenty-four hours, and their marriage was little older than this. Her whole delicate and beautiful world had been rent asunder it seemed, and for hours she had actually contemplated thoughts of leaving him forever. Dear God! What a horrible first night together! The way he had come at her! It was just inconceivable for her to imagine that her gentle and lovable Paul could have transformed into such a brutal sex animal; yet, he had, and as she continued her quickened step toward the quarters of Doctor Leduc, the ship's acting physician, the shockingly repulsive nightmare flashed through her pain-filled mind again and again.

What had done this abhorrent thing to him… brought on such a vile metamorphosis? She tried to think, to put events together prior to their little embarrassing departure from the lounge when he had hustled her off to their stateroom. He had been so sweet, so gentle, so loving all day, constantly touching her, his handsome smile almost a perpetual expression when he looked at her. Dear God, she had never been so happy in her entire life.

She recalled that they had just met Doctor Leduc and joined him with some of the other passengers to toast a glass of champagne in celebration of their embarkation, when suddenly Paul had whisked her away with hardly an apology, the group's knowing little smiles and winks following after them and causing her to blush. Even so, she had gone with her new husband readily, filled with the excitement of anticipation her own self.

The time had come and she trembled with elation inside. She had truly looked forward to this first night with him, preparing herself mentally for weeks to make certain she entered the marital relationship with the proper attitude. She loved her Paul so very, very much. She knew that he resented her not giving herself to him before marriage, that he insisted it just wasn't being done anymore, but she had vowed that theirs was going to be a canonically ideal union in the true time-honored tradition. It was that important to her… that they should share a mutual respect and understanding for one another from the very onset, and above all, that he entertain no doubt but what he alone was the only man ever to possess her.

God knew, as did Paul Arden, that it could never be any other way with her. Her proper, religious, New England upbringing had served to save her the first few times he had nearly broken down her resistance. And Lord above, it was not as if she hadn't been tempted, hadn't wanted him so badly she ached with her desire for hours after they parted of an evening. She trembled when she thought of how close they had come those times… and secretly, she knew that had he persisted she would have eventually given in to him… She loved him so much… so much.

Last night, she had been as anxious for the consummation as he… and it would have been so beautiful had he only shown a little understanding, preparing her gently for the assault on her virginity. She shuddered now as she thought of it. The tips of her swollen nipples were so raw and sore that she could barely stand the touch of her bra against them. Her whole body ached from his savage rape. He had used her for nothing more than a fleshy receptacle to gratify his vile lust, without a thought toward her desires and pleasures. He had been an animal… a… a gross, carnal beast…!

Tears puddled her slightly reddened eyes as she hurried along the passageway of the French luxury liner, St. Croix. What was to happen to them now? Yes, she still loved him… of course, she loved him. He was her husband, but the mere thought of him touching her naked body again sent quakes of angered revulsion coursing through her violently. She had lain awake for hours after he was done with her, even as he had begged for her forgiveness, not answering him, only weeping in her agonized repugnance. At last, Doctor Leduc had come into her tortured mind and she recalled how impressed she had been with his suave, sophisticated manner, the gentle movements of his long, delicate hands suggesting an air of confidence and understanding to her. He was returning home from a medical convention in New York to his practice in Paris, he had told them, and quite timely so it seemed, for the ship's regular physician had suffered a sudden heart seizure and had been hospitalized in New York. The debonair Frenchman had agreed to act in his stead for the crossing.

Sometime in the midst of the early dawn hours she had made up her mind to consult him. Paul had finally fallen asleep and she had cuddled up in a chair, a blanket around her, dozing half-heartedly until the sun had risen well above the beautiful, calm Atlantic. Then, while he still slept, she had quietly bathed and dressed, slipping from their stateroom without his knowing. And now, for some inner reason, she had every confidence that the genteel doctor would in some way be able to help.

Paul Arden awakened with a start. Cool air from the opened porthole played across his naked, well-built body, and he sat upright to see that he was alone. He hopped from the bed and did a quick turn about their quarters to assure himself. Janet's things were there; but she was not!

Damn, he thought miserably. What a hell of a way to start a honeymoon.

He lighted a cigarette, grabbed up his robe and went to stare out the porthole. His brow was lined with his deep thought.

God! What've I done? And where's she gotten to at this time of morning?

He'd lost his head completely; there was no denying that. But in Christ's name, what could she expect? He'd quarreled with her the entire year of their engagement over her giving in to him… had even tried to explain to her that virginity was as outdated as silk-hatted diplomats. A young couple in love no longer waited for marriage; they relied upon their love and trust of one another, not some legal hokus-pokus or the presence of a ring on third-finger-left-hand. Naturally, she hadn't listened to him, and she had always managed to squelch his attempts at the last minute, leaving him in a state of aching madness. He had come so close to possessing that luscious body of hers time and again that his control had been damn near annihilated completely, and he wasn't about to make excuses for that.

With her disgusting, snippy, Boston upbringing, he knew that to force himself upon her would only have meant their breakup, and certainly had they not married when they did, he surely would have done just that. But dammit, he did love her very much, and truly, he had wanted anything but to destroy their relationship by some uncontrollable act that he would only commit in the heat of passion.

And that's exactly what I did. I went crazy!

God almighty, if she hadn't slipped on that flimsy, hip-length nightie… and that damned, breathtaking body that was almost too perfect…!

It was as if he could see her now, standing there, her magnificent figure a lovely thing of art. Of course, he'd seen her before in a bikini… but never this way. Each sensuous detail of her nakedness had been resplendently clear, from her erotic pink nipples, downward to the delicate triangle of soft, golden pubic hair nestling intriguingly below her soft white virginal belly. And suddenly, nothing else had mattered but plunging his aching cock into that tantalizing flesh. He saw her not as his exquisite Janet, but as a woman, a woman legally his own and whom he had to have at that moment regardless of the cost. Nothing else had mattered!

"Darling… do I please you?" she had said, her voice almost as gossamery as the brief negligee she wore.

Christ! I couldn't speak. What a hell of an animal sound I must have made when I reached for her, dragging her roughly down to me… ripping that garment away like so much tissue paper…!

"Darling, please…! Be gentle, Paul… P-Please!" Her voice in her shocked terror had been as remote to him as if she were speaking from another world. He had clamped her to the bed with one hand and maneuvered the other rapaciously over the tender, supple contours of her rebelling young body, squeezing fiercely at her pure, succulent breasts, his fingers pinching cruelly at the tiny coral nipples until they stood firm and erect. And then his mouth had dropped greedily to engulf them, and he chewed hungrily at their tips until he had felt the chaste, resilient flesh give way and the warm, salty-sweet taste of blood oozing onto his lashing tongue.

"Oh… no… noooo, Paul… please… not like this… dear God…!" she had pleaded and he had known it, but her words had fallen unheeded from her pained lips.

He remembered how he had held her wild, straining body helplessly pinioned to the bed. He had imprisoned her with his weight, his heavy, tensed chest like a great stone upon her. Her long blonde hair had commenced thrashing almost insanely from side to side beneath him, her lovely face suddenly twisted grotesquely in her terror. The horrifying disbelief registered in her eyes was still vivid in his brain, but he had ignored it, just as he had ignored her wailing pleas, until they became incoherent mumbles. It was then that he had fucked her the first time.

Turning a deaf ear to her low moaning cries, he had bounced on top of her, forcing himself brutally between her long, slim legs, his hips falling heavily to wedge her unaware thighs into a wide-splayed position, securing her jerking buttocks to the bed. The soft down of her pubic covering had brushed teasingly against his throbbing cock, inciting him to unintelligible babblings of frenzied, uncontrollable lust. His knees he had placed strategically to hold her open to him and he ground his pelvis hard into her squirming, defenseless crotch. The hollows of her thighs had jerked spasmodically, drawing his hand between them like a magnet; then, he had clutched his cock and worked it up and down fiendishly until he split the moist, tight slit of her cunt with his prick's hard throbbing head… until mercilessly it discovered the snug, undefiled opening to the soft, fleshy passage between her legs… and he had rammed.

God almighty! He'd plunged the blood-filled knob between the fleshy, slick lips and with a groan, thrust it all the way forward into her quivering cunt! She had squealed like a live pig on a spit, flailing her legs out wildly in her crazed effort to escape the unexpected barbaric impalement. But it had only worsened her position, and he could still hear the guttural screech of further pain that had come tumbling piteously from deep in her throat as his rock-hard cock battered deeper and deeper into her warm, yielding flesh. At last, their pelvic areas had collided with a resounding slap, signaling victory. His rigid, thick shaft lay completely submerged in the secret recesses of her quivering belly, the warm, wet walls of her unwilling cunt clasped tightly around it.

He hadn't stopped; he couldn't. He hadn't even given her the chance to adjust to his sudden presence deep in her womb. He had just commenced to fuck, drubbing in and out of her like some feral, rutting beast. His one bran-inflamed thought had been to squirt his hot, thick load of waiting sperm inside her soft belly where it belonged, where it had belonged for over a year now.

How many times did I fuck her? My God, I can't remember…! Again and again I shot into her groaning body, flooding that delicious cunt with a reservoir of hot, sticky cum I'd been storing up for a year…!

No, he couldn't remember how many times he had screwed her, only that a feeling of helpless guilt had finally swept over him. And then he had become more gentle with the quaking, sob-wracked body beneath him, and he had begun to whine soft apologies into her pain-deafened ears as he gently rocked over her. Desperately, he had endeavored to sound the faintest response of forgiveness from her, for letting his unbridled lust overcome the patience he knew he should have had with her.

It'd been useless. She'd lain unmoving beneath him, her beautiful eyes open wide, staring coldly right through him to the ceiling above, as he had continued his efforts to raise some reply that would show that she felt something other than pain and disgust.

Christ! The contempt in her eyes… and it'd never left them, even hours later… still lying there, sobbing quietly…

He recalled pacing the room, offering her a cigarette, a drink, anything that would break the horrible silence and spark the slightest sign of forgiveness from her. Finally, he had said, "Janet… darling, please… can you forgive me?"

She hadn't looked at him, nor even answered immediately, and when she had her voice was frigid… almost toneless.

"If you're through with me for the night, Master, would you mind covering me?"

Her words had been like the keen edge of a blade thrust into him. He'd swallowed tightly and fulfilled her wish, tucking the sheet beneath her chin.

"Darling… I know it must've been horrible for you… I… I just lost control, that's all. I-I've waited so damned long…"

She hadn't answered, nor looked, nor showed the slightest reaction to his words.

"You… you were so breathtaking… standing there in that doorway…" he babbled on. "If only we hadn't waited so long. Remember? How many times have I said that we shouldn't wait any longer…?"

She lay unmoved.

"Damn it, Janet, I'm sorry!" he had blurted out at her in his discomfiture. "What more can I say? I'm a man, not some piece of machinery. You have to try to understand about these things. A woman with your beauty can drive a poor male out of his mind. It… it didn't just happen. Good Lord, it's been building inside me now for a year…"

Suddenly, 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.

Good God! he thought again, as visions of his brutal raping of her deluged his brain.

What have I done?