Chapter 1

Martha stood beside her new husband on the porch of the mission house and watched the small steam powered riverboat puff its way down river and disappear around the distant bend. She mentally reviewed the strange turn of events in her life that had brought her to this remote South American outpost. Her goal was not so much to feel happy, as it was to feel contented with her life. Mark's unpleasant attitude must be from the strain of the trip, she thought, things will get better now.

As the mousy daughter of a minister she had felt flustered at the attention paid to her by the handsome missionary living with them during his year long leave from the mission field. Martha had just turned eighteen when he arrived, and Mark was almost forty, but her parents did not seem to mind the age difference. When she mentioned his age to her mother Martha was informed by her mother that a young girl needed an 'older more responsible' man to take her in hand and 'protect and guide' her. Martha was frightened by Mark's stern visage, but as a young girl Martha had dreamed of being a missionary, and 'preaching the gospel' to the 'savages' of the world, and in other ways Marks stern demeanor was comfortingly paternal.

On the night before the wedding, just one week before they boarded the ship for her new husband's return to his mission post, Martha's mother, with great embarrassment, and much use of euphemisms explained Martha's wifely duties to her. Martha's mother told her that she would be expected to perform her 'wifely duties' any time her husband wanted, but that since Mark was a 'good Christian man' he would be gentle and not expect too much of her. It was explained to Martha that these 'wifely duties' were the price women had to pay for the honor of 'baring children for the Lord'.

The next afternoon they were married in a simple ceremony performed by Martha's father. They left that evening, by train, for New York, where they would purchase the supplies for their coming trip to the mission post. Despite the 'dire warnings' of her mother about her 'wifely duties', Martha's wedding night was spent dozing on the train listening to the clickity-clack of the wheels carrying them closer to their destination. Martha had expected to see at least some of the great city of New York while they made their purchases, and prepared their luggage for the boat trip to South America.

She was disappointed when Mark put her in a cheap Hotel room and insisted on doing all of the shopping alone. He even took responsibility for buying her clothes, saying he knew what she would need when they arrived at their new home. Martha occupied her days by reading her Bible; writing in her journal, and 'really' cleaning the room after the maids were done.

Martha avoided talking to the maids, they seemed very low and disreputable to her. The conversations she overheard seemed to indicate that more money was to be made by being 'friendly' with the customers, than by cleaning their rooms. Martha did not have the experience to really know what these women were talking about, but she guessed that it had something to do with 'harlotry'. Martha had no real knowledge of what a 'harlot' would do, except that it must be something so degrading that a husband would not even ask his wife to do it.

The day they were to board the ship Martha was again left alone in the room while Mark made last minute purchases and arrangements. Sitting in the room, her bags packed and ready to go, Martha wrote in her journal about her confusion. Mark had made no attempt to have her perform her 'wifely duties'. From the first night she had been prepared to be guided by her husband, doing whatever he asked of her.

Nervously she had waited each night for Mark to touch her, to indicate some desire for her. Now she pored out her disappointment and hurt on the pages of her journal. When Mark, and some rough looking men, showed up to collect her and the luggage Martha was relieved. The weather had been warming, and the tiny hotel room was becoming unbearably hot. Martha fanned herself and delicately pulled at the collar around her neck as they were driven to the docks.

The trip to South America aboard the tramp steamer had been miserable. The crew was dirty and obscene. The officers were only slightly better. The cabin was even smaller, and hotter than the hotel room had been. Despite the oppressive heat Martha chose to stay in the cabin as much as possible, and only go out on deck in the company of her husband. Mark on the other hand, spent much of his time socializing with the officers, and men of the small ship. He seemed to get along with these disgusting people much better than Martha thought a 'good Christian man' should.

Each leg of the journey led them to smaller dirtier quarters, fouler dirtier people and hotter more humid weather. Mark had stopped talking to her except to issue orders as to where she was to stay, and how long she would have to wait until he returned from making arrangements for the next leg of the trip. The final segment aboard the small steam powered boat up the river to the remote station had been the worst.

The 'captain' of the boat was a filthy, foul smelling, booze-guzzling dwarf that looked like some depraved gnome from a children's fairy tale. He continued to stare at her, and make comments to Mark in some language unknown to Martha. Although she could not understand the language, Martha was sure the comments being made about her were obscene and uncomplimentary; she got angry at Mark for not reprimanding the disgusting little creature. Once, when Martha started to question Mark about allowing this behavior to continue, he glared at her with obvious scorn and malice, then spoke apologetically to the awful little man, who dissolved in paroxysms of laughter and made obscene gestures.

Finally everything was off the boat, the mission house was opened, she was ready to start the task of cleaning it, and making it a home, and the evil little man was disappearing down the river. Surely, she thought, Mark will be his old caring self now. Mark turned to her,

"Come with me," was all he said, before he turned and walked back into the mission house. As Martha turned to follow her husband, it suddenly struck her that she was all alone with a man she barely knew, she had no way to communicate, and no one to ask for help if she needed it. She was totally dependent on Mark, and the thought frightened her.

The floor plan of the mission house centered on the largest room, the 'sanctuary' where they would be holding services for the converts. The front door led from the porch to the sanctuary, behind and to the side of the altar at the far end of the room was a door leading into their living quarters. The living quarters consisted of a bedroom, a kitchen, a 'family' room and a small office.

A door in the kitchen led to a back porch where there was a shower, and a path leading to a small building at the edge of the clearing. Martha followed her husband down the isle between the wooden benches, around the altar, and through the door into the Mark's office. Mark moved the chair from behind the desk and sat down.

"Come over here." He ordered sternly. Martha walked over and stood in front of her seated husband. Without any warning or explanation Mark reached under her dress and pulled her panties off her hips and down her legs to her knees. Martha started to pull back and protest.

"Stand still." The menace in Marks voice frightened Martha. She stood still while her husband pulled her panties down around her ankles. Having someone else's hands touching her thighs, and pulling her panties off, was a new experience, and despite her fear, a pleasant one.

"Step out of them." Martha obeyed, and stepped out of the panties, Mark picked them up and held them. "Go to the bedroom and bring me all of your panties, bras and slips" Mark commanded, then added "NOW!" when she did not respond immediately to his order. Martha walked in a daze through the family room to the bedroom. She felt strange without panties on. She had never in her whole life gone without panties except when she was taking a bath. She had to admit the dress moving against her bare butt did feel exciting.

Martha quickly hid one bra and one pair of panties in the back of her drawer, then gathered up the rest of them and returned to her husband's office. Her feelings of confusion and fear increased as she walked back into the office and saw her husband holding her dirty panties up to his nose and inhaling deeply through them. What kind of pervert have I married, she wondered. Mark took the bras and panties from his wife.

"Are you sure you brought me all of them?" he asked. Martha hesitated then answered.

"Yes" Mark looked at her skeptically.

"Before I count these, and punish you if they are not all here, I will give you a chance to go back and search your drawer to make sure you did not 'accidentally' miss any. Because, if you deliberately disobey me at any time I will have to punish you severely." Mark looked at his wife, hanging her head in confusion.

"Now, go back and check, just to make sure." Martha's mind reeled as she returned to the bedroom to retrieve the missing underwear. Her mind spun with questions, why is he being so mean, why did I come here, why am I getting so wet 'down there'. Martha returned to her husband with the missing garments. Mark took them and added them to the pile on the desk.

"There is still one bra you haven't given me. Take off the one you are wearing." Martha went back to the bedroom, removed her bra, put the dress back on, then returned to her husband with the last of her under garments. All of the dressed Mark had purchased for her had long tight sleeves, a tight bodice with buttons running down the front to the belted waist, and a full skirt down almost to the ankles.

Walking back to the office she felt her nipples getting hard. She had never been without a bra, except to bathe of sleep since her breasts first started developing. Like the rubbing of the dress against her but, the material rubbing against her gently bouncing breasts was a new and stimulating experience. Martha returned and stood in front of her husband her face red with shame, her last bra in her outstretched hand, her nard nipples poking against the material of her dress, and her 'place' wet and open. Mark took the bra, then picked up a pair of scissors and cut the bras and panties into useless pieces.

"You will have no further use for these. From now on you will wear only the dresses I purchased for you. Do you know why you will not be allowed to wear panties?" Martha shook her head 'no'. Mark reached up under her dress and felt her wet cunt. "You are not allowed to wear panties because, as my wife, you must be available at all times to satisfy my sexual needs." He pushed a finger into her wet opening. Martha gasped, and her body jerked. She had never been touched there. "In other words," Mark explained, "when I want to fuck you I don't want to have a pair of panties in my way."

Martha's face turned deep red in embarrassment, her eyes leaked tears of shame, how could her 'good Christian' husband talk to her this way. Marks thumb rubbed against her clitoris as he pushed his finger back inside her and Martha felt like a jolt of electricity had run through her body. Martha felt shame that her husband would treat her like this, she felt even deeper shame that her body would react as it was. Mark pulled his finger out of her wet hole and let her dress drop to the floor.

"Kneel down in front of me." Mark pulled her down to her knees between his legs. "Do you know why you're not allowed to ware a bra?" Martha shook her head 'no', tears running down her red face. She wanted to run into the jungle and hide in shame, but she couldn't, she was trapped. She was more afraid of the jungle than she was of Mark. Mark unbuttoned the front of her dress.

"I like breasts," Mark explained as he unbuttoned his wife's dress down to the button just below her tits, then, reaching in he pulled each breast out and left it hanging over the top of her dress, "and, from know on, I want to see yours all of the time." Martha squeezed her eyes shut in shame and sobbed as tears streamed down her cheeks.

"Why," she sobbed "why are you doing this to me?" She clung to his knees and her whole body shook with her sobs.

"Because I want to. You are my wife. You promised to obey me. Do you want to break your wedding vows already?"

"NO!" Martha sobbed, breaking your wedding vows was one of the worst things a woman could do. She would obey him like she had promised, no matter how humiliating it was, but she wondered again, why her nipples were so hard, and why was she so wet 'down there'. Mark lifted her by her shoulders.

"Up straight, just because you're kneeling, don't slump over." Martha straightened her back, and stopped sobbing. Mark gently grasped her breasts, and rubbed them, concentrating on her already hard nipples. Martha moaned as another gush of wetness flowed over the walls of her still virgin cunt.

"Do you know what a 'blowjob' is?" Mark asked Martha as he manipulated her breasts.

"No"

"Have you ever heard of 'cock sucking'?" Martha recognized the obscene term for a man's genitals but, do to her sheltered upbringing, she had never been introduced to the concept of cock 'sucking'. Her stomach turned as she realized exactly what Mark was talking about. Oh God no, she prayed, I can't do that. Mark handed her a dog-eared well-read paperback book.

"The first chapter of this book describes how to give a man a 'blowjob'. Take this book to the bedroom and read the first chapter. In one hour I will ring this bell," Mark indicated a brass bell on his desk, "and you will return to me ready to perform every thing described in the first chapter of this book. Do you understand?"

Martha felt like she was floating in some unreal dream world, these humiliating things could not be happening. How could they? How could a 'good Christian' husband be making her do these things. How could a 'good Christian' young virgin be getting so hot and wet doing these things? Mark grabbed her by the shoulders and gave her a rough shake

"I said 'Do you understand?'" Martha nodded her head weakly.

"Yes" was her almost inaudible reply.

"Then get up and go to your room." Mark turned and started to read silently from the Bible open on his desk. Martha felt like a naughty little girl being sent to her room for punishment. Her breasts swung gently from side to side as she walked through the family room and with each step she could feel the sticky wetness on her thighs.

Martha sat on the double bed in the bedroom and looked down at the book Mark had given her to read. She read the title "A Comprehensive Study of New York Street Prostitutes" under the title she read "With interviews of many of New York's best known prostitutes." Martha stared off into space for a while, then reached underneath her dress and felt the stickiness on her thighs, then felt the puffed sticky opening of her vagina. Martha had never touched herself there before, except in a quick and business like manner when she washed herself during her bath. It felt good, sent a thrill through her, but not the bolt of electricity that Mark's touch had caused.

Martha pulled her hand out from under her dress with a flood of deeper humiliation and shame. I can't do this, she thought, but deep inside her a little voice answered, 'you know you want to'. She opened the book to the first chapter. It was headed "A top New York Hooker Tells What Men Ask For Most". Martha read with increasing interest and apprehension "Kay" the prostitute's detailed description of how she gave men blowjobs that "kept them coming back for more".

Martha was repulsed and sickened by the thought of taking a man's penis in her mouth. Her humiliation deepened, Mark obviously had no respect for her. How could he make her walk around with her breasts showing and force her to read this trash if he loved and respected her? Then Martha read the last section, the "Key to giving professional quality blow jobs". Here Martha read that the key to 'top quality' blow jobs was to 'act like the man's cock is God' and that you are 'worshiping it with your mouth'.

Martha turned pale. This was blasphemy, sacrilege, idolatry, Mark could not really want her to pretend that his... his... , she could not even think the word that Kay used in the book, was God and worship it. He would be asking her to put her soul at risk. No, she thought, I can't do that, he can't really want me to do that. Martha jumped off the bed and rushed back to the office. Martha stopped just inside the office door and held the book out in her left hand, with her right hand she pointed at the book.

"Mark you can't possible..." Mark stood up with such force that his chair slammed against the wall startling Martha and causing her to pause mid sentence and look up. She looked up from the book just in time to see Mark storm across the room. Grabbing her by the hair, he looked menacingly into her face.

"Are you stupid? Or disobedient?" He waited for an answer. Martha was stunned, she rubbed her cheek and started speaking in a stuttered rush trying to explain why she had disobeyed Mark. The only word that came out clearly was 'idolatry'.

"According to the Bible I am the head of the house. That means I do the thinking not you. I will tell you what is idolatry and what is not. Do you understand that?" Martha sniffed and tried to stifle her sobs.

"Yes"

"Now, do you understand what you were told to do?"

"Yes"

"Repeat it back to me so I can be sure."

"You... you... said... said... to... to go to the bedroom and read the first chapter of this book." Martha held the book up in her left hand.

"What else?" Mark asked.

"To return when you rang the bell and be prepared to do everything described in the first chapter of this book." Martha had come into the room feeling like an adult woman ready to confront Mark, now she was feeling like a disobedient little girl again.

"Have I rung the bell?"

"No"

"So, since you understand your instructions, that means you are being disobedient, but since I love you I will not punish you this time. If you ever disobey me again I will give you twice the punishment. Do you understand that?" He stared directly at her forcing her to cast her eyes down to the floor.

"Yes" she replied meekly.

"Then get your bare tits back in the bed room and prepare yourself to suck my cock." Mark released her hair and spun around to return to his desk. Martha stumbled and almost fell when her hair was released, then she recovered and walked slowly and uncertainly back into the bedroom. She looked out the window and noticed that it had started raining so hard she could not see across the clearing to the jungle beyond. I couldn't possibly survive out there, she thought, I'm going to have to do what he wants. I can just pretend to worship his penis, I don't have to really worship it.

Martha felt degraded, humiliated and filled with shame. She could not understand herself, the more degraded, humiliated and shamed she was the wetter and more sensitive her vagina seemed to become. She was so wet it was oozing out onto her thighs, and her vagina was so sensitive that just squeezing her thighs together stimulated her. This response of her body shamed and humiliated her even more.

Martha opened the book and read the chapter three more times. She was just reading Kay's claim that worshipping the cock is the only way to give a top quality blow job and that "... this is why the best blow jobs are given with the woman on her knees, that's the natural position for worshipping.", when the bell rang. Martha stood up and walked like she was in a trance. She walked through the kitchen and stopped just inside the office door. Mark looked up at her and smiled.

"Come over here honey," he said sweetly. Martha walked across the office and stood in front of her husband. Mark reached up and massaged her bare breasts.

"Are you ready to suck my cock?"

"Yes" Mark let her breasts go and reached up under her dress.

"Spread your legs dear." Martha spread her legs, and Mark felt her wet sticky thighs and cunt. "From know on I don't want to have to tell you to spread your legs. Whenever I reach for your cunt you are to spread your legs without being told. Do you understand?" Martha blushed at the coarse language being used by her 'good Christian' husband. She felt more ashamed and humiliated having her vagina referred to as a 'cunt'. Mark slipped a finger into her, his thumb rubbed against her clitoris. Her body jerked, Martha felt like electric fire ran through her body. She moaned softly as his finger slipped in and out of her virgin cunt and his thumb rubbed over her clit0ris. Mark removed his fingers and let her dress drop. "You'll be ready to fuck soon, but right now you are going to suck my cock. Now kneel." Martha was so overcome with shame and humiliation that she fell to her knees and wept in front of her husband. She hung her head and spoke softly.

"Why are you humiliating me this way? To talk like that about me, it shames me." She held her head down hoping he would not punish her for speaking. Mark leaned close to her ear and spoke softly to her.

"And the shame makes you hot and wet. Your cunt is oozing fuck juice like a slut. You want me to talk about 'making love'. I will make love to you at times, but this afternoon I am going to fuck you. You are going to learn what fucking is about, and you are going to learn what a slut you really are." Martha continued to hang her head and feel the shame and humiliation, and Mark was right with every wave of shame and humiliation she got wetter. She felt like the sticky wetness was running down almost to her knees. Mark leaned back in his chair and laced his fingers together behind his head.