Chapter 24: Ecstasy

There was one visitor whom Molly knew she would never forget. Even Sister Lucia remembered him, and she forgot most of Molly's visitors as quickly as she could. It was his general nastiness which made him memorable. The first, and only, time he visited her was some twelve months after her arrival at the College of Correction and Redemption, and Molly had settled into a routine. Sister Lucia would receive word of a visitor and what she was to wear; leaving her cell she would slip easily into the Molly persona and trot lightly along the corridors, wondering if she could guess which visitor it would be, or whether it would be someone new. Wondering, also, how many times she would shudder, and whether she would be whipped or caned afterwards. She much preferred the whip, because it sometimes caught her in her most private places and that could make her shudder as well, which the cane never did.

Some of her visitors were readily identifiable by their request for particular garments to be worn. The visitors never had names, so she had to invent nicknames for them in her own mind. The 'Kind Man', for instance, always wanted her dressed in simple clothes such as an ordinary working class young wife might wear; the Bishop always wanted a nun's habit with no underwear, and so forth. She knew that this was someone who had not visited before, because she had never been asked to greet someone wearing only a thin slip, with neither underwear or a dress. She guessed there would not be much play-acting with this visitor; he would, as some of the others did, simply use her and go. The contrast with 'Papa' who had visited her three times and always wanted an elaborate charade of a school girl in the evening, and who always stayed the night, could not be greater.

Although her room was always warm, and a cheerful fire burned in the grate, Molly shivered slightly as she sat on the bed wearing next to nothing, but it was a shiver of fear. Why she feared this visitor she did not know, but fear him she did, before she had even set eyes on him. She stood up when a short man, several inches shorter than she, came in to the room.

He said nothing at first, but looked her up and down, and then turned away and started to undress, thinking, 'So this is the new one. Not bad looking and not very pregnant, if at all.'

He was ordinary enough in appearance when he turned back, naked and already aroused, but the way he looked at her made her think of unspeakable acts, and unbearable pain.

After a few moments he snarled, "Well. Get it off."

Molly understood well enough and pulled the slip over her head, standing naked before him and fighting a wish to cover her breasts and private parts with her hands. Truth to tell, she wanted to run into the bathroom and shut the door.

He waited, wondering why she made no move to kneel before him.

"Get on with it," he ordered.

"Sir?" she asked, "What do you want me to do?"

"Harrumph. I thought you had been trained," he snorted, "Kneel and suck me."

Quickly she knelt before him and took his engorged member in her mouth and, as she had learned over the months swallowed the head of it into her throat.

"Better," said her visitor, and grabbed great handfuls of her hair and proceeded to use that as a pair of handles to move her head back and forth as he wished.

The pain was excruciating, and she thought it would be so much better if he would just let her move freely. She knew that she had learned to be an expert at making a man shudder with her mouth, and this visitor was most unfair in not letting her show him her skills.

Just as he was about to shudder, he dragged her head away from his body and pulled her up, still by her hair, until she was upright. She was sobbing with the pain by now and the tears were running freely down her face.

"You should be crying, you wicked woman, tempting men like that. I felt your tongue trying to get my seed from me. Spawn of the devil you are," he said with disgust in his voice.

Then she knew it would be a difficult visit. The men who reviled her always made problems, and usually gave her pain in unusual ways. The pleasant visits were those from men who simply accepted what she was and what she did, used her, punished her, and then went on their way. Men who called her names invariably beat her nearly senseless before they left. She shrugged mentally, knowing that it was God's will that she was here, doing these things, and had been incarcerated here for a long time; she would simply have to bear whatever happened.

Still dragging her painfully by her hair, he threw her against the edge of the bed so she fell on the mattress face down with her legs hanging over the side.

As she made a move to climb on to the bed a vicious slap on the rump was accompanied by a brusque order to, "Stay there."

She felt her bum cheeks being spread and braced herself for the inevitable entry into her bottom. It wasn't as bad as it might have been, because her saliva on his member lubricated his entry, but he made no concession to her comfort, ramming himself deep into her and pumping away like a steam engine.

'At least he is holding me by my hips, and my poor scalp can recover, ' she thought, 'I thought he was going to pull all my hair out.'

Again he did not last long, and again he pulled out before reaching his climax. Bending down and grabbing her foot he hoisted her on to the bed and turned her over. Pushing her legs up close to her head he bent her double, and then landed on top of her with all his weight, knocking most of the breath out of her. Apparently the fact that he did not achieve instant penetration was her fault, because he slapped her hard on the side of her head.