“Antonia,” she heard his voice, but couldn’t respond. “Look at me,” he ordered.
She opened her eyes. She could not fail to look at him with his body so close, suspended over hers, his torso supported by his powerful arms, his legs once again straddling her hips. She stared into his impervious black eyes feeling more like a child now than a bride. So small, so very small. Her body seemed to shrink under his forceful aura of domination, as though she’d been kidnapped as a prize of war.
She felt the hurt rip her long before his groin pressed into her body and Rupert’s savage member tore away her innocence. There was no mercy now, no consideration for her inexperience, the groom battered his bride with brutish force, laying waste the fantasy and escorting her with sneering satisfaction into the reality of her new life.
She was in tears, rivers of them streaming down her temples. “Please, my love!” she gasped when she could take no more.
“Cherish your duty as you promised me,” he threw her own words back at her.
Yes, remember the covenant, the vow! Antonia desperately engaged in this solemn wifely duty for as long as the moment lasted, until her husband finally exploded his seed into her and buried it deep. He cried loudly as he came and then collapsed to the bed beside her, sated.
The pair lay in silence. Antonia was too in shock to speak, but as she recovered, the hurt that centered in her belly swelled in the most unusual, most delicious way. The pain turned into a frantic ache. She arched her back and thrust her pubic mound into the air, wantingly.
“Oh, has my bride changed her mind about what she can take?” Rupert was cognizant enough to ask. “Is she willing to be abused again?”
“Oh, I am so sorry to have disappointed you. I didn’t mean to be such a baby…”
“Shush!” he said, with a finger over her lips. “Sex is something to get used to. Virgins are all alike. You are no different.”
“Oh? So, you’ve had…more than…me?” she asked, her voice sounding very young.
He laughed heartily. “I should hope so. I’m a thirty-seven-year-old man, and did not bring my virginity to this marriage bed.”
“No. I don’t suppose you would have.”
His hand had begun to fondle her privates in a tender gesture that expanded the feelings of lust that now brewed there.
“I do think your… your… your penis inside me,” she could barely say the word, “aroused me, even when it hurt so badly,” she said with some awe.
“Did it now?”
“Oh, I’d give so much to be able to touch you, Rupert.”
“You will, in time. But I’m not finished using you, my bride.” The darkness in his expression returned, as if he’d tapped into some subterranean vault where he stored another kind of passion—a ruthless, frenzied devotion to a malevolent force.
He moved on her again, ripping away the clothes that still clung to her body. When he couldn’t successfully tear them off with his hands, he reached for scissors in the beside table and began to cut them off.
“What are you doing?” she asked, with some distress.
“What does it look like?” he beamed evilly. “I’m disrobing my wife.”
“But these were new. Papa bought them special for today.”
“You’re not your Papa’s girl anymore. You’re mine.”
He said this with such conviction that she’d have no doubt.
Her eyes widened, a dark fire brewed within them, and as she spoke, her voice lowered, answering his resolve with her own. “Oh, I believe I am yours.”
Roused by her feverish response, Rupert moved on aggressively. His kisses covered her mouth, her face, her neck down to the swell of her bounteous breasts. “Ah, beautiful, so beautiful.” He kissed them vigorously and sucked the milk white flesh at their sides until she felt the pain of it make her crotch spasm, low rolling waves of physical ecstasy flooded her system. Another explosion was near.
Rupert returned to her face. “And these lips. They have work to do, darling. Things to learn. Ways to please me.” He kissed her mouth and pulled at her lips with his teeth, not to break skin, but like an animal devouring flesh. Their mouths met, open tongues gliding over sensual surfaces. He lay so close to her that Antonia could feel his once placid penis throbbing at her hip. The heat of it attacked her belly.
He grabbed a breast while journeying down her neck with his mouth. “Ooo, yes, my luscious one… so many things I have in mind for you.”
Then he suddenly pulled up, moving over her, this time straddling her head where the powerful scent of his penis and testes flooded her senses.
“Oh, my,” she gasped, as Rupert’s half-awakened organ touched her lips.
“Yes, that’s it, darling, open your mouth for me.”
Her body shuddered with fear and her wet lips trembled. Still, they parted slightly as her husband ordered, as he pushed the head of his penis against them. She watched the thick organ expand before her eyes and grew alarmed seeing the size of him. She realized now why her untried interior had been so pained, stretching to fit this enormous monster. Was he typical of most men, or especially blessed?
“That’s it, darling, lick it.”
He held his amazing tool steady in his hand, while her brain worked crazily to understand what purpose her husband had in mind.
“Use your tongue. Your lips. Kiss it.” He encouraged her with a smooth, velvety voice, as her tongue made contact with the silky surface. She tasted the salty sweat and the remnants of her own body juices. “That’s it, sweetheart.” He smiled so carnally holding her enrapt, that she could do nothing but what obviously pleased him. She lapped his penis tentatively, strangely roused by the odd and unexpected activity, and yet thinking how terribly disgusting this would be on any other night but this one. Was this what it meant to be a wife? “Good, girl. But just a little deeper.” Rupert pressed downward. “Open wide and relax your mouth.”
The head of his member was small enough to fit inside her mouth, but as the stalk widened to its hefty girth, the act required more than she could manage—or so she thought. She gagged and coughed him out.
“No, no,” he shook his head and guided her face back beneath the demanding organ. “You can do this, sweetheart. It just takes your submission. Think of yourself as a vessel, no more. My plaything, my pleasure palace, the body that your husband feasts on to satisfy his need. Think of that and nothing more.” Mesmerized by every word, Antonia opened her mouth while staring at his lips. “Ooo, yes, that’s right. Take it in, darling.” He moved the head inside her mouth again. “That’s it, yes, perfect, yes, your mouth is all mine. You feel it in your pretty pussy, no?” He slid a little deeper.
Antonia felt her lower body quake, just as his crude words caressed her. “Yes. Oh, so beautiful, so very beautiful. You want me in you, huh?” He smiled and forced himself further into her throat, her lips stretched to their limits.
Her mind knew that she was on the verge of gagging again, but as she listened to his encouraging words, she fed off the sound of them, and relented with every atom in her being concentrating on letting go and becoming the object of pleasure he wanted her to be.
“Yes, yessss…” Being as deep in her as he dared for now, Rupert began to rock slowly in and out of her wide-open mouth. With each stroke he pressed a little further, gradually finding room for six, then seven, then nearly eight inches of his organ inside her mouth. “Perfect, yes…”
Antonia soon felt her roused husband drift into himself, into his body and the pleasure of hers. He seemed to lazily slip from this world into another, and picked up speed, moving in a regular rhythm just as he had when he claimed her womanhood. She felt her own self drop away and become no more than the conduit for his physical revelry. Instinctively, her tongue began to work its way around the shaft, her jaw, her mouth began to suck with vigor. Every time he asked for more, and prodded to the back of her throat, she gave him the space he demanded. “Yessss, ooo yes, yes,” he hissed. His eyes were closed; his head thrown b
ack. She could feel the wild redolence of his energy pour out on her in a swooshing wave. Anticipating his climax, her belly responded with her body bucking back and forth as if there were something taking her womb even though that was impossible.
Then, with a sudden shudder that began in him and moved into her, Rupert ejaculated a load of semen that began at the back of Antonia’s throat and continued in hot liquid spurts as he slowly withdrew. The taste of him was sweet and thick, a creamy, curious substance she’d never tasted and didn’t know whether to love or hate. Again, the image flashed into her mind of sweaty laborers taking succulent senoritas, raising skirts and pummeling private places with hard shocking thrusts to explosive, grimacing, growling ends. She altered the image this time, thinking of women on their knees, between their lover’s hard thighs, pretty mouths stuffed with the sweaty meat of animal passion.
She was one of those women now. Like any other slut on her wedding night.
“Ah, Antonia, once I get you trained, these lips will be quite a mouthpiece for pleasure,” Rupert said with certainty, as he sank back into the mattress, again exhausted and satisfied.
Antonia wondered what he could possibly mean, but was so tired, so very tired… she drifted to sleep before she could ask. Her hands remained tethered above her, but that hardly mattered now. She was being trained to submit.
***
The new man and wife slept off their exhaustion for several hours into the next morning.
When Antonia at last awakened, she realized that her hands were no longer bound. Her head lay on the soft pillow next to Rupert, while her husband breathed peacefully as he slept beside her. The two were covered with a soft white sheet, edged with lacy trim.
Antonia stared at him. With no demands placed on her now, she relished this stolen moment of silent contemplation where she could without worry study the body of the man she was now bound to with far more than rope. How fine a man he seemed. And such a passionate one. Perhaps she needed that kind of husband, knowing that her own passions made her crazed at times. Perhaps it was possible that her dreams, her desires and her carnal obsessions might be satisfied, that her restless body could be quelled of its vicious needs.
Both her mouth and vagina felt empty and less restless now, but this was an uneasy peace. Beyond this transitory contentment a longing stirred, one much bigger than the longing she quietly nurtured before her night with Rupert. Before, she was just a child. Now, she was a woman. She’d learned in one long night that a woman’s longing has deeper passageways, has foul places it must go.
The new bride smiled, seeing the expression of contentment on her husband’s beautiful face. His hair was the color of wheat. His skin was tanned and flawless. For a man of his years, he had an impeccably youthful glow. She’d seen Hector and even Benito half clothed and knew that her husband took great pride in himself, and great care of his body. She was pleased to be his wife, even if it meant she would be required to submit to his lascivious desires. She owed him her devotion and would live to fulfill the vows she made in marriage.
Chapter Three
“Ah! My sweet wife, you look sad today,” Benito said. He stood behind his wife as Honoria stared out the window of her dressing room, deep in thought.
She turned to her husband and looked into his eyes. Hers were filled with tears.
“I worry about Antonia,” she said, her brows knit with worry. “So quick. So fast. How could she possibly understand what a man like Rupert Reyes will require of a wife? I should have counseled her more. I should have given her some warning, and all I could think of was what a fine gentleman he was, all the physical, material trappings. I gave her no clue to the darkness of his soul.”
“Antonia must find her own way, my dear,” Benito answered, solemnly. “I could have introduced her slowly to her husband, made the transition easier perhaps. But would it have been easier? Wasn’t it just as well, rather that waiting and wondering, jumping both feet into the heart of her marriage. Rupert will not be easy on her, but at the same time, he will answer the desire she knows and seeks to fulfill.”
Honoria looked at him oddly.
“You think I didn’t see the kind of girl our daughter is? You think I don’t know what is in her heart? Or the lust she harbors in her belly and crotch? I am no foolish, naïve father.” He smiled. “After all, I know her mother.”
Honoria smiled too. “Indeed you do. And you think you know her as well as you know me?”
“I don’t know her carnally, but I could easily map her desires and watch like a fly on the wall of her bedchamber to see every one play out in graphic detail. Trust me, flinging her into a union with Rupert Reyes was far smarter a move than dangling her future in front of her nose for weeks of torment. That would truly be sadistic. I suspect this morning she is suffering a bit from the startling experience of her wedding night, but I also know that she will have learned a life-changing and important lesson in both her husband’s need and her own as yet untouched desires.” Benito placed his palm against Honoria’s face in a tender gesture of affection. “You have always trusted me, don’t let yourself be troubled by matters over which we both know the final result.”
Honoria wished she could be as certain of Antonia’s fate as Benito was. Her disquieting premonitions would linger despite his optimism. This was a vexing problem, but one over which she sadly had no control.
“So, on to you, my dear pet,” Benito’s attention abruptly turned to her. “Stand up.”
Honoria’s chocolate-colored dressing gown rustled as she moved to her feet. Her husband stood back admiringly. “Open the gown.”
Despite the many years of their marriage, this kind of command never ceased to make her blush, or her hands falter as she undid a sash or buttons. It took her several second to undo the knot at her waist so the silk could slide to the floor.
Benito watched with admiration. “As always, you are a vision.” His baritone voice practically hummed, as he saw his wife stark naked, clothed only in the natural beauty of her generous breasts and the lovely contours of her waist, her trim tummy and her sleek thighs. Her aureoles were dark, slightly oval, not round; in their centers, her nipples glaring like bull’s eyes.
She could feel his heat in her belly and wished only that he would take her to bed. She also knew that this would not happen. The assignment would proceed as he originally outlined.
“Senor Baptiste is an artisan. He appreciates works of fine art but, more importantly, the process of turning the mundane into the absurd. Do I have any reason to doubt your compliance today?”
This was strange question coming from a man who ruled his wife with the steely resolve of a revolutionary general. Perhaps he had been born in the wrong era, having a temperament that was better suited to another time. He found his powerful attitude, his prowess, even his sadistic inclinations outdated, except, of course, for the private venue where he was free to roam at will—his marriage. Of course, Honoria would comply.
But even when it was clear to both that she had no real choice, Benito often asked his wife for her compliance before a scene that was bound to be a difficult. She liberally gave her consent, not that it mattered if she did or not. But, perhaps, it reminded them both that, ultimately, she did have a say in the life she led: to either willingly consent, or go kicking and screaming into the terror of her husband’s vile schemes.
“I serve your pleasure, my kind sir,” Honoria answered his question as she always did.
Benito nodded. “Very good.”
He moved quickly to his trunk of shackles, withdrawing an ancient iron collar, ankle bands, wrist-cuffs and chains to connect them. The metal clattered as he fixed the collar around her throat, the bands on her ankles and the cuffs on her wrists. He then drew the chain round her waist and fastened it together with a padlock. One loose end extended to the ring on the collar in front, while the other was drawn between her thighs, threaded between her labia tightly, wrenched up between her ass cheeks and attached to the rin
g at the back of her collar. The metal chain would rub against the soft tissue between her sex lips, making the flesh so sore that she would ache for days—this was not the first time she’d been bound this way. At last, her hands were pulled behind her and fastened to the waist chain.
Benito stood back.
“How proudly you wear the garments of your submission,” he said. He then scowled. “But I wonder if you have the forbearance for the beating you’ll receive today?”
She bowed her head. His temper had changed from affectionate to callous within the time it took to make her physical transformation from his bedazzling treasure to his slavish trash. He saw her now as a foul slut, unfit for anything but abuse. It didn’t matter that despite the collar, the cuffs, the bands and the chains, she remained, as she always would, a woman of inherent elegance.
In moments like these, Honoria accepted that Benito’s eyes tricked him into believing that she was a vulgar tramp. He shamed her with his rough appraisals and from his position of authority, drove her down the path of submission to the point of unthinking surrender.
When she bowed her head as he chided her, she knew to be quiet. If she spoke, he’d slap her hard across the face and force her to her knees. She was lucky as it was to be allowed to walk on two feet through the door, down the stairs and into the open courtyard where today she’d become ‘performance art’ for the pleasure of her husband’s houseguest. There were times when she was bound and made to grovel on her belly, while a gauntlet of onlookers jeered at her ineffective attempts to move two feet. Today, she was lucky. Or, perhaps, this was how Benito envisioned the scene playing out. She understood that he had the script in his mind, the product of a fantasy he might have been dwelling on for months.
Honoria was suspended between thick oak posts that had been installed in the courtyard overnight—as soon as Antonia had left the villa. Benito would not subject his daughter to the sight of rigorous physical abuse inflicted on her mother, so until this day, his wife had been exploited for his sadistic pleasure in the relative privacy of her own room, his study or in a locked room inside an out-building some distance from the main house.
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