Depravity's Child

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Depravity's Child Page 7

by Lizbeth Dusseau


  Sometimes after she complained, Rupert would come to her room that night and they made love—a peace offering, she supposed. But these times were not like the nights of her honeymoon where each lovemaking was a new discovery. She was left with a bitter taste in her mouth, knowing that Rupert would be back with Sonia before dawn, pumping his never-ending seed into her big round ass.

  Chapter Five

  The morning room, the one place downstairs where Antonia was freely allowed to spend her time, had been equipped with a television, stereo, books, magazines and her knitting. Rupert had thought of everything for her ultimate enjoyment, including the professionally designed décor. The elegant earthiness of the rest of the house stopped at the door, just as it did at the door of Rupert’s private office. Arranged especially for her, the mood was light and feminine, pale yellow walls trimmed with cream-colored crown molding; fine wood furniture of elegant design; and comfy chairs upholstered in beautiful floral prints. When Antonia stepped inside, she was reminded of pictures she’d seen of morning rooms in English country estates. This special room was one small consolation in an otherwise depressing and demeaning life.

  She could walk out into the lovely garden, through gracious French doors and breath the fresh scent of blooming flowers and feast her eyes on sensuous vines that created a trellised arbor under which she’d sit and daydream. Too often, however, the sensuous aspects of this tiny world only left her with a desperate longing for something beyond the walls, the morning room, the garden and her bedroom upstairs. Once the grand honeymoon was over, what she hoped for in adventure diminished with each day she spent as Rupert’s Reyes’s wife. When she wasn’t passing her time in her plush surroundings, she was eating, sleeping, or going through her daily sexual training. Married life was not what she envisioned.

  One afternoon, as she waited to be summoned for the afternoon ritual session in Rupert’s tiled room, she sat in the garden, dreaming of what it might be like to walk down a New York city street, or stroll the avenues of Paris, or ride the train into Germany and those mysteriously dark countries of Eastern Europe. She’d been reading a novel about Tuscany, and had just invented another adventure in her daydreams, when her eyes sleepily closed. She jerked then, suddenly awakened by the unexpected sound of a man’s voice.

  “Uhh, ma’am, Mrs. Reyes, I was looking for your husband. Is he in?”

  She turned, startled, and looked over the adobe fence behind her where Rafael Francisco stood waiting for her to answer. His blue eyes twinkled mischievously as he leaned against the top of the wall and smiled.

  “I-I uh, don’t… I don’t know,” she stumbled over her words, feeling childish and awkward. She thought again, remembering that Rupert had said at lunch he’d be leaving for the afternoon and might miss dinner—she could have the cook prepare her something she could eat in her room. “Actually, I don’t think he’s here. He probably had an appointment elsewhere.”

  The man straightened up and looked around, sighing.

  “Is something wrong?”

  “No, not really. I’ve been trying to get some answers about his pool house project but he never seems to be available when I try to call. I thought I could get his attention if I stopped by.”

  “I’d say you could wait here, but I don’t think he’ll be back soon.”

  “Well, maybe you know what he wants. Would you mind showing me to the pool?”

  “Oh, I’m sure I know nothing about Rupert’s plans. I’m not that kind of wife.”

  “Not that kind of wife?” He looked surprised. “Well, what kind of wife are you?”

  “Oh, one that sits around all day and does very little,” she said.

  “That’s too bad, a beautiful woman like you, I’d imagine your husband would find you very pleasing to be around.”

  She could feel a fire rising on her cheeks as she began to blush. “Thank you. But I guess I’m not beautiful enough for what he needs.”

  “Really?”

  She stared at the wedding ring on her left finger, and toyed with it absently. She liked the man but was afraid of her unbidden responses to him.

  Engaged by the woman’s sadness and her charm, Rafael opened the gate to the garden and walked in, uninvited but certainly welcome. He sat across from her in a chair, leaning forward. She knew the move was inappropriate, but didn’t mind in the slightest. It had been a long time since anyone seemed to care about her feelings. The earthy quality of Rafael Francisco’s casual manner reminded her of the robust and muscular laborers on her father’s ranch. Some she found more appealing than men like Rupert. Their rough, honest, vital charm made her being melt inside and stirred such longing that she knew it had to be impure—especially now for a married woman. Her disquiet in the last few weeks, however, made her feel less married, less bound to Rupert than she should have felt. At the moment, she didn’t care how inappropriate it might have looked. She wanted Rafael Francisco there in her private space, smiling his warm and sensuous smile. Besides, it was doubtful anyone would see them together.

  “I’ve watched you, Mrs. Reyes, you’re not happy, are you?” Rafael ventured kindly.

  “You’ve watched me?”

  “On the few occasions I’ve seen you. Care to answer my question?” He took her hand to stop it from shaking. “Nervous too,” he noted, as he held her clammy palm.

  She looked up at him. “I’m nervous because you probably shouldn’t be here, and yes, you’re right. I’m not happy. Although, I don’t know why I’m telling you.”

  “Sometimes when a woman’s unhappiness gets so great, it doesn’t matter the risks she takes to relieve it. To be honest, when I heard that Rupert Reyes married, I couldn’t imagine his finding a woman to satisfy his tastes, and was curious to meet you. When I saw you, I understood.”

  She looked at him confused. “You understood what? That I was the kind of woman to satisfy Rupert’s tastes?”

  “No, exactly the opposite. You’re the kind he likes to prey on, the vulnerable, submissive kind that he can easily manipulate. Good looks. Money. Charm. They go a long way.”

  “Yes, they do,” she said, her voice strangely riddled with sarcasm, although it was good to vent the honest feeling. “So, you think Rupert is preying on me?”

  “You tell me. I know only what I see. A young, obviously inexperienced bride, I imagine a virgin, born to a lifestyle most of the Western world left a century ago, marries a man of notoriously peculiar tastes, who has dated half the eligible beauties in Spain and left them reeling…a man who will bed his servants as quickly as he will a socialite. One wonders, frankly, what he wants from a near child like you—unless it is your youth, something he can corrupt and fashion by his own schemes.”

  Antonia looked at Rafael aghast. “What you’re saying about Rupert…this is true?”

  He chuckled darkly. “No wonder he keeps you hidden away in this house. You don’t meet many people, have many houseguests, do you?”

  “No. Not since I’ve been here.”

  “And that is unusual. There have been nights when this house has been the closest thing to a brothel as you can legally get.”

  “You know this?”

  “I’ve been invited to the parties.”

  “You attended them?”

  “A couple. A little too much commotion for me, but always a good show. Naked women dripping with jewels, running and laughing naked through the house; enough rich food and wine for gluttons; the sounds of gasping men and women in the throes of sex; always a few bodies being beaten in the dungeon…”

  “There’s a dungeon?” Her eyes looked as though they’d pop from their sockets.

  “Oh, yes, there’s a dungeon, behind one of the wine racks in the cellar. I installed the door myself.”

  “And you’ve seen all this?”

  “I have.” He looked at her worriedly, unable to tell what she was thinking. Her brows were knit, her face more pale than usual. She stared unconsciously at the cobblestone patio then looked up aga
in.

  “So, you’re part of my husband’s debauchery?”

  “I don’t judge the man, I just take his money for the work I do. He can do anything he wants sexually—well, I don’t like non-consensual abuse—but, except for now, what I’ve seen has been consensual. If the women want it, it’s not mine to condemn.”

  “You say, except for now?”

  “Yes, Senora Reyes. Although it’s not my place to pry, I wonder how consensual your marriage is.”

  “Then why are you telling me these things?”

  “Because I wonder if this was what you expected when you married Rupert. I kind of think you didn’t. I doubt you knew about his past.”

  “I would think my father did. I’m sure he investigated the man.”

  Rafael shook his head. “That I know nothing about. I’m sorry if I’ve overstepped here…”

  “No. No. This is something I need to know. I have decisions to make about my life, I know that, even before you told me about his former life. What you’ve said has helped.”

  The man frowned, looking worried. “No. I think I’ve only troubled you more, but I thought it was better to be honest than see you live with illusions.”

  “Illusions, huh. Interesting that you should say that. You’re very kind.”

  There was so much to take in. The amazing information Rafael furnished her about her husband was a lot to handle by itself, and yet, the rising feeling of attraction for the man seemed to diffuse the need to think about the serious matters he presented her. She wanted him to stay, just be with her. There was no mistaking that the feeling was sexual, that the throbbing in her belly and between her legs had a sexual end in sight. She knew his being with her was dangerous, but she didn’t care. Rafael looked like the first good thing that had happened to her since she married Rupert.

  “You know, Senora Reyes, if you need anything, I’m around here often, I’d be happy to…” Here he seemed to falter for the first time.

  “I’d love for you to visit again, hopefully there won’t be more to report about Rupert, but just having a friend would be nice. I have none here. The servants are not encouraged to spend time with me; Rupert doesn’t spend much with me either. There’s really no one.” Antonia could feel herself about to cry.

  “Okay, then, I’ll stop by again, soon,” he said, and he rose to his feet.

  “Just please stop calling me Senora Reyes. I’m Antonia. I like that a lot a better.”

  “All right, Antonia,” he smiled.

  She knew the attraction was two-way. In fact, she thought he might even kiss her, but instead, he managed to pull himself away and retreat out the garden gate toward the pool.

  ***

  Rafael Francisco visited Antonia again, and often, almost anytime Rupert was gone. Sometimes in the garden, sometimes in the morning room. She’d come to expect his visits anytime her husband left the house and he was working there, which was several times a week.

  Their mutual lust increased. Their desire bloomed.

  After the first couple of visits, they rarely spoke about Rupert. Rafael talked about his past, his father’s ranch that had gone bust in a bad economy, but what fun he’d had as a kid. He brought her new magazines, the ones she really wanted to read and current best-selling novels He even changed the television so she’d get more programs and an American movie channel—Rupert would never know. If he saw her at all, it was at meals and those rare occasion where he wanted her in bed.

  Rafael was with her in the morning room one afternoon, talking about the garden that Antonia wanted to have that next spring, when she heard the buzzer go off on the intercom. She checked the clock on the mantle over the fireplace, her belly clutching anxiously, knowing what that buzzer meant.

  “I have to go now,” she told Rafael.

  “You know that?” This had happened before, same time every day, so he shouldn’t have been surprised. But this time, he had to question her.

  “The buzzer, I was expecting it.” As usual, she was exceedingly nervous, afraid of his further questions. He had an uncanny way of reading her thoughts.

  “So, what do you do every day at this time?” he said, wanting answers.

  “Rafael,” she moved to her feet, staring anxiously at the door, she had to leave now, “I can’t explain, but I will, I promise. But you have to leave now.”

  He wasn’t a man who was easily put off, but he had little choice here. He nodded, then smiled, as he strolled back toward the patio, “I’ll leave, but you will explain yourself the next time I’m here.”

  She smiled a quick goodbye and swiftly moved to the morning room, trying to calm herself and walk with determined poise into her next training session. If she didn’t answer the buzzer immediately, someone was sent to get her, and she didn’t want that.

  Oddly, once her visits from Rafael began, the anal training sessions had become more difficult for her to tolerate. The stronger her attachment to Rafael, the less she felt like submitting to her husband. But then, she had little choice but to act as if she fully participated in the sessions and was doing her best to make herself ready for Rupert. After so many weeks, she finally decided that he was stalling. She knew that she was trained enough to take his erection in her ass; he should be the next and final man to have her. But by then, she also knew that her husband wasn’t telling the truth about any of his plans. He was happy to see her being used by other men, while he enjoyed the surrendering Sonia.

  On this particular day, Rupert made one of his rare appearances at her training session and was there for the entire procedure, apparently with the sadistic need to make every part of the trial more difficult than it normally was. He insisted that she take almost twice the liquid during the enema, to the point that the painful cramps that resulted almost made her lose the water in her bowels in a moment of distress. When she leaked, he spanked her bottom hard, not a playful spanking or the sexually heated kind that occurred during sex. This was punishment intended not just to communicate his displeasure, but to inflict pain.

  “I’m sorry! Please, sir, stop!” She wailed once her behind was piping hot.

  But Rupert didn’t stop. The delivery of smacks was backed by anger she’d never felt from him, a terrible fury that turned the strikes vicious and unending.

  “I-I, I can’t,” she wriggled hard to get away and still hold the water in her ass.

  When he finally finished, he jerked her off the table, pushed her to her knees and then tied her hands to a bar he’d lowered from overhead. Once she was bound, he drew the bar into the air until her body was taut as a bow and she could hardly budge an inch. The pressure in her rectum was unbearable.

  For the first time, Antonia saw the man who’d been raping her ass for the last week—a stranger who looked oddly mild-mannered in dress and demeanor. She would have never guessed him for the kind of vicious man he obviously was. She stared at him and he at her, while Rupert pulled a metal tub up to her back and in-between her parted legs.

  “Relieve yourself,” Rupert ordered, standing back.

  She knelt on the cold tile with her blue straight skirt bunched around her waist and her white blouse opened to expose her breasts. Her hair was sexily disheveled; tiny rivers of mascara ran down her wet cheeks. Antonia heard Rupert’s message believing that as much as her belly hurt and needed relief, what he wanted was impossible.

  “But I can’t!”

  “Oh, yes, you can. You will,” he said.

  She began to sob and Rupert slapped her across the face. “You don’t dare defy me, wife!” He slapped her again. “Relieve yourself!”

  She could see from the inhuman look in Rupert’s eyes that he would not be moved by her pleas. Taking a deep breath, trying to brush aside her shame, she bore down to obey the command. Nothing happened.

  “I can’t, sir. But I know I have to.”

  “Then we will wait here until you do.”

  The two men stood back, coolly watching the woman try to collect herself and relax en
ough to release the waters. She was certain that she’d fail, but then, as the minutes ticked by, her belly cramped hard again, and her body at last gushed forth depositing a torrent of liquid into the metal tub. Antonia’s relief formed more tears that ran in torrents down her face.

  When she finished, a chilling Rupert unhooked her hands, dragged her to her feet and pulled her back over the table. He brusquely swathed her bottom with a cold rag soaked in disinfectant, then shot a load of lubricant in her ass and around the opening. Stepping back, he allowed the stranger to have her. The man was ready, his fly open and his large erection poised to strike.

  Just as she’d been anally taken nearly every day for the last sixty, the mild-mannered villain rocked her body senseless with his brutal thrusts. She hung on just to get the terrible session over with and hoped for a quick end. To her dismay, however, the man reached around and fiddled with her clitoris, trying to raise her sexual desire, and he succeeded despite her determination to ignore the stimulation. Her body erupted almost at the moment he did, and the two sounded off, simultaneously groaning until the waves of orgasm died away.

  Antonia fell against the metal table exhausted, and thankful that she’d survived the worst. But maybe that wasn’t the worst—she thought of Rafael and her promise to tell him. She could never! Never admit this!

  Her mind was suddenly working fast to invent some story she could tell the man she’d come to care for. Her being rang with anxiety. But then, in the midst of one turmoil, she was suddenly jerked from the frightening reverie and into another. Another man was nestling in behind her and her thoughts returned to the tiled room. She looked back seeing her husband tucked close to her used bottom. He grabbed her hair with one hand and an ass cheek with the other, then shoved his fat organ into her behind with a force that sent sparks flying through her brain as if she’d just been propelled forward into another universe. Her body seized up at the start, but then she willed herself to relax. She would not fail this test! Surrender…submit…relax, she played the mantra in her mind until her body obeyed and he could use her as he chose; she would feel no pain and would not raise one word of protest. He used her hard, but she withstood the agony.

 

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