When Rupert finally withdrew his hand, he wiped his soaked fingers on her bottom and looked up at the astonished room. Only the Marquis seemed to handle the event without flinching; his poise had not wavered, although his expression was quite grim.
Rupert returned to his chair and sat back, his eyes gleaming with satisfaction. At his feet the vanquished Honoria slumped head down against the floor in a near faint; her arms, having buckled weak and useless to hold her weight, were sprawled on the carpet in front of her as if she were grasping for something beyond her reach. Her bared behind remained lewdly raised, while her being took on an attitude of profound despair.
“So, Marquis, this is the slut I present you. Honoria.” He said her name with spite. “As advertised, she has been well trained. Although I’m sure the bitch is hardly good enough for animals as fine as your Toro, you know how far she’s willing to go for sexual satisfaction. She’ll make a good slut to serve your needs. And she’s so attractive, too.” His words were laced with mockery.
The gentle man across the room nodded, observing the situation with a patient look that was difficult to read. “I’ll be talking to her in private?” he asked Rupert.
“Of course. She’s yours for the night.”
“Thank you. I’m most impressed.”
There wasn’t much thrill left in a party that began with this stunning a demonstration. The redhead was beaten and then Solana had her turn under the lash. Finally, the two beaten submissives were put in the center of the room and told to pleasure each other for the entertainment of the men. Before this began, however, Rupert ordered Honoria to her room to wait for further instructions. She was eager to be gone and pulled herself from the floor, moving quickly from the living room and through the house.
***
It was after midnight when a gentle tap on the door disturbed Honoria’s quiet reflection.
“Yes?” She took the three steps in seconds and opened the door.
The Marquis stood politely waiting for an invitation to enter, as she gazed with wonder into the man’s dark eyes. She unthinkingly stepped aside. The foreboding meaning of his visit had her insides raw and trembling within seconds.
“I see Rupert is not particularly generous with you,” the man stated as he quickly surveyed the cramped space. “Rather like an afterthought.”
“It is adequate.”
“Of course, it’s adequate,” he spit out. “A cell is adequate, a rock to hide under is adequate, a cave, a decent tree…I suppose, unless it snows.” He looked down at her and smiled, while viewing her carefully with eyes that seemed to peer right through her clothes.
As he stared, he pulled from his pocket a leather glove, which was probably made of deerskin or some other soft animal hide. It fit smoothly over his right hand, as close as latex and shined in the mellow glow from the single lamp that bathed the room with light.
Once he fixed the tiny snap at his wrist, he laid his leathered-covered palm against Honoria’s cheek. Even through the glove, she could feel the pulse of the man’s body invading hers. She recognized the gesture as one of ownership.
She had to warn herself not to judge the scene too quickly. This man could be gone from her as quickly as he arrived. Worse yet, he might be a villain as evil as Rupert Reyes.
The Marquis took Honoria’s chin in his hand and moved it back and forth, looking at her eyes, her nose, her ears with the scrutiny of a medical doctor. The aroma of leather permeated the air about her nostrils and she breathed in, feeling the scent move through her body as far as her extremities. If only her lips could taste the covered fingers and caress them with her tongue.
He ran his hand across her forehead, down her face to her throat, where a finger traced a line down the neckline of her blouse.
Then he changed his scheme abruptly. He turned her around as if she were a doll, and felt the muscles in her upper arms. He squeezed her ass as he would a piece of fruit and finally moved his hand deeper into her crotch from behind, inching her skirt up as Rupert had done. She parted her legs without being asked. “Bend over,” he said. She did so, giving him access to her private places where the steamy warmth of her sexuality sat in wait, and expanded as he touched her. Unlike Rupert’s advances, the Marquis’ tactics were strangely respectful, even when the extreme nature of his probing might look like a blatant violation. She was, after all, a submissive and used to being inspected like a piece of meat, or soiled goods.
The purpose for the exam eluded her, not that it was unusual—it wasn’t, but there seemed to be something behind it that the Marquis was not revealing to her.
Of course in her world, she was owed no explanations. And since the Marquis had been given permission to use her at will, it was her duty to submit.
The erotic fire in Honoria’s belly engaged as the Marquis continued with his ardent journey. He probed the deepest places, his leather fingers moving into her vagina for a time and then into her rectum with a daunting jolt that electrified her nerves from every angle.
She grunted involuntarily and then wished she could take it back.
“Hurt?” he asked.
“No, sir.”
“Then why make noise?”
“I’m sorry, sir.”
He massaged her pubic mound as if punishing her for the fault. “You’ve had some training, but not enough,” he said.
“What is lacking, sir?” she wondered.
He instantly slapped her bottom hard and she jerked, “You ask questions so blithely?”
“I am sorry, sir.”
“Damn right, you’re sorry. You’ll learn that quickly. I punish hard. I show no mercy.”
“And I am trained to take that,” she assured him, with a tone of rising fear in her voice.
“Yes. I’m sure.”
Was he mocking her?
“But you’re anxious tonight and I can excuse that.”
He could?
“You’re unhappy here,” he said.
Was it so obvious?
“Rupert is not a good man,” the Marquis went on. “He has no finesse, no morality that he lives by, no rules to guide his behavior and no respect for his lifestyle and the power he claims for himself. What happened to you tonight was Rupert’s doing, not mine. He will damage people, if he hasn’t already. And you know this—a woman trained by Benito del Gallo would know this. At the same time, you say nothing because you’ve been trained to be silent and accept. You sometimes fail to even recognize your feelings, let alone honor them, because any inclination to object has been trained out of you. But this time, I know you see the truth about your son-in-law as clearly as anyone.”
She was still bent over, still being occasionally probed, although the intense inspection appeared to be over. While she listened to the man speak so reassuringly, she hardly the felt the physical penetration of his hand. Her in entire being was gripped by her rising emotions.
“The truth about Reyes causes you great fear, mostly for your daughter,” the Marquis went on. “You are clearly more submissive than she is. You most likely enjoy the sexual extremes practiced in this way of life with a greater zeal than she ever will. And now you know that you have to protect the girl from the man she married. You have undoubtedly advised her to be respectful of him, because you fear what he will do to her if she does not willingly submit.”
Honoria could feel a fresh rain of tears threatening. A relieved sob caught in her throat.
“How can you know all this?” she asked, as she began to softly cry.
“I observe,” he said. He withdrew his hand and brought her upright. Standing behind her, he spoke directly in her ear, gently, while he ran his hand along her shoulder in a repeated caress. He’d taken off his glove, she noticed, and she felt the touch of his warm skin against hers.
“How do I know? I am not a young man. I have trained and lived with submissive women for as long as I can remember. I have seen good masters and bad. I’ve seen novices who never grew up, but with boyish, immature f
ascination take the reins of a woman and run her into the ground. Later, they wonder why suddenly they have no warm body in their bed with them. No treasure at their feet.
“The fact is, most women are stronger than the men who claim them as their property. Some women know this, and some pretend not to know because they’ll be submissive at any price. There are other women who are ignorant of how they are used. They live behind a veil of illusions that is carefully manufactured by a cunning mind and manipulated by a devious heart.
“As for me, I think sometimes I was cursed, taken away from my right place in history and shoved into the 20th century, where I’ve been left with my medieval mind. Too many times, my hands have been tied. I have had to tiptoe around a woman’s desires in order to woo her, rather than her melding into me as part of single entity. But, Honoria, I see in you a woman who just might do that, meld with me. I know that must sound silly to a woman with a mind in this new century.”
No, it did not sound silly to her.
He placed his hands on her shoulders and turned her around.
“You are the kind of woman I could readily and joyously adore. Do I adore you now? No. First, you need to grieve the loss of your husband. You need your time, which Rupert has not given you. You’ll come to my home to repair and we’ll see what we might create together—in time.”
“I would like that,” she said softly. Already, she was beginning to trust the man.
“Do you have things to pack?” he asked.
“Not really. I suppose a few dresses. I think Rupert gave everything else away.”
“Then we won’t worry about that. Collect what you have here. I’ll be getting the car.”
“We’re leaving now, tonight?”
“Yes, tonight.”
“But … what about Antonia?”
“Your daughter is indisposed elsewhere. You can call her tomorrow and tell her.”
This was the only disconcerting thing about the Marquis’ spontaneous plans, but as with many things in her life, the decision was out of her hands. “Thank you. I would like to call her. There are things I need to say.”
“I understand. Just remember, the young have a way of surviving, and so will she.”
***
While Honoria busily packed for a swift exit from Rupert’s house, Antonia lay writhing on her upstairs bed, waiting for her husband to return to her. The cruelty of her predicament could not be measured. Within the first fifteen minutes following the devious toy’s insertion in her body, her belly swelled with its physical reply to the stimulation. She felt the aching need to climax surge hard and fast, and then suddenly just as she was seconds from leaping into that holy fire, the stimulation vanished, like a candle blown from its wick by a gust of air.
Her hips lifted into the air, her aroused groin writhed to capture back that sweet fading feeling, as she struggled inside the bonds, desperate. Minutes passed and the sexual urge receded until there was just a tickle of arousal at the open door. The pulse of the device began again, taking her swiftly to the verge of climax. Again, just at the brink, the teasing stimulus stopped, nerve endings shriveled away like autumn’s frosted vines. Then another crescendo followed on the heels of the last only to fade with the dispatch of a mislaid dream. She clutched for more, time after time denied. Denied the power to turn off the damned machine, she lay victim to the next round of cruel torment. If only… her heart bled.
Her mind suffered. Her emotions turned raw and became enraged for a time. But to love or hate this torture was as useless as attempting to ignore it.
She contemplated surrender, embraced it with her ragged spirit and hoped to find some satisfaction in the waves of arousal that moved in her like a relentless sea. But it took such strength of mind to keep focused wholly on the long and rolling undulation. Like being on a carnival ride in an unending loop, in time, the thrill became a horrifying nightmare. She thought she would go mad.
When the door to her room finally opened, her eyes communicated to Rupert the torment she felt with such speed and efficiency that without a single cry from her, or pleading words, he slipped his hand into his pocket and clicked the remote to off.
While he refused to admit his concern, he stalked the bed. “You seem no worse for wear.”
“I thought I’d die!” she said in a voice too big for a submissive.
“Oh, my! How melodramatic.”
“Perhaps you should try this in the end of your prick and in your ass,” she spit out angrily.
He slapped her cheek, and lowered his glowering face to hers. “Perhaps I should turn it on again.”
“No, no!” She backed off quickly and he stood up.
With her body finally finding a bit of peace, no great waves swelling in her without that fantastic crash, she realized how desperately she needed to pee, and the pressure in her rectum concerned her.
“I have to go to the bathroom, Rupert,” she said.
Rupert laughed. “I imagine you do.”
Her husband moved around the bed, undoing her bonds, then removed the offending device from her body. The relief was a jolt as welcome as an orgasm. She was free to use the toilet and scrambled there quickly.
Once she returned to the room, however, Rupert bound her to the bed as he had before.
Antonia shuddered, afraid he’d use the despicable toy again, but thankfully, he did not. Instead, he smiled at her, knowing that she had still not climaxed. To her further torment, he would continue with his plans to deny her sexual satisfaction while he enjoyed his power to do that. The only saving grace was that her erotic body would not be ruled by a blasted microchip.
“Until morning, my sweet,” he said, with his typical flair for sarcasm.
After pulling the covers over her body to keep her warm, he turned out the light and left the room.
Later in the night, Antonia heard the sounds of Rupert and Sonia having sex in the bedroom next door. She was aware only then, that her husband had, deliberately, changed the furniture in his bedroom so that the bed was on their shared wall. Was his only purpose in life to think up new ways to make her suffer?
She finally drifted to sleep for a short while, wondering how she would survive this disaster of a marriage, let alone the long night. The counsel of her mother may have been wise, but in her heart, she’d rather be dead than live with the man…better still, she’d rather Rupert die some ghastly death.
When in the dead of night her mind finally drifted from thoughts of her revenge, the picture of her lover came to mind. Ah, Rafael! The one person who could quell her anger. Yes. She would see Rafael soon. And he would find a way to save her.
Chapter Eleven
“Where is my mother?” Antonia stormed into her husband’s office uninvited. Leaning into his desk, she exploded. “Where is she?”
“What do you mean, where is she?”
“I’ve been told she is gone, not in the house, moved away, not coming back!”
“Yes, that’s true. I bartered her to the Marquis last night and she left with him.”
“Bartered her? You have no right!” She was nearly in tears.
“Oh, I beg your pardon. I have every right to find your mother another position.”
“Another husband?”
“Who said she’s going to be married?”
“Well, is she?”
He shrugged unconcerned. “How the hell do I know what the Marquis is doing with her?” He sniggered. “You should have seen her last night with his dog, Toro. I thought she was going to fuck the beast. Honoria is really an unredeemable slut.”
Antonia could not hold back the fire behind her rage or the arm that reared back and slapped her husband’s face before he realized what was happening. He caught her hand on the second attempt and practically dragged her over the desktop.
“I should cage you in the dungeon, wife, and leave you there for the rats. You say another word, I will.” His eyes shot holes like bullets through her skull, while the cruelty in his voice made
her think twice. After the night she’d just spent, she believed he’d do exactly as promised. She forcefully pushed her anger back. Her bristling body relaxed and she slipped from her husband’s grasp, falling back into the chair in front of his desk.
“I’m sorry, sir, I overreacted,” she said like a programmed robot.
“Yes, I’ll bet you are sorry.” His tone was haughty, but he’d been shaken too and was only just recovering. “Face it, Antonia, your mother was a slut for your father, his toy, his plaything to use, to beat and to pass around. That is what she knows and loves. She’d be miserable living a conventional life. The Marquis is a man just like Benito, so I’m sure she’ll fit perfectly in his household, the dutiful slave she is. You could take a few lessons from her.”
Antonia wanted to object, finding her anger still hot and ready, but she didn’t dare.
“The day before I met you, the day before I married you, your father demonstrated his passion for me by ordering his wife, your mother, Honoria, to come to her knees before me and strip off her clothes. Her breasts were crudely bound with rope until they were purple and misshapen. Your father then gave me permission to beat them, and I was happy to oblige. The harlot practically climaxed, the brutality so aroused her.” Antonia’s stomach began to grind with more spiteful passion.
“Since she’s been here, I’ve been using her for sport, torturing her in the dungeon beneath the house, beating her until she comes, and taking her ass or mouth whenever I like. You think she hates it? She may hate me. But I doubt she hates the cruelty. I could show you pictures of her blissful face.”
“Rupert, please don’t! I’ve heard enough. Please.” She wanted to flee the room; only the mind-numbing images marching through her brain stopped her from running.
“Sure, I’ll stop. But don’t think there’s not more to tell. Now that you know the truth, we don’t have to hide it from you anymore. Maybe, just maybe, the Marquis will be nicer to her than I have been. I doubt it, but who knows? You can be thankful that I haven’t been as cruel to you as I was to her.”
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