BDSM Erotica...The virgin bride lay on her husband’s bed, naked, her hands bound to the headboard above, her eyes glued to his body as he disrobed…
Excerpt from Depravity's Child
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Adult Erotica. The beautiful, alluring but very sheltered Antonia suddenly finds herself married off to Rupert Reyes, a handsome stranger with a penchant for dominating women. Antonia's domineering father, Benito, expects the marriage will make his willful daughter a submissive just like her mother, Honoria, who is dutifully at his beck and call. But Benito knows nothing about Rupert's villainous heart.
He tugged the tie at his throat, while she, dressed like a used whore, clothes askew, legs still widely splayed, hands bound above her watched his every move. Such a meticulous man, she would think later as she replayed the scene in her mind.
He undid the buttons of his starched shirt while staring at her face, then carefully threaded his gold cufflinks through their holes and slipped them into his pants pocket. He wore the style of armless undershirt that field laborers wear until they are threadbare and stained with dirt. Even though his was new and bright from bleach, the image of grimy, heated, sweat-soaked sex appeared in her head along with the memory he resurrected in her mind of her father’s workers toiling in the sun, their hairy, sinewy arms one moment swinging a scythe, the next ready for the lush curves of a woman’s body and the wet warmth between sex-hungry thighs.
These images shocked her. How could she think of anything so vile?
Rupert removed the undergarment over his head and Antonia gasped; her eyes terrorized by their mutual lust. Then as his trousers hit the floor, change, cufflinks clanking on the bare wood, his eyes still fixed on her, a cry caught in her throat.
She struggled with the rope that bound her wrists. Would she have moved away in fright, or covered her mouth in horror had she the use of her hands? Her gaze now rested on his crotch, where behind the blue silk jockey shorts that smoothly covered his groin, she could see the outline of an erection that challenged her imagination. Once she’d seen Hector, her father’s overseer naked in the shower—an accident. She’d stood in the doorway of the servant’s bath, expecting to see her mother’s maid Esperanza there, scrubbing tiles, and remained frozen, eyes glued to the wet, browned body of the middle-aged foreman as he showered. His face may have been eroded by the sun and his advancing years, but his body was as virile as a twenty-year-old’s. His was the only male organ she’d ever seen in the flesh, and his was limply at rest, shriveled and non-threatening.
Afraid to look more at her husband’s proud equipment, Antonia finally shut her eyes. She was ready, yes. Prepared. Rupert had prepared her. And was this not the moment of female triumph she had been dreaming of her life long?
She sensed him moving closer, his body hovering over hers, the tip of his penis touching the readied opening. How rigid! How steady! He hardly grazed the sensitive flesh and she could discern its character.
“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 used 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 bedside 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 lustfully, holding her enrapt. 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 back. 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.
(c) Copyright 2013 by Lizbeth Dusseau, all rights reserved. Not be used without permission.