Depravity's Child Read online

  Antonia’s father hated her to be like girls of her age, thinking her choices too garish and worldly for one so young—although he had to admit, she was quite pleasing in a carnal way. After one rare plea for leniency from Honoria, who argued that no one would see his daughter anyway since he kept her captive in his house and schooled at home by tutors, he finally relented, giving his daughter free reign to experiment with her physical appearance. That decided, he felt rather generous allowing Antonia her small rebellion; after all, young people could be expected to rebel to some degree, and in all other areas, she was still his to control.

  With the help of the contraband magazines, Antonia had become in her transformation gloriously, dangerously sexual, looking more like a woman of twenty-five than an innocent child still in her teens. Despite the fact that she was a virgin, there were times when she looked as much like a whore—a classy whore—as girls who actually sold their bodies for cash. A sensuous cloud of eroticism filled the aura about her; the desires of her loins and heart oozed from her very pores. Once the woman emerged from the cocoon of childhood there was no retreat. Benito was right in concluding that she’d need a strong man to keep her seductive passions bridled.

  Although the father focused foremost on the sexual reality of his now womanly daughter, there was more to Antonia than Benito saw. Like many young women her age, she dreamed of fair-skinned lovers and dark-skinned Lotharios. She fantasized of leaving her country and traveling the world. Dwelling on the tempting layouts in her dog-eared Vogue, she longed to be a fashion model, or a dress designer, or make-up artist. Her visions were far-flung, thrusting her into worlds of sophistication and glamour. For all the sheltering Benito carefully engineered, she was actually much like most young women of her generation, filled with fire and want and boundless desires. And like the young women of her time, she, above all, wanted love, real, genuine, passionate love.

  No one, not even her mother knew about Antonia’s vast fantasies. But Honoria had seen her daughter many times gazing with girlish lust at some fine-looking gardener, or the pool boy, or a deliveryman. That was why she had little trepidation in telling the exuberant girl about Rupert Reyes, the man she would marry the following day. If there was ever a handsome fellow to turn the eye of a woman, it was this one. She could think of no man of her husband’s acquaintance she found more appealing than the Italian bred Rupert. Money, good looks, class; impetuous and passionate—he was every young woman’s dream. Love would come later over time, but the outward trappings would be enough to a keep a new bride infatuated for a long time.

  Oddly, because Honoria was used to the kind of brutal treatment she’d received at Rupert’s hands that afternoon, she didn’t even think it important to warn her daughter about the man’s dark side. There were things to be said, cautions she would make, but it was for Antonia to discover on her own the sexual whims of the man she’d marry. If Antonia was anything like herself, she’d get used to, even welcome the crudities of a controlling man as a means to her own pleasure. Even as she spoke with her daughter, Honoria was still flushed with the excitement generated by the remarkable Rupert Reyes.

  “So, you’ve seen him? What did you think?”

  “He looks soooo hot!” the girl replied.

  Honoria giggled hearing her daughter speak like an American teenager—probably something she picked up from the distant relatives and their unruly children who had visited the villa several months before. “But what else do you think?”

  “I love the car, and the way he dresses…” She bit her lip seductively as young girls do, eyes twinkling with mischief. “I’ll bet he’s rich.”

  “Of course, he’s rich. Your father wouldn’t consider a man who wasn’t.”

  “He’s the kind of man I love,” Antonia said with a profound sigh.

  The hook had been set and she was reeled right in. Honoria’s task was half-done without any effort of her own.

  “I’m so glad you feel that way,” she said. “First impressions are so important.”

  “So, is there something special about him?”

  “Yes, there is,” Antonia announced, prepared now to leap the really daunting hurdle, “He is the man you’ll be marrying in the morning.”

  “What?”

  “Yes, dear, you’re to be married to Rupert Reyes in the morning. I know it’s a shock, and I suggested to your father that he prepare you sooner, but you know how he is…”

  “But I never thought…” the girl’s voice trailed off.

  “He’s a worldly man, Antonia. Handsome. Well-spoken. You could hardly do better if you chose yourself. And the mystery of who he is will unfold for you like a flower opening. Every day something new and exciting with a man of Senor Reyes’ qualities.”

  Despite Antonia’s immaturity in matters of the heart, she was also a thoughtful and reasonable young woman. She’d been taught to compromise, to be patient and most of all to be respectful of her elders, especially her father. She loved and feared him, although she did not understand him. But behind the complex man, she believed that he was brilliant, all knowing and that he loved her with his whole heart. He’d never failed her and she didn’t expect him to now. But this was certainly testing her faith. What should she think about such a startling revelation?

  “I just never thought this would happen now. I mean…”

  “You can’t go on living here with so little to do, Antonia. Your schooling is complete. It’s time to move on from your childhood, become a wife and enjoy the benefits of love.”

  “You believe this Rupert will love me?”

  “How could he not? You’re beautiful; alluring in the way a woman should be to a man. You have a style that is both appealing and well bred. You’re genuine, kind-hearted and loving. And, you understand from me what it takes to be a good wife.”

  “I do?”

  “I should think so. You mimic me in so many ways. Of course, you have your own personality, but your essence is pure.”

  “This is a lot to get used to,” she said, cheerlessly. “Do I meet him tonight?”

  Honoria flinched just a bit. “No. Actually, your father has arranged the meeting for morning.”

  “And you said I’ll marry him then?”

  “Yes, you will.”

  Her head was suddenly spinning. She hardly knew what to think. “A dress? Do I have a dress?”

  “I’m sure that your father has thought of everything. I wouldn’t worry.”

  “And so tomorrow, I’ll be gone…”

  “Not forever.” She smiled kindly. “You will adapt, my darling. My marriage began in much the same way as yours will…even the small wedding was perfect. Simple. Refined. And without the drama of some grand ceremony before a hundred people you don’t care about…the intimacy will provide the perfect mind-set on which to start your new life.”

  Her mother’s wisdom was as sound as her father’s was, Antonia thought. Her head would spin all night. She wouldn’t sleep. But it would be excitement as much as fear that would propel her forward; that, and the idea of the very attractive Rupert Reyes being the bed partner she’d been waiting for all her life.

  ***

  “Do you, Maria Antonia Donatella del Gallo, take this man, Rupert Ramon Reyes to be your husband? Do you promise to honor him, to serve him, to obey him in all matters, to make of yourself a dutiful and respectful wife and so cherish him as his humble and devoted servant?”

  Antonia’s heart so fluttered with excitement that she failed to hear the words the priest spoke. She felt lightheaded, as if the room was spinning—just as she’d felt since her mother broke the astounding news. And yet, her eyes, keenly focused on the beautiful Rupert Reyes, kept her on her feet and finally saying all that was asked of her that day, a simple, “I do.”

  His every touch was like an electric shock, attacking her body at the point of origin and moving in desperate waves to her belly and sex below. When they kissed to seal the marriage, her lips melted into his, lingering there.
The sensation of physical joy bounded through her like a rapacious teenager—she was still a rapacious teenager. She hungrily wanted more. This certainly wasn’t love, but it was infatuation.

  A warm wind blew through her wild mane of hair and scattered it about her face, as the Mercedes zipped through the country roads, winding its way to an unknown destination. Fear wasn’t even present anymore. Her heart beat as hotly as her loins. Goodbye childhood! Hello, great wide world! Hello to the bed where the man who drove the car, who sat beside her, her Rupert, would take her for their wedding night of sexual bliss.

  No girl could have been more ready. No better fantasy could have materialized that morning than to find herself the center of a storybook, rose garden wedding that would end with her arms entangled in this man’s arms, her sex reaching out for his sex and drawing him in, her heart swallowing him whole with her lips fixed on his.

  Like a dream with no end…

  The sky darkened to a midnight blue by the time the newlyweds arrived at the villa on the outskirts of Barcelona. A single light burned at the back entrance where Rupert parked the Mercedes and he guided Antonia into the darkened house.

  “Where are the servants?” she asked, rather sleepily. The last hour of the trip had finally tired her. Such a long way from her father Benito’s villa.

  “I gave them the weekend off,” Rupert said. “I thought my bride and I should have the house to ourselves for our first nights together.”

  He swept her up the back stairs, Antonia smiling at the fragrant scent of a man. He must be as old as her mother, she decided, but his age only matured him as a real man.

  Antonia could still barely see when they reached Rupert’s bedroom, but she could make out the large antique four-poster bed with the canopy and the trailing lace drape that made it into a safe harbor for husband and wife, two aroused and ready lovers.

  Rupert’s hands roamed the surface of her body overtop her clothes, with passionate and eager measures moving beyond her pale blue honeymoon dress to touch her bare skin. She innocently opened for him without restraint—her mind had imagined the scene so often that she knew the script by heart.

  She shuddered as his fingers found her bare breast under her lacy cream-colored bra. His thumb and forefinger lightly squeezed the nipple.

  “Oh, my Lord!” She breathed in and out in astonished gasps.

  A hand cupped her pubis underneath her skirt, where just a pair of thin silk panties protected her virginity.

  “Oh, my, yessssss, Rupert.” Her sex exploded over his hand, with her juices soaking her panties and leaking onto his palm.

  “Here.” He withdrew his wet hand and placed it at her mouth. “Drink it in, darling. This is the scent of your sex. Lick my palm clean.”

  What a naughty thing to do!

  She blushed, but her eager tongue greedily lapped the sour-sweet nectar, even as she felt her body leak more in a trickle down her thigh. Rupert pushed her to the bed.

  “Open your thighs,” he said, standing over her, riveted by the beautiful Spanish maid that was now his to use. He moved in rapidly, attacking her nether regions, tugging the panties away until she heard the silk rip. His power over her nearly made her faint, but her body held on, belly exploding into spasms that did not stop for all the licks and sucks and nibbles from her husband’s tongue and lips and teeth.

  As she shuddered from the wild commotion, Rupert pulled himself from her crotch and climbed up her torso, straddling her hips—he was still fully clothed and her half-delirious mind wondered what he was doing. Drawing her hands over her head, he slipped a cotton rope, a slipknot, over her wrists and tugged it tightly.

  Oh, my!” she gasped in breathless wonderment.

  “No hands, love,” he smiled. Backing down, he returned to her crotch where he worked the purplish pink softness of her skin, the wet folds and the warm, welcoming home at her center.

  Antonia thrashed back and forth as the momentum of her orgasm built from one crest to another, mounting like a fire-breathing dragon until the explosion of heat and spasms ripped through her body like the tail of that great beast.

  “That’s it, my darling,” Rupert purred in her ear. “Come for me, my love.”

  The sound of his kindness played like a gentle melody in her ear. But still her body ached and was not yet satisfied.

  “Oh, may I put my hands on you, dear Rupert?” she asked as the force of her climax drifted away.

  “No. No. Not yet. You have yet to be taken by me, and it is my pleasure to have you this way, bound to me, bound to my will and captive to my heart.”

  What words! Another small spasm slipped through her body in reaction to the sound, the sweet hum, the purring feral quality of his passion. Captive to his heart! Her being shuddered.

  Rupert clenched her mound once more, inserting a finger in the untried hole, and carefully worked the tight space, while occasionally pulling back and thrumming her sensitive bud.

  “You are indeed a virgin,” he said, smiling.

  “You thought otherwise?”

  He chuckled. Some dark aspect of Rupert’s character momentarily appeared in his expression, but this was not enough to scare her off or even warn her of the future. He was a master of hiding his baser desires behind a cloak of civility.

  “Of course, not. Your father assured me of your purity. But then, what does the man know of young women like you? He may protect you, but he could never protect a slut from every man who’d seize her. Handsome young studs work your property. How about the gardener, or the electrician, the boy who delivers groceries from town? Wouldn’t it have been possible?”

  “Oh, but I swear I would never!” she said, smiling earnestly.

  “Yes, I imagine not.” He raised his eyebrows and looked so lovingly into her eyes that for that one pure moment she knew love, only love.

  His fingers, playing quietly at her vagina, began to move more forcefully into her aching home. Though she wanted them there, an intense sensation began to build within and without. The urgent pressure of his hand scared her.

  “Oh, my Rupert, I don’t know…” Her eyes widened with alarm.

  “You’re doing fine, my dear. You need to relax. Breathe.” The fingers pressing their way into her virgin cunt eased slightly and she took that deep, relaxing breath.

  As Rupert’s eyes had darkened; she saw only the reflection of the lit candle in the black irises. His brows, the firm set of his jaw, the clenching muscles fixed on his determined act of forceful entry made sure her attention would not waver. “I am not an easy man to accommodate, Antonia, but you will have all of me. This is just the preparation.”

  His unwavering vow hit the mark. “Yes, sir. Of course, I will have all of you. I am your wife. It is my duty and I cherish that.”

  He liked the way she honored their relationship with words of reverence and humility. She would be easily trained. Of course, she had no idea exactly what he specifically meant by accommodating him. There was no way to prepare her for that.

  Preliminaries finished, Rupert disengaged from her, and on his feet again began disrobing. 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 Benito’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 blue silk jockey shorts that smoothly covered his groin, she could make out 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 only male organ she’d ever seen in the flesh, and his was limply at rest, shriveled and unthreatening.

  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.