Tethered & Staked



 
Tethered & Staked:
BDSM Stories
2008-01-15
TETHERED & STAKED by Lizbeth Dusseau

M/F Bdsm, bondage, whipping, anal sex and humiliation

From the novel DEPRAVITY'S CHILD by Lizbeth Dusseau

Courtesy of: http://www.pinkflamingo.com

Copyright (c) 2003 All rights reserved, may not be used without the prior
permission of the author

"Stand up," Benito ordered his wife.

Honoria's chocolate-colored dressing gown rustled as the lovely
Spanish beauty 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 in wonder. "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 bulls' 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 a 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outdated, except, of course, for the private venue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 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 ring 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.

A warm and sensuous breeze with a hint of salty sea air swirled
around her nakedness. Her hands had been strung up to rings that hung down
from the top of the posts. Her ankles were staked to the base of each one.
The chain that threaded painfully through her crotch and connected to her
collar front and back remained.

Fernando Baptiste, dressed in a white summer suit, his wife, Maria
Dolores in a creamy beige outfit purchased in Milan at a trendy designer
boutique, sat side by side, fanning themselves in the hot air, as they
watched the woman in chains receive a dozen slashes to her backside from the
cracker end of a bullwhip, wielded by the ranch overseer, Hector. Benito
could have expertly marked his wife himself since he was skilled with any
size of whip, but on this occasion, he preferred to watch, to see Honoria's
physical reply: her face crying in shock, the heavy sensuous sigh
afterwards, the twitching in her body as she waited for the next cut to
land, and the anguished look of pain disfiguring her pretty features. Benito
furtively watched his guests respond to the poor tramp's torment, while a
feeling of sublime gratification warmed his loins and turned his organ
stiff.

Fernando and his wife remained detached from the theatre for some
minutes. Then they squirmed in their chairs, followed by hands pressed to
the other's thighs. They kissed. Whispered secrets. The wife giggled at her
husband's private comments, while the husband feasted on the sight of the
beaten woman in horrified wonder. The energy of their bodies seemed to fuse
into a simmering pot of torrid agitation from which there was no relief.

Only Benito appeared calm, but then, that was only a mask for the
inferno in his body that he carefully monitored.

Honoria felt the blows to her shoulders and buttocks as a reign of
fire. Each one hurt her to the core of her being, and each one fanned a
flame she knew well. She danced between each strike, chains clanging
portentously. And the chain that thread her crotch rubbed her raw.

When Hector moved to her front and aimed for her breasts, she
screamed as the next stunning snap of his whip hit its mark. This she did
not expect!

Having her body so exposed seemed quite enough for one day. The
tender most parts of her were vulnerable to attack-did that mean she should
endure them beaten as well? For several minutes she was tempted to rebel.
But then her desires changed, and with every stinging welt that Hector
carved into the pure white of her pale skin, she found the pain drifting
further from her. Perhaps some gentle angel spirited it away, leaving her
with the profound ecstasy that often accompanied such brutality.

No one watching could understand to what heights she soared.

Benito could relish her pain then admire her mirth. The watching
couple could use her torture to turn them on-then feel guilty later. And
Hector, who had the closest connection to the woman through the stinging
blade of his bullwhip, knew he could rip that rapturous expression from her
face by raising the intensity of his strike.

But none of them could understand the places she traveled in her
visions or appreciate the thereafter when she was taken down and fell limply
to the ground, not brutalized as much as completed.

For the sake of the performance, Honoria was not removed from the stakes and
chains when Hector finally rolled the bullwhip in his hand and stepped back.

Benito approached her, counting cuts, seeing four stripes across her
breasts, three on her belly and one making a terrible gash across her pubic
mound just above the dark tuft of hair. There were at least a dozen on her
backside. Benito sauntered around her dangling form. Her eyes were closed,
the ecstasy still upon her, kindly not ripped from her just yet.

"I think the bitch would have her cake and eat it too," he finally
said, as he ran his hand over Honoria's welted ass. "Hector, your turn."

The man was surprised. In all the years-he'd been with Benito as long
as his boss had been married to this wife-he'd never been given permission
to use her. He coveted her on many occasions, was witness to such brutal
treatment, and had been the administrator of punishment at least a dozen
times. But never had he been given permission to use her sexually.

"At times like this, my wife prefers to be used anally," Benito
informed him.

This was not true! Honoria's weary body instantly reacted, jangling
her heavy hardware as if that were the only way to protest. Benito was
already on her, detaching the chain to make her crotch available. Then he
stepped aside for Hector.

The grateful man nodded to his boss. "Oh, senor, muchas gracias," he
said, somewhat ashamedly. Surprising, since he had no problem ruthlessly
beating the woman. Even so, his sexual shame would certainly not stop him.

"She is yours until you're satisfied, mi amigo." Having his wife
sexually used seemed like the only fitting ending in Benito's mind, and the
rest would agree, even, eventually, the wasted Honoria.

Hector nodded again with an air of respect for the prize he'd been
given. He was a simple man, so his physical needs were simple. With his
erection like an uncomfortable rod inside his pants, he had no complaint in
being allowed to use it, even if it were to further demean the lady of the
house. He swiftly moved behind Honoria and luckily found himself at the
perfect height to impale her with his tumescent organ.

Honoria, swimming in and out of a thoughtless stupor of sensation, of
torn skin, gentle breezes, the smell of hot air, her sweat and a man's
pungent genitals, took Hector's first thrust with a mewling cry of surprise.
Once he entered her, Hector wrapped his arm around her waist and continued
jabbing his penis into the back entrance-thankfully, she'd greased the
insides as soon as her husband suggested she'd be used that day. The foreman
was almost embarrassingly swift. But that seemed to suit the small
gathering, who were already thinking beyond the performance.

Once Hector finished, he pulled out of the woman's ass and quickly
fled with his bullwhip. Benito turned to his guests.

"I trust this was the kind of art you were hoping to witness?" he
asked.

"Indeed, my friend," Fernando said. He and his wife wore frantic
looks of frustration, which Benito found quite amusing.

"Perhaps you and Maria Delores would like a few moments to
yourselves? I believe there is time before dinner."

"That would be most acceptable," Fernando answered with a smile. He
stopped for a moment and gazed at Honoria who was still chained and staked
to the posts. "What will you do with her now?"

Benito studied his wife for several seconds, then said, "Leave her
hang. She's of no use to me now. And out here, she's out of my way."

"Oh, you do this often? Leave her once she's beaten?"

"On occasion," Benito said, "she's reminded of her place in my world,
somewhere in importance between my dogs and my goats." He laughed coldly.

"Not as valuable as your horses?" Fernando wondered with some
amusement.

"No. I cannot ride her around my property," he quipped. "You see, in
my treatment of her, I may allow her a room inside my villa, but that is
only for my convenience. Whatever she knows in creature comfort, in the
trappings of pleasure and gentility she receives on my whim and my good
will. I could as easily shun her, tie her in a corner, gag her and let her
suffer. Or, I could put her in my kennels or barns as one of my livestock. I
have no need to treat her well. Use her, yes. Enjoy her, yes. But more?" He
shrugged, unapologetically.

"You do not love her?"

"That's a difficult question to answer. I use her. I find her good
company at times. I may even marvel at the sheer depth of her acquiescence.
But now that my daughter has been married off, I have been thinking of other
women I would prefer to keep me company. I need a change, I think." He
stared at her more thoughtfully. "Perhaps, I'll give her to Hector until I
can think of what to do with her."

"My, god, how can you say these things, and right in front of her?"
Maria Delores gasped.

"Oh, I doubt she hears us," Benito said. "Now, how about you take
that little rest you were wanting, while I attend to my ranch?"

The three walked toward the villa door, which Benito opened like the
gracious host he was, and then disappeared inside.

Honoria remained bound to the posts in the courtyard for several
hours, during which time, Benito's dogs came racing through, stopping long
enough to lap her feet and sniff her rank crotch, pulling her from the
thoughtless delirium to which she'd succumbed. Though she finally kicked the
dogs away with her struggling feet and knees, part of her wanted more from
them. Yes, what if she spent nights in the kennels, what would he expect of
her there? That she wouldn't seek the comfort and pleasure of her canine
companions?

Such vile, forbidden thoughts this abject state of surrender conjured
in her battered brain! Would she even dare? Or was that exactly what her
husband wanted, his wife reduced to a lowly animal fit only for the pleasure
of his dogs?

Her mind traipsed over territory she'd been before when Benito was so
disposed to verbally terrorize her. Was he really going to give her away to
Hector? Toss her out like used clothing? Take other women? Had Antonia's
marriage changed him so?

What had been her special bliss turned repulsive now as the ugly
thoughts invaded her brain like advancing soldiers.

Until Benito finally took her down, she'd have no peace.

***

Fernando and Maria Delores made their way up the villa stairs, giggling and
whispering to themselves. Fernando was all over his wife, attempting to
disrobe her before they even reached their room.

She playfully scoffed at his advances and backed away. "Do really
think he'll put her out with the dogs?" she wondered aloud.

"I have no idea. Startling thought, isn't it?"

"A terrible one." She looked alarmed, the idea disturbing. But then
her expression changed. "On the other hand, it is rather erotic, isn't it?
Thinking of her with those beastly animals? I wonder what she'd do?"

"Maybe there should be a second act to my play," Fernando schemed.

"Oh, that's a perfectly ghastly idea!" Maria Delores scowled. "That
poor woman's been through enough." She turned up her nose and headed up the
rest of the stairs, playfully laughing again as her husband followed close
at her heels, pinching and prodding her ass. With any luck he'd have her
skirt off before they got to their room.

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