Shameful Reckonings Page 3

  She heard the door open. The overhead light came on. The bare bulb dangling from the rafters overhead cast a harsh glare. Blinking and sobbing, Giancarla turned her head to see who had opened the door. She saw Boris, and her heart sank.

  “Please,” she begged. “Please, no more. No more.”

  All Boris did was smile and shut the door behind him. She had never seen him smile before tonight, and she didn’t want to ever see him smiling again. It was a chilling smile, the smile of a prowling wolf spotting a crippled sheep. He came over to her, sat down on the mattress, and laid a big, hard hand on her hip. His touch was gentle, but Giancarla flinched from it. She had learned just how much pain and discomfort his hands could inflict. He had not struck her. He had not had to. He seemed to know just where to find the pressure points on her body and just how much pressure to apply to each one to induce anything from shudders to full-throated screams from her, and so far nothing he had done had left a mark.

  She didn’t know how long she had been down here. It seemed like days, but it could have been only a few hours. Worse, she had no idea Nicholas intended keeping her down here. So she had strayed a little. So far as she knew, all of the trophy wives strayed at one time or another, but as long as any affairs could be kept quiet their husbands didn’t seem to mind all that much.

  “Time for lesson,” Boris’ smile grew wider and scarier. His hand slid down her leg and grasped her foot before she could pull it away. Then he did something to the sole of her foot that made her groan.

  It went on, and on. Boris gripped and probed and fondled and pressed and Giancarla whimpered and moaned and winced and cried out. He hadn’t touched her breasts so far, except to fondle them clumsily when all this began, and whenever she thought of what he might do to her nipples it made her physically ill. She had already vomited once, when she had awakened to feel Boris’ hands on her naked body and the first thing she had thought was that he was going to rape her. Boris had cleaned it up before he left. Now she prayed that he would just fuck her instead of continuing this terrible slow torture. She had nothing left in her stomach to throw up, and the dry heaves made her ribs and belly ache. Surely this terrible punishment had to end sometime. Giancarla clung to that one frail hope. Sooner or later Nicholas would consider that she had been punished enough, and she would seal whatever pledges he wanted her to make to him with sex... whatever kind of sex he wanted.

  Boris did something to her ribs and she moaned in pain. She had never felt so helpless or so frightened before. She had thought that the worst that Nicholas could do was threaten to divorce her. That would be bad, but she had had the sense to hold out for a pre-nuptial agreement. She would walk away from any divorce with a very healthy pile of cash. Right now, she’d be willing to tear up the agreement if only Boris would stop torturing her. He was too big and too strong for her to fight him. Before, she had thought it kind of silly that Nicholas had hired him as a bodyguard. Now that she knew what Boris was capable of, he terrified her. When this was finally over, she would be careful never, ever to tease him again.

  What really scared her the most was how much Boris seemed to enjoy his work. He kept humming to himself or chuckling softly as he did terrible, painful things to her. All she could do was lie as still as she could and whimper whenever she wasn’t screaming.

  After an interminable time, he finally got up and left, turning off the light before shutting the door. Once more, Giancarla was left naked and shuddering in the dark, with only her pain for company. This time, her legs felt numb. She could move them, but only clumsily. She worried that Boris had inflicted some permanent damage, but gradually feeling and control returned. It was a pitifully small comfort. The old mattress was dusty, and a lot of that dust had gotten into her nose and throat. She felt terribly thirsty, but there was nothing she could do about that either.

  The light came on again. Giancarla stirred and covered her eyes with her hand. She must have fallen asleep. Weary and worn out, she didn’t even try to look at Boris. He would have his hands on her soon enough.

  “You look quite chastened, my dear.” Giancarla’s head came up as she heard Nicholas’ voice. Did this mean that her ordeal was over? Her heart pounded as she desperately hoped so.

  “Oh,” she sobbed. “Nicholas! Darling! Please, please forgive me! I was thoughtless and foolish! I see that now.”

  Nicholas looked down at her, his arms folded, his face a mask. “You are contrite at this moment only because you have been found out and punished,” he said. “You are an untrustworthy, selfish little bitch. I see that now.”

  “No… darling…” With an effort, Giancarla got up on her hands and knees and crawled, slowly and painfully, towards Nicholas. Whatever he wanted her to do, she would do it. Anything would be better than even one more minute with Boris. “Truly, I am so, so sorry. I will do anything to prove it to you, my husband!” She reached out and grabbed at his pants leg. He shook her off and stepped back.

  “I am certain that you would,” he sneered. “”You use your sex to delude men so that they will give you what you want. How many lovers have you had since we were married, you bitch?”

  “Only the one,” Giancarla sobbed. She managed to shed some tears. “I was lonely! You have been away so often…” She sobbed dramatically. “I was wrong… I was wrong. I will never do it again!”

  “With anybody or with that Swedish pig?” Nicholas snapped. “You lie, Giancarla. You always lie, to me and to all men.”

  Giancarla thought that Nicholas was enjoying this, having a naked woman on her hands and knees begging for his forgiveness. She tried to play up to that.

  “No, no, never again!” she wailed. “Do you think I could lie to you again, after what your bodyguard has done to me?” She hung her head, sobbing and crying pitifully.

  Nicholas said and did nothing for an excruciatingly long moment. Giancarla stayed as she was, but reduced her sobbing to wet, sloppy sniffles.

  “Turn around,” Nicholas said at last. “Get your ass up in the air for me, and spread your legs, like you do for everyone else.”

  Still sniffling, Giancarla turned so that her back was to him. She did as he had ordered, lowering her head down onto the old, dusty mattress and raising her hips. A moment later, she felt Nicholas’ hand between her legs, his fingers probing her pussy. She sobbed loudly and moaned for his benefit.

  “You always get wet so easily,” she heard him say. “Can you turn that on at will, as you do your tears?” Giancarla made no reply, except to sob again. Then his hand came down hard across her upturned ass. She yelped, but didn’t move. She felt her husband kneel down on the mattress behind her, and then his hands gripped her hips. He just held her like that for a moment before he slapped her ass hard again. This time, Giancarla yelped and whimpered. She had to play this just right. Nicholas had spanked her before, always just before their make-up sex. With any luck, her ordeal would soon be at an end. All she had to do was submit, and maybe make him think that he was hurting her a little.

  She felt the head of his cock pressing against her pussy. He had been exactly right about it being so easy for her to get wet. But she hadn’t expected what he did next. Once his cock started sliding into her his grip on her hips tightened and he rammed himself all the way in, his hips slamming up against her upturned ass. Wet as she was, Giancarla wasn’t quite fully ready, and Nicholas’ thrust really did hurt. Her head came up, and she squealed. That earned her an even harder slap on her rear.

  “Shut up and take it, you spoiled bitch,” Nicholas snarled. He swatted her again and began pumping her furiously. She could feel his terrible anger in each hard thrust, and whimpered at each jarring impact. After a little while, she began to moan instead. She hurt almost all over, thanks to Boris’ ministrations, but Nicholas was making her body respond anyway. That was something she couldn’t help at all.

  Then Nicholas suddenly stopped and pulled out. He struck Giancarla’s ass again, hard enough for it to sting terribly. Bewildered and
suddenly worried again, she shrieked.

  “Get up, you bitch,” Nicholas ordered. “Get up on your knees and suck my cock!”

  Giancarla tried to stall for time. It wasn’t too hard. Between the pain and the pleasure, her body was trembling. It didn’t feel as if it was completely under her control.

  “Move!” Nicholas roared. She scrambled upright on her knees, shaking visibly, and turned to face him. He knew that she didn’t particularly like giving him a blowjob, but now he was demanding that she take his cock in her mouth right after it had been deep in her pussy. She shuddered and worked up a cascade of tears. She knew better than to protest.

  “No hands!” Nicholas struck her arms away as she reached to hold his legs. “Just use your lying mouth, bitch!”

  Sobbing constantly, Giancarla leaned forward on her knees, her hands resting on her thighs, her mouth open. She took the head of Nicholas’ cock between her lips and tasted herself on him. For a moment, she couldn’t bring herself to do any more. Nicholas saved her from dithering by grabbing her by her hair and ramming his cock into her mouth, deeply enough to make her gag. At first she couldn’t breathe either until Nicholas pulled back a little.

  “Do it, you little whore,” Nicholas snarled. “Do it and swallow, or I swear I will fuck your ass next and then make you suck my cock!”

  Giancarla burst into real tears now as she sobbed and boo-hooed around her husband’s cock. She didn’t dare refuse him, or he’d send in Boris again, and that was something she didn’t want to think about. She began sucking vigorously, anxious to placate him no matter what. At least she didn’t have anything left to vomit up.

  She dribbled copiously to get the taste of herself out of her mouth. Nicholas said nothing about it, but he never loosened his grip on her hair. She sucked, and sucked hard, trying to make him come quickly so she could get it over with. He forestalled her by pulling her head back. All she could do was watch, gasping for air, as he loosened his pants and let them drop to the floor. His boxers followed his expensive slacks shortly afterwards.

  “Lick my balls, bitch,” he snapped. He shook her head roughly before pulling her head close to his groin.

  Giancarla obeyed, sobbing and whimpering. She tasted salt and sweat and fought back an urge to gag. Short, curly hairs got into her mouth and up her nose, but Nicholas made her lick every bit of his balls before he let her go back to sucking his cock. As much as she disliked fellatio, she welcomed it as a relief.

  She wished she knew more about how to pleasure a man with her mouth. It seemed to be much more complicated than just sucking… or maybe sucking was all that was required, but her technique was lacking. She kept making little changes to what she was doing, trying to gauge Nicholas’ reactions to them. She looked up at him with pleading eyes from time to time, but his expression was always the same: Cold, and angry, and implacable. She thought he was getting some grim amusement seeing her with her mouth full of his cock and her eyes full of tears.

  His grip on her hair tightened enough to really hurt. Sobbing and drooling, Giancarla kept sucking. At last, she heard Nicholas groan faintly. She tried to remember what she had been doing to get that response so she could keep doing it and bring her ordeal to an end. She heard him groan again, more loudly.

  He gave her no warning. All of a sudden he thrust his cock deep into her mouth and held it there, moaning and groaning. Something hot and wet and sticky and salty hit the back of Giancarla’s throat, making her gag and choke. Nicholas never loosened his grip on her hair, so she couldn’t pull away. Another spurt of his semen gushed into her mouth and down her throat, and then another and another. Giancarla wailed dismally whenever she could catch her breath between coughing fits. She had swallowed some of Nicholas’ cum, but most of it now swirled around in her mouth, mixing with her saliva.

  Nicholas suddenly yanked her head back. His cock slipped out of her mouth, and she felt his free hand under her chin, forcing her jaws shut and tilting her head back.

  “Swallow it!” he snarled. “Swallow all of it, you faithless little bitch, or I will let Boris fuck you too! Do you know what he likes? Do you?”

  Giancarla had no idea what Boris liked and no wish to find out. She tried to swallow, but couldn’t quite manage it. She coughed behind her clenched teeth and tried again. She managed to swallow about half of what was in her mouth and hoped that Nicholas would be satisfied with that. He wasn’t.

  “All of it,” he snarled furiously. Wide-eyed, Giancarla swallowed the last of it.

  “Open your mouth, bitch, and show me,” he demanded as he took his hand from her chin. Giancarla obeyed. Nicholas looked into her mouth and seemed satisfied.

  “Now,” he said as he pulled her head towards him again, “Clean my cock with your mouth and tongue.” When Giancarla hesitated, he became enraged.

  “Do it, you little whore!” he bellowed, so loudly that Giancarla flinched. She was terribly frightened of Nicholas’ anger, not for fear that he would strike her, but for fear that he would send Boris in to her again. She leaned forward and sought out his cock. It was slippery, and not as hard as it had been, which made it difficult to get it into her mouth without using her hands, but Nicholas had previously told her not to use her hands, so she didn’t. She licked and sucked the length of Nicholas’ cock, whimpering and crying the whole time. If this was his idea of make-up sex when he was furious, she was resolved never to make him so angry again, no matter what. She kept licking, her stomach knotting up at the taste, until he told her to stop. He threw her onto her back on the mattress, pulled up his pants, and left the room. He slammed the door behind him, but left the light on. Giancarla curled up into a huddled ball of misery, sobbing and crying, wondering how long she was going to be left down here.

  It was not long. She heard the door open again and turned her head to see who had come in.

  It was Nicholas. He still looked grim and angry, but he had brought with him a bottle of water. He tossed it onto the mattress next to her, and Giancarla scrambled to grab it. She twisted the cap off and drank deeply, trying to wash the saltiness and the stickiness from her mouth. When she had drained the last drop of it she laid the bottle aside.

  “Thank you,” she sniffled. Nicholas just stood there staring down at her, his arms folded. He said nothing. Giancarla kept silent for a moment, and then burst into tears again.

  “Oh, my darling,” she sobbed. “I am so sorry… so very sorry…”

  “Shut up,” Nicholas snapped. “I do not want to hear any more of your lies.”

  “You won’t,” Giancarla shook her head. “I will never, ever lie to you again, my darling. I will be a good and faithful wife to you from now on.”

  “I do not believe you,” Nicholas shrugged. “You are sorry now because you have been caught and punished. How long will that last? A month? A week? A day? You have been caught before, and punished before, and always you say that you are sorry and you will not do it again, and always you forget your lessons and do it again. I am done with you. I am sending you away.”

  “What?” Giancarla wailed. “You can’t mean that! You can’t!”

  “I can and I do.” Nicholas smiled. The smile was as unreassuring as Boris’ smile. “There was more than just water in that bottle you drank,” he said. “Soon you will fall asleep, and I will be done with you. You have brought nothing but trouble and disgrace to my family and to me. I will not let you disgrace me further with a divorce. People will be told that you have gone to live with my family for a while. You have no friends, only acquaintances. Soon even they will forget all about you.”

  Cold terror struck Giancarla. She tried to say something, to plead, to beg for mercy, but a heaviness was taking over her body. She couldn’t think to form the words, and couldn’t have spoken them if she could have formed them. Slowly, as if in a nightmare, she collapsed onto the dusty old mattress.

  Chapter Four

  Giancarla struggled towards wakefulness. It felt as if she was trying to swim upwards fro
m a cold, dark depth to the sunlight and air overhead. She dimly recalled… or imagined… trying to do that several times in the past, but always before she had failed, sinking back down into unconsciousness to the things that scuttled about in the darkness below, waiting for her. This time, that did not happen. She kept getting closer and closer to the wan light overhead. Soon she would break the surface and be able to breathe again.

  The first thing she was aware of was the noise. She could hear the cries of women in pain or distress. Sometimes, she would hear one of them shriek. She stirred. Now she was aware that she was hungry and thirsty and there was a foul, metallic taste in her mouth. She tried to stretch out and discovered that she could not. She was lying on some hard, flat surface, and when she tried to extend her legs her feet came up against some hard metal grill. When she pushed against it, her head bumped into something just as unyielding. Still not fully awake, she opened her eyes, blinking and squinting, trying to clear her blurred vision. Then a woman shrieked nearby. Giancarla sat up abruptly, only to strike her head against metal bars. The sharp pain of the impact brought tears and stars to her eyes. She curled up on the hard surface under her, whimpering and clutching her head. She dimly realized that she was naked, and wondered for a moment if she was still on the dusty mattress in the cellar.

  No, she couldn’t be. The mattress wasn’t as hard as whatever she was laying on now. Slowly, cautiously, she lifted herself up on her arms. She found that she could only rise a little bit before coming up against those bars again. Wherever she was, it was dimly lit and smelled of smoke and sweat and other things. The floor looked like cement. The far wall looked like carved rock. She seemed to be in an artificial cave, maybe thirty feet on a side with the roof very high overhead. It was a little too cool for comfort.