THE PUNISHMENT OF FOLLY | Livia bdsm stories

When Claudia returned to her friends in their regular gatherings, talk frequently turned to the two cousins from Isis's temple. They were not often to be seen these days, having apparently business of their elsewhere. It was remarked that they had been markedly subdued when they returned from their tour of duty at the same time as Claudia, and she described their folly in their preaching and the salutary punishment they had suffered in response.

Opinion seemed divided on whether they had deserved such severity. The older women, and those of noble birth, like Claudia, were convinced that duty and obedience meant that they deserved their flogging. Some, the younger and more impressionable, thought it was not right to treat women so - men should show more consideration, to respect them and treat them as equals. It seemed the cousins preaching had not entirely failed to take root, but Lavinia and her closest fiends merely raised eyebrows at such comments.

It was some months later, and Livia was entertaining Claudia in her boudoir, lying on silken cushions, sipping wine and nibbling on dates and sweetmeats and discussing the judgement of an adultress.

"But I thought you said it was to be purely a family affair." Claudia protested.

"Well so it is," Livia replied, "but, as a first cousin of the wronged husband, I may attend and speak for the women's point of view, and there is nothing to forbid me taking a personal guest with me, provided she is discreet, and does not attempt to speak herself. I'm sure you'll find it very instructive."

"But I've seen what happens to adulteresses," her friend insisted, then blushed in confusion. "I was there when you had your hour in the arena, if you remember."

"I certainly do remember," Livia answered with a shudder. "But this won't be the same. My branch of the family follow the modern fashion in these matters, though, to tell the truth, I was unlucky, since it mainly goes unnoticed hereabouts. I should have been a bit more discreet, I admit. Anyway, this lot keep to the older ways, and I don't know who's the better off, though I suspect this poor bitch won't get over her appointment with Nemesis quite as soon as I did."

"Well, if you're really sure I would not be intruding?"

"Of course not. We all regard you as practically one of the family now.

Actually Aurelius is some kind of distant cousin too, which gives you status. We Patrician women must stick together like sisters in these difficult times.

There's too much subversion of the old order going on for safety at the moment,"

she added darkly. "A return to older values will do no harm, and the more that know about it the better."

Clotilda, unfortunate or foolishly reckless depending one's point of view, had seen fit to disobey her husband's express prohibition on sleeping with a certain young man about town. It was not as if he begrudged her her pleasures with whatever handsome male her own not inconsiderable charms might attract, it was the nature of this particular man that offended him. He had made it clear she could romp between her silken sheets with half the male population of Pityus, provided she maintained the bare minimum of discretion, but Pallio was forbidden her. Her husband had good grounds, which he expressed to her clearly and forcibly. The man was a cheat, had dodged military service and, anyway, came from very suspect stock.

Of course, female nature being what it is, and always will be, only this one man, who had been forbidden her, would suffice to satisfy her, although half a dozen others had already proved to her warm and wetly willing vagina that they could perform as well as he. Inevitably she had over-stepped the mark, making a public spectacle of herself in a supposedly private suite in a wineshop. The location only adding fuel to the husband's fury, and his low opinion of the young rake. With too much wine taken, and caution thrown to the winds, they had launched themselves at one another, stripping off their clothes the moment they had entered the room set aside for them.

Unfortunately, in their drunken frenzy, they had not only torn down their own clothing but the hangings at the window onto the street as well, and a modest crowd had instantly formed to cheer their immodest efforts. Carried away with wine and lust, Clotilda had waved not only her bare arms at the spectators,

but her bare arse as well, crowing and howling as Pallio ploughed her well trodden furrow with his not inconsiderable pole. The watch arrived to investigate the uproar, but waited for her shrieking culmination to her shafting before arresting her, still naked and with the proof of her guilt trickling out of her swollen vagina and over her reddened thighs.

Still in this shameful state, she had been hauled before the Governor's court. He had exercised his discretion to hand her over to a family meeting to decide her fate, and it was to this meeting that Claudia was invited as observer and student.

To one side of the room they found the girl's mother-in-law, and half a dozen other females, and on the other the principal males of the family. Between them, dressed only in a thin white shift, knelt the errant wife. She seemed to have recognised the seriousness of her situation, no doubt the sister-in-law, or the stern mother-in-law had taken it upon themselves to explain in terrifying detail what sorts of fate might be possible for her. She bent her head, clasping her hands to her breasts and trying to look as contrite as possible, no doubt praying her submissive behaviour might act on the family to spare her the worst.

The proceedings were not prolonged. The husband gave a short account of the woman's dereliction of her duty to him and, in particular, defiance of his express orders regarding the unsavoury young man. He concluded by saying he felt an example should be made of her. There was too much of this sort of thing about. His elder brother observed that exposure might bring public disgrace on the family, but their mother cut in to insist that it were more damaging in the long run for them to be known as a family that could not control its own women than to have one of them exposed in the market place.

The woman seemed shaken out of her submissive pose by the threat and turned to her husband, crying and pleading, begging that she should not be exposed. Her previous composure shattered, she wept and wrung her hands.

"What is exposure?" Claudia whispered in her friend's ear. "It must be very severe if she would have preferred what you went through."

"It is," Livia replied laconically. "It's not used often, and she's right to fear it, as you'll see soon."

It was obvious that there had been some collusion beforehand, for preparations had been made, and the sentence commenced at once.

The woman was stripped and fastened on straining toes against a marble pillar. Without pity, the husband lashed a merciless length of black leather across the white back, drawing a fierce red line across its ivory surface. The woman screamed and the lash fell again... and again, stroke after stroke in a slow remorseless progression, each wringing a bubbling scream from her tortured throat. Alternate strokes fell from either side. When she was released she fell to the ground, heaving with her sobs.

It was but the prelude to her real punishment, though, which awaited her outside. Her naked body was dragged half fainting from the hall, and deposited on a small hand cart. She was placed on her back and her wrists fastened to the front of the cart with leather thongs. A broad belt was fastened through the slatted deck of the barrow, and secured tightly round her waist, until she could not roll about on the deck nor raise her hips.

Her shoulders were already held down by the securing of her wrists and only her legs were free. But not for long. Her knees were bent and drawn up onto her chest, where each bent limb was bound with leather, so that the joint could not be straightened again, then more thongs were used to pull her knees wide apart, so that she acquired the pose of a crouching frog, albeit a frog lying on its back, its vulva frightfully exposed on the very rearmost rail of the wooden cart.

Claudia had watched, horrified, as the preparations were made.

"What will happen to her now?" she asked in a voice hoarse from tension.

"She will be wheeled through the streets, until an hour after sunset, and any man, or woman come to that, may have her as they please." Livia's voice was affected by the bizarre figure on the barrow, and the appalling fate that awaited it. "Front entrance or back, they are both available, and she'll scarcely be able to tell one from another by the time she's finished, poor cow."

It was manifestly true. The woman was stretched quite helpless, and openly vulnerable. Her naked spread pose meant that her buttocks over-lapped the rear edge of the tiny vehicle. The deck was not very high and a man, standing between

her spread heels, could sink his penis in her vagina, and she could do nothing to stop him. Moreover, if his taste inclined that way, he might just as easily force her rectum, stretching an unlubricated sphincter, tearing and hurting her atrociously.

Once the mob had scent of her, out there in the crowded streets, she would be raped and reamed by all comers, and there was still six hours to sun set! If she survived, she would be a chastened woman, and likely to become a model wife hereafter.

The preparations were complete and the gates about to be opened to deliver her to her appalling fate, when the mother-in-law called a halt. A servant had brought in a brazier of coals, and the forbidding old lady had it set on the ground between the bound heels, where they overhung the deck. Claudia gasped as she saw it better. Nestling in the coals, glowing red-hot, were a pair of iron pincers!

"You're not going out like that, my girl," the implacable old woman growled. "You've proved over and over again you can't get too much prick, but I'll make sure you don't enjoy the cocks you swallow today."

She spoke to the slave with the brazier, who removed the tongs and moved between the spread legs. There was a frightened whimper, the anchored body fought its bonds in a furious writhing, and then the woman screamed, a bubbling gurgling horror of a sound, as if her soul itself was in torment. The slave with the pincers looked at the stony faced mother-in-law questioningly, but she had him keep the hot iron clamped on the seared clitoris for a full count of ten, before she relented.

The slave removed the iron from it terrible grip on the errant wife, but the unforgiving patrician woman was not finished yet.

"You know what I told you," she snapped. "The belly, man. Quick, before you lose the heat."

The slave bent forward again, and the woman screamed afresh, three short tiring cries. When the slave stood again, Claudia could see, between the parted thighs, not only the blistered clitoris, but three black bars on the stretched belly, where the still hot pincers had taken three bites of the taut flesh.

"Now," observed the old woman in black, "you will have no undeserved shocks of pleasure to interrupt you proper contemplation of what is happening to you at the hands of the mob, and you may profit from the lesson all the better."

The gates opened and the servants, accompanied by armed guards, pushed the handcart out into the street. A roar greeted its appearance, for news had got about and a welcoming committee awaited her. Amid the catcalls and cheers she screamed once, as the first savage penis ravaged her wounded vulva, then her gasps and sobs were lost in the roar of the mob.

Claudia paled at the sound, and the thought of what was happening to the proud noblewoman, fastened naked, open and helpless on the rough wooden boards of the cart. Their abrasion alone, on her lacerated back, would be torture enough. To that must be added the unwelcome, lust swollen, organs in her vagina, the coarse hair of their matted pubises rubbing on the burnt clitoris, their equally coarse clothing, to say nothing of iron belt buckles savaging the brands on her belly. For six hours she would have to endure this horror. It would be a wonder if she survived.

Claudia expressed as much to Livia.

"Oh, don't worry," Livia replied with feeling, "we women can't escape that easily. We can survive an unlimited number of rapes, provided no additional violence is allowed. As I know to my cost," she added, shuddering anew at the recollection of her own ordeal on the altar of the arena, "Though I fear she'll have a few more cocks up her than I got. In six hours she could take the best part of a hundred pricks, in her backside as often as her front, I've no doubt."

"You don't mean the men will be allowed to, well, bugger her," Claudia got out. "That would hurt terribly."

"In Clotilda's case, I doubt she'll find much to chose between the two.

Don't forget, her clitoris is burnt to a cinder, and will hurt atrociously every time a prick gets into her to the hilt, and her belly's not much better."

"She's ruined for life now," Claudia said sadly.

"Don't worry, that old bitch of a mother-in-law didn't leave it on long enough to do real harm. Besides, it only had hold superficially. It wasn't as if her bud was cut out by the root. Its just had its tip roasted, and it'll grow

again, as good as new. Well, a bit battered, I suppose, but I'm sure she'll get good service out of it again, one day. As to the buggery, men do so seem to wish to ream us there when they get the chance. It may hurt more, but it has one advantage. You don't get a swollen belly that way. I think the worst part of my own punishment, in the end, was waiting to see if some bastard had planted another little bastard in my belly, and make me have to go and stay with the Syrian women to cure it. Ugh!" and she shook all over again.

"So what will happen to her then?"

"Oh, they'll wash her out when she gets back from her joy ride, and scrub her down, then lock her up somewhere and wait to see if her monthly flow returns. If it does, she is home and dry. Back to her husband's bed and full forgiveness, though I've no doubt she'll try very hard to please him, even though she will still be a bit sore."

"And if the blood doesn't show?"

"She'll be sent to stay with the Syrian women, until, one way or another, the blood is flowing again. If you don't mind," Livia said, looking a little pale, "I'd rather not go into that. When I was waiting for my own deliverance from the bum shop, at the time I was still terrified that I'd got something in my own belly, the girls there told tales of what went on in the house of the Syrians, and it wasn't pretty. Look," she said, holding out a hand that trembled like an aspen leaf in a breeze, "it gives me the shakes just to think of it. My belly's gone into spasm and my cunt has dried up like a desert."

Claudia stayed a little longer, out of politeness, then called for her litter to make her way back to her on home. On the way they were held up by a noisy crowd blocking the street. Her bearers pressed slowly on until they came to the source of the hold-up, where a short flight of steps led down into a slightly wider space, where a fountain played. It was not the naked sea nymph in her marble basin that had the crowds attention, though, but the naked woman of flesh and blood, bound to the crude wooden cart drawn up alongside.

Claudia's bearers could go no further for the moment and set the litter down. Claudia drew the curtains aside and shuddered at what she saw.

The crowd had eyes only for the bare thrashing limbs on the cart. Clotilda lay on her back, her buttocks overhanging the tail of the cart. A man stood between her legs, holding one either side of him, the feet waving helplessly in the air as he thrust again and again into her puffy red vulva. His movements were accompanied by a squelching chorus as his belly and thighs smacked against the slick spendings of his numerous predecessors over flowing his victim's crotch. With a cry of triumph he discharged his own copious load into her brimming belly, and was instantly thrust aside by the next in line, revealing a foam flecked mat of soaking hair above enlarged and inflamed labia. The scorched clitoris was scarcely visible in the general pollution of her vulva, but the three blistered bites higher up glowed darkly against the white of her belly.

The next great brute, a giant Scythian, whose monstrous member bobbed like a war club between his legs, was erect and ready for action. He lifted and parted her legs, driving them back so that her knees bent onto her chest, raising and opening her buttock cheeks, revealing the inflamed and pouting anus.

He set the pole at her rear entrance, and she shrieked a hoarse protest, but in vain. With a convulsive drive of his muscular buttocks, he plunged the awesome shaft deep into her rectum in a single gut wrenching stroke. Her scream of agony, her voice cracking with the strain, was ample testimony to the effect of this anal rape.

She shrieked again as he commenced to drive in and out in great fierce strokes. Her cries diminished only by reason of increasing weakness, rather than any diminution in her suffering. Claudia shuddered, as much at the utter demolishing of this once proud and stubborn woman as at her actual sufferings.

Now the Scythian roared like a bull and slammed his belly into her buttocks in a series of frenzied ejaculations, then pulled away, a sticky thread connecting his still engorged member to the aperture it had just vacated.

Between the reddened cheeks of the woman's buttocks the anus now stood out like the neck of a bottle, the tortured sphincter pulled nearly inside out, and so stretched it could no longer close properly and gaped a little open still, leaking a small stream of sticky fluid tinged with brown. The woman herself had collapsed under the onslaught on her bowels and lay quite inert, even the pathetic feet, which had clenched and writhed over the man's shoulders all

though her impalement, were now relaxed and limp. She was not even crying out any more, her cracked voice silent, her distress only registered by her heaving chest as silent sobs tore through her.

Her great soft breasts spilled to either side of her and a woman stepped forward and plucked them up by a finger and thumb pinched hard on each fat stub of nipple. She squeezed fiercely, hauling upwards, stretching the dugs into pointed conical caricatures of the female bosom, but the sufferer was too far gone to react, beyond her continuous sobbing. The mob roared in triumph at their victory over once proud womanhood.

"To the forum," they cried, "to the forum," and dragged the cart and its burden down the lane.

Dear Gods, Claudia thought, it is not even half over for that poor creature. No wonder Livia thought herself lucky to be sent to the arena. A flogging and forty soldiers would be as nothing compared to what this woman would go through, if she survived until sunset.

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