This is my story, only you the readers can judge its merit; as for me I remain as described for my lifetime. Annon
My life had fallen apart last year; my husband of nearly ten years had walked out on me leaving me alone in the world’s tiniest village. We had one church and two pubs and about a hundred houses. Mostly filled with older residents who had lived in the village forever. We were listed in the dooms-day book and nothing new had happened since then.
Why I did what I did I could never explain, what my actions caused and still cause would be the talk of the village until the end of time. I have to live here amidst the chatter and looks and comments as I cannot afford to leave.
Once Frank had departed I was gathered to the villager’s heart, they felt sorry for me not understanding the reason he had departed from me. They kept me close and watched me carefully until the day my life was exposed.
As for Frank I never spoke to him after that day, but I am certain he heard about me, how he could not have is beyond acceptance, all things considered.
It started in the church of all places, I looked up at the crucified form and thought how beautiful, then the bells high in the tower began to peal.
Later over a coffee sat alone in my kitchen I began to think about the sacrifice made for mankind so many years ago. I liked the thought that god looked after his own and that a life lived well could shine throughout the village. I tried to live well, I tried to help the less fortunate, but unfortunately along with the presence of god in the world there resides the presence of the fallen one, and he constantly seeks out victims.
That first night I dreamed of being in the church yard naked and bound. I awoke shaking with excitement which slowly passed. The next night I was in the bell tower again naked and again bound and again I awoke all of a quiver.
The dreams had begun; the hunt for a lost soul had been started, the fallen one was seeking me. Life passed on for months with only the dreams to disturbed it.
I worked in the tea-room, served cake and pastries to the tourists that had come to our village to view one of the oldest churches in the country. I lived a good life a respectable life during the day, but at night my dreams took on a different darker aspect.
One nightmare in particular drove me forward, I found myself repeatedly bound naked in the village park, locked to a bench spread eagled for all to see. The devil even gave me fair warning of the consequences, I was always discovered and humiliated and driven from my pleasant life. Servitude waited the naked slut found bound in the park, servitude and torment.
It happened finally after months of living the dreams; I stepped into the park passing through the open gates and followed the path to the centre. I stripped naked enjoying the icy fingers of night as they caressed my naked skin. That should have been it, I had intended to do nothing else but to strip and stand, and then dress and leave; but from behind me a hand closed over my mouth. I struggled hard but then my world turned black and empty.
I awoke naked as in my dreams with Frank standing before me. My arms were bound outward to the outer railings of the park, my legs were spread wide holding me at full stretch. Ropes had been wound around my waist, a gag was fitted into my mouth and so it was that I was presented to the world. Frank smiled at me, saying ‘revenge was sweet,’ he had finally acted and his slut of a wife would show her true essence to the world.
Frank was angry at me; after all he had repeatedly caught me doing things that upset his moral stance. I was the slut he thought me to be, I liked the nakedness, the open and the sexual exploits I had constantly indulged in during our married life. Frank had taken each adventure of mine in his quiet silent way, always hoping that the wife he had thought that he was marrying would return to him. The day he had departed I had been found riding the stair-rail naked and pre-orgasmic. It had been too much for him and he had gone.
The deacon’s had found his resignation; in which he said that he had gone to a retreat and would not be returning. The village had lost its established lay preacher and also the local butcher and talk followed. Everyone thought that it was his fault that he had lost his faith, but the truth was that he had been driven to leave by my sexuality.
Now Frank had returned, he knew of my dreams having been forced to listen to them on many nights, now he was showing the world that it was not he that had sinned but I.
The sun light burst through the very early clouds, shortly the village would come to life and I would be discovered. Frank had ensured that I enjoyed my exposure; he had positioned a wooden stake beneath me wedged deep into the ground and deeper still into my sex. From my nipples he had hung my clamps and to them he had fitted a pair of child’s windmills, which twisted and turned in the light breeze adding torment to my naked flesh.
I was of course gagged and helpless and to any that discovered me I could not have done this to myself. Around my neck hung a sign, it said that I was a slut of unimaginable disgust. A blindfold covered my eyes so at least I would not have to see those that found me. My secret was out but before it arrived I determined to orgasm, after all my dream had become reality and I wanted to take advantage of it for as long as I could.
Twitching my hips, squeezing my muscles I drove the stake into my sex and then out again, forcing my first orgasm to arrive, I grunted into my gag and continued. The voice of the fallen one echoed in my ear, I drove onward a breeze turned the windmills and my arousal increased. I came for a second time as the light rain began to fall. The third orgasm was triggered by a scream; an elderly lady had discovered me riding out my fantasy. Of Frank there was no sign, of the village every single person turned out to see the slut that was me, displayed and displaying my charms without consideration for morals.
I live alone in my house, a recluse driven into hiding by the people around me. I can not leave but I don’t want to stay, all that makes my days pass acceptably is the dark voice that lives in my mind and the excitement of being discovered.
In an earlier age the villagers would have burn me at the stake. Instead they kept me alive as a captive to the village.
To those with ideas and fantasies I say live them, but be careful less you end up as the slut to your home town, a captive of your own interests.