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A
Victorian Wedding Night by Jane Verlaine, D/s, spanking, sex
An arranged marriage neither bride or
groom wants turns into an erotically explosive battle of wills.
Story
Not For Sale. Copyright (c) 2003, all rights reserved.
It was my wedding day and I was very apprehensive,
for I was marrying someone who was almost a stranger to me.
I imagined there were many girls who were in similar circumstances as
I; arranged marriages were not so unusual, although this one had come about
in a rather unique manner. I was an orphan. My
mother died giving birth to me, and my father, who was a vicar, never
remarried. We lived together
peaceably enough until he died when I was 14 years old.
He had no relations, so I was sent to my mother’s family who had
disowned her when she decided to marry a lowly curate.
My uncle lived on the family estate, a castle in Cornwall.
His wife had been married before and had a young son when she married
my uncle. Then the two of them
had a son together. It was this son who was to inherit the family estate, but
there was a terrible accident. My
uncle’s stepson shot his half-brother while they were pretending to duel
with guns. My aunt, whose
health had never been good, went into a decline and passed away shortly
after losing her younger son. My
uncle sent his stepson away to a cousin’s homestead in Australia.
He couldn’t bear to look at him, although it wasn’t really his
fault. This was the sad
household that I came into shortly after my fourteenth birthday and the
death of my own father.
My
uncle was kindly toward me, and I tried to repay him by being obedient and
helpful around the estate and with vicarage matters. This was not my natural manner, however.
My father was never a strict disciplinarian, and I was accustomed to
a lot of freedom for a girl in Victorian England.
I studied with a curate when I was with my father, and later my uncle
engaged a governess for me. I
had an insatiable thirst for knowledge, and my uncle encouraged my learning
as well. I would often discuss
politics, literature, and philosophy with him in the evenings while we
enjoyed a game of chess. We
grew very fond of each other. So
that’s why I was in this current situation, marrying a man I hardly knew.
When
I was 18, my uncle sat me down one evening and told me that he wanted me to
inherit the estate, but that I needed to be married. He was sending for his stepson from Australia and he wanted
me to marry him. That way the
estate could stay in the family. Every
inch of me rebelled against having my fate settled in such a manner, but I
dearly loved my uncle and felt I owed him this last wish.
His health was poor, and I feared he didn’t have much longer to
live.
I was upstairs when Tristan, my uncle’s stepson,
arrived; he knew for what purpose he had been called home, so I nervously
checked my appearance in the mirror before going downstairs to meet him.
I was of average height and slender; the fashions of the day
emphasized the bosom and derriere and set off my small waist.
I had abundant dark wavy hair, which was always escaping from its
pins, and big dark blue, almost violet eyes framed by long dark lashes.
My eyes gave my face a vulnerable look, along with my rather full
lips, but my nose was prominent and my uncle used to tease me that my nose
proclaimed my forceful nature. I was wearing a dark blue dress that matched
my eyes and deepened their color. My
hands were shaking as I went downstairs to meet my husband-to-be.
I will never forget the first time I saw
Tristan;
he was standing with his back to the fireplace when I entered the drawing
room. He surveyed me with
impossibly dark eyes when I entered. He
was tall and lean with broad shoulders and a muscular build.
He had thick black hair that was longish for the day’s fashions,
and his skin was bronzed by the Australian sun.
He stood looking at me and hardly acknowledged my
presence; he didn’t come forward, didn’t smile, and I decided then that
I hated him. My uncle rose when
I came into the room and drew me toward Tristan, who still hadn’t moved.
“Anna, my dear, this is my son
Tristan.
He’s been looking forward to meeting you.”
It certainly didn’t appear as if he was looking
forward to meeting me. He took
my hand in his and kissed it. His
fingers were long and strong and he kept possession of my hand even though I
tried to disengage it.
“Hello Anna, it’s a pleasure to meet my
wife.” His voice had a
sardonic edge to it, and I could tell he was far from happy about the
situation in which we found ourselves.
“It’s nice to meet you,
Tristan.
Will you miss Australia?”
I knew he wouldn’t; he had been most anxious to
come back to England and take over the estate that he felt was rightly his
after the death of his brother.
He answered.
“Not at all. My place is here.”
“Your place is here as long as you marry me.”
His eyes bore into me with something like hatred.
Oh no, he was not pleased with the turn of events and didn’t like
being beholden to my uncle…or me. My
uncle could tell that our first meeting was not going well.
“Tristan, Anna is a spirited girl and she’s
smart as a whip; she’ll be a big help to you on the estate.
You just have to learn to handle her.”
Handle me! I gave my uncle an exasperated look. I knew he wanted this to work out for my sake; he couldn’t
very well leave the estate to me alone, but he wanted me to share in it, and
marrying Tristan was the answer.
Tristan looked at me intently.
“Yes, I believe I know how to handle Anna.”
I looked at him with scorn then.
He was despicable. I
didn’t see how this marriage was going to work out.
Over the next few weeks our relationship continued
to deteriorate. I found him
insufferably arrogant and bossy. I never liked being told what to do, and he did so in a
manner that suggested a belief in his superiority.
I had a grudging respect for how much he knew about the land; he had
learned well in Australia. However,
I would never admit that to him. He
had an overpowering presence and I found myself thinking of him constantly;
I guess that was natural as he would be my husband shortly. I shivered at the thought.
One
day when we were out riding we met the young son of one of the tenants; he
was crying over his dog, which had been caught in a trap. We jumped down from our horses, and Tristan removed the
dog’s leg from the trap. He
shrugged off his coat and took off his shirt, ripping it into pieces. He tied these pieces around the dog’s leg to stop the
bleeding. While he worked, I
stared at his bare chest. I had
never seen a man like this before, and I watched his muscles move in his
arms and chest as he worked. I
felt strange sensations then, sort of a burning excitement.
I didn’t understand my feelings.
He looked up at me suddenly and caught me watching him.
His lips turned up in a half-smile as if he knew what I was thinking.
I blushed and looked away.
The
day of our wedding…
My
wedding dress was an elaborate confection of flounces of silk, lace, and
tiny pearls woven into the fabric. The
ceremony went smoothly, and my husband belied none of his feelings.
After our wedding and reception, we retired to the bridal suite,
where I was nervous and uncertain. We
were in the room together with the door closed, and he turned to me
suddenly.
“Now that you are my wife, I’m going to punish
you for all of your impertinent behavior these past few months.”
Punish me! What was he talking about?
This is not what I expected from my wedding night at all.
I backed away from him, but he was beside me quickly grabbing my arm.
He sat down on the edge of the big four-poster bed, pulling me with
him. Before I realized what he
was doing, he had me over his lap and was pulling up the layers of my
wedding dress. I felt the cold
air against my legs, and with horror realized that he had stripped away the
rest of my undergarments. I
could only imagine the picture I presented – my wedding finery gathered up
almost covering my head and my bare bottom over his lap.
I squirmed and hit his legs with my fists, but it was to no avail.
He was strong and he had a purpose.
I gave a start as I felt his large hand caress my
bottom, and then without warning his hand slapped hard on my bare skin.
I cried out in protest, but he continued his assault on my bare
bottom, spanking one cheek and then the other.
The sound rang out so loudly, I was afraid the servants would hear.
My bottom was stinging, and I felt tears spring to my eyes.
How dare he do this me!
He stood up abruptly and I fell to the floor, my
wedding dress in a heap of flounces and lace around me.
“If you had been a good girl, we could be enjoying other pleasures
this night. But as it is,
I’ll wait until you come to me, and you will come to me.”
I screamed at him.
“Never! I will never
come to you. Don’t ever lay a
hand on me again.” He laughed
at me and strode out of room into the adjoining bedroom.
I got up, ran to the door, and locked it.
What did it mean?
Why had he done that to me? I
had sensed a seething anger in him the past few months as we had tried to
get to know each other. I knew
that I challenged him on every point, took pleasure in goading him.
I couldn’t help myself; his arrogant manner made me bristle.
And now this. He actually spanked me.
That was the first time a man had ever seen that part of my body
bare, and he hadn’t even seemed interested except to sting me with his
palm. As I lay in bed that
night I felt strange sensations. I
had to admit it to myself; I had been looking forward to seeing his naked
body. I had imagined what it
would like ever since I saw him naked from the waist up.
When he had me over his lap, I felt something hard against my belly.
I knew what it was but was disappointed that he hadn’t wanted to
make me his wife. I was too
ashamed to tell my uncle anything, and I knew Tristan wouldn’t mention the
fact that we had not consummated our marriage.
The next few weeks were confusing and shameful for
me. Tristan seemed to be
secretly pleased about something, and I could barely meet his eyes on those
occasions. I whipped up my fury
against him though and continued to flout him whenever possible.
On those days when I had been particularly horrid to him, he took his
revenge in the bedroom. I couldn’t very well object in front of my uncle or the
servants when Tristan solicitously saw me up to our bedchamber in the
evening. Once he got me there,
there was a repeat of our wedding night.
He would take me across his lap, push up my skirts, and spank my bare
bottom. Then he would leave me
feeling confused and frustrated.
One day when I succeeded in making him look
foolish in front of one of the tenants, he took particular pleasure in
humiliating me. When we got to
the room that night and he closed the door behind us, I waited for him to
roughly pull me over his knee as he had been doing.
This night he simply stared at me with those unfathomable dark eyes.
“Anna, you seem to great joy in making me appear
at a disadvantage, don’t you? My
stepfather called you high-spirited, and you are that.
It actually stimulates me, but you still have to pay for your
indiscretions. Take off all
your clothes.”
I stared at him, my heart racing.
Although we had been married for over a month now, he had yet to see
me entirely naked. Once he saw
me, would he then want to take me as his wife?
I hesitated slightly, and he said in a very low, very firm voice,
“Take off all your clothes – now.”
I nervously took off my shoes and stockings first,
unbuttoned my bodice with shaking fingers, and pulled my skirt off.
I stood before him in my corset, camisole, and petticoats.
“The rest or I’ll have to help you.”
I hastily finished undressing and modestly tried
to cover my breasts and the private place between my legs with my hands.
He stepped forward and pulled my hands away from my body, looking at
me from head to toe. I blushed
and secretly hoped that he liked what he saw.
He then led me to the bed and told me to hold onto the bedpost with
both hands.
“Bend over.”
I was fearful now.
What was he going to do to me? He
walked over and pushed my head down further between my arms as I grasped the
bedpost. My breasts were hanging down between my arms in a most
undignified way. My nipples
were hard and sticking out, larger than I had ever seen them before.
Tristan still wasn’t satisfied having me in this ignominious
position.
“Spread your legs.”
Oh God! I couldn’t do that. Impatiently,
he shoved his boot tip between my ankles and pushed my feet apart.
I could feel a flush spread over my whole body as he stood back and
looked at me. Then I heard him walk away toward my dressing table.
When he came back, he had my hairbrush in his hands.
He gently ran the brush bristles down my back from my neck all the
way to my protruding buttocks. He
playfully ran the brush up the crack that separated my bottom globes, and I
shivered. Then suddenly without
warning, he smacked the back of the brush on my bottom.
I gasped and pulled myself up while clenching my bottom together.
“Resume
your previous position.” His
voice was cold and commanding, so I did as he told me.
He whacked me again with the brush and this time didn’t give me any
time to recover. Again and
again he brought the back of the brush against my derriere, alternating
between cheeks and sometimes landing a blow on the middle of my bottom. My cheeks were spread out so wide, that these blows struck
between my globes against the tight hole of my bottom.
I don’t know which was worse, the stinging on my bottom or the
complete humiliation I felt at being in this position.
My bottom began to writhe back and forth, almost in an obscene dance.
It was partly a conscious effort to escape the stinging slaps and
partly an unconscious desire to rock my hips back and forth to quell the
sensation that I felt between my legs.
When he was finished, he made me remain holding
onto the bedpost, and he came around and smoothed my hair back from my
tear-stained face. “I am your
lord and master, and if you won’t submit when we’re out on the estate
together, then by God, I’ll make you submit to me in the bedroom.”
He walked around behind me again and put his hand
between my legs. He caressed my thighs and then took one long finger and
moved it slowly and deliberately in a circular motion around the inner lips
of my labia. He then plunged
his finger into my vagina, as I let out a gasp. Drawing out the wet liquid, he smeared it around my inner
lips and then tweaked my tiny bud. My
knees went weak and my body sagged. He laughed then and slapped my aching
bottom with his bare hand. “You’re
almost ready for me, little one.” Then
he left me and went into the adjoining room.
I collapsed on the bed on my stomach, spreading my
legs. Hungrily putting my fingers where his had just been, I massaged my
cunny and tapped at my bud that had grown swollen and hard.
I felt an immense release of tension as warmth spread from between my
legs all the way down to my toes and up to my breasts.
I cried out as my hips ground into the bed and my vagina grasped at
the emptiness. This was the
culmination of what I had been feeling for weeks with Tristan. – my lord
and master. As I lay there panting, I heard the door to Tristan’s room
close softly. Had he been
watching me?
The following day while Tristan and I rode out
with the manager of our estate, I challenged him as never before.
If he said the sky was blue, I countered that it was in fact gray
today. He knew what I was
doing, and he cocked his eyebrow at me in some amusement.
After dinner I even beat him at chess.
He made excuses to my uncle that we had both had a long day and
needed to retire early.
When we got to our bedchamber, he had me disrobe
as before. He also stripped to
his breeches, and I was filled with a great longing as I stared at his body.
He sat down on the edge of the bed and called me to him, making me
crawl on my hands and knees, breasts swinging in front of me.
He pulled me up over his lap and made me spread my legs.
As before, I felt his hardness against my belly, and I pushed into it
this time wanting to feel him against me.
He laughed at my attempts. “You’ll
have that soon enough.” He
smacked my bare bottom again, but I believed that he was not as harsh
tonight. I was still sore from
my encounter with the hairbrush the previous night. He then pushed me to the floor so that I was seated between
his legs. He started to
unfasten his breeches and I looked up at him with great excitement and
anticipation when he pulled out his manhood. I stared at it in amazement; it
looked very large to me, although I had never seen one before except on
statues and in paintings. He
pushed the head of it up against my lips.
It was wet on the end and I darted my tongue out of my mouth to touch
the tip. He laughed and told me
I was a good girl. He commanded
me to open my mouth and take his member.
I was astounded. I never
knew people did this, but I gratefully opened my mouth and took as much of
him in my mouth as I could. He
instructed me how to suck his “cock” as he called it and I followed his
every direction. He reached
down, twisting and pinching my nipples while I sucked. He was pounding
against the back of my throat. I
reached up and gently fondled his sack.
Again, it seemed huge to me, but I had nothing to compare it with.
He withdrew from my mouth, lay back on the bed and
pulled me on top of him. He
pulled his breeches all the way off, and I felt his hard cock poking against
my stomach. He rolled me over
on my back and said, “Now my little spitfire, I’m going to give you what
you want, not what you deserve because we both know what that is, but what
you want and have wanted from the moment I laid my hand on your bare
bottom.”
He spread my legs as his cock probed my opening.
I could sense a great smoldering passion within him, but he
restrained himself. Tentatively,
he entered me and broke through my virgin wall.
I gasped at the pain. He
stayed still and allowed me to move myself forward onto his shaft.
Once he was completely inside me, he began sliding his cock in and
out, slowly at first and then with greater vigor and speed, until he
relentlessly plunged forward, with my juices coating his cock as it easily
moved inside my vagina.
I felt the now familiar heat building in my cunny
and spreading throughout my whole body.
But instead of clutching at emptiness, my vagina was now wrapped
around Tristan’s huge cock, and I felt as if I were pulling him inside of
me. My legs came up around his
lower back and I thrust myself forward as I was overtaken by the waves of my
climax. I then felt his body
stiffen and he pounded and ground himself into me, and I felt his hot seed
shooting into my womb. We
rocked together for a while riding out each other’s orgasms.
Then he rolled off my body and I lay there
exhausted.
He finally said, “You’re not done yet, little
one.” He then pushed my head
down between his legs again. “Clean me off with your tongue.”
I crouched by the side of his body and took his
cock in my hand; then I started licking it all over.
He told me to start with his balls, and after I licked them I took
each one gently in my mouth and sucked it.
I then worked my way up his shaft, tasting my own juices as I did so.
I finally put the head in my mouth and swirled my tongue around it.
He was starting to get hard again, and I looked up at him.
He was smiling at me.
“My step-father was right.
Every task you undertake, you undertake to do well.
We’ll survey the estate again tomorrow, but you’re to keep your
mouth shut especially in front of the tenants.
If I want your opinion on something, I’ll ask you for it.
Is that understood?”
“Yes.”
“Yes what?”
“Yes Sir.”
I
was obedient now with his manhood in my possession, but we both knew that my
obedience would disappear once I was on the back of a horse and riding about
the estate. Tristan didn’t mind; in fact, he looked forward to my
insubordination. For every sarcastic remark, for every time I corrected him
in front of someone, for every time I contradicted him, I would be repaid in
the bedroom. Exactly what I expected.
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