New England Bride

It was as though he had been waiting only for that moment, for then he began to thrust mightily, filling my backside with his heated flesh, and steaming effluent. Shaking, he finally collapsed atop my quivering form, his member yet within me, but now softening and sated.

"Oh Caroline…I'm so sorry. What you must think of me!" he gasped. "After what my uncle did to you, you must now believe that all men are beasts!"

Slowly, I rolled to my side, placing my hands on his furry chest. "I believe I have never been so uncivilized in my life," I whispered. "What was torture before, was sublime when shared with you. There seems to be a curious connection between pain and pleasure, dear, sweet nephew. I was unaware of it until this moment. You've…opened…a new horizon for me!"

He laughed at my choice of words. "I've created a hedonist!" he smiled. "What will I ever do with you now? I'm a man of circumspection. I'm not used to women who wish to have their way with me!"

Once more I pressed his fingers between my thighs. "Shall I tell you, My Love? Or, do you think you can find your way without direction?"

Again we shared out bodies, this time in less hurried communion. My taste for intercourse by this time had grown immensely under my Lover's tutelage, and I found myself shaken with wet outpourings over and over as the afternoon wore on. Finally, as the sun began to wane, I stuffed my hose into my reticule and we gathered our belongings for the trek back home.

Hand-in-hand we crossed the fields, following the pathway through the thickets of brush until we found ourselves beneath the pouhutakawa trees that adorned the edge of the property. Already I could smell the haunch of venison that Pania had been slow-roasting on a spit for all the long day. The tempting aroma of warm kumara pudding and fresh Maori bread floated through the air. We were ravenous!

Joyously we entered the house, laughing at memories of the day past, when all merriment and hope fled from my heart. There, in the corner before the fire sat Sean, a look of dark malevolence curled across his countenance.

"Well, it's about time you two returned from your romp," he said, his voice low and dangerous. "Have you been enjoying my wife, John?"

Immediately, my mouth became dry and my head began to pound. If my last encounter with John had been extreme, then what would come of this foul reunion?

It was John who spoke first. "It isn't what you're thinking, Uncle." he began. "Caroline has been the perfect wife, I can assure you." He lied. "She has conducted herself as a dutiful matron at all times. I must admit that I envy you, Sir. You have made an exemplary match!"

Sean scowled at that, and turning his face towards me he snarled "Is that so, my dear? A dutiful wife, is it? Then why is your hair filled with brambles and your legs bare for all to see? Have you lost your bloomers as well, my Dear, or did you fail to remember to put them on at all?"

Shivering, I opened my mouth to reply, a ready lie upon my lips, but was greeted only by stunned silence.

"Cat got your tongue, Sweetness, or have you just worn it out with other pastimes in my absence? Come here!"

Trembling, I crossed the room to my husband's side and stood awaiting his next pronouncement. I had not long to pause, however, for immediately he wrapped his fist about my upper arm and thrust his hand beneath my skirts, grouping the slickness between my thighs.

"As I thought," he observed menacingly, "…naked, and well oiled to boot. Go up to our bedchamber, Caroline. I'll deal with you later, after I've had a few words with John. I'll be along soon… your loving husband is home now."

Terrified now, I gathered my skirts about me and fled for the stairs leading to the upper rooms, my abject fear almost tangible in my mouth. Quickly, I repaired to my husband's bedchamber, then curled myself in the doorway to listen to what transpired below. What I heard there made my blood run cold.

"So, you've been cuckolding me under my very roof?" my husband growled. "I should have drowned you at birth, like the bastard that you are. Instead, I took you in when my sister passed away…made you my right hand, and this is how you repay me!"

Now, all pretence of innocence past, my lover responded with cautious fabrication. "Uncle, it wasn't Caroline's fault. I sought her out, seduced her. I've wanted her since the first moment I saw her, and was not honorable enough to respect her vows of marriage. She was an unwilling participant, I swear. I forced myself upon her today, and I'm heartily repentant. The blame is mine, Sir…all mine."

"Forced, she was? Is that your story? I could have you jailed for that, you viper. As it is, I want you off of my property immediately. If I ever see your face again, I'll take my rifle and remove you from this life. Is that understood!"

I heard the scuffling of chairs at that point, then the slamming of the heavy oaken door that led to the courtyard. John was gone, and with him my only chance at happiness.

Then the heavy footsteps of my husband resounded on the stairs and I scrambled to a place by the fire to await his verdict. I could not help but notice the riding crop once again in his hand, a memory that caused me to quake before him.

Slowly, he settled into his chair, and lifted his leg in my direction.

"Boots," he commanded, "…and be quick about it!"

My knees trembled, my bones all but refusing to carry me, but in a moment I found myself astride his leg, my vulnerable backside before him as I tugged to remove his footwear. It was then I felt the crop, lifting my skirts from behind, exposing my naked orbs to his gaze.

"Your lover tells me that you were seduced…raped. Is that so, Caroline? Did he force his cock into your arse, or did you part your legs willingly like the slut that you are?" he snarled as he placed his other booted foot behind my quivering cheeks and gave a mighty shove.

I landed in ignoble disarray upon the hard wooden floor, then rose timorously to remove his remaining boot. Once more I straddled his leg, and began to work the crusted leather from his foot. This time, to my relief, it came off swiftly before my husband could lend his support.

"It's good to have you home again," I lied. "Did you fair well at Parliament?" I asked, attempting to divert his attention to other matters.

At this I saw the storm clouds begin to gather behind his eyes, the memory of his last six weeks in Wellington a troubled topic. "We may have to shift," he said, "…to another section along the Upper Hutt. It's a sad day when a man like me has to bow before a gathering of cannibals, but the Iwi persuaded the authorities that they had prior claim. Enough of that. Let's see the "moko" I carved in your breast. Did your lover appreciate the sight of it?"

He drew me close then, and tearing away at my chemisette, he exposed the initials he had carved so many weeks ago. "Ahhh…coming nicely," he admired, his hand punishing my naked flesh. "I'll enjoy finishing the process, my dear." He smiled. "But you'll have to be bound again, I'm afraid. It's much too painful to be borne otherwise. But you won't mind that, will you?"

Again his crop slipped between my thighs, prodding my moist slit with threats of what was to come. "Did he stick you there, Sweetness? Did he shove his nasty cock into you while you screamed? Or was it here?" he growled, rubbing the wet leather over my lips. "Did you suck his cock, my Dear? Did you swallow for him as you do for me?"

With that he grasped the front of my blouse and ripped downward, tearing the hooks from their seating and exposing my heaving body.

"No…" I whimpered. "Please, Sean. Not again. I can't…"

"Can't what, Caroline, kneel before your husband and do his bidding? You can, and you will, Slut."

So saying he sent the buttons of my green skirt flying and stripped me naked between his thighs. Then, tearing the flounce from my discarded hem, he bound my wrists behind my back and forced me to my knees.

He paused but for a second, and, unbuttoning his trousers he whispered menacingly. "Let's see what you've learned in my absence, Wench. Suck well and hard, for it may be the last thing you do."

Tears coursing down my cheeks, I felt his fingers knotting painfully into my hair, pressing me between his thighs as his musky organ pulsed against my lips.

"Whack!" the riding crop slashed across my buttocks, causing me to yelp in pain.

"Whack!," and again I felt its sting.

"Open your mouth, Slut…and be quick about it!" my husband growled. "The whores of Wellington were much more receptive…but I must admit that your reluctance spurs me to greater heights. Forcing you has a distinct appeal, I have to admit."

Again he raised the crop, and I hastily parted my lips and took him into my mouth. This time I did not feel the snap of the crop, but instead felt it forced along the channel between my buttocks.

I continued my endeavors with renewed vigor, hoping that I might detour my husband from this obvious train of thought. I sucked now until my cheeks became hollow with exertion and my jaws tired from their torment. Finally, with a bestial grunt, he tore his spewing sex from me and delivered his load foursquare into my shocked and horrified face. I gasped as the fishy liqueur ran between my eyes and across my lips, drizzling down onto my breasts as I struggled with my bonds.

"Lick it clean," he ordered, shoving his flaccid member against my lips, "…then I want you across my lap."

Quickly, I did as I had been bidden, laving my slippery tongue over his unholy prong until it glistened with saliva and lay depleted against my lips. Then, raising me once again by my hair, he bent me face up across his knees and began to admire the foul slime that decorated my features.

"You wear it well, "he chuckled, rubbing the slippery stuff into my face and breasts. "But since you've rendered me limp at the moment, I'll have to pleasure you in other ways until I've regained my strength."

So saying, he took up his crop and forced my thighs wide apart. Then, wetting the handle with his slime, he began to once more probe the orifice that women have in common with the male sex.

Tensing, I whimpered, my body straining to repel the invader, but my husband persevered. Finally, with a massive thrust, he imbedded his crop firmly into my puckered hole and smiled in satisfaction.

I cried out in pain, not the pleasurable kind that I had shared with John, but a torture that only my husband had ever inflicted upon my being.

Then, laying his hand atop my throat, he forced my head back over his left knee while he twisted his crop in and out a few times to be sure of a proper seating.

"Hold!" he commanded. "And don't move a muscle, or there'll be hell to pay, Woman!"

So saying, he reached for the candle which stood flickering on the end table, and separated it from its candlestick. Then, passing it before my terrified eyes, he held it above my breast and tipped it to the side.

Immediately, a dollop of hot wax poured from the hollow around the wick and fell scalding onto my nipple.

I screamed…oh how I screamed as my flesh crinkled beneath the torment. If I had thought that there was nothing more my husband could do to make me suffer, I was sorely misinformed!

He moved the candle to my other breast at that point, and tipped it once more, sending a cascade of molten wax likewise onto my other nipple. Again I jumped, my pleas filling the bedchamber. But my husband was not done yet!

Then, he pinched the hardened wax from my nipples and began a new trail of drips and splatters down the length of my body as I held my place, praying for him to make an end. This time, he took his left hand and pried open the petals of my slit, exposing the tender nub of my sex, and the orifice below.

In terror I began to writhe upon his lap, pleading for succor, but all I received was a whack upon the imbedded crop, and the painful shudder of its length deep within my nether regions.

Immediately I stilled, afraid to move, my narrow passage throbbing in distress. Then, pausing for effect, he stretched wide my "puss" and began to drizzle long streams of hot wax into my tender passage.

OH! The torment! The scalding offering seared its way down inside of my tortured channel, clotting in hot pools within me until I felt myself grow dizzy with terror and pain and the room began to swim about me. Long minutes passed, my body filling with candle wax, until my tormentor had satisfied himself and placed the candle back in the end table.

Finally, I sighed in relief. The pain was subsiding, and I felt that no more was to come. Once again mistaken, however, for now my husband began to thrust his fingers into the waxy passage, forcing his massive hand inside my crop-narrowed channel until I believed I would be split in half.

My head now hung limply over his lap, and my lips gaped in agony. What more could my husband…"

And then I knew, for curling his fingers into a fist, be began to pump ferociously, pummeling my delicate organs deep inside until I was sure that no child could ever be born from that place.

When my whimpers and pleas subsided, my husband released my bonds and dragged me to the foot of his four-poster. There, he stretched my arms upward to the very tips of the posts and lashed them securely with the curtain cord until I felt my wrists begin to pulse and grow cold. Then, bending, he did the same to my ankles, until I resembled a human "X," set in place for his perusal.

Finally, he was satisfied with my condition, and tearing the crop from my backside he trailed it over my breasts, relishing the whimpers it elicited and my strident pleas for mercy. Was I to be whipped to death now, I wondered? Would he finish me this time?

Suddenly, he brought the whip up sharply between my legs, cutting viciously within my gaping sex and tearing a tortured scream from my lips. Again, he cocked his arm, the muscles in his face contorting with the massive effort he was placing behind his thrust…and once more I cringed.

A knock.

My husband paused, as though in disbelief.

Again it came, this time accompanied by Pania's voice.

"Sir?" she whispered at the lock. "A man, Sir. There is trouble, I think. "Poachers'. They need you, he say."

Immediately, my husband dropped the crop and reached for his jacket, then hastily pulled on his boots. "Damned" he spat vituperatively. "I'll be back! Don't move!" he growled. "I'll finish with you when I return!" So saying, he stormed from the room and vanished into the night.

Now John and Pania both hurried into the chamber, and crossed to undo my bonds.

"No," I warned. "He'll be back, and it will be the worst for all of us if he sees me freed."

Pania only smiled, however, and continued on with her task as John enfolded me in the shelter of his arms. Finally, when I was unbound she brought me a dressing gown and began to massage my swollen wrists and ankles.

"We're in for it now, Pania" I said, shivering. "When the Master comes back, he'll be furious! Why did you do it?"

Slowly, she formed her words, her fluency limited at best. "Master no come back," she began. "…never."

"Never?" I questioned, a glimmer of hope surfacing in my mind. "What's happened, Pania? Where is he going?"

To this, Pania only smiled, then licking her fingers, she gave a shy smile. "All gone soon," she laughed.

Shocked, my eyes widened in surprise. "Why, Pania? Why did you do this for me?"

To this she lowered the "pari" from her youthful bosoms to reveal something I had seen before, but on my own breast instead. There, in brutal adornment lay the initials "ST"

So, I had not been the first, but, if her words were true, I would be the last.

"I go home now," she whispered softly. "My shame is gone." And with that she left me alone with John to ponder our future.

___________________________-

Conclusion:

I find myself once more aboard the Unicorn, this time anticipating the long voyage home. At my side is my husband, John Thomas, and in my belly is his child...perhaps a little premature.

Waiariki is far behind, a tale to be prettied, something to be spun into an adventure for those who would ask. The people of the Iwi now roam its fields and shores, as they should, and my sweet Pania is home at last.

Of Sean there is no word. He did not come home that night, or any night thereafter. No vestige of the owner of Waiariki has been seen since that evening. It was only after a number of months that he was declared deceased, and I was finally given my freedom to marry once more.

It will be the Christmas season when we dock in Boston this time. The crisp air and the tinkling voices of carolers will welcome us home. By then I will delightfully plump with the child I have desired for so long.

John has plans to sell the Unicorn when we arrive, and purchase a farm far out in the New England countryside. By the time our child is born in May, we will be snugly ensconced in a home of our own.

Through John, I have come to know love and tenderness, the bounties that make life worthwhile. This New England bride has come full circle, and here I will remain, but it's in my husband's eyes that I will always find my home.