A Sort Of Fairytale Ch. 01byviolent intimacy©
I think Father must have despaired of ever finding husbands for all of us. Eight daughters and neither son nor wife! I was already eighteen and still there were four unwed sisters before me. I could hardly wait for it to be my turn! He tried his best to take care of us, but fitting nine into a house built for four was no easy nor comfortable task. Things would have been different if Mother had still been alive. Perhaps I wouldn't be where I am now. Perhaps I would have understood more of what was going on.
I remember the night HE came to the house. Father had us crammed into the kitchen and there was only room for three at the window so I did not get to see him arrive. My sisters giggled and pressed their noses to the glass but would not tell the rest of us anything save, "Oh, he's tall!" I shrugged, only slightly curious, not believing for a moment that I would be chosen. Why would he choose me when he could have one of my sisters? Blonde and blue-eyed, they were so much prettier than I with my dark hair and gray eyes!
Father called us into the dim room one by one, lining us up against the wall for inspection by the prospective bridegroom. Oh, it was no secret why he was there! I watched each of my sisters dip into a neat curtsy as they were introduced, their sunny smiles fair lighting up the room. Then it was my turn. I curtsied, a little clumsily I thought, and tried to emulate their smiles as I straightened up. He looked at me, eyes surprisingly bright in the shadows of his face and it was like they saw right into me, through me, and beyond me into my future. It frightened me, but that was nothing compared to the fear I felt when I saw him point to me and say, "I want that one."
I think I screamed. I was so scared I just reacted without thinking. Father would have slapped me had HE not stepped in close, his hand gentle on my cheek to quiet me as he spoke for my ears alone, "You are mine."
And that was it.
He took me away that very night. I was told to bring no clothes save the ones I was already wearing and so I packed only the meager few keepsakes I owned. In the darkened carriage, my fears blossomed to new heights. I dared not speak. His nearness was disturbing; the shadows cast by some of the streetlamps made it seem like I was sitting next to the devil himself. When we arrived at his manor house, he swept me off my feet before I could even look around and carried me inside as if I was his bride. Was I to be his bride? I did not know. I could not separate the beating of my heart from his as he clasped me close to his chest, and for a short moment that was too quickly over, I knew the safety of his arms.
He set me down carefully on legs that I was unsure would hold me, but hold me they did. Servants moved efficiently around us though I barely noticed them, so caught up was I in my trembling terror. He spoke to me for the second time then, the odd lilt of his unfamiliar voice penetrating my fog as surely as a blade. "The servants shall see to your needs. Then you will attend me upstairs." He paused, no doubt having noticed my dazed state, and added, "Do you understand?"
After a strangled moment, I found my voice, a high fluttery thing wholly unlike how I normally sounded. "Y-Yes Sir."
He smiled, and it was then that I realized I had yet to see his face! Why had he come so late at night? Why was the room so dark? Was he such an ogre that I would faint at the sight of him? Those thoughts did nothing to dispel my fears. Yet the gentleness of his voice seemed to soothe me. "I see you already know how to answer me," he said. Before I could fathom his meaning, he turned and strode up the curving staircase.
Servants did indeed attend me, although if anyone had asked me later who they were, I could not have answered. I was bathed, my hair carefully dried and brushed, and shown the way to the Master's rooms after being dressed in a gown made of the most beautiful apple green silk I had ever seen. Even then, I had started to think of him as "the Master".
My timid knock gained me quick entrance. I stepped in slowly, careful not to trip on the hem of my new dress, confusion adding to the fear as I looked around and did not see him. Stopping in the center of the large sitting room, I looked around, staring at the masculine furnishings as if they would offer me a glimpse into the man my father had given me to. It was not in me to go against my father's wishes, nor had it occurred to me to protest or refuse. His word had always been the law and the fact that I knew nothing of the man was unimportant. I was just a girl.
He came up so quickly behind me that I could not have reacted even if I had heard him. His hands grasped my shoulders, preventing me from turning around or moving away even as I screamed in shock and struggled. I could feel the heat of him through the silk sleeves. He made me feel weak.
"You are curious about my looks, " he said, and it was a statement, not a question. At my hesitant nod, he released my arms and stepped back. "Then turn around, little one."
Uncertainly, I turned, my eyes searching for his in the gentle lamplight. There, I saw the face of an ordinary looking man. Neither was he devastatingly handsome nor a terrifying troll. Relief flooded me and lasted for the instant it took me to find and look into his eyes. Just as before, it was like he saw right into me, through me, and beyond me into my future. As if of their own volition, my feet took me a step back.
The ever-present fear increased when he frowned. He shook his head, his expression stern. "You must never back away from me," he said, "No, do not look away from me either. You wished to know how I looked so look."
I stammered an apology, falling into silence when he pressed a finger to my lips. I had so many things I wanted to ask him! Is he going to marry me? If so, when is the wedding? Why am I here? What of all the strange silences and gestures? I dared not venture any words but I did look as he had insisted, although I avoided looking into his eyes again. He was taller than I, my gaze level with the center of his chest. Almost absently, I noted how well his clothes fit him, finely tailored without a doubt, and was struck by a sudden urge to touch the material of his pale blue shirt to see if it was as soft as it looked. He was not a large man but he had a certain presence, a confidence that would have awed me had I not been so afraid. He has such slender fingers, I thought, fingers that touch me with gentleness. I let my eyes linger briefly at his waist and told myself that it was his gold belt buckle that had caught my wayward attention.
His abrupt change of subject took me by surprise, just like everything else about him. That was to be the way of our life, although I did not know it at the time. Even his tone was different, there was a hardness in his voice that I had not heard before. He spoke the single word like a command. "Undress."
"W-What?!?" I squeaked, arms wrapping protectively about my torso. Oh how naïve I was, to believe anything I did could stop him! For a brief moment, I found respite from the fear in my indignation. "Sir! That is not... not proper!"
Unexpectedly, he smiled. "I will decide what it proper. All you need to do is obey. Now, undress yourself lest I feel the urge to do it for you."
I could not do it. I do not know how long I stood there, staring at him in mute horror, before he grabbed me and pushed me to the ground. I fought him, certain now that he intended to hurt me, kill me, or even worse, rape me and send me back to my father in utter disgrace. Too easily, he straddled my thrashing body, pinning my arms to my sides and no amount of wrenching would budge him. Oblivious to my shrill screams and kicking legs, he roughly popped the buttons on the front of the bodice. The sight of the tiny pearl buttons flying off made me scream louder. When they were all gone, he yanked the dress off my shoulders, using it to bind my arms so that he could slide himself lower and strip me to the waist. Only when my breasts were bared did he pause, inspecting them with his eyes and making me flush with shame at being exposed in such a manner. He took advantage of my shock to remove the beautiful skirts, tossing them aside in a crumpled heap. Inexplicably, I thought of all the trouble the maids had gone to in dressing me.
He did all of this without anger, his expression determined and calm despite my struggles. Finally, my undergarments were forcibly stripped away, his weight and strength effortlessly overpowering my attempts to stop him. At the sound of the ripping fabric, I screamed until I was breathless.
In the end, it was all for naught and I was left crying at his feet in all my humiliating nakedness. Crouching beside me, he tipped my chin up and trapped my gaze with his. "Do not fear, little one. In the morning, we shall be wed, but first I must make you completely and utterly mine."
I did not understand. How could I? I knew not of what he spoke and he knew it too. "I am your Master," he stated. I nodded reluctantly, accepting that, as my husband, he would also be my Lord and Master. More forcefully, he repeated the words to me, enunciating each one with excruciating slowness as if talking to a dimwitted child.
Then he said, "And you are my slave."
I did not know how to react. Nothing in my life had prepared me for such a revelation. My stunned silence must have amused him for he laughed as he shut the door at his back. His voice was normal, as if his bride-to-be was not cringing at his feet, trying helplessly to cover herself with her arms. "First, you will learn to kneel in my presence." He pulled me onto my knees as he spoke and I was powerless to resist. I did not have the strength to try.
He arranged me in a kneeling position, legs folded beneath and knees about one and a half hand spans apart. My first response was to try and close them, an action that earned me a stinging slap on the inside of one thigh. I yelped and did not try again. My hands were placed, palm side down, on top of my thighs and my back straightened with a push on my spine. He covered my hands with his for a moment, a gesture that seemed odd to me at the time, given that I did not recognize it as a sign of reassurance, something that would come to mean a great deal to me in the coming days.
I must have sighed softly for he knelt before me to frame my face with his hands, tipping it up and staring at me for so long I would have sworn he was reading my very soul. Our first kiss was then, a gentle press of his lips on mine that turned into something which spoke clearly of his intended possession of me. All of me.
Again he said the words he had first spoken to me at my father's house a lifetime ago, "You are mine." This time, he added, "I will teach you, train you, mold you into what it means to be mine. You were a good choice."
I think I moaned, whether in denial or affirmation I could not tell you. He kissed me again, this time catching my lower lip between his teeth and biting down hard enough to draw blood. I cried out, the momentary pain distracting me from the hand he was slipping between my legs. When his fingers brushed over the dark curls there, I started almost violently. Lurching back, I tried to clamp my knees together, a futile reaction that he ignored as he insinuated his finger more intimately into the tangle of hair.
"Please don't." I dared the whispered plea, the pain in my lip forgotten as the reality of my situation became more and more clear. I was to be this man's wife. He could do as he wished to me and there was nobody in the world who would think it wrong. My wishes were not to be even considered.
"Relax, girl, I am only going to inspect you," he said. My body shook as I fought the instinctive need to flee and submitted to his touch. There was nothing else for me to do. His finger slid between the hidden lips and I felt a hot blush sweep over me, the feeling of humiliation threatening to overwhelm me as the digit actually entered my body.
I was a virgin. The unfamiliar sensation of having something inside me there was indescribable. My internal muscles spasmed and I heard him chuckle, the finger quickly withdrawn. Leaning back, he gestured with his hands towards the floor and said, "Hands and knees, little one." I knew he would only force me if I did not comply so I slowly obeyed, cringing as I felt my small breasts hanging freely beneath me in that position.
He parted my buttocks. I felt as though my face was on fire. He prodded at the tightly closed ring of muscle there, my shocked squeals doing nothing to dissuade him. Almost as if he was talking to himself, he murmured, "I shall take you in this manner soon." Perhaps it was just as well I did not understand him then, I think I would have died from the shame.
Sighing, he withdrew his hands and pointed to the chair by the fireplace. "Crawl over there and kneel beside it," he said, then walked over and sat down. My face was burning, my limbs felt heavier than all the iron in the world, but I forced myself to start crawling. Every hand span of floor crossed only added to my degradation. I wanted it to be over and yet, did not want to arrive at his feet. I imagined I could physically feel his eyes on me even as I kept my head down, dragging out the minutes and movements until I almost bumped into his legs. I knelt on the floor to his right, hands fisted on each thigh and tears dripping off my chin onto my chest.
I flinched when his hand came to rest on the top of my head. "This is your place," he said softly, fingers threading through my long hair. "Now, explain the tears."
I looked up incredulously. He had spirited me away from my home, stripped the clothes from my body, informed me that I was to be his slave, subjected me to the indignities of molestation, and made me crawl, naked, across the room to kneel by his chair, and now he was asking me why I was crying? Unable to put all of that into words, I stuttered, "I-I am a-afraid."
He regarded me intently for a moment. "Afraid of what?" he asked.
I swallowed and blurted out, "You."
Again, he surprised me by laughing. Fisting the hair at the nape of my neck, he twisted my face up to his and said quietly, "You are afraid of me only because you do not know what it is that I wish from you. We will be married, you will be my wife, and you will also be my slave. You will not disobey, defy, or argue with me for if you do, you will be punished. You will submit to me in everything for if you do not, you will be made to. In return, I pledge to always keep you safe, and for all the times I will hurt you, I give you my word that you will never be truly harmed."
Taken aback by his words, I sat quiet for a moment. He allowed me my silence, loosening his grip on my hair and rubbing the skin at the back of my neck in such a way that I shivered, goosebumps rising on my arms. I did not want to admit it even to myself but his words soothed me, even as my mind latched onto his casual reference to hurting me. "Why me?" I asked, hating the way my voice quavered.
He smiled. "You are young and malleable. You are also-" A knock at the door interrupted him. Suddenly, I realized that anyone entering the room would see me kneeling, naked, by his chair. In a panic, I half rose, only to be abruptly pushed back down as he bid the knocker to enter. A young footman stepped into the room, bowing to the Master and informing him that dinner was ready to be served. He studiously avoided looking at me but there was no mistaking the fact that he had seen me upon his entry. A wave of dizziness swept over me and for a moment I thought I would pass out. I know not how I managed to stay kneeling when dinner was brought in. I clenched my fists so tightly I felt the nails dig painfully into my palms and wept silently.
He placed a plate on the floor before me. The dizziness returned, this time with a wave of nausea as well. Does he really mean for me to eat like an animal, I thought. Yes. He started to eat his own dinner, obviously expecting me to eat mine without further instruction. Hunger was the last thing from my mind but I bent to it obediently, hair sweeping the ground as I picked up the first piece of meat with my lips. I gagged it down, rivulets of tears coursing down my face the entire time. He stopped me before I could get a second piece, tenderly blotting my lips with his napkin and feeding me a grape with his fingers.
Although I didn't know it, that was the moment I surrendered.
Dinner seemed to last forever. He fed me the rest of my meal from his own hand and instead of bitter shame, I found myself feeling grateful that I would not have to eat from the floor. My newfound appreciation was not to last though, for minutes after we were both done eating, I had to endure yet another servant entering the room to clear the dishes. I blushed but no longer cried, bowing my head and hiding behind the veil of my hair until she was gone.
Then, I could bear the tension no longer. Angrily, I cried, "Why do you do this to me!?" Even as the words left my mouth, I knew I had committed a grave error. The fleeting courage borne of the impotent anger deserted me and I fairly stumbled over the apology I immediately tried to offer. Before I could get out more than a few words, he had seized my arm in a hurtful grip and dragged me across his lap, delivering a loud slap to my upraised buttocks with his hand. I shrieked, more from shock at first, but my cries quickly turned into wails of pain as he spanked me mercilessly.
No matter how I twisted and turned, I was unable to escape the stinging blows that rained down on my buttocks and the backs of my legs. Eventually, I gave up my attempts to get away, although I could not stop my body from struggling under the onslaught of pain.
Implacably, he stated, "You will never speak to me so disrespectfully again!" Each of his measured words was punctuated with a well-aimed slap on my already burning backside. Then he stopped, sliding me down to the floor on my knees. All I wanted to do was curl up into a ball and die but I was to be denied even that.
In a gentler tone of voice he said, "Now, was there something you wished to say to me?" Sobbing, I shook my head. He pulled my hands away from my face and made me look at him. "Tell me."
In a voice sticky with tears, I told him, "It is bad enough that you have done this to me. I cannot bear to be seen like this by the servants as well."
He squeezed my hands in his. "You will bear it because I wish it."
My face crumpled and I started weeping once again. He offered no more comfort, releasing my hands and rising. "You shall assist me in readying for bed tonight," he said as he walked over to a set of closed double-doors by the window. He opened them and even through the blinding tears, I could see that they led into a lavish bedroom. Snapping his fingers, he beckoned to me and walked into the adjoining room.
I followed, feeling more like a lowly dog than the woman he intended to marry as I crawled across the floor. My bottom burned, making me whimper softly with every trembling movement. He allowed me to stand when I had completed the horrible journey to end up at his feet, instructing me to undress him and put his clothes away.
It took me a long time to unfasten all the buttons on his shirt, my shaking fingers just would not obey and kept slipping. He offered no help as I labored over a task that should have taken mere seconds to complete. At last, I managed to undo them all and hesitated only briefly before I slid the shirt, which was indeed as soft and fine as I had imagined, off his shoulders. I could not help but stare at his naked chest, covered with a light smattering of hair the same tawny gold as his hair. I had little knowledge in the way of men's chests, but he looked finely built to my inexperienced eyes.