Cynthia's Wedding Night

Disclaimer - This story is a work of fiction. Still I feel it necessary to warn anyone reading this that this story contains themes of reluctance and humiliation that, in addition to my poorly-constructed and repetitive prose, may be off-putting to some readers.

In addition to suggestions and questions, constructive criticism regarding how I may improve is appreciated and welcome. If all you have to offer is something along the lines of, "This sucks" or "I am offended even though you already warned me about the content" then I invite you to write your own masterpiece and present it to me so that I and the rest of the world may learn from your genius and your impeccable morality.

*****

Cynthia wrapped her slender arms around William's sturdy neck as he carried her across the threshold of his beautiful, two-story home. The normally reserved girl was giddy with delight at being a bride. She giggled as her new husband's coarse beard tickled her soft inner arms; and held on tighter as he spun her around the small, softly lit foyer giving her a view of her new home. Like most Brentwood-raised girls, her whole life had led up to this moment. After years of careful instruction by her mother, and more long years at finishing school she was finally a wife!

"Oh, William!" She laughed breathlessly as her white skirts and long blond hair fluttered about. "Stop! I'm getting dizzy!"

William stopped in mid-turn and looked at her with mock solemnity. "Feeling dizzy?" He asked. "Well, then we best get you up to bed as soon as possible!" He smiled devilishly, his white teeth shown through his black beard like a crescent moon in the darkest of night skies, and carried her towards the stairs with an eagerness Cynthia couldn't help but notice.

"Will—William! I can walk!" She insisted as she squirmed in his strong arms suddenly feeling slightly childish at being carried. It wasn't just the embarrassment of being carried like a little girl that made Cynthia protest. It was the mention of the word "bed" and all the connotations that came with that word on this night.

"I know you can walk, Cyn." William replied as he started up the dark red carpeted stairs.

William's bedroom was a gentleman's bedroom. It was clean, but far more Spartan than to what Cynthia was accustomed. There was a pair of dark wooden dressers bare of any knickknacks, a red overstuffed chair and a small wooden table with a crystal decanter, a glass, and a thick book resting on it. A large four-post bed dominated the room. Cynthia quickly diverted her eyes away from it to the large bay window that overlooked the street below. She could just imagine arranging soft, fluffy pillows on the adjoined bench and spending her leisure time reading and looking out that window.

While his wife took in her new surroundings, William covertly locked the bedroom door, before slipping the key into his suit pocket. It was a precaution all Brentwood gentlemen took no matter how exited and willing his bride may be. Of course the idea that mild mannered Cynthia would put up a fight seemed almost absurd to him—almost.

Cynthia gave a start when she felt William's hand on her bare shoulder. He gently turned her around to face him. "Welcome home, Mrs. Johnston."

"Thank you..." Cynthia replied before looking down at the floor. She was uncertain what she should say. She would doubly unsure what "Mrs. Johnston" would say.

After a few moments of uneasy silence William decided that he must take matters into his own hands or they'd be standing there for the entire night. He was the husband after all! He cleared his throat and asked, "Cynthia, did your mother by any chance talk to you about tonight?"

Cynthia looked up at him quizzically. Her mother had told her so much over the weeks leading up to the wedding that it was hard to focus on any one thing—especially after such a long and pleasantly exhausting day!

"What do you mean?" She asked.

"I mean, did she explain to you about the wedding night?"

Cynthia looked away and fidgeted uncomfortably with her lace handkerchief. There was a great deal of mystery surrounding the wedding night. Like most Brentwood girls, Cynthia had been kept innocent of any specifics. She just knew that whatever it was that went on, no good girl was supposed to be aware of it! Her normally pale cheeks were bright pink as she replied, "Why—the only thing she told me was that I needed to be on my best behavior tonight and to do whatever you tell me to do no matter what!" Cynthia relaxed a bit, "Which is just silly! You're my husband. Of course I'm going to obey you!" She tittered.

William laughed too—a deep, quiet chuckle. "Well, you've certainly got the right attitude...Do you know what a husband and wife do on the wedding night?"

Cynthia resumed fidgeting with her handkerchief. She had heard a few whispers, but she was too embarrassed to talk about the innocent little details she knew. After all, what would William think about her knowing such things?

He tilted her chin up and stared in to her big blue eyes, "Cynthia?" He coaxed.

"Well..." She began. "I mean...I know that..." she glanced at the bed. "I know that we're going to sleep in the same bed..." she said hesitantly and then quickly added, "which I think is just scandalous!" She didn't really think it was that scandalous or shocking in the least. Who didn't know that husbands and wives shared a bedroom and a bed after all? Her parents certainly did, and as far as she knew all of her friends' parents did as well. Yet, she was afraid to admit to knowing anything at all.

William smiled to himself. She was so innocent and so unlike him. Brentwood men, unlike Brentwood girls, were very well-informed on the facts of life. Furthermore, they were all encouraged to practice the "act" as much as they liked on the lower-ranked females of the community. William was no exception.

"Oh, yes, we'll be sleeping in the same bed." He agreed. "Is there anything else?"

"Are you..." She started. "Well...you're not going to try to look at me when I'm just wearing my nightgown are you?"

"So innocent," William thought. There was a slight feeling of guilt mixing with his mounting desire. "Don't worry, Cyn. I won't be seeing your nightgown tonight." He paused, realizing how wolfish he sounded. "Well, there is a little more to it than that..." Seeing that Cynthia looked worried he added, "Don't worry, sweetheart. Just remember what your mother did tell you and you'll come through tonight just fine!"

Cynthia nodded, "Yes, sir!" She said cheerfully though she wondered what it was that was going to have "come through."

"Good. Now, I want you to take off your dress and put it over the chair." William commanded as casually as if he had asked her to open a window or fetch him a drink.

Cynthia gave a start and stared at him wide-eyed. Surely she misheard him! "What?" She asked, trying not to sound as shocked as she felt.

"Do not make me repeat myself, wife." He said, not harshly, but firmly. It was uncharacteristic for him to be so stern with her, but William knew that a young wife such as she needed a firm hand and it was his duty to give it to her. Beyond the duty of it, there was a part of him that enjoyed commanding her. He'd spent their courtship being polite and entertaining her, now it was her turn to entertain him. It was only fair after all!

"No!" Cynthia spat. Her pretty, little face twisted with incredulity as she took several uncertain steps back.

William sighed and said, "Remember what your mother told you, remember..."

"My mother could not have meant that!" Cynthia cried as she stepped back and positioned the small table between her and her advancing husband.

William casually followed her around the table. Cynthia eyed him warily and continued to mince around the table staying just out of his reach.

"This isn't a game, girl." He said as he tried not to smile. It did feel a bit like a game—to him anyway. "If you don't obey, I'll have to punish you."

"Punish me?" Cynthia faltered and nearly tripped. "I'm a married woman! You're not my father! You can't punish me!" She scoffed. Yet, Cynthia knew full well that husband's punished wives. She'd seen it many times at gatherings and public places. A woman, it didn't matter if she was eighteen or fifty, would act out and be led away by her husband to private spots usually reserved for just such a purpose. Cynthia's father had never punished her with more than an occasional, quick, light verbal reprimand. The poor girl had the impression that whatever William intended to do would be much more severe than a few strong words!

***

William continued a few more steps around the table and then switched directions. Cynthia, as tightly coiled as a new bedspring, tried to reverse too, but tripped over her heels and her long skirts. William was immediately upon her. He grabbed hold of her elbow preventing her fall and trapping her in one smooth motion. Cynthia pulled back against his encircling hand—his grip tight, but not painful.

"Let me go! Let me go!" Cynthia cried while slapping his hand feebly. For a girl who had been raised to be submissive and docile to men this was like a full blown rebellion.

William tried to keep a blank expression as he pulled the chair over to them with his free hand. He knew that he must not appear to be enjoying the whole affair. He sat down and yanked tiny Cynthia over his lap. Cynthia kicked and struggled with frustration, but could not escape.

"Let me go!" She cried again. "What are you doing? Let me up!"

"Be still." He ordered. His excitement grew as his bride squirmed against his lap, but he tried to put it out of his mind.

"Never! Let me go, you beast!" She snarled.

William yanked her arm behind her back, not enough to injure her, but the jolt certainly got her attention.

"Ow!" Cynthia whined. "That hurts! Let me up!"

With his free hand William began to gather her voluminous, white satin skirts and started to raise them. His calm, determined movements soon revealed Cynthia's slender ankles clad in white silk stockings.

"What are you doing?" Cynthia demanded, kicking her legs in frustration.

William pulled her skirts past her willowy calves.

"Wait!" Cynthia cried, realizing that this advance wasn't going to stop. "You can't! No!"

William lifted the white fabric still higher exposing Cynthia's slim thighs and the tops of her white, silk stockings.

"Stop!" Cynthia yelled her panic rising along with her skirts.

At last he drove her skirts over her upturned bottom and pinned the bunched cloth under her arm and his.

"No!" She cried out as she felt the cool night breeze against the bare skin between her stockings and her satin panties. Cynthia's mind raced. He could see everything! When her mother had helped her into her panties that morning after her bath, she was so proud to finally be allowed to wear something cute and grown-up instead of frumpy white cotton underpants like all unmarried girls did. Never once did she think that William would be seeing her "grown up panties."

"Cynthia." His commanding voice cut into her and shook her from her thoughts. "I will not mince words with you. You are my wife and I love you, but I will not tolerate disobedience from you. If you'd acted like a woman instead of like a spoiled, little girl and obeyed, you'd already be enjoying all that this night has to offer. Since you didn't, I'm going to do what your daddy should have been doing for the last eighteen years. I'm going to spank you."

Cynthia's was dumbstruck. He couldn't possibly intend to—to beat her! Then she felt his fingers hook into the waistband of her panties. His smooth fingernails brushed the top of her bottom sending a shiver through her little body as he worked her panties down.

"No!" She screamed and began to kick again. "No! Don't!"

"If I have to do this three times a day for the next year I will do it if it will teach you to mind." He explained calmly as her milky white bottom came into view. As hard as it was, William took no time to admire his bride as he pulled the flimsy satin down to her knees. He reminded himself that there would be time enough for that after he'd taken care of business!

"Stop!" Cynthia demanded. "Stop I said! Sto—"

William cut her demands short by tightening his grip on her arm and bringing his other hand down on her peach-like bottom. There was a tremendous crack as his large calloused hand connected with her smooth, ivory flesh. Cynthia's words were stifled in her throat for a moment as the sting registered. Before she could fully process, William brought his hand down again with another loud smack.

Cynthia cried out as tears came to her eyes, but her anger came roaring back. "Let me go! Let me go! I—I'll scratch your eyes out!" She kicked with all her might. "I'll—" She was cut short again by William' hand coming crashing down on her unprotected backside.

"Stop!" Cynthia quavered. "I—"

William began the spanking in earnest. His hand rose and fell on her backside with the precision and regularity of a machine. After a mere thirty seconds Cynthia's tears began to fall down her pale cheeks.

"No! No!" she managed to plead in between her grunts and cries. Her begging ignored and her attempts to escape thwarted, Cynthia cried loudly and kicked her legs with such frenzy she soon launched her heels across the room. Unperturbed by her display, or by one of Cynthia's dainty, white shoes nearly striking him as it sailed through the air, William held firm and continued administering discipline.

The spanking continued for long minutes. "Please!" Cynthia blubbered. "Please! I—I'm sorry! I'm sorry! I'll be a good girl! I'll obey! I—I'll do whatever you want! Just stop! Stop! Please!" She screamed nearly delirious with pain and humiliation.

She didn't know if William stopped because of her pleading, or because he'd simply decided she'd had enough, but after just a few more stinging swats, his assault ceased and he released her arm. Once freed, Cynthia leapt from his lap and comically danced about as she tried to rub the burning away. William repressed a smile at the sight of his tearful, little wife's silly display. This was not the time to be amused, he reminded himself again. He stood up and re-acquired Cynthia's elbow and marched her towards a bare corner of the room. Though she was confused, Cynthia didn't dare question him and instead dutifully complied though she struggled to keep up with her panties around her ankles. Once at the corner, William angled her to face it. Then he raised her skirts above her waist, exposing her now bright red bottom. He thrust the bunched fabric into her small trembling hands and told her to hold her skirts up. Then he placed the he placed the back of his hand on her head and pressed her nose to the corner.

"You will not move from this position until I tell you to." His tone said to her that there was no arguing with him. "I want you to calm down and think about your behavior."

There was an uncomfortable pause as if he was waiting for her to say something.

"Oh! Yes, sir!" Cynthia squeaked, her voice slightly nasally from having her nose pressed so firmly to the wall.

William congratulated himself as he sat back down in the chair. He'd managed to conquer the savage beast within himself and discipline his wife in a proper and business-like manner. After only a few moments, however, the feeling faded and he wondered what he should do to pass the time. Cynthia sobbed from the corner. His eyes darted up towards her trembling, elfin form. Her reddened, perky little bottom practically glowed against the milky white skin of her thighs and the ivory skirts of her wedding dress. He felt his pants tightening as he looked at her. It had only been a few minutes since he'd put her there and already he was weary of waiting. It had seemed like a good idea to make her hold her skirts above her waist while in the corner. After all, a little embarrassment, he'd been told by married relatives of either sex, could go a long way towards correcting a young wife's behavior. Knowing how shy and modest Cynthia was, it most-likely did make a great impression on her, but for William it was almost as if she was innocently taunting him.

Cynthia felt like she had been standing in the corner for ages when it had only been perhaps ten minutes. Her tear streaked face was warm from her breath and her exposed backside still burned. She must have been such a sight! Cynthia shuddered at the thought. What must William think of her? What would her mother think of her?

She was saved from her thoughts by William's voice telling her, "You may leave the corner and redress."

Cynthia didn't need to be told twice. She struggled with all the fabric as she pulled her panties back up. She was still embarrassed beyond all belief, but at least she was dressed again!

"Come here." He said when she'd finished.

Without her heels, Cynthia's long skirts dragged as she padded towards him in her stocking feet.

William stood up. He was already so much taller than her. Without her shoes he positively towered over her.

"Do you understand why I spanked you, Cynthia?"

She blushed, "Because...because I didn't obey?"

"You don't sound very sure."

"It's because I didn't obey." She said more confidently. "But..."

"But?"

"But...but I shouldn't have had to obey!" Cynthia insisted.

"Oh? And why is that?"

She thought for a moment, choosing her words carefully, "Because what you were asking me to do was sinful and—and dirty!"

William chuckled at her heartfelt confession, "Cynthia, honey, I want you to take to this to heart. It's not for you to think about what's 'sinful' or 'dirty' you just need to obey. If I tell you to do something, then you do it."

She started to speak but he tapped her parted lips with his index finger and continued. "Secondly, it's certainly not sinful or dirty to undress in front of your husband. You belong to me and if I want to see you I have every right whenever I want, however I want and for however long I want, do you understand?"

Cynthia bit her lower lip. She wanted to tell him no, but the memory of her recent spanking made her to hesitate.

Finally, she simply said, "Yes, sir, I understand."

He smiled, "Good, now where were we before that little tantrum?"

***

Cynthia looked at William with pleading eyes, "I understand that I need to obey, but...but please don't make me do this!"

"Why not?"

"I—I'll die if you see me without my dress!" She whined.

"Cynthia, no girl ever died from being seen without her dress. Now, no more of this nonsense, do as I say or we'll have to repeat the lesson!"

Cynthia stood awkwardly in front of him for long seconds—her cheeks red with embarrassment and her eyes downcast.

"Well?" William asked.

"I can't, sir!"

"Oh, Cynthia, I was warned about marrying a girl so young..." He let out a weary sign and reached out for her. The initial lesson had been fun to administer, but it was hard enough to have controlled himself the first time. He wasn't sure he could deliver another spanking and resist taking her in the middle of it—if he could even wait that long.

"No!" She said quickly. "I mean—I mean I can't because I can't reach the buttons!" She motioned to the back of her dress.

"Oh!" William smiled. "I suppose I can help you then. Come here." He took her narrow shoulders in his hands and turned her around.

Cynthia inhaled sharply as she felt his fingers fiddle with the top button of her wedding gown. The first button popped in the still atmosphere of the room, then the second, then the third.

On the fourth button William asked, "If you didn't think you were supposed to undress in front of me, how were you intending to get out of this dress, Mrs. Johnston?"