New England Bride

For the remainder of our time aboard the Unicorn, my escort limited our companionship to lighter topics, and always above decks. Finally, on July 26th we spotted the beautiful harbor of Wellington and saw that a celebration was at hand. It seemed that Parliament, after much ado, had finally settled itself within the township of Wellington, fact that was eliciting a great deal of local exuberance.

As we dropped anchor in the harbor and lowered the longboats, I was amazed at the lush grandeur of my surroundings. High cliffs heralded the green hills beyond, and a salty breeze filled the air with a crisp, wintry clarity that had been sorely missed on my long stays below decks. The city, which rightly this settlement of 5000 souls must be called, was a place filled with the laughter of revelers and the tinkling voices of children at play. Immediately, my fears became waylaid, and I began to envision myself among them, a happy expatriate on the shores of a new land.

For John, however, this was apparently not the case, for try as I might I was unable make eye contact with him on the brief row to shore. It was as though he was attempting to distance himself from me, if not by physical fact, then by insinuation.

Our approach had been much heralded, It would seem, for as I climbed awkwardly from the dory I found myself surrounded by an eager throng who quickly began loading my trunks aboard a rugged looking cart for the trip southward to Waiariki. I would have preferred, instead, to remain for a night in the city, listening to the merrymakers commune in the streets while I attempted to regain my land legs, but it had apparently been planned otherwise. My husband, it seemed, had expressed concern for my well-being in such an abandoned atmosphere, and had sent his servants to escort me directly to him.

When all had been loaded, John hopped silently aboard the cart, while I was guided to a carriage upon which a gentleman in black sat awaiting my arrival.

"Reverend Collinswood, Miss," he said, offering his hand to aid in my placement. "I'm to officiate at your wedding this evening, if you don't mind."

"So soon?" I blurted out. "But, I've only just arrived, Sir. Surely there is time for me to settle myself and rest a bit before my nuptials!"

"Rest? Settle yourself? Surely, my good woman, you're not suggesting that you live in an unwed state under Mister Thomas' roof until then! Why…it would be unheard of…a scandal! Think of your reputation!"

Shocked, I took my place by his side and the carriage began to make its way along the crowded streets. Soon the revelers fell far behind, and the green hills of the north island closed in about us. It was hard for me to think of July as the middle of winter, but the crisp air testified to the truth of it, and I found myself drawing my woolen mantle about me as we made our way into the countryside. Here and there the bright song of a sea bird cut the silence and I strained to see what sort of creature had thus welcomed me. But, on we went, never stopping to pause until my bladder begged for relief and the evening slowly crept across the land.

The sun was just making a fiery bow in the west as we crested the last hill and made our final approach toward the estate of Sean Thomas Esq. It was a lovely place, built of strong timbers and native stone, sprawling in all directions but very much at ease in its surroundings.

Quickly, we drew abreast of the ornately carved staircase and were immediately met by a small gathering of what I could only surmise were the Maori of whom I had heard so much. These, then, must be servants of the manor, I thought, for they seemed not at all fierce or warlike. In fact, a young woman, barely more than a child, hurried forward to welcome me and assist me in climbing from my stiff and unyielding perch to the ground below.

She was dressed in a squarish bandeau of sorts, a delicately decorated bodice that left her arms bare and topped a long skirt of some sort of woven fiber. Her golden skin was marked with an intricate tattoo about her lips and chin, and her eyes spoke of warmth and intelligence. I, for one, was relieved to see her, for I had been suffering under the apprehension that I would be the only female to reside within these walls. It was with great pleasure that I found this comely child in residence, a friend in the making.

The gathering lost no time in hurrying me into the interior of my new home, and then beyond into the drawing room of my fiancé. It was in that place that I was brought up short.

There, standing before the fire, stood Sean Thomas. He was a large man, strong of body with an unkempt moustache that all but covered his upper lip. His hands were massive, hard and calloused with the proof of his labors, and his unruly thatch of hair made him look for all the world like a wild man fresh from the wilderness. He towered above me by a measure of perhaps a foot or more, causing me to tip my head to reach his eyes. It was there that true dread began to set in, and I felt the urge to turn and run.

Had John described him as crude? In this I feared an underestimation, for the lecherous leer that crossed his features left little to calm my trepidation. Instead, I felt the piercing hunger of his eyes fairly stripping me of my garments and devouring what they found beneath. Shaken, I cringed and held my ground.

"So, you're her?" he questioned bluntly. "Name?"

"C-Caroline," I stammered, "Caroline Parsons, Sir. And you are…"

"Sean Thomas, of course, Woman. Who did you think!" He looked then to John, and nodded his head. "You've done well, John." He leered appreciatively. "She'll make a fine bed warmer on these chilly nights," he laughed. "So, my girl, shall we do the deed?"

I opened my mouth to protest. I needed a moment to refresh myself from the long journey, a reprieve to acclimate my senses for was to come, but he would have none of it. Instead, he clasped my fragile hand in his own and began to drag me to the curved staircase that led to the second floor, and what I assumed were the bedrooms.

"Wait!" I whimpered. "Isn't there a ceremony to be observed…first?" I blushed, praying for more time. "I mean, we must keep up conventions, mustn't we?"

He stopped then and gave me a look that left no illusions as to his estimation of my intelligence. "Of course, you twit! What do you take me for? But I'll not sign my name to a marriage contract unless I've examined the merchandise firsthand, Girl. Chastity on paper and chastity between those legs of yours may be two different things," he laughed, amused at his own turn of phrase. "Come along, Woman, and let's get down to the facts." And with that he fairly dragged me up the stairs and down the carpeted hallway into a massive bedroom that dominated the east wing. There, closing the door behind him, he turned to command me.

"Remove your pantalettes and lay back on the bed," he instructed, my horror rising. "And when you have done so, part your thighs so that I may be assured of your virtue."

Had not the clergyman been waiting downstairs, I would have escaped once more to the wharf and fled back to my beloved New England posthaste. But there I was, and there I would stay. Shamefaced, I turned my back and lifted the hem of my hoopskirt, sliding my quivering palms over my crisp, white linen until I clasped the thin drawstring that secured my underpinnings. A tug, so minor, and yet so eventful, and I felt them loosen and fall about my ankles.

Hesitantly, I looked in askance, hoping that this act would suffice, but finding to my dismay that it would not. Then, slowly turning, I climbed atop the surface of his massive four poster and spread my quaking limbs beneath the volumes of my petticoats.

His eyes, so black and piercing, scanned my features like twin captors awaiting the spoils of war. Then slowly, and brooking no protestations, he raised the layers of my skirts to expose the pale flesh of my body.

Immediately, I felt the chill air of the room assail the bared flesh above my garters, chilling those intimate parts not covered by my hose. There, he paused to admire, his palms resting intimately between my cringing limbs.

My face became pink, then horridly red as humiliation overcame me. Did all prospective brides have to undergo this intimate scrutiny, I wondered? Were all maidenly claims of chastity so suspect? Then I gasped. His hand, so still at the onset, was now parting the silken bastion of my femininity, exposing my most intimate secrets to the invasion of his probing fingers. What was expected of me now, I wondered, my fear and trepidation rising. What should I…

And then I felt it, a painful twinge that tested the resiliency of my delicate flesh, a probe of such sufficient proportions that I feared it would threaten to end my days as an innocent. I squirmed to escape his grasp, a protest forming upon my lips, but found it unnecessary. His inquisition ceased at that point, and was replaced instead by a persistent stroking of his work-roughened fingers against the tiny protrusion now hardening along the upper reaches of my moistened slit. Was this part of the inspection, I wondered, feeling a warm coil of intimate tension forming in the pit of my belly. What demon was this stranger conjuring between my thighs?

His eyes now appeared to burn like the embers of a long-banked fire, smoldering and ready to erupt. Slowly he ran his tongue along his lower lip and leaned closer to that which he was wont to examine. I twined my fingers in my auburn tresses and closed my eyes, horrified at his invasion and the abandonment he had elicited. My body began to betray me then, an unbidden wetness surging into his palm, accompanied by a shaking and loss of control that left me helpless and conquered. Loud, immodest whimpers fled my lips, and my writhing flesh grew hot beneath his ministrations.

He leaned closer…closer yet until his breath blew warmly within my flowing sex. Eagerly, his lips parted. It was then I felt his tongue, wet and hungry, doing unspeakable things as he held me fast.

"Tonight," he murmured huskily, "tonight…

Chapter Three

The flush that had overtaken my cheeks remained throughout the ceremony. What must this gathering be thinking, I wondered? Were they privy to what had transpired upstairs… to my abject humiliation? Did they know what was to come next? If so, then they were far ahead of my dim understanding. Surely my husband would not care to sire a child this very night, mere moments after meeting me! The awkwardly degrading penetrations that my Mother had described could wait until another day, could they not?

Apparently, my fiancé had other plans, however, for as soon as we regained our place in the drawing room, he signaled for the minister to begin the ceremony. I was aghast! Was no one to protest my treatment? Was there no one to champion my plight?

John, it would seem, was not to be the one to intercede, for he had placed himself beside the large front window and gazed out at the night as if he wished it to be over quickly. The minister, likewise, hurried on with his charge, and was soon intoning the scripture that would join me to the burly lecher at my side. The young woman who had greeted me stood in the doorway, her eyes downcast in discomfort. I was alone. There would be no reprieve.

Quickly, the minister completed his ritual, and all were summoned into the dining room to feast on roast mutton, Maori bread and a form of local sweet potato called" kumara." My husband, apparently ravenous, tore a massive hunk of meat from a small haunch and devoured it lustily. Then, downing it with a pint of ale, he motioned for me to hurry with my meal as the night was growing late.

All about me, knowing eyes shifted from my husband to myself, as though envisioning what the night was to bring. My stomach coiled in apprehension and my appetite fled to the four winds. Finally my husband stood, and belching resoundingly, bid all a goodnight and captured my hand for the trip back up the stairs to his bedchamber.

Impatiently, he tugged, overcoming my reluctance with sheer brute force until I once more found myself outside his rooms, timorously awaiting his connubial dictates.

Without hesitation he propelled me through the portal and smiled, his lips curling into a hungry grimace, and locked the door behind him. Then, crossing toward the blazing fireplace, he settled himself into a heavy leather-bound chair.

"You have the face of an angel," he murmured huskily, "and the body of a whore. I intend to use both…come here."

My pulse began to race. What misfortune had I gotten myself into? Was it too late to turn and…

"Come here!" he repeated, his tone testifying to his intent. "You're my wife, and by God you'll obey me!"

My knees began to tremble, my step faltering. How I called up the strength to do as I was bid was nothing short of a miracle. But, suddenly the distance between us closed, and I found myself standing by his side.

His eyes seemed to look straight through me, tearing away at my chemise and bloomers until I felt stripped before him. Then, closing his ham-like fist about my arm, he dragged me between his outstretched thighs and began to paw at the pristine lace of my bodice. "Take it off," he demanded. "Here, in front of the fire. And be quick about it."

My fingers trembled, but I hurriedly found myself releasing the hooks that so confined my bosoms. My husband stared impatiently as I fumbled, the front of his breeches becoming distorted with something I could only cringe to think about. At last I had removed my outer garment, my whalebone corset, and was down to my chemise, that final, brief veil between my unbridled breasts and the leer of my tormentor.

"Hurry up, Woman. Take it off!" he growled, his hand stroking the burden between his thighs. Tearfully, I slipped the thin cotton covering over my head, and dropped it to the floor atop my bodice, then crossed my arms over my nakedness.

He wasted no time, my husband, and reaching out he grasped my elbow and pulled me to him, a prisoner caught between his steely thighs. Then, bending me backwards over his knee he imprisoned my wrists above my head with his left hand while his right had its way.

Painfully he groped, mashing my tender flesh, pulling and pinching my nipples until they stood upright in scarlet distress. A groan of satisfaction passed his lips, as though his prior estimation had now been vindicated, and then his calloused fingers began to slide downward across to my body to bury themselves beneath the band of my traveling skirt.

A yank, and another, and the delicate fabric lay in rags between my feet. Then another, and another yet, until my undergarments followed and finally I lay bare before his eyes.

"No," I whimpered. "Please. I'm an innocent…don't…"

"You're a wife," he interrupted threateningly. "I expect you to act like one. Now close your lips about THIS and I'll hear no more from you."

So saying, pressed me to the floor, positioning me on my knees at his feet. Then rising, he unbuttoned his breeches and released that which had so distressed the front of his clothing. I stared in horror as he exposed himself to me, for I had never seen an unclothed man before in my life! Was this, then, what I was to tolerate for the rest of my married existence?

As though he had read my mind, he laughed. "Get used to it, Woman. You'll be well met before this night is done. Now part those tiny, pink lips and give it a kiss."

As his trousers slipped downward around his ankles, I felt his fingers grasp the carefully pinned remnants of my coiffure. The tendrils of my tresses immediately fell loose about his fist, and he used them to secure my position for his wanton purposes. I tried to struggle…to pull away, but he would have none of it. A smart smack on my left cheek soon led me to believe that only my absolute submission would be tolerated. And so, tightly closing my eyes, I leaned forward to press upon his thick, hairy member the required homage.

It had looked purple and angry, this thing I was to confront so intimately. I looked once more into my husband's eyes, seeking the reprieve I needed so desperately, but found only the hard features of a man of determination. His hand urged me forward, pressing insistently against the back of my head until his turgid flesh nudged the thin membrane of my lips.

My husband groaned in satisfaction and pressed closer, his fingers tightening in my hair. His purple-clad member, now hard and distended to startling proportions, began to dig between my lips, to batter at my teeth like a tinker pounding at the gate.

"Open them up, Woman, and take it inside!" he demanded gruffly. "Suck it like a sweet, for it's to be your nightly candy from this day on."

Tears began to flow in earnest now. How could I? A sweet? My mother had said nothing about this! Had my father loaded this abuse upon her martyred body night after night as well?

Hesitantly, I parted my teeth, and at once found him plunging deep into my mouth. I began to gag, to pull away, but he held me fast, a prisoner restrained by the auburn strands of my own curls. He began to rut at that moment, like a cur impaling a bitch, forcing his swelling member deep into my throat. Bestial sounds emanated from his lips, forming a discordant chorus with my own whimpers. Then a curious thing happened. Tiny droplets of thin, sweet cream began to trickle against my tongue, dribbling down my throat and seeping from the corners of my mouth. Was this, then, a "mating"…his seed? Was I now with child?

Suddenly, he stopped, and tearing his organ from my lips he dragged me to his bed. There, once more he laid me on my back, and forced my hands above my head.

"Don't move," he ordered, removing the last vestiges of his clothing. "…or your pain this night will be two-fold. I can assure you of that!"

If his last comment was intended to show me his compassion, it did not, for his eyes told another tale. Black they were now, ebony and filled with lust. Whatever thoughts were on his mind, mercy was not among them. And so, panting in anticipation he spread my thighs as before and positioned himself between them. "One last taste of this untried morsel," he whispered, "…and then it is no more."

His lips were brutal this time, demanding as they attempted to suck the very life from me. His tongue found a crevice, ever so slight, and curled deep inside my body. My pulse began to race, a thin, unmaidenly line of perspiration forming on my upper lip. I was on fire, with no idea how to quench the flames.

Finally, his first course complete, my husband raised himself upon his knees between my legs and clasped my ankles, one in each steely fist. Then, still in his grasp, he lifted my legs and pressed them upwards until I felt I would become unhinged. My nether lips gaped wide, my moist, pink immodesty exposed to his gaze. I felt a shiver overcome me as he briefly released my left ankle and steadied his member in his right hand. This, he placed at the oozing gate of my maidenhood, the site of my earlier humiliation.

My hands, still raised above my head, now grasped the brass headboard in trembling anticipation. Was this…was this…? And then pain, quick and sharp overcame me, penetrating like a spearhead deep into my body. I screamed, once and again, crying out as I felt his massive intrusion tear the last barrier of my virginity from me. Then, still embedded, he glanced in satisfaction at the pink-tinged froth that coated the root of his manhood.

It was as though the sight had driven him mad. Lunged, he did, now without pause, harder and harder with each thrust of his hips. The tiny orifice that he assailed became battered and torn, and yet he continued. Once more I felt the heat rise within me, a strange coiling in the very pit of my belly. Had he planted his seed, I wondered? Was this fiery turmoil the sign of a child forming already in my womb?