The Rebel's Wife Pt. 05

(I have been away from this story for so long to focus on other erotic projects and I'm so sorry it's gone by the wayside. After long last, here's more!)

I was kneeling at the foot of Lord Kavan's bed, my wedding dress spread around me on the ground. The halo it created around was the size of my small sleeping nook back in my village. I was relieved that the beautiful white fabric was not showing any evidence of the rough treatment I had just received from Kavan. The first time I had been so roughly used in this castle there had been a small amount of blood and no such marking adorned my dress now.

After Kavan released his grip on my hair I had crawled over to the bed, afraid of tripping over the train of my dress if I stood. Now I was afraid to turn around and see what was occupying Kavan, for fear that he would take this action as disobedience. I heard the goblet being set down on the table, meaning he had served himself another cup of wine. I shivered. I had seen what men in the village were like when they were in their cups. They talked too loud and sometimes laid hands upon their wives with no justification. I was trying to banish from my mind these thoughts of violence when the Lord's heavy footsteps approached me from behind. There was the sound of leather creaking as Kavan bent down over me. In my peripheral vision I could just make out that he was holding a knife. I sucked air in fast, through my teeth, but did not move a hair.

"Be very still now Isme. We would not want you to get hurt," He murmured good-naturedly, and I felt a pressure, then a cold presence at the top of my spine. For one terrifying moment I could feel the blade kissing my skin, threatening to tear it open. Then his other hand grabbed the fabric of my dress, and the blade left my skin, cutting through the creamy lace back of the exquisite gown. The skin of my back was now laid naked to the air. I could feel now both the ghost of the cold metal on my skin and the dynamic heat of the large hearth-fire tickling at the fine hairs of my back. Kavan pushed me forward from my kneeling position so my front was on the side of the bed, and my backside was accessible to him. He slowed his knifework, teasing apart the fibers of the fabric little by little until he was cutting a line right between my buttocks. I was rigid with fear, anticipating the savage sting of the knife slipping.

But Kavan did not slip, despite the wine, and worked his knife down into the voluminous skirt, rending it in two. Not bothering to cut through the entire length of the train, Kavan stopped when his knife was around the level of my ankles. He had cut through my underskirt as well as the gown, leaving my whole backside and legs bare to him. He pressed the flat of the blade to the tender skin behind my left knee. There my skin was thin and soft, causing the cold of the blade to pass instantly into my bloodstream. I was determined not to move, hoping to please Kavan with my obedience, and to end this tortuous game.

My new husband inched his blade up my leg, skimming my thigh just barely, so that I could feel how sharp it was, but without causing harm. Before he reached my posterior he traveled back down, resting the blade on the thin skin of my ankle for a moment. "What pretty legs," He marveled, his voice low. "You are quite a prize Isme. Even if I am to die in this war I will die a man envied by all." His fingertips traced the back of my thigh as if he was a drawing a map. "Exquisite." He pressed down on my left leg with a warm hand and danced his knife up the inside of my right leg. I felt my body reacting as the blade traveled closer to my womanhood. My folds burned and pulsed. I could feel my heartbeat in every part of my body. It made it harder to kneel there, completely still. My body wanted to writhe like a trapped snake. I had to stop breathing completely when I felt the dull side of the knife nestle into the center crevice of my womanhood. I whimpered, near tears. It felt, cold, and alien, and it could feel it collecting my secret fluids. Then, painstakingly Kavan removed the knife, sliding it deliberately slow out of my most intimate place. He passed finally into my field of view. Then he offered the blade for my inspection, and I could see the dewy drops of my excitement on the blade. It smelled sweet and heavy.

I started to open my mouth to say something, but Kavan clicked his tongue, cutting me off before I had begun. I do not know what I would have said. Perhaps an explanation as to why my body was betraying me so.

"You were doing so good, wife. I did not give you leave to speak. And frankly I do not care a wit about what you have to say." He let the knife fall to the floor and, wiping his hands on his leather tunic before shrugging out of it, leaving only his emerald shirt, which he started unbuttoning. I looked away out of instinct, flushing crimson with adrenaline and with the wine. With all the blood rushing to my head I felt faint. I had never seen a man outside my family without an undershirt on. I had seen suggestions of their forms under their tunics, but my imagination had not taken me far past those suggestions. I had always felt wicked when I dwelled on those warm, confusing feelings that bubbled up. I could not bring myself to look at this half-dressed man who was to soon become my husband in more than just name.

Kavan's skin felt both rough and soft against me as he lifted me out of the remnants of my gown. He felt hot, as if he had been standing directly next to a fire. The sweat on his torso came off onto my skin and I felt hair, coarser than expected, pressing into my back from his chest. His arms flexed with muscle as he lowered me deliberately onto the center of his bed, but Kavan betrayed no expenditure of effort. The fabric of his bedspread felt delicious against my clammy naked skin, and I felt as if I was dirtying it. How had first wife had felt when he laid her down like this? Was she as scared as I was? Is it still scary for her?

Kavan handled my wrists roughly, snatching them away from my body where my arms had subconsciously crept up to shelter my breasts. I caught a gleaming, reproachful look in his eyes before it turned back to predatory hunger. He adjusted himself inside his trousers. I lay there, hands turned up towards the ceiling on either side of my head. My nipples pebbled painfully in the night air, despite the heat my runaway heartbeat lent to my body. In my head I chided myself with the reminder that this was not the first time Kavan had seen me without undergarments, and that this was not even the first time I was to lay with a man. However, that incident with Gareth in Kavan's study had seemingly done nothing to inoculate me from the maidenly fear that is a woman's curse on her wedding night. I pushed my thighs against each other, wishing to hide myself from my husband. I felt so ashamed; ashamed not to be a maiden on the night of my wedding, ashamed of the heat emanating from juncture of my legs.

This small privacy did not last long. Kavan stepped out of his trousers and climbed onto the bed, yanking my ankles away from each other. I squinted my eyes to slits with tension. I tried to tell myself I was ready for him to take me as a husband takes his wife. Instead he gazed upon my womanhood and lowered his face to it. I whimpered, eyes closing hard on my hot tears, feeling all of the vulnerability of the moment like one would feel a knife to the ribs. I heard him inhale through his nose, then do it again. His nose brushed the satin skin of my inner thigh and I let out a small noise before I could restrain myself. Luckily my husband only chuckled, now rubbing his lightly-stubbled face along my smooth skin.

I made a conscious effort to breathe, uncurling my toes from their painful position. Kavan was kissing my thighs now, sending jolts of confusion up to my brain every time his slightly rough lips touched skin. His grip on my hip and buttocks was cruel and hard, like how you would hold the saddle of an unruly horse. It did not match the tenderness I felt in the caresses to my soft private skin. As if reading my mind Kavan parted his lips, exposing his teeth to my thigh. He bit down. My alarmed gasp quickly turned into a wail, and I thrashed, unable to escape the pain his bite was inflicting. My hands fluttered and grasped at the bedspread, but I didn't dare lay a finger on this man, on this king. After less than a minute his teeth released me, and I was weeping in earnest now, my eyes doubtless looking bruised and purple as they always did when I cried. His own eyes looked shadowed and haunted, gleaming in the firelight with an unholy and unnamable light. I was sure that this was not the usual way between a husband and wife.

Kavan bit me again, higher up on my thigh. His breath on my sex felt cool as it hit the moisture that had gathered there. I whined out again in pain, unable to help myself as his teeth penetrated my tender skin. I writhed, even begged, as he ravaged my legs with alternating soft kisses and forceful bites. Just as I screamed from the pain of yet another hard, sucking bite Kavan relented. He left that aching spot on my leg and I felt his breath move over my sex right before his tongue made contact with my most private place.

I had been looking at the ceiling almost religiously, as if there was salvation there, but this sensation caused me to jerk up, half sitting, and look down. I wished I had not. Kavan's muscles were outlined in black by the firelight, his hair gleaming between my legs. His tongue flicked out like a hungry animal's and I again felt warmth and pressure on that spot. He looked like a creature out of fairytales, one in the stories told around winter fires meant to keep you from straying into the woods. Seeing the glint of his eyes below me made me more faint and muddled than before. I was overheating, the previously cold room now feeling stuffy and suffocating. The way Kavan was flicking at my sensitive nub was almost painful in its intensity and made me squirm as if to get away.

Unable to focus on his precise and rigorous task because of my squirming, Kavan removed himself from my sex and pushed himself up the bed to face me. The placement of his arms effectively pinned me to the bedspread, but he did not seem angry or concerned. Besides a lock of hair clinging to the wetness around his mouth Kavan looked entirely unruffled. He maintained his regal air even without the emerald green fabric and his treasonous crown.

"Isme," He said, somewhat hoarsely. He cleared his throat unselfconsciously. "I forget myself, I think, and perhaps how inexperienced you come to me."

I nodded wide-eyed, relieved, I wanted to keep him talking. Did he mean he meant to now treat me as his wife? Did experienced women expect to be bitten on their thighs, almost until they bled?

"You know I do not wish to lie with maidens, but I also do not expect having a man one time is enough to initiate you properly. I will not expect you to..." For a moment he seemed frustrated with my uncomprehending countenance, his eyes searching. "To take any pleasure tonight," he finished. My body vibrated at the mention of Gareth's claiming of me. A dark wave of shame and arousal shivered through me, just as it always did when I thought of Gareth's tall, lean body working on top of mine as I lay prostrate on the desk. I was not sure why he was making this declaration in the midst of torturing me. I was scared and felt scarlet pulsing pain in my thighs where he had bitten me. Pleasure seemed a distant dream, seemingly relegated to outside of the four cold walls of this cursed room.

Unsure if I had permission to speak, I ventured in the barest whisper, "Your Grace?" I was not even sure of the title, but Kavan did not strike me. I winced away anyway, on instinct. He registered my involuntary twitch, searching my face. He then nodded my permission to speak. "It would give me great pleasure to become your wife." This was a pathetic, whispered half-truth. I was eager to be under his protection, and I knew that would not be so until our marriage was consummated. I wanted the protection of being a Queen to his people, and to have this long and nightmarish day soon end. Surely, surely, I reasoned, he would leave me be once he was spent. I had surmised this from snippets of conversations I had overheard while bathing.

Kavan looked at me shrewdly, as if weighing the value and verity of what I had said. I remembered he said he did not wish to hear from me, and flinched again at the prospect of a strike. His arm moved, but his hand landed on my nipple instead of my face. He fondled it, running his fingertip over the small dimple in the center. My thighs rubbed together involuntarily. He pinched it then, twisting it as he did. He did not stop until I let out a small "please." I was not sure how long I had worn tears on my face. They felt hot and sticky, just like my sex.

Kavan cuffed me on the ear, more humiliating than painful. I knew it was my punishment for speaking without leave, the pain had been so intense on my nipple I had not felt as if I had a choice. His hand hovered lightly against my neck "I suppose we shall see how much pleasure you take in it dear Isme. Let us see how you like being Queen." Kavan moved off of the bed, some of the wetness from between my legs making an obscene dark spot on his breeches. I found myself unable to look away as this rogue King freed himself from the last of his clothes.

The first thing that I noticed was that Kavan had black curly hair where Gareth had had brown. I was relieved to see elsewise his manhood was similar to that of his manservant. Somewhere deep inside me I had suspected that he was hiding something worse, something monstrous, given the stories I had heard about him. Still, his manhood was large and pale, similar in proportions to Gareth's though perhaps longer. I felt sick in an unsteady wave as the sight reminded me of the hungry way Gareth had impaled me on his own manhood. My body had not fully recovered from his assault and I felt sure I would bleed again under this new attack. I was sure my womanhood would recognize no difference between the manhood of a marauding abductor and that of my lawful husband. Kavan had given me to Gareth to prepare me for this night, and relieve me of the troubles of maidenhood, and yet this night my teeth shivered together in fear.

Men are cruel. I told myself, trying to slow my breathing as Kavan approached me on the bed. But the way they treat their wives may yet be an exception. Even their second wives. Once he takes you and knows you are his he will treat you like a queen. Right now you are just a whore that he has seen used by his manservant. That must change.

Kavan jumped up onto the bed in one motion and kneeled in front of my prone form. My senses felt sharpened by my adrenaline, and I could not help but notice how his abdominal muscles smoothly gave way to the shape of his groin. I kept my gaze away from his cock, looking instead at the dark hair on his chest and the veins snaking up his arm. His dark brow was creased, almost hiding his eyes in the shadows the firelight threw on him. He was unhappy with me and would surely hit me again. He had thought me comely before, but he must be having second thoughts, after seeing how scrawny and low-class I was, how inexperienced, how disobedient. I lay perfectly still trying to show him I would be a good wife, maybe even better than the one he already had.

Kavan took his cock in his hand, stroking it once up and down as I had seen Gareth do before. He briskly parted my legs. I felt his saliva, now cooled, coating my sex. I could feel, even deep inside me, that I was wet for him. Part of me even wanted this man to invade my body, like it would put out some fire burning in my middle. I even enjoyed the feeling of his legs rubbing up against the sore bitemarks inside my legs. I was sure I deserved the pain.

The tip of his cock felt warm and smooth, pleasant at first, then painful, just as Gareth's had been, as he pushed against me. The lubrication helped him slip into me, just a little, and I mewled without any real volume. Spurred on by my noise Kavan took a handful of my hair in his fist. "Good," He said, sounding neutral, and terse. I half expected him to tell me to 'stay,' as you would to a half-broken horse.

My breathing hitched and twisted painfully as my husband continued to push another agonizing inch inside me. The stretching felt unbearable and there was too much friction between our bodies. As if to stem the sounds I made Kavan shoved two fingers into my mouth. I stopped hyperventilating, now only able to breath out of my nose. My tongue explored his fingers, having a mind of its own. I tasted salt, and leather.

The pain now felt different than with Gareth. With Gareth I had felt the ripping of my tissue as he breached my maidenhood. With Kavan it felt more like he was grating against me and pushing me farther and farther open. I felt terrified that I was not doing it right and feared he would give me to Gareth again, to take away all of my virginal ineptitudes. He had told me he disliked maidens and I was acting as if I was one. It was all I could do not to beg him to stop.

I groaned into his fingers as my King took me. I considered biting him to mirror the sharp pain he was causing inside of me, but I quickly forbade myself from thinking of it. I hoped, prayed that Kavan was almost all the way done sheathing himself in me. And even then he pushed deeper into me. I moaned, high pitched and injured. Above me, Kavan's brows were knitted, a touch of sweat gleaming on his temples. I was surprised to see he was staring at me, reading my face as he moved his pelvis backwards, then eased into me again. Each time he did this he would reenter me a bit deeper than before. I much preferred this method to the brute strength of before. I looked up at him with tears leaking out of my eyes, but I nodded slightly to show how I remained obedient. His responding grin was wolfish, predatory.

"My little Isme, breathe for me."