A Victorian Wedding Night

It was my wedding day and I was very apprehensive, for I was marrying someone who was almost a stranger to me. I imagined there were many girls who were in similar circumstances as I; arranged marriages were not so unusual, although this one had come about in a rather unique manner. I was an orphan. My mother died giving birth to me, and my father, who was a vicar, never remarried. We lived together peaceably enough until he died when I was 14 years old. He had no relations, so I was sent to my mother’s family who had disowned her when she decided to marry a lowly curate. My uncle lived on the family estate, a castle in Cornwall. His wife had been married before and had a young son when she married my uncle. Then the two of them had a son together. It was this son who was to inherit the family estate, but there was a terrible accident. My uncle’s stepson shot his half-brother while they were pretending to duel with guns. My aunt, whose health had never been good, went into a decline and passed away shortly after losing her younger son. My uncle sent his stepson away to a cousin’s homestead in Australia. He couldn’t bear to look at him, although it wasn’t really his fault. This was the sad household that I came into shortly after my fourteenth birthday and the death of my own father.

My uncle was kindly toward me, and I tried to repay him by being obedient and helpful around the estate and with vicarage matters. This was not my natural manner, however. My father was never a strict disciplinarian, and I was accustomed to a lot of freedom for a girl in Victorian England. I studied with a curate when I was with my father, and later my uncle engaged a governess for me. I had an insatiable thirst for knowledge, and my uncle encouraged my learning as well. I would often discuss politics, literature, and philosophy with him in the evenings while we enjoyed a game of chess. We grew very fond of each other. So that’s why I was in this current situation, marrying a man I hardly knew.

When I was 18, my uncle sat me down one evening and told me that he wanted me to inherit the estate, but that I needed to be married. He was sending for his stepson from Australia and he wanted me to marry him. That way the estate could stay in the family. Every inch of me rebelled against having my fate settled in such a manner, but I dearly loved my uncle and felt I owed him this last wish. His health was poor, and I feared he didn’t have much longer to live.

I was upstairs when Tristan, my uncle’s stepson, arrived; he knew for what purpose he had been called home, so I nervously checked my appearance in the mirror before going downstairs to meet him. I was of average height and slender; the fashions of the day emphasized the bosom and derriere and set off my small waist. I had abundant dark wavy hair, which was always escaping from its pins, and big dark blue, almost violet eyes framed by long dark lashes. My eyes gave my face a vulnerable look, along with my rather full lips, but my nose was prominent and my uncle used to tease me that my nose proclaimed my forceful nature. I was wearing a dark blue dress that matched my eyes and deepened their color. My hands were shaking as I went downstairs to meet my husband-to-be.

I will never forget the first time I saw Tristan; he was standing with his back to the fireplace when I entered the drawing room. He surveyed me with impossibly dark eyes when I entered. He was tall and lean with broad shoulders and a muscular build. He had thick black hair that was longish for the day’s fashions, and his skin was bronzed by the Australian sun.

He stood looking at me and hardly acknowledged my presence; he didn’t come forward, didn’t smile, and I decided then that I hated him. My uncle rose when I came into the room and drew me toward Tristan, who still hadn’t moved.

“Anna, my dear, this is my son Tristan. He’s been looking forward to meeting you.”

It certainly didn’t appear as if he was looking forward to meeting me. He took my hand in his and kissed it. His fingers were long and strong and he kept possession of my hand even though I tried to disengage it.

“Hello Anna, it’s a pleasure to meet my wife.” His voice had a sardonic edge to it, and I could tell he was far from happy about the situation in which we found ourselves.

“It’s nice to meet you, Tristan. Will you miss Australia?”

I knew he wouldn’t; he had been most anxious to come back to England and take over the estate that he felt was rightly his after the death of his brother.

He answered. “Not at all. My place is here.”

“Your place is here as long as you marry me.”

His eyes bore into me with something like hatred. Oh no, he was not pleased with the turn of events and didn’t like being beholden to my uncle…or me. My uncle could tell that our first meeting was not going well.

“Tristan, Anna is a spirited girl and she’s smart as a whip; she’ll be a big help to you on the estate. You just have to learn to handle her.”

Handle me! I gave my uncle an exasperated look. I knew he wanted this to work out for my sake; he couldn’t very well leave the estate to me alone, but he wanted me to share in it, and marrying Tristan was the answer.

Tristan looked at me intently. “Yes, I believe I know how to handle Anna.”

I looked at him with scorn then. He was despicable. I didn’t see how this marriage was going to work out.

Over the next few weeks our relationship continued to deteriorate. I found him insufferably arrogant and bossy. I never liked being told what to do, and he did so in a manner that suggested a belief in his superiority. I had a grudging respect for how much he knew about the land; he had learned well in Australia. However, I would never admit that to him. He had an overpowering presence and I found myself thinking of him constantly; I guess that was natural as he would be my husband shortly. I shivered at the thought.

One day when we were out riding we met the young son of one of the tenants; he was crying over his dog, which had been caught in a trap. We jumped down from our horses, and Tristan removed the dog’s leg from the trap. He shrugged off his coat and took off his shirt, ripping it into pieces. He tied these pieces around the dog’s leg to stop the bleeding. While he worked, I stared at his bare chest. I had never seen a man like this before, and I watched his muscles move in his arms and chest as he worked. I felt strange sensations then, sort of a burning excitement. I didn’t understand my feelings. He looked up at me suddenly and caught me watching him. His lips turned up in a half-smile as if he knew what I was thinking. I blushed and looked away.

Now here it was, the day of our wedding. My wedding dress was an elaborate confection of flounces of silk, lace, and tiny pearls woven into the fabric. The ceremony went smoothly, and my husband belied none of his feelings. After our wedding and reception, we retired to the bridal suite. I was nervous and uncertain. We were in the room together with the door closed, and he turned to me suddenly.

“Now that you are my wife, I’m going to punish you for all of your impertinent behavior these past few months.”

Punish me! What was he talking about? This is not what I expected from my wedding night at all. I backed away from him, but he was beside me quickly grabbing my arm. He sat down on the edge of the big four-poster bed and pulled me with him. Before I realized what he was doing, he had me over his lap and was pulling up the layers of my wedding dress. I felt the cold air against my legs, and with horror realized that he had stripped away the rest of my undergarments. I could only imagine the picture I presented – my wedding finery gathered up almost covering my head and my bare bottom over his lap. I squirmed and hit his legs with my fists, but it was to no avail. He was strong and he had a purpose.

I gave a start as I felt his large hand caress my bottom, and then without warning his hand slapped hard on my bare skin. I cried out in protest, but he continued his assault on my bare bottom, spanking one cheek and then the other. The sound rang out so loudly, I was afraid the servants would hear. My bottom was stinging, and I felt tears spring to my eyes. How dare he do this me?

He stood up abruptly and I fell to the floor, my wedding dress in a heap of flounces and lace around me. “If you had been a good girl, we could be enjoying other pleasures this night. But as it is, I’ll wait until you come to me, and you will come to me.”

I screamed at him. “Never! I will never come to you. Don’t ever lay a hand on me again.” He laughed at me and strode out of room into the adjoining bedroom. I got up, ran to the door, and locked it.

What did it mean? Why had he done that to me? I had sensed a seething anger in him the past few months as we had tried to get to know each other. I knew that I challenged him on every point, took pleasure in goading him. I couldn’t help myself; his arrogant manner made me bristle. And now this. He actually spanked me. That was the first time a man had ever seen that part of my body bare, and he hadn’t even seemed interested except to sting me with his palm. As I lay in bed that night I felt strange sensations. I had to admit it to myself; I had been looking forward to seeing his naked body. I had imagined what it would like ever since I saw him naked from the waist up. When he had me over his lap, I felt something hard against my belly. I knew what it was but was disappointed that he hadn’t wanted to make me his wife. I was too ashamed to tell my uncle anything, and I knew Tristan wouldn’t mention the fact that we had not consummated our marriage.

The next few weeks were confusing and shameful for me. Tristan seemed to be secretly pleased about something, and I could barely meet his eyes on those occasions. I whipped up my fury against him though and continued to flout him whenever possible. On those days when I had been particularly horrid to him, he took his revenge in the bedroom. I couldn’t very well object in front of my uncle or the servants when Tristan solicitously saw me up to our bedchamber in the evening. Once he got me there, there was a repeat of our wedding night. He would take me across his lap, push up my skirts, and spank my bare bottom. Then he would leave me feeling confused and frustrated.

One day when I succeeded in making him look foolish in front of one of the tenants, he took particular pleasure in humiliating me. When we got to the room that night and he closed the door behind us, I waited for him to roughly pull me over his knee as he had been doing. This night he simply stared at me with those unfathomable dark eyes.

“Anna, you seem to great joy in making me appear at a disadvantage, don’t you? My stepfather called you high-spirited, and you are that. It actually stimulates me, but you still have to pay for your indiscretions. Take off all your clothes.”

I stared at him, my heart racing. Although we had been married for over a month now, he had yet to see me entirely naked. Once he saw me, would he then want to take me as his wife? I hesitated slightly, and he said in a very low, very firm voice, “Take off all your clothes – now.”

I nervously took off my shoes and stockings first, unbuttoned my bodice with shaking fingers, and pulled my skirt off. I stood before him in my corset, camisole, and petticoats.

“The rest or I’ll have to help you.”

I hastily finished undressing and modestly tried to cover my breasts and the private place between my legs with my hands. He stepped forward and pulled my hands away from my body, looking at me from head to toe. I blushed and secretly hoped that he liked what he saw. He then led me over to the bed and told me to hold onto the bedpost with both hands.

“Bend over.”

I was fearful now. What was he going to do to me? He walked over and pushed my head down further between my arms as I grasped the bedpost. My breasts were hanging down between my arms in a most undignified way. My nipples were hard and sticking out, larger than I had ever seen them before. Tristan still wasn’t satisfied having me in this ignominious position.

“Spread your legs.”

Oh God! I couldn’t do that. Impatiently, he shoved his boot tip between my ankles and pushed my feet apart. I could feel a flush spread over my whole body as he stood back and looked at me. Then I heard him walk away toward my dressing table. When he came back, he had my hairbrush in his hands. He gently ran the brush bristles down my back from my neck all the way to my protruding buttocks. He playfully ran the brush up the crack that separated my bottom globes, and I shivered. Then suddenly without warning, he smacked the back of the brush on my bottom. I gasped and pulled myself up while clenching my bottom together.

“Resume your previous position.” His voice was cold and commanding, so I did as he told me. He whacked me again with the brush and this time didn’t give me any time to recover. Again and again he brought the back of the brush against my derriere, alternating between cheeks and sometimes landing a blow on the middle of my bottom. My cheeks were spread out so wide, that these blows struck between my globes against the tight hole of my bottom. I don’t know which was worse, the stinging on my bottom or the complete humiliation I felt at being in this position. My bottom began to writhe back and forth, almost in an obscene dance. It was partly a conscious effort to escape the stinging slaps to my bottom and partly an unconscious desire to rock my hips back and forth to quell the sensation that I felt between my legs.

When he was finished, he made me remain holding onto the bedpost, and he came around and smoothed my hair back from my tear-stained face. “I am your lord and master, and if you won’t submit when we’re out on the estate together, then by God, I’ll make you submit to me in the bedroom.”

He walked around behind me again and put his hand between my legs. He caressed my thighs and then took one long finger and moved it slowly and deliberately in a circular motion around the inner lips of my labia. He then plunged his finger into my vagina, as I let out a gasp. He drew out the wetness that was there and smeared it up around my inner lips and then tweaked my tiny bud. My knees went weak and my body sagged. He laughed then and slapped my aching bottom with his bare hand. “You’re almost ready for me, little one.” Then he left me and went into the adjoining room.

I collapsed on the bed on my stomach, spreading my legs. I hungrily put my fingers where his had just been and I massaged my cunny and tapped at my bud that had grown swollen and hard. I felt an immense release of tension as warmth spread from between my legs all the way down to my toes and up to my breasts. I cried out as my hips ground into the bed and my vagina grasped at the emptiness. This was the culmination of what I had been feeling for weeks with Tristan. – my lord and master. As I was lying there panting, I heard the door to Tristan’s room close softly. Had he been watching me?

The following day while Tristan and I rode out with the manager of our estate, I challenged him as never before. If he said the sky was blue, I countered that it was in fact gray today. He knew what I was doing, and he cocked his eyebrow at me in some amusement. After dinner I even beat him at chess. He made excuses to my uncle that we had both had a long day and needed to retire early.

When we got to our bedchamber, he had me disrobe as before. He also stripped to his breeches, and I was filled with a great longing as I stared at his body. He sat down on the edge of the bed and called me to him, making me crawl on my hands and knees, breasts swinging in front of me. He pulled me up over his lap and made me spread my legs. As before, I felt his hardness against my belly, and I pushed into it this time wanting to feel him against me. He laughed at my attempts. “You’ll have that soon enough.” He smacked my bare bottom again, but I fancied that he was not as harsh tonight. I was still sore from my encounter with the hairbrush last night. He then pushed me to the floor so that I was seated between his legs. He started to unfasten his breeches and I looked up at him with great excitement and anticipation. He pulled out his manhood and I stared at it in amazement; it looked very large to me, although I had never seen one before except on statues and in paintings. He pushed the head of it up against my lips. It was wet on the end and I darted my tongue out of my mouth to touch the tip. He laughed and told me I was a good girl. He then commanded me to open my mouth and take his member. I was astounded. I never knew people did this, but I gratefully opened my mouth and took as much of him in my mouth as I could. He instructed me how to suck his “cock” as he called it and I followed his every direction. He reached down and twisted and pinched my nipples while I sucked him. He was pounding against the back of my throat. I reached up and gently fondled his sack. Again, it seemed huge to me, but I had nothing to compare it with.

He withdrew from my mouth, lay back on the bed and pulled me on top of him. He pulled his breeches all the way off, and I felt his hard cock poking against my stomach. He rolled me over on my back and said, “Now my little spitfire, I’m going to give you what you want, not what you deserve because we both know what that is, but what you want and have wanted from the moment I laid my hand on your bare bottom.”

He spread my legs as his cock probed my opening. I could sense a great smoldering passion within him, but he was restraining himself. Tentatively he entered me and broke through my virgin wall. I gasped at the pain. He stayed still and allowed me to move myself forward onto his shaft. Once he was completely inside me, he began sliding his cock in and out, slowly at first and then with greater vigor and speed. He was relentlessly plunging forward into me, and my juices coated his cock as it slid easily in and out of my vagina.

I felt the now familiar heat building in my cunny and spreading throughout my whole body. But instead of clutching at emptiness, my vagina was now wrapped around Tristan’s huge cock, and I felt as if I was pulling him inside of me. My legs came up around his lower back and I thrust myself forward as I was overtaken by the waves of my climax. I then felt his body stiffen and he pounded and ground himself into me, and I felt his hot seed shooting into my womb. We rocked together for a while riding out each other’s orgasms.

He rolled off of my body and I lay there in exhaustion. Then he said, “You’re not done yet, little one.” He pushed my head down between his legs again. “Clean me off with your tongue.” I crouched by the side of his body and took his cock in my hand; then I started licking it all over. He told me to start with his balls, and after I licked them I took each one gently in my mouth and sucked it. I then worked my way up his shaft, tasting my own juices as I did so. I finally put the head in my mouth and swirled my tongue around it. He was starting to get hard again, and I looked up at him. He was smiling at me.

“My step-father was right. Everything task you undertake, you undertake to do well. We’ll survey the estate again tomorrow, but you’re to keep your mouth shut especially in front of the tenants. If I want your opinion on something, I’ll ask you for it. Is that understood?”

“Yes.”

“Yes what?”

“Yes Sir.”

She was obedient now with his manhood in her possession, but she knew and he knew it too, that this obedience would disappear once she was on the back of a horse and riding about their estate. Tristan didn’t mind; in fact, he was looking forward to her insubordination. For every sarcastic remark, for every time she corrected him in front of someone, for every time she contradicted him, she would be repaid in the bedroom. Anna didn’t mind either.