A servant girl from the manor came to get her, along with two armed guards. Emma rose from her chair and straightened her blue robe. She was ready to go, she had been waiting for them. They walked through the village. Even though it was already dark, some people were still out, working, and they stopped to watch Miller's Emma on her Virgin Walk.
Emma was to be married the next day, to a young man her parents had picked out for her. She didn't know him, but she knew that he was considered a kind, hardworking man, who went to church regularly, every Sunday. Emma wasn't worried about marrying a stranger and spending the rest of her life with him. The only thing she dreaded was tonight's event. Jus Prima Noctae.
It was, by tradition, the right of the lord of the county Cobbleworth, to deflower every bride before her wedding day. Emma dreaded what was coming, because the current lord Cobbleworth was a fat old man with rude manners and a way of looking at women as if he was trying to guess what she looked like naked. Rumours had it that he was a drinker, a gambler, and a roué.
Emma did NOT look forward to meeting him, but she had no choice. The village that she lived in was small and conservative, traditions were important, and if she tried to escape, she'd bring down shame upon her entire family – IF lord Cobbleworth didn't kill them, that was.
So she walked, with a heavy heart, with the servant girl and the guards, through the village, up to the Cobbleworth Castle, and into the Great Hall, where the lord was entertaining some prominent guests.
-The Virgin, mylord, said the servant girl.
Lord Cobbleworth looked at Emma, and smiled appreciatively at her slim waist, rounded hips, and small, perky breasts.
-Bring her to my chambers! he shouted. I shall be retiring in an hour!
The servant girl led Emma through winding corridors, and into a bedroom so big that the whole house where Emma and her family lived would have fitted inside it. When Emma was left alone, she walked around admiring the handpainted wallpapers on the walls. Her family's house was made out of logs, and the only adornments they had was the moss that filled the little cracks and twigholes, trying to keep the cold wind out. Lord Cobbleworth must be very rich to afford wallpapers! And paintings... and the rugs on the floor were wolf skins. They felt warm and fluffy under her feet, much unlike the thin, worn-out, home-woven rugs her mother had made.
She walked over to the giant four-poster bed, and looked at the embroidered curtains hanging around it. She stroke her hand over the dark red velvet throw that covered the bed. It was thick and soft. She sat down on it, and took a couple of deep breaths, tried to relax.
Just as she was calming down, the door opened and lord Cobbleworth entered the room, very drunk, and singing off key. Emma rose to her feet.
-There's my little Virgin! he shouted, too drunk to realize that he was talking very loud.
He walked closer, and Emma backed up against the bed.
-Don't be nervous, little puppet! the lord laughed. I know how to treat women!
He tripped and fell over her, and Emma found herself laying under lord Cobbleworth on his bed. He was heavy, and he reeked of wine and old sweat. Emma closed her eyes and tried to think of happy things. Her cat. Her little sister. Daisies. Lord Cobbleworth swore over his humiliating fall, then realized that he was laying in a very nice proposition, on top of a young girl with curly brown hair. He bent down and felt his way over her shoulders, down to her breasts, humming and harking with delight. He squeezed the little globes in his big hands, then ripped her dress from the neck to the waistline. Emma looked up at him with fear and despair.
Her best dress! The one on which mother had put down so much work, so that Emma would look nice for her defloweration!
Lord Cobbleworth grunted happily and grabbed her naked breasts, slobbed over them and nibbled on her nipples. Emma endured it without a word, though she felt nauseous. Lord Cobbleworth then fumbled with his trousers and got out a small, wrinkled, pink dick, and pulled its foreskin back. Emma could see white goo and hairs attached to the head. A smell of dirt came to her nostrils, an unpleasant smell of sweat, urine and dirty crotch. She felt like throwing up. The lord pulled her skirts up, and tore her knickers off. He put a fat hand on the most secret of places on Emma's body, and stuck a finger inside of her. Emma whined from the pain, but the lord just chuckled.
-There's a lot more, little Virgin! he said, and pinched her thigh hard.
Then he passed out and fell down on the bed next to Emma.
For a little while she wasn't sure if he had fainted or died or if he was just pretending to have fainted to play a trick on her.
-Sir? she whispered. Lord Cobbleworth, sir? Can you hear me?
A loud snore was the answer she got. Emma got up and wrapped a blanket around her upper body; the dress was too torn up to cover her front side. She made sure that she looked decent before she went out into the hallway. She walked through the corridors, and saw a servant boy coming at her.
-Excuse me..! she said.
-What can I do for you? asked the servant, a boy at the same age as Emma.
-Lord Cobbleworth has passed out, said Emma.
-Are you the Virgin? asked the servant boy.
-Yes, I am, said Emma. Please, help me! I don't know what to do!
-Come with me, said the servant, and led her back through the corridors to the lord's bedroom.
