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.
