Instructing The Bride

"...speak now, or forever hold your peace." Elizabeth Greaves felt her heart jump as the words were spoken. For a moment she had a wild fantasy of someone, anyone, leaping to their feet and shouting a protest. The thought gripped her imagination to the point where she failed to notice the ceremony had moved smoothly forward, and that a great silence had filled the church as all gathered waited for her to speak. She came to herself in a start and shoved down her last thoughts of escape. "I do," she said.

"You may kiss the bride," came the words, like a sentence from a judge, and the face of her new husband loomed toward her. Their lips chastely touched, and she felt a surge of despair. She was now Lady Elizabeth Stanwood. She was 18 years of age. And she was joined 'til death with the most notorious scoundrel in Britain.

The reasons behind the match were simple and sensible. The Greaves were an old family, their name impeccable, untarnished. Her father, sadly, had one vice – gambling. That had proved one too many, both introducing him to the society and placing him in the power of Lord Julius Stanwood. Gambling was by far the least of Lord Stanwood's own vices, but while he had reduced his family's name to a low state the same could not be said about his finances. He had more than enough money to forgive her father's gambling debts and pay off her family's other debts beside, saving them from bankruptcy. Her father, in turn, had the power to provide Lord Stanwood with the respectable wife and legitimate heirs his reputation had thus far denied him.

Yes, everyone involved was happy to see this match,

she thought, and struggled to control herself. It would not be done to be seen to weep at her own wedding.

She had been told men considered her a prize to be caught, and not just for her family name. She had bright blue eyes set in an angelic face, and blonde hair that had been piled in ringlets atop her head for the occasion. She was vaguely aware that men found the curves of her body, newly blossomed into womanhood, desirable as well. She had never expected to become a literal prize to be gambled and lost. Every fiber of her being rebelled against it. But with her family standing on the brink of ruin, what could she do?

So I find myself here.

She realized with a start that the service had concluded during her musings, and her new husband had turned toward her. He was, she had to admit, a handsome man, for all that he was fifteen years her senior. Dark eyes stared into hers, in a fine, strong face framed by dark hair and a small, trimmed beard. In the times they had met during their month-long engagement, he had exerted himself to show off his charm and wit, both of which he proved to have in abundance, and he had avoided any hint of impropriety. But she had heard tales of his carnality, of the string of debauched and ruined maidens he had left in his wake, and she steadfastly resisted his charms. She might have no choice but to marry him, to surrender her body to his lusts, but her mind and her soul were still hers alone. She would not surrender them for a pleasing face or a charming tongue. She would not be taken in.

As they walked down the aisle, she glanced at him again, his handsome profile, his strong body, the slight smile on his lips. She would not be taken in.

***

The carriage ride through the streets of London was silent. The haste of the wedding and the reputation of the groom had insured it was a small, short affair, marked by false merriment from her family and inappropriate merriment from his guests. Elizabeth had quickly exhausted her supply of talk, and her groom seemed to sense it. She was left staring out at the passing streets, alone in her thoughts.

She could only imagine what she could be facing come the night. She had often read of poor girls forced into lives of depraved white slavery in the city's dens of sin, or of Englishwomen abroad who found themselves captured and ravished by barbaric natives. She had sometimes tried to imagine the fates of these unfortunates, naked and helpless before the bestial lusts of male brutes, and the effort would drive her into a storm of emotion that would leave her feeling dizzy and faint. Now she, herself, was drawing ever nearer to a den of sin, fully in the power of a man said to be, for all his high birth, as lascivious as any gutter blackguard or heathen savage. She felt a strange shudder pass through her body at the thought.

She came out her reverie as the carriage suddenly halted at the door of a Kensington townhouse. A footman let her out of the carriage, and she stepped toward the open door of her new home. Lord Stanwood was waiting for her by the threshold, his arms outspread. "My dear, welcome to your home," he said. She allowed him to gather her up in his arms, and she found herself surprised at his strength as he swept her over the threshold. The footman silently began to unload her luggage from the carriage.

The foyer was well-appointed, as could be expected from a man of her new husband's wealth. A landscape of the Stanwood family's country estate hung on the light yellow wall. A bronze of a faun served as a finial to the railing of the stairs to the second floor. Two pretty maids stood at the foot of the stairs, and Lord Stanwood stood her on her feet before them. Elizabeth could see they were Indian, probably not 20 years of age, and quite similar in appearance, with bobbed dark hair and large dark eyes.

"This is Nisha, and this is Usha," Lord Stanwood said. "I acquired them during my last trip to India." He smiled at the girls. "They were concubines of a rajah who had recently learned some English card games and was eager to show off his skills. He proved to be less skillful than he thought."

"Oh," she said, at a loss for other words. "That was...kind of you, to rescue them from such a plight."

He chuckled. "Yes, they were in quite a plight. The raja was an old man, and no longer able to pay them sufficient attention. If they have any complaints about their current situation, lack of attention is not one of them, I think," he said, giving the two maids a nod and letting out another chuckle. "But you don't want to hear my tales tonight. Follow them to the bathroom, so you can prepare for our wedding night."

She had begun to puzzle over the meaning of his remarks about the maids when the two of them took her by either hand and began to lead her up the stairs. "But my luggage! My nightgowns!" Elizabeth protested.

"Don't worry, my dear," Julius said, leaning in to kiss her cheek. "Jenkins is seeing to it. However, I took the liberty of purchasing you a new nightgown. You'll find it upstairs. It would be greatly honored if you would accept it as a gift from your loving husband."

With no way to protest such a request, Elizabeth left her husband in the foyer as the two silent, smiling maids led her up the grand staircase of the house. She tried a few pleasantries, but if they knew English, they gave no sign.

The traversed a hallway carpeted lined with red velvet wallpaper to a door to one side on the far end. They opened the door and wordlessly waved her inside. She passed inside, and found herself in a small, gaslit dressing room. The maids followed her, helped her from her wedding dress, and loosened the stays of her corset before wordlessly excusing themselves.

She closed the door with a sigh, relived to be alone for the first time since she had stepped into the church in the morning. She saw nothing in the way of clothing, except for a wisp of cloth hanging by what she presumed was the door to the bedroom. She looked about for the promised nightgown for a short time before coming to the shocked realization that this was it. It was hardly clothing at all; it was merely a robe that barely reached to the knees, made of fabric so thin and gauzy that she suspected wearing it would leave her little more modest than if the was nude. This is what he intended for her?

She stared the robe for a long moment before taking it from its hook began to remove her clothes. When she had finished and donned the robe, she surveyed herself in the mirror. It was just as she feared. She had tied it about her as tightly as possible, but the thin material thwarted her attempt at modesty. Her curves were clearly visible through the gauzy lace, as were her nipples and even the tangle of blonde hair between her legs. Even this minimal modesty was maintained only by a thin strip of silk she suspected would come loose at the slightest exertion.

As she stared she steeled herself. He clearly meant to degrade her by forcing her to parade before him in this obscene outfit, but she would not let him. He might force her modesty from her, but he could not claim her dignity. She straightened herself, opened the bedroom door, and stepped through into the unknown.

She was plunged from bright gaslight into a dimly candlelit gloom. She inhaled a lungful of some musky incense and let out a small cough. Her eyes could pick out braziers and burners set about the dark-paneled room, setting up a cloud that gave it the appearance attributed to opium dens. Stuffed chairs and tables laden with antiquities – sculptures, friezes, prints, and things she could not immediately discern - were scattered about on Oriental carpets. A massive, four-poster bed sat in the middle of the room, made of the same dark wood as the paneling and covered in red silk sheets. Next to it stood a woman.

She was tall, statuesque, her raven hair curled about her heart-shaped face. There was a smile on her ruby lips and in her green eyes, and she dressed much the same as Elizabeth was, save that the robe was even shorter on her taller frame and she had tied it in such a way as to send the neckline plunging to her waist, exposing an indecent amount of her generous bosom. Elizabeth recognized her almost at once. It was Lilly Marlowe, an actress almost as infamous as Lord Stanwood, for much the same reasons. Gossip had long put them in each other's company, but for her to appear here, now!

The brazen strumpet smiled at her, almost kindly. "It is a pleasure to meet you, Lady Stanwood. I am Lilly Marlowe."

Elizabeth backed toward the bathroom door as she slowly found her tongue. "What...no...why....no!" she stammered. "No! I will not tolerate this, I will not tolerate this, this..."

"We had thought you might object," Lily said. "Nisha! Usha!"

Elizabeth jumped as the door sprang open behind her and the two maids emerged at her sides. She recognized they must have crept into the changing room after she left as they seized her by the arms and propelled her toward the bed. Having not been subject to such manhandling since her tenderest years, she found herself taken by surprise and barely able to offer a squeak of protest as they threw her to the mattress, causing her robe to fly open in the process. Lily, who had moved to one side of the bed, seized her left wrist and wrapped around it a length of red silk that had been fastened to the bedpost. She tied it off into a quick but firm knot as one of the maids repeated the procedure with the right. Lily and the other maid had seized her kicking legs and begun the process of binding her ankles as well before the astonished Elizabeth could find her voice again. "What are you doing?" she shrieked.

"They are preparing you for your education," Lord Stanwood said from the open bedroom door.

Elizabeth stared as her husband entered, clad in a red velvet robe and from all appearances nothing else. He sat without preamble in an oversized armchair at the foot to the bed. The two maids took up positions on either side of him and, to his bride's shock, began matter-of-factly removing their uniforms. It was quickly obvious they wore no undergarments either.

She tried to look away, but everywhere she turned, she was confronted with more horror. What she had supposed at first glance to be simple antiquities proved to be artifacts of the most obscene sort. In an Indian frieze, a woman lewdly coupled with a man, as two other women stroked the pair from the sides. In a Roman mosaic, two women embraced, their clothes falling from their bodies. In a Japanese woodcut, a man, his huge phallus obscenely exposed, mounted a woman from behind. The size of the phallus was matched by the size of the one springing from the loins of a leering wooden idol sitting on another table.

What surfaces not adorned with lewd art were strewn with items either fearful or puzzling. A whip and lengths of chain hung from one wall, eliciting a dreadful shudder from her. A table was strewn with phallic shapes in wood and ivory and strange assemblages of rings and straps and cords and beads. Her mind could not divine what purposes they could be turned to, but she had no doubts they would be deeply obscene and a growing fear she would become intimately acquainted with their use.

Her mind spun. She was trapped, helpless, in a den of sin worse than her most fevered imaginings. Her heart began to pound, and a queer shudder ran through her frame, fear mixed with some strange sensation she had no words for.

Her husband leaned back in his chair, savoring her expressions as she took the room in. When she turned back to him, her eyes wide, he spoke. "As I prepared for our marriage, it occurred to me that while you are a bright and knowledgeable young lady, it was likely you education would have been rather deficient on some matters," he said. "I consulted with Miss Marlowe, and she agreed to help me correct those deficiencies."

"Indeed," Lily said, with a small laugh. "Julius is a dear fellow, and I truly wish him all the happiness in the world. And I am sure nothing would make him happier than a bride with some knowledge of the ways of that world."

She strolled back to the bed, her hips rolling, and sat beside Elizabeth. "And this is for your happiness as well, my dear." She reached out to stroke Elizabeth's hair, but she jerked back. Lily simply reached farther and ran the back of her hand down the bound bride's cheek and neck. "Take it from someone who knows. The ways of the world can be quite pleasant. More than pleasant."

"No!" Elizabeth snarled, with more force than she had thought herself capable. "I am not some common strumpet. I will not take part in your perverse games."

Lord Stanwood smiled. "Good, good," he said. "The perfect young maiden has fire in her, after all. There is some hope."

"No. Never," she spat out. "You may do with me what you will, but you will never take my honor."

"Absolutely right, in one respect," he replied. "You are my wife, and I will do with you what I will. And what I will is that you attend to your lessons. I suspect by the end you will find yourself much less concerned with your honor."

With that, he threw open his robe, and Elizabeth was confronted for the first time in her life with a man in all his nakedness. She could not suppress a gasp. She was not entirely untutored in the arts, and had in a few cases found herself confronted with nudes, but this!

"Yes, artists so seldom do the cock any justice," Lily said, and her shock at the woman reading her thoughts competed with her shock at the vulgarity. "Don't look so offended," she continued. "You should learn to call it by its right name. After all, you will be begging for it by the time this night is through."

At the foot of the bed, the two maids had finished undressing, and stood shamelessly naked. "Now, Nisha and Usha will demonstrate the uses of the mouth. Please attend, or there will be punishment," Lily said. Elizabeth's eyes followed the actress' quick glimpse at the whip-lined wall and fearfully jerked back to center.

"Now, observe as Nisha strokes the shaft with her hand, while Usha gently runs her tongue up the side," Lily said. "This brings his tool to its fullness. Yes, it was not before, but now you can see it is. And now Nisha takes it fully into her mouth, while Usha attends to the ballocks. Of course, you, of necessity, must limit yourself to one or the other at any one time..."

Elizabeth watched, mesmerized, as Nisha's lips slid up and down her husband's cock. She knew she should be repulsed and horrified, as indeed she was, but the sight of his long, hard shaft sliding into the maid's all-to-willing mouth as the other girl licked and stroked the sacks below was causing another feeling to grow, an odd nervous restlessness. Her breath began to come faster, and a flush grew on her skin. She struggled to collect her thoughts. "No...no...this is..." she gasped.

"Shh," Lilly answered. "Calm yourself. Watch. Feel."

She stared, mesmerized, as her husband's member slid in and out of the pretty maid's mouth. It was an unnatural, immoral, and profoundly disturbing spectacle, but Elizabeth found herself unable to look away. She found the strange, restless sensations in her body were growing, and that an even stranger sensation had begun between her spread legs. The room was warm, very warm, but she felt a slight shiver, and realized her nipples were rising. She greatly feared she was losing control of herself.

Desperate to break the spell, she tore her eyes away and turned her head to the side, only to be confronted by another astounding sight. Miss Marlowe had opened her robe and was standing with her legs slightly spread and one hand stroking her nether cleft. Elizabeth could see dampness there, but the faint musky smell she could detect over the smoke was nothing like what she would have expected coming from that orifice. As she stared in confusion, Miss Marlowe, who seemed as fascinated as her by the spectacle at the foot of the bed, glanced down and smiled. "Don't tell me you have never toyed with your cunny before," she said. "No, of course you haven't. You are a proper young lady, not some wicked whore." She reached up to pinch her own nipple between her thumb and forefinger, and Elizabeth noticed the actress' nipples were as erect as her own. "Let me show you how a wicked whore gives herself pleasure."

Elizabeth could only stare as Lilly ran her finger up and down her nether lips, finally coming to rest on the top. "Now this nub is called the clitoris. It is Latin, or Greek, I don't recall. It doesn't really matter." She pressed down upon it. "What matters is that you...ah!...know is that it is the key to your pleasure."

Elizabeth continued to gape as Lilly manipulated herself. She could see clearly now the moisture glistening around her cleft. She knew she should feel only revulsion at this sight, but somehow she did not. Slowly, delicately, the actress extended a finger and pushed it into her slit. A moan tore Elizabeth's gaze upward, into Lilly's enraptured face. She looked down and smiled.

"This is all well and good, but I fear I am distracting you from your lessons," Lilly said, breaking the trance Elizabeth had almost slipped into. Elizabeth looked back, to see Nisha and Usha had changed positions, each now running her lips up and down one side of the shaft, almost but not quite meeting at the tip. Lord Stanwood appeared to be paying them not the slightest attention, instead choosing to stare at his bound bride, his dark eyes shining with lust. Elizabeth fearfully looked away again. "Now, while it would be illuminating to take this act to its conclusion, there are other lessons you must learn tonight," Lilly continued. She walked to the foot of the bed as the two maids rose to their feet, Nisha taking her place to one side of Elizabeth and Usha the other. "You require instruction on the making of the beast with two backs. Knocking. Rogering. In a word, fucking."

Elizabeth managed to turn a deeper shade of red as Lilly smiled. "It's a simply thing, really." She backed toward Lord Stanwood, standing between his spread legs, and began to squat backwards. "It's as simple as taking his tool...so...and placing it in your notch....so," she said, as Elizabeth gasped as she watched her shamelessly take Lord Stanwood's organ into her, hooking her shapely white legs over his without taking her eyes from Elizabeth's.