Joys of a Futanari Wife

I

Welcome to my new futanari story! This story is set in the same world as Sorcerer's Treasure, Blessings of a Healer, and Hot Days and Hotter Nights, but like all these other futanari stories, this one can be read on its own. This story is M/f(uta) but will eventually involve multiple partners.

o0o

Caten glanced up at the Biyesian man who had come calling. He was a fine sight on his horse, head bare on this cool, sunny day. His cloak and trimmings spoke of his privileged status, but then, in this province, it was generally the Biyesians who held higher status.

Losing a war tended to do that to the conquered people. Centuries ago, her ancestors had won this land from Biyes, wresting the fertile peninsula out of their control. A generation ago, the mighty Empire of Corona had gone into another land-grabbing war -- only this time, it had lost. Not taking into account that his empire was fraying at the edges, the Coronan monarch diverted a large amount of manpower to the East to fight an incursion from another neighboring country, this conflict spilling over into Biyes.

Biyes had almost immediately seized and took control of the peninsula, re-establishing it as part of the Kingdom of Biyes. Many Coronans had fled, but others had remained in exchange for protection. Those who bent the knee and agreed to follow Biyesian laws were even allowed to keep much of their property, but they were still subordinate to their new overlords.

Caten's grandfather and his brothers and sons submitted to the new order, and remained modestly prosperous. They kept their lands, farmed and herded as they had always, and paid the surprisingly reasonable taxes the Biyesians levied on farmers. They had raised their children in peace, enjoyed the fruit of their bounty, and sold off their excesses.

House Orsmyt had humble beginnings, just as many who had come to this peninsula to settle after the Coronan invasion. He'd taken up his share on a fertile tract of land, been wise enough to arrange good marriages for his children, and formed partnerships with neighboring farms for increased mutual benefit. The descendants of this house would never be called high-born, but they enjoyed a stability many could envy.

Joen Orsmyt presided over a considerable household. If a child showed a skill, he would seek out an apprenticeship for said child, for a blacksmith, physician, or leather- or metal-worker was of just as much benefit to the family enterprises as a farmer.

Yet for all this hard work, planning, and frugality, the whims of a Biyesian could if not forfeit the entire fortune, then significantly alter it for the worse. She was glad for the woven sun-hat she wore, for it kept her gaze hidden under its wide brim as she studied Ivesh Waynways on his horse. It was her third time seeing him, but she liked him no more now than she did before.

As he led the horse along the path, he looked down at her touching two fingers to his brow. She turned away from him and went back to gathering the fat strawberries that hung from the bushes, the air filled with the chattering of her young cousins as they plucked, and occasionally ate, the berries.

o0o

Ivesh Waynways sat across the small table from Joen Orsmyt. For over three decades, the Orsmyt family had lived in peace under their new rulers, and the tribute they received every year was a welcome addition to the Waynways larders.

"I would think that you would find advantage in forming a closer tie with House Waynways." Ivesh said calmly. "You have nothing to lose, and plenty to gain from this."

"I will thank you to not presume that you have the ability to read my mind," Joen said, narrowing his eyes. "Not do I take kindly to people who think they have the right to meddle in my affairs."

"As your superior, I do have that right," Ivesh said, the corners of his lips tugging upward in the briefest of smirks. "My uncle is your liege lord, although I honestly would prefer to not have to involve him in this, and I presume you feel the same." Before Joen could reply, Ivesh continued talking. "Yes, I am not a mind-reader, but I am confident that we can agree on this one matter?"

Joen's silence was the only affirmation his pride would allow him to give. The old man let out a slow exhale.

"I do not wish to be your enemy. I did not come here to aggravate you."

"I am aggravated, nonetheless."

"Am I really seen as such an unfit prospect for marriage? Granted, I am but a third son of a second son, but I do own a business that does well-"

Joen let out a small snort. "I have my reasons."

"Does Caten share these reasons?"

"Who really knows what women think?" Joen asked, parrying the question.

"I would like to speak to Caten myself. After all, she is the one I intend to take as wife."

The two men stared at one another before Joen regarded him with a grim nod.

"Allow me to speak to Caten first," he conceded.

"Are you going to tell her to be nice to me?" Ivesh asked glibly. The old man scowled, his eyes narrowing.

o0o

"You know what many other men would have done in such a situation. Those in his position. And those in mine."

Caten nodded slowly, fiddling with the hem of her sleeve.

"I did not raise you to be a fool. For whatever reason, the gods formed you as you are, but your mind has steadily proven sound. Some people would see proper pride as refusing to bend the knee to the Biyesians. I am a practical man, though. We are not a prideful family, are we?"

"No, Grandfather." She raised her hand for a moment, requesting his silence as a thread of logic unwound itself. "If he is a man of esteem as he says..." She took a deep breath. "I am not prideful. But I am intelligent. A private meeting with him, so that we may converse as one person to another... I might be able to reason with him." She smiled faintly.

"Very well." He cast a shrewd glance at her before she walked across the room and opened the door. Ivesh was leaning against the opposite wall, apparently examining his nails.

"I would speak with you," she said as he lifted his head, their eyes meeting.

"I am listening," Ivesh commented once he entered the room, his eyebrow quirking slightly when he saw the older man retreat from the room, closing the door behind him. Once the portal slid shut, he glanced back at her. "Alone with you? Is this a good or poor portent?"

She swallowed thickly, looking back down at the floor before her eyes slid back to is chest. "I will consent to marry you-" she whispered, seeing the fingers of his loosely-folded hands twitch slightly. "But... not just yet." Her eyes moved up to his, their gazes locking. "There is something I must tell you first. You will not judge or harm me for it, but it may cause you to decide you do not wish to marry me."

He crossed his arms, his gaze open and curious as he pondered what she might say. "As I have said... I am listening."

"I must have your word, my lord. What I am about to tell you would not be regarded kindly by many. Regardless of your decision, you must promise to never tell anyone else."

His hand reached up to touch her chin, his thumb running along her skin. She shivered slightly. "You have my word."

"I look like a woman, but I have male parts." She expected him to flinch back. His caress did indeed still.

"Look like a woman?" He narrowed his eyes as he examined her features. "I was under the impression that you were one."

"I... chose the wrong word. I do have female parts. But also male ones." To her surprise, his thumb resumed its loving caress.

"Am I to understand that you are a futanari?"

"I'm sorry?" Her eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

"In your language, I think it would be a hermaphrodite? You have been formed with both sets of sexual organs?"

She blinked before nodding. It was a word very little used if at all in their society, and she was certain she would have never heard of it if she had not been one herself.

His lips stretched into a wide grin before he shook his head good-naturedly. "Out of all the woman in this land, I had to choose a futanari! Kada really does smile upon me!"

"... Kada?" Wait. Was he actually happy about this? The name Kada was vaguely familiar to her, she was certain she'd heard it in someone's comment about Biyesian culture.

"Kada is one of our gods. The Biyesian gods, I mean. She gives blessings. Futanari are among her blessings. To have the ability to experience more forms of pleasure than a simple man or woman... it is admired and envied. Is it not so here?" He frowned at her thoughtfully. "The society of this land really does seem very... repressed."

"Yes..." Her condition, a blessing? Wait, if he seemed so happy, then he would still want to marry her. And she had given her consent. She took a step back.

"There will be no more of that." He took a step towards her. "You are marrying a man of Biyes. You will lean our ways... including that of pleasure."

She bowed her head as he lifted his arms, his hands reaching out to rest on her shoulders. "Yes, my lord."

"Don't look so disconsolate, my dear. My ardor for you has only increased." He slid down to his knees in front of her, gently hugging her around her hips. She blushed fiercely at this close contact, and instinctively, she tried to squirm free.

"Be still. I want to have a look at you."

It took a moment for his words to register before she shook her head. "This is not proper!"

"It is, in the Biyesian way. A prospective bride and groom can inspect one another before a wedding."

"Surely you jest," Caten gasped, outraged at such a notion. And wouldn't such a thing lead them on to further impropriety? As if reading her mind, he chuckled.

"Not at all. Of course, if you would inspect me, by all means do. You will be familiar with it soon enough."

"Can it not wait? You have already secured my hand, and my grandfather is waiting for us."

He stared at her for a moment before rising to his feet. "I certainly would not want to make too much haste of what would be a pleasurable experience." His stare was dark with passion. "We can inform Lord Orsmyt of your betrothal. He is sure to have a feast in honor of that. After that feast, though... you and I shall get to know one another better."

o0o

Caten slept in fits and starts that night, and the next morning, her aunt hovered around her, fussing over her hair and choice of clothing. The Waynways family had sent over a couple of chefs and servants, to augment the local recipes with Biyesian fare. Spicy odors wafted through the courtyard from roasting meats. Finally, she'd been dressed in a gown of fine linen, with gold and copper threading on ocher and rust-colored fabric. Under this was a plain dark orange under-dress, the combination of colors enhancing the warm hues in her brown hair.

She'd been lent a gold-accented copper necklace with several drops of amber dangling from the chain. When Ivesh gazed upon her, she felt warmth creep up into her cheeks.

Through the meal, she caught her husband-to-be regarding her with several smoldering glances. He even went so far as to lick his lips a couple of times. Certainly people here did flirt, but to do so in such an obvious way was generally frowned upon. Ivesh had not been wrong in his observance of how repressed her people were in comparison to the Biyesians where social and sexual mores were concerned.

"Bloody hell, he is a lech, isn't he?" Joen asked in an aside when he passed Caten's seat.

She could not help but feel a stab of hurt in her heart at his words. Grandfather had never been cruel to her, but it was clear he saw her condition as a defect, and like a disabled person, she had to be kept sheltered, her flaw hidden from the world. He'd relegated her to the role of spinster, consoling her with the fact that women such as her were valuable as much as those who bore the next generation. She wasn't a bad person -- just one unfit to be a man's wife, for what Coronan man would desire one such as her? Only perverts, that was what, Grandfather insisted.

So she helped with various chores around the estate through the year, earned her food and keep, got her festival parcels like everyone else in the family A few farmers had asked for her hand, for she was healthy, industrious, and attractive, but naturally, Grandfather rejected all suits. She faced a long and lonely spinsterhood, engaged in various tasks for the family, including minding children.

She had no desire to be a maid, yet it seemed inevitable. Now, she was to be somebody's wife. A somebody who actually embraced her defect. Only it wasn't a defect, in the eyes of the Biyesians.

This was not how she would have expected to start married life. But it was happening.

"All men are, in their own way," she replied, rising to her grandfather's stinging observation. He stared down at her, taking a sip from the goblet he held. He'd buried three wives, and his relationship with his young mistress was an open secret among the Orsmyt clan.

"I suppose. Well, best to you and the life you're about to embark on. I'm sending you off in a good marriage and that's what's expected of me, eh?" he asked dryly.

"You absolutely did." The agreement was actually quite nice. The Orsmyts would become one of the main suppliers of the Waynways family and in return Joen Orsmyt, and his heir, and so on thereafter were to be the squire of that estate. Neither the Waynways or Orsmyts were of noble blood, but both had a modest but honorable history.

She was a granddaughter of a local family of respectable pedigree had been given to a nephew of the mayor of this prefecture. She was far from the first bride obtained through such arrangements. At least her husband desired her, which was more than she had heard about some arranged marriages. What would he do once he was alone with her?

Her stomach twisted into knots, and she ate sparingly. Various confections and drinks were waved under her nose, many of them spicy, Biyesian staples she was unfamiliar with. After the meal, there was drinking, and people started to retreat from the table to go home or to their rooms. Several dusky-complexioned people came up to her, congratulating her and Ivesh on their upcoming nuptials.

And then, Ivesh himself decided to take leave, He formed a light but firm grip on her arm. "You look absolutely stunning," he whispered. "But I am even more eager to see what is under these skirts."

The guest wing was one that Caten had only been in periodically, mainly to do the seasonal cleaning. Since Lord Waynways was a superior, and Sir Orsmyt little more than a gentleman farmer, the lord was entitled to Joen's master bedroom. However, in a display of largesse, he'd agreed to the guest rooms on the upper floor, a small set of rooms for himself and his manservant.

Caten felt her cheeks burn as she was aware of several pairs of eyes following her and her husband-to-be as they retreated from the dining hall.

The evening was relatively mild, so the windows had been opened, thin pieces of gauze stretched across the frame to keep out insects. The only illumination in the room was the candle that had been left on the table. She heard the door close behind her before Ivesh dropped the wooden bolt, effectively locking the door.

The bed had been turned down invitingly, and Caten noticed a flask near the candle with what she was certain had some alcohol content, and a small bowl of fruit, fresh from the farms surrounding this manse.

"It has been warm today," Ivesh commented casually, but Caten sensed a certain tenseness in his body language as he removed the light jacket, tossing the silver-embroidered linen aside, narrowly missing the chair. He made no effort to pick it up, and came closer to her, the candlelight enhancing the duskiness of his skin. "I can think of nothing better to do at the moment other than divest ourselves of our clothing."

Caten did not miss the implied command, and sucked her lower lip for a moment. After another moment, she removed her necklace, carefully setting it on the table before undoing the carved bone buttons at the top and sides of her dress. This, she folded and placed on the stool with care, but not exaggerated slowness. By the time she looked back at him, he had on nothing but a pair of pants that were loose in the Biyesian style.

He is wasting no time, she mused as she saw him massage his groin, giving her an idea of what he intended to reveal to her. The sheath of the under-dress slid off over her head easily, leaving her in a knee-length camisole of fine linen.

Caten took a deep breath as Ivesh closed in on her, his lips brushing against his forehead. His hands slid to her hips, grasping fistfuls of the fabric before sliding it up, leaving her stomach bare.

"I want to fuck you so badly," he whispered into her ear as one of his hands slid down her abdomen, fingers skirting along her groin. His light touch had her flaccid organ stirring faintly. "I imagine you spread wide open for me, ready to receive me. Or bent up, your cute little bum up in the air, wiggling around."

His hand suddenly cupped her, and she felt a definite stir of her flesh -- male and female -- against the reach of his strong, warm hand. She pulled away, but his grip on her shift kept her close to him.

"That will wait until we're wedded. But there are many other things we can enjoy. When the night is over, you will look forward to being my wife."

"If you wish for that to be true, then you will need to prove yourself." All night and all day, she'd pondered what she would do this night, and thereafter. She could run away, or go into hysterics, or feign a sudden madness or disability. In the past, desperate women had done all of these, and more. Had she not been a hermaphrodite, she might already be married to someone else. And so on and so forth. In the end, Caten had decided to keep her own counsel, and keep her eyes and ears open for opportunities.

"That is exactly what I intend to do, Caten. You'll see that this union can indeed be a very blessed one." He twisted her shift in his fist, tightening the fabric against her breasts and midriff, forcing her to close the gap between their bodies.

"Since I first glimpsed upon you, I've dreamed of having you." His breath was hot against her temple, and his groin pressed just above her own. He pressed forward, and she took a step back. The shift proved a surprisingly effective restraint as he used it to guide her over to the bed.

Dumbly, she allowed him to handle her like this, laying her back on the blanket before nudging her knees apart. Only then did his grip on what remained of her clothing loosen before he sat back on his knees, looking down at her. Almost unconsciously, her hands fluttered down to tug at the hem of her shift to reclaim her modesty.

"What I see is perfection. Do not be so shy," he admonished as he pulled her hands away from the fabric. One of his hands slid to her stomach, caressing several lazy circles around it before moving lower, palms resting on her inner thigh, his fingers centimeters away from her intimate areas.

What he was doing was no different than what any other lover would do, she told herself. Hell, it was not unknown that young people might engage in full intercourse before marriage, and unless rushing to the altar, would have a bastard babe. All she was, was a woman who had been born with something unusual. But that unusual thing didn't hurt anybody, did it? And Ivesh's culture valued ones such as she, didn't it?

Very well. She would make the most of her situation, and if Ivesh wanted to offer her pleasure... well then, let's see what he could do.

His fingers trailed a slow path around her groin, skirting her male parts.

"Have you ever masturbated?" he asked. She blushed fiercely at that. Generally, it was frowned upon in polite Coronan society, but it was also an open secret that some, especially young, single men, would pleasure themselves. And puberty for her presented similar challenges as to what a boy might face as he grew into a man. Naturally, when her cock had ached, she'd touched it to explore it and figure out what was wrong with it, and these explorations had led to knowledge of self-ministration.