Lilac

I am a common-wife; it is what I was fated to be. The lilacs were in full bloom on the night that I was born; the scent wafted into the birthing room and filled my mother's lungs with their strong fragrance. She was a brood-wife, made for the task of bearing young, a task that I will never face. I was her sixteenth child; the thirteenth girl and the first born under a full moon. Girls born under a full-moon are made into common-wives to serve the needs of the males when the breeders were not available. Ours was a life of pleasuring without the burden of bearing offspring. Only the breeders were cared for more by the Greys, the maid-servants of the town. There were too many females to use them all, so rules were made to decide which ones were made and which ones were left untouched. The Greys were left unmade. They did the work in the town, tended the fields, raised the children, cleaned the houses, did the laundry, cooked and served the meals. The common-wives did other things.

I was kept in the nursery until I was able to fed myself and change my clothes without assistance. The girls of our village had no time for play; they would spend their early years learning obedience and patience. I was five when I was sent to live among the Greys. These flat-chested women would train me to care for a house and those who lived within it. I wore a simple black frock that resembled those of the Greys, but clung more to my rail thin frame. The Greys taught me to sit quietly, back straight and legs tightly clenched together beneath my black frock. Unlike the mother at whose ample chest I suckled until I was old enough to wean, the Greys were flat-chested and quite thin.

On my fifth birthday, I was sent to be trained as a handmaiden in the house of Grey women in the center of the village. There I wore the pale gray frock of a handmaiden, with a shorter skirt and less modest bodice than what I wore in the nursery. The young girls' frocks allowed for greater movement, necessary for doing chores. We slept together in a large room where we made our beds and took our meals and spent our days practicing our patience sitting in chairs waiting to be called upon.

At the age of ten, I was assigned to the washroom where I would assist the elder Greys by scrubbing their backs and fetching soap or towels for them. I lived where I worked and slept next to the large stone basins. I ate from the trays of fruit and bread that would be brought to the washroom every morning and every evening. My next two years were spent in the laundry, scrubbing the linens, rinsing them or them hanging them to dry. It was endless work and I would miss meals because of it. I did not think that I would survive.

I was moved to kitchen duty at the age of fourteen. There I prepared the food and scrubbed the pots. Again the work seemed endless, but meals were never missed. I slept on the floor of a small loft in the kitchen with the other young Greys who shared my duties. At fifteen I was moved to the pantry where the china was washed and stored. I would serve the meals and clean up after. I learned to balance heavy trays of food and china while moving quickly between the kitchen in the back of the house and the dining room. I carried large pitchers of water and ale, and learned to quickly dispense wine from a corked bottle. It was harder work than the laundry had been but my stamina and strength grew as I bustled to meet the demands of the women in the dining hall.

At sixteen I moved to the upper floors where I worked as a chambermaid; I slept on a mattress in the attic and ate my meals in a back room above the kitchen. Our frocks were light gray then, the color of a fully trained servant although technically we were still in training as a maid. My duties included sweeping the floors, changing the beds, cleaning the lavatories and occasionally tending to the ladies. I would sit sometimes for hours brushing their hair or rubbing their feet while listening to them prattle on about their day.

At nineteen, I was moved to the house of the councilmen. I was assigned as personal handmaiden to Thistle, a common-wife who lived near my sire's chambers. I would do whatever she asked of me and allow her to do as she pleased with me to learn the way of a common-wife. I slept at the foot of her bed when she had company and in her bed when she desired. Each morning, I would lie naked in her bed for inspection. She would brush her hand across my nipples and down over my flat belly. She then caressed my hairless mound and teased my tiny bumps with her tongue. She slipped her hand between my thighs and rubbed her fingers against my pleasure button. She pressed her finger against my tight little hole and slowly worked it inside me while she massaged my button with her thumb. As time passed, my legs spread in anticipation of her touch and my tiny hole stretched to accommodate more than one of her fingers. My little bumps grew larger and tingled at her touch. I moaned loudly as she worked her thumb against my bulging knob.

When she had company I would sit quietly in a chair and watch her as she performed her duties. She would free their flaccid pricks and encourage them to grow by suckling upon them. She would allow them to pleasure themselves inside her throat. Sometimes they would back her against a wall and take their pleasure standing up and at other times they would take her upon the bed. I watched her take in pricks that I was certain would rip apart my tiny hole and worried that I could never be a common-wife.

My sire's visits always fascinated me. He seemed to enjoy a game of refusal followed by force. The excitement of it made his prick grow hard and long and quite thick. Her raptures were most powerful when he took her, and I found myself dreaming of his massive prick. "Do you want this?" he would ask me while shoving the ball of it into my face. I dared not answer as chambermaids are forbidden to speak, but my lips and tongue betrayed my desire. In the last month of the year, he would require that I take his prick into my mouth. My lips parted eagerly; my tongue massaged it until it was stiff. Then, I would swallow it. He took his pleasure in my throat and filled my hungry belly with his hot drink. My body would ache for more of him as I watched him riding Thistle. My nipples would harden and the hole between my legs would drip. Changes had begun that could not be undone.

On the eve of my twentieth birthday, I could not sleep. My heart raced and I complained of an itch between my legs that would not go away no matter how much I rubbed it. "It is time," Thistle said before she led me out into the cold moonlit night to a large clearing in the woods. At one edge of the clearing a large wooden altar rested at an angle against some trees. She made me lay on the altar while she fastened thick leather straps across my throat and wrists. "These are for your protection. They will not let you harm yourself. The changing is sometimes more than a girl can handle." I slept fitfully for a moment, or perhaps I had merely passed out. There were figures in the shadows watching while I struggled to free myself but only my unfettered legs could move about. My back ached as I hung there and the itch between my legs intensified. I heard Thistle laugh in the darkness and I grew strangely calm when I heard my sire's voice.

In the streak of moonlight that lit the clearing, I saw cloaked shadows whose deep voices could only have belonged to men. A tall cloaked figure emerged from the group and announced, "Fate has Chosen me to make this common-wife." He dropped his cloak to the ground and strode to the foot of the altar. He stroked his prick with his large hands until it was quite long and stiff. I wanted to swallow it for him but my neck strap held secure. He placed his thumbs against my thighs; I parted my legs for him. He leaned forward, grabbed my hips with his large hands and firmly pressed the tip of his monstrous prick against the hesitant threshold of my tiny orifice. The bonds held securely as I struggled to break free, to escape the frightening and unfamiliar circumstances. He ignored my panic. My heart raced wildly as he rubbed his thumbs against my tiny button. He grabbed my thighs and forced my legs farther apart. "I've waited twenty years for this," he whispered, "I will have what is mine."

His words fell like stones into still water; the ripples traveled through me as I realized just how much I wanted him. I raised my hips and pressed my belly against his. He took advantage of my position and stabbed his tip inside. He slammed our hips down onto the altar; the impact drove his prick deeper into me. His hands clenched my shoulders; his hips rocked gently until my hole fully grew loose around him. He attacked with a series of short rapid thrusts that left me breathless and followed with a sharp parry that drove his prick against my virgin's veil. I could feel his hot breath upon my neck as he ignored my cry of discomfort. I struggled to calm my racing heart. My tender nipples swelled and my little button ached beyond compare. He pressed forward with his hips and pulled himself farther up my quivering body. He raised his hips and withdrew his prick until only the tip remained inside. He held that position for what seemed an eternity while faces in the gathering crowd angled for a better view.

"Make her now," an impatient voice commanded.

He shifted his weight and grabbed my shoulders tightly. I raised my legs higher into the air to ease the re-entry of his massive prick. His hips slammed downward in a single violent thrust; his rock hard prick tore through my veil and emptied its hot sticky porridge. I cried out from the pain of his forceful entry; laughter echoed back to me, reminding me that we were not alone. I watched as he withdrew his bloodied tool, proof of his accomplishment, and stood over me displaying it for the approval of the elders.

"Finish her," an elder commanded.

My sire forced his long thick prick back inside my hole. He followed with several long slow thrusts that drove the full length it into me. I lay there helpless and crying from the sharp pains as his relentless prick wore away the remains of my tattered veil. His constant pace was my constant pain that somehow became constant pleasure. I began to writhe beneath him and to moan quite loudly. My fear and pain were replaced by ravenous lust and intense pleasure. My body shuddered with each stroke. He quickened his pace to a breakneck speed, pounding away at me hard and fast until I could not tell one stroke from another.

I felt a shudder pass through me from head to toe and arched my back as his prick spilled another hot drink inside me. I could feel my hole tighten around his withering prick, massaging it back to full hardness. My body quivered uncontrollably beneath him as it struggled to drain him of every drop he had to offer. When the tremors subsided he licked some droplets off my engorged breasts; my breasts had swollen to the size of melons. My full breasts were heavy weights against my heaving chest. "You have come into your nectar," he smiled. My swollen breasts nearly filled his massive hands as he clutched them tightly "You are nearly complete." I smiled and kissed my handsomely endowed sire as I struggled to contain his effluence. I arched my back and held his throbbing prick tightly inside me while a shiver went through my spine.

"You are everything that I knew you would be," he whispered between heavy breaths, "I could not have been more fortunate. It is a blessed man who gets to sex his own, to bring forth her first rapture," I heard the last of his words as the first violent convulsions surged through me, "to make of her a common-wife."