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Anne - 1842
This material is copyright, 2004, Uther Pendragon. All rights reserved. I specifically grant the right of downloading and keeping one electronic copy for your personal reading so long as this notice is included. Reposting requires previous permission. If you have any comments or requests, please e-mail them to me at anon584c@nyx.net. All persons here depicted, except public figures depicted as public figures in the background, are figments of my imagination and any resemblance to persons living or dead is strictly coincidental. |
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Anne - 1842
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"You're not cursed, child." the slave responded. "You're blessed." "I was engaged at sixteen, at the height of my beauty. Then John's father got sick. I couldn't marry a man when his father was lying sick in his house. And then John's year of mourning." "You're still at the height of your beauty, mistress. Eighteen isn't old. Just hold still while I finish your hair.... Now, look at that! And, while I never wished Massa Evans any harm, you're not marrying the heir to Twin Oaks; you're marrying the master of Twin Oaks. You'll be mistress of the finest plantation in the county tomorrow." "Belle," Mother spoke sharply from the doorway. "Mistress?" "You may leave us." "Yes, ma'am." And Belle did. "Now," Mother said, "a few things. You'll be, as Belle said, mistress of Twin Oaks. But Mrs. Evans will still be living in her home. You'll treat her with the greatest respect." "Yes, Mother." Anne didn't want any conflict with her mother-in-law. "And, the wedding will be here, at Meadowlands. So will the dance and the dinner. After that, John and you will drive to your new home." "Yes, Mother." This wasn't news; Mother was leading up to something, and Anne suspected what it was. "The two of you will retire to your bedroom -- your shared bedroom -- and go to bed -- go to bed together. Do you know what will happen then?" Anne had a better idea what would happen than she wanted her mother to know. "No, Mother." "He'll make love to you. There is a part of him that will go in you between your legs. Where you bleed every month. He'll move back and forth in you. Gentlemen get very excited. He'll leave there what makes babies. Maybe it won't make a baby that time, but he'll do it on other nights." "Yes, Mother, I've seen animals." You could hardly help seeing animals. Stallions and bulls made enough noise in their lots, and dogs mated everywhere. "Well, ladies lie on their backs. John will know what to do. He'll have practiced on servants, though a lady doesn't admit she knows that. That's one of the two things I have to tell you." "Two?" "Well, Anne, a lady doesn't comment on the pickaninnies running around looking like John. Adults won't be his get, although they may be his father's. And a gentleman doesn't push his mistresses in his wife's face. He doesn't sleep with house slaves. But, whatever has happened, you don't tax John with it. After all, he'll be relieving you of some demands. Gentlemen can't go without. They need relief, and when their wives don't provide it -- and when, as in John's case, they aren't married yet -- servants are there. You just don't mention it to John, and he doesn't mention it to you. That's the first thing." "Yes, Mother." "The second thing is that, the first time he goes into you, it will hurt. Don't shirk your duty. Don't beg him for a delay. It will hurt tonight, but it won't hurt any less tomorrow night. And it will hurt that way only once. It isn't the worst pain you'll ever feel. Remember getting thrown from the horse?" "Yes, Mother." She'd been thrown more than once, but Mother must mean the time she'd broken her arm. Was mother saying that tonight would hurt like that? She'd heard about the pain. Most of her friends were married by now, and some described more pain than others. None described as much pain as the broken arm. "Well, this will hurt less. I don't mean less than the worst throw. I mean less than the mildest one. You don't stop riding because you'll get thrown sometimes. You don't refuse your husband for such a mild pain." "Yes, Mother." "Now, I'll send Belle back in. Hurry up; they'll be getting out of church in a few minutes." She had more immediate concerns for the rest of the day. But, sitting beside John in the carriage as they were driven towards Twin Oaks, there was suddenly nothing else to think about. It would have been better if John had talked to her, but all their talk for the last month had concerned the wedding which was now over. Once at Twin Oaks, one of the house servants led Anne and Belle up to the master bedroom. Belle unpacked one of Anne's bags and hung those clothes in the wardrobe which had previously been empty. Then she helped Anne out of the clothes she had been wearing. "And my nightshirt?" Anne asked when the last clothes were put away. Usually, Belle gave her the nightshirt as soon as she'd taken off her bloomers. "You won't need a nightgown tonight, Ma'am." Anne felt her face burn as she climbed into the wide bed. When Belle left, John came in with a male servant. He'd already removed his boots. She watched in horrified silence, but in curiosity, as John disrobed. She knew what the bulge in the front of his long underwear meant but John turned his back and sat on the edge of the bed to remove this last garment. He slipped into bed as naked as she was before saying, "That's all, Ab." "Yes, Massa," the slave said. He took the lantern with him and closed the door behind him. "Your mother talked to you?" John asked. "Yes." Anne would have died rather than repeat that conversation. "Good." Instead of asking for details, John leaned over and kissed her. They'd kissed before, but that had been standing up, fully clothed, out where people could see them. Now, they were alone in a bed together, nothing covering them but the sheets. John's lips left hers to kiss all over her face, light kisses, touches. When he returned to her mouth, his tongue came out to lick her lips. "Open your mouth," he said from an inch above her face. When she did, his tongue entered it. Her tongue touched it. The oddest feeling shot through her. His hand rested on her belly, her bare skin. She tensed, but this was his right. She was his wife. While he kissed her again, he moved that hand up to her breast. Slowly, as they kissed some more, her shyness and embarrassment gave way to comfort and then pleasure. Twice more, she was shocked. The first time was when he shifted his position and she felt something touch her leg. She realized suddenly that this was the part of John that her mother had mentioned. The second was when his hand moved from her breast to between her legs. She tensed at that and brought those legs tightly together. But, she realized, this too was his right. She relaxed. As John's mouth moved from hers down to her breast, her excitement grew. She also relaxed. He wasn't hurrying her to the painful part. His sucking on her nipple brought a warmth which was somewhat akin to the first flushes of embarrassment but subtly different. The strokes of his hand on parts she hadn't even touched herself led her into greater and greater warmth. When John stopped sucking on her nipple, she was disappointed, even though it was getting a little sore at that point. Then he leaned over to kiss her left breast. Suction on that nipple felt as good, and then it felt even better. She found herself clutching his head against that breast as her excitement grew. For some reason, lying down after no exertion at all, she found herself panting. Then, the warmth spreading from his hand and mouth became fire. She convulsed. How long that fire burned through her, she couldn't tell. Then John's hand and mouth were incredibly irritating. The hands which had been clutching his head to her breast shoved him off. A moment later, she was terribly embarrassed; he was her husband and had that right. Before she could apologize, though, John was kissing her forehead. "Dear girl," he said. "I love you." A moment later, he was climbing over her. He got between her legs, and his hand went back to her most private parts. "Bend your knees a little more," he said. She felt something resting where the rag rested during her periods. It wasn't his hand; he'd brought his hand up beside her shoulder. It was warm and, somehow, moist. "All right?" he asked. It was far from all right. This was the part that was going to hurt. And she'd still not caught her breath. Still, it was going to happen. She knew that; her mother had known that; everybody seemed to know that. She nodded. "Fast is better," he said. She felt pressure there, then a brief pain. "Ow," she said softly. His groin was pressed against hers and she felt filled in a place where she had never felt anything before. "I'm sorry to have hurt you." He didn't look sorry, happy if anything. "All right?" he asked again. The pain, which hadn't been all that much -- mother was right, it was less than hitting the ground in a fall from a horse -- was rapidly receding. When she didn't answer, he bent down to kiss her cheek. Then he began to move above her and in-and-out within her. His motions renewed the irritation -- it no longer qualified as a pain -- but there was some pleasure involved, too. Soon, he was moving more and more rapidly. Then he pressed deeply against her and in her. "Damn!" he said. She felt a throbbing in that place she'd felt nothing before. A minute later, he collapsed on top of her. He soon rolled off, though. Lying beside her, he took her hand. He was soon asleep, but she lay there for a while remembering her day. The wedding had gone well. All her friends had been congratulatory. Father had given Belle to her. Actually, Belle now belonged to John; women couldn't own property. Still, she no more expected John to countermand her orders to Belle than she expected him to wear her dresses, which also belonged to him by law. "Good morning, Anne," John greeted her as she awoke to a knock on the door. "'Good morning, Mrs. Evans,' I should say." He kissed her cheek. "Do you want to cover yourself when Ab comes in?" She pulled the sheet, which wasn't revealing much anyway, up to her chin. "Come in, Ab," John called loudly. The slave entered and then dressed John, including the boots. When they left, Belle came in. "You're looking lovely, Ma'am," she said. Anne wasn't feeling lovely. When Belle had dressed her, she pulled back the sheets. There was a spot on them which must have been blood, Anne's blood. "You'll want to show that to Massa John tonight," Belle said. She fixed Anne's hair in an everyday way. Anne went down to breakfast leaving Belle to make the bed and tidy the room. John was waiting in the dining room. He helped Anne into the chair at the foot of the table and his mother into a chair at the side before taking the chair at the head. It was an awkward way to eat breakfast; the table could seat at least ten. When John went out, his mother took Anne into the kitchen. "This is your new mistress, Mrs. Anne," she told the servants there. "Herk, go get the others." A boy ran out. "That's Hercules," Mrs. Evans told her. She named each of the women one by one and told her position. As a few more women came in, they were named as well. From then 'til noon, Mrs. Evans told her about the running of the house at Twin Oaks. It wasn't surprisingly different from Meadowlands, bigger, of course. A few more details were left to the cook than Anne's mother left to hers. "But, of course," Mrs. Evans said, "you can have her bring those decisions to you. For that matter, you can establish a time for her to report to you every morning." She saw John, but only in front of his mother and Silas Jackson, the overseer, at dinner and supper. After supper, John went out to smoke a cigar. His mother didn't allow smoking in the house. "You may change that, of course, Anne. I really would appreciate it if you didn't." Anne wasn't going to change that. The house smelled better than Meadowlands. Anne soon went up to bed. Belle gave her her nightshirt without prompting. John came in with Ab, who undressed him and handed him his own nightshirt. Ab took the lantern with him when he left. The moonlight illuminated even the far side of the room only faintly. The bed was in dimness. "Have a nice day?" John asked. "Your mother told me a great deal. There's still much to learn." Before she could ask about his day, he leaned over to kiss her. This evening progressed much as the previous one had, save for the problem of the nightshirt. She ended up with it bunched up under her armpits. She could see clearly now, see her left breast out in the open, see John's head over her right one. The sheet did cover her loins and John's hand stroking her there. But no one else was there to see. As embarrassing as that sight would have been to her, the feelings were pleasant. Then the feelings were unendurably exciting. Then they were agony. "John," she said as a fire swept through her. "Yes," he answered softly. He kissed her forehead and held her arm for a minute. Then he swept the sheet off them both. Before she could protest her exposure, he was climbing between her legs again. This time, there was no sudden pain. Even the irritation was much less. This time, though, John's actions seemed to go on for a longer time. "Anne!" he said as he thrust deeply against her. He rolled off without collapsing on her. After a minute or two, he covered them with the sheet again. That morning she sent Ab away. Then she showed John the spot on the sheet. It looked brown and nondescript to her. "I know," said John. He went out and sent Belle in. The rest of the day she checked on the housekeeping with Mrs. Evans. That night, John kissed her but didn't go further. The rest of the week was very much like her first two days. Mrs. Evans explained her rules but reminded the house slaves that Anne could change them. John made love to her about every other night. When he did, her nightshirt was pushed up to her armpits, his was around his waist. Sunday was much different. The family was driven to church. She was the center of attention afterwards. Sunday dinner was later and heavier than weekday dinners, and the Thompsons were guests. Afterwards, Greta Thompson took her aside to gossip. Field servants at Twin Oaks didn't have Sundays off, but they had little supervision. "If I see something wrong at sundown on Saturday," John explained, "I make a note to order somebody to take care of it first thing Monday morning." Anne was a little surprised when John began to make love to her Sunday night. Wasn't it a little naughty for a Sunday? But she said nothing. Soon, John's hands and lips excited her to a peak. When she had come down from that peak, John entered her. This, far from hurting, was beginning to feel pleasant. When he pressed against her and quivered within her, she wrapped her arms around him in a hug. He kissed her forehead before getting off her. John hugged her as they drifted off to sleep. Monday followed the pattern that had already been established. Anne was tempted to ask about going riding, but the sky threatened rain. When the storm came, she was glad she had kept to the house. It did cool off the air, though. John and Jackson came in dripping wet. John changed before supper. As it was still raining, Jackson figured going home to change would do him no good. John went to bed right after supper. She thought he was asleep when she changed for bed and slipped in beside him. "Hello, Anne," he whispered. "Hello, John. I thought you were asleep." How much had he seen as Belle undressed her? Well, he was her husband; he was entitled to see her. Still, she felt herself blush. He leaned over to kiss her. The kiss went on and on. His hand went under her nightshirt and up to her breasts. When he finally dropped down beside her, he brought his hand down to her thighs. He stroked there for another long time before he touched her most secret parts. When his touch had become most exciting, though, he stopped to kiss her again. "Let me help you take this off," he said, raising her nightshirt. She was doubtful. But he was her husband, and she was obligated to do what he wanted. Besides that, she wanted more of his touches. When she'd removed the nightshirt, he stroked her breasts while kissing her. He left her mouth to kiss her face and then her neck. When his kisses reached her breasts, his hand returned to her center. Her excitement was nearing its peak when he stopped again. He climbed between her legs and arranged the sheet over his back. As he kissed her, his hand resumed stroking her intimately. Her excitement grew, grew more when his mouth sought out her left breast. He let the nipple pull out of his mouth while still sucking on it. He straightened above her in the bed, and his organ was at her entrance. He opened that more widely with his fingers. Then he was inside her, buried all the way. Her excitement, which had waned somewhat when his hand and mouth had left her, recovered. Then, with his slow motions inside her and above her, it increased. She wished vaguely that he would move more rapidly. She shocked herself by actually pushing her groin against his. She forgot that shock, though, as her excitement peaked. She was burning. Then the fire within her consumed her utterly, but the burning was unutterable pleasure. "Anne!" John called from above her. Then he thrust hard against her and within her. She felt his throbbing. When she could spare attention for the world outside herself, he was collapsed over her and panting hard. She was breathing as deeply. The space to breathe was welcome when he moved off, but so was his arm around her. "I love you, Anne," he said. She loved him, too. |
The End Anne - 1842 Uther Pendragon anon584c@nyx.net 2004/02/16 2005/02/17 Thanks to Denny for editing this. For another story of another marriage in another century: "Morning Has Broken" This story is coded (MF wl 1st hist). The code, hist, means: has a historical theme. For more on the story codes and how to use them to find the sorts of stories to interest you: "Story codes for readers" This story is indexed under: Wedded Lust The index to almost all my stories is: Index to Uther Pendragon's website |