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From: John Souvie <forjohnandsouvie@yahoo.com>
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Subject: {ASSM} [wedding] new "Marriage of State" {Uther} (Mf 1st) [1/1] <*>
Date: Thu, 28 Aug 2003 08:10:05 -0400
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<1st attachment, "Marriage of State.txt" begin>
Subject: new "Marriage of State" {Uther} (Mf 1st) [1/1] <*>
IF YOU ARE UNDER THE AGE OF 18, or otherwise forbidden by law to read
electronically transmitted erotic material, please go do something else.
This material is Copyright, 2003, 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.
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.
# # # # # #
Marriage of State by Uther Pendragon anon584c@nyx.net
His French is very strange, although Parisians might mock us both. That
horrid jumped-up wine merchant, Geoffrey, certainly would. I'll have to
learn Bavarian, of course; but that can wait.
Meanwhile, the preparations move on. We're always being rushed from one
place to another, but nothing seems to get done. It will all be done by
noon tomorrow, however, or won't be done at all.
My gown is terribly ornate. This is a wedding, not a coronation. That will
come sooner or later. I will say with all honesty that it can come later
for all my wish.
He is not *that* old, closer to Henry's age than to Father's. I hope that
he can be as merry as Henry can. We don't see much of each other outside
of public occasions, though. I can't remember even Henry being merry with
the whole court looking on. The talk in privacy will come soon enough.
Let me be honest. The privacy will come tomorrow night, and that is much
too soon.
- = -
The Latin was almost the same, at least. The marriage service seemed much
longer than others I've attended. I say so to Henry when we get a moment
to speak after the feast. "It lasts much longer when one is at the altar,"
he answers. "I can remember my own wedding. Let me get you a cup of wine,
and you can get back to the dancing."
"I think that I have had too much wine already."
"No, little sister, not nearly enough." I take his meaning, and his
offered cup. Hereafter I will drink when I am not dancing. But I am
already a little dizzy.
- = -
The ladies lead me to the bedchamber and remove all my clothes, but they
let me get into bed well before the gentlemen lead him in. They do this
gravely, with less merriment than the women showed. The men who relieve
him of his clothes are permanently charged with the task and do it neatly.
The king makes pushing motions with his hands. "Rouse, rouse," he says.
Far from arousing them, this gets them out. He turns in the doorway to
look straight at me where I am cowering under the covers. "Good night,
Princess," he says. He walks through the door and it closes behind him. It
was kind of him to learn that much English.
Now we are alone.
I can't help looking at his center as he walks towards the bed. He is not
totally erect, but getting more so. It looks awfully large. Then he gets
under the sheet. His motion in doing so exposes my breasts. I pull the
sheet back up. "Marie'e" he says and pulls it down again. That is true; I
am a bride. Or we are married; whichever he meant, it is true.
He leans over and kisses me. This is our second kiss on the lips, before
this it was my hand. His tongue invades my mouth. Does every bridegroom do
this? I know about the other invasion, am prepared for it. But this seems
somehow more intimate.
His hand is on my breast, as well. This is supposed to be exciting, like
spinning around. I don't feel that. It is all I can do to keep from
cringing. He rubs there for a moment, strokes down to my center. I can't
help moving my legs together. When he pulls them apart, though, I don't
resist. He feels my center for a minute, then climbs between my legs. I
raise my knees and spread my arms out as Mother taught me to do. I also
grit my teeth. He fumbles down there for a moment, and then I feel it
pressing against me.
He lunges forward and inward. That *hurts*, and I scream. He pulls the top
of the sheet to my mouth. I take it between my teeth, and he moves inward
once more. When I am full, crammed to bursting, with him, I feel his groin
pressed against mine. He kisses me, invading my mouth once more. Then he
is moving back and forth above me and within me. The strokes hurt
significantly less than the first one, but they hurt none the less. He
pushes so hard that my head bangs up against the headboard. He grunts and
-- then -- collapses.
He is heavy on me and panting in my ear. "Frow," he gasps. I'm not frowzy;
I bathed this morning. When I hear him begin to snore, I push him off me.
Then I have to pull the covers from underneath him.
I am a princess. I will *not* cry.
The end. Marriage of State by Uther Pendragon anon584c@nyx.net
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