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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.
# # # #
Anne -- 1842
by Uther Pendragon
anon584c@nyx.net
"If one more thing happens," Anne Pane told Belle, "I'll know I'm
cursed."
"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 q 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
This story is indexed under:
wl.txt
Wedded Lust
The index to all my stories in this format:
index.txt