Venom
07-19-2011, 12:38 PM
An Unwilling Bride
Part 1
It was midmorning in late August, but already the weather was positively sweltering, as the men folk would say “hot as Hell” when they thought that there were no ladies about. (That's the "small town atmosphere" I mentioned above) The air in the bride room at the church was heavy and close. Margaret, the bride, sat passively in the middle of the room while all the women of her family rushed around making final preparations for the upcoming ceremony. Her Aunt Ruth and Aunt Debbie fanned her frantically in a vain attempt to keep her cool. However, Margaret didn’t take much notice. She was almost completely numb. All she could think about was that her time was running out and there was nothing she could do about it.
Most girls around there didn’t get married until about sixteen, but her parents, especially her mother, thought it would be best if she were married off as soon as possible before she did anything too foolish. Margaret, unlike most girls of the little town of Greenville, had “ideas”. Not to say that other girls didn’t have ideas. It was just that the ideas of the other girls were normal and or “healthy” like getting married to one of the local boys and starting a large family.
Margaret, on the other hand, didn’t have the slightest inclination to do what her mother and every other woman in Greenville called “the right thing”. She loved reading and had been through just about every book, newspaper, and magazine that her little town had to offer, which wasn’t much, but still would have been worth bragging about, if she had been born a man, that is.
It's a similar thing with the "ideas", "healthy" and "the right thing", although a little bit packed in this first paragraphs.
After reading about all kinds of places she’d never been, Margaret started to dream about leaving town and going to the big city to attend a real school, and then from there, who knew? Having these kinds of plans in her head put her at odds with just about everyone in the town. Worse still for her relationship with the town, she was the youngest of seven brothers and sisters (better use "siblings", or one could nitpick that Margaret would be the youngest sister and the youngest brother), and her father had never been able to bring himself to lay a hand on her. As a result, Margaret grew up headstrong and disobedient, and though she was significantly undersized for her age, she was known as a little spitfire among all the boys in town.
All of this came to a head a few months before when Margaret, having just turned fourteen, was told that she was going to marry Dwayne Guthrie in August. Margaret was positively red at the mere thought of it, let alone actually going through with it! A farmer, at twenty one and six foot four, Dwayne was well built, and he certainly wasn’t hard for her to look at, or for any other girl to do so either, with dark brown eyes, short hair of the same color, a strong jaw, and arms like tree trunks. The last feature was what always caught Margaret’s eye when she’d pass by his field and see him working without his shirt in the hot noon day sun. That and the thick hair on his chest, which at times she caught herself wondering what it would feel like to run her thin fingers through. However, looks aside, Dwayne was, in a word, a chauvinist. A word only she would know, but saw it exemplified perfectly in him. She recalled him joking on more than one occasion “How long does it take for a man to make dinner? As long as it takes for him to get out the belt!” She couldn’t stand him and only moments after being told she refused to marry him. Of course, other than causing her father a bit of guilt, her refusal didn’t mean anything and the wedding planning went on with dress alterations and flower choices.
A week before the ceremony, however, Margaret resolved that if her father wouldn’t budge, then she would have to take matters into her own hands. So, she packed up her meager belongings, stole (though she preferred the term borrowed) some of his money from her father, and tried to walk up to the next town where she knew she could buy a bus ticket. It wasn’t a great plan, but it saved her from a life time of, as she saw it, slavery. Margaret did manage to get to the next town, of course, her father and her three brothers were waiting for her at the bus station. They’d returned her straight away and in that week she’d noticed her father’s attitude towards her had changed. She was no longer his little girl and she could count on him for nothing, other than to deliver her to her fate, Dwayne Guthrie.
Now the date had arrived. The days had turned into hours and the hours had turned into minutes. There she sat dressed in her wedding finery, which any girl would have envied, but with a few differences. Despite her reaction to marriage being uncommon, her family, and other families, knew exactly how to deal with difficult and unwilling brides. The women had awakened her bright and early. Hauled her out of bed, and got her in the tub immediately. They bathed her in floral smelling water playfully telling her that her husband to be would want her to smell sweet, chuckling at the flush that came to her cheeks. Then they dressed her, starting with old fashioned pantalettes that came all the way down to her ankles and ended in a puff of lace trim and a button up camisole, also trimmed with lace. Both looked like something out of the Victorian era. (I like the slightly anachronistic touch you have given your story: Victorian dresses, means of transportation available to her only in the next town, no mobile phones, ...) After a thick, billowy petticoat came the dress. The beautiful white dress had been worn by girls in the family for generations. Margaret’s mother and grandmother had worn it, and so had her three older sisters. Due to her small size the dress had to have extensive alternations, but it fit her thin frame well, cinched in tightly around her narrow waist. After that they added white silk gloves and stood her in front of the mirror. Margaret looked at herself. She had never really spent much time on her appearance. She usually wore a simple dress, fit for a farmer’s daughter, her long raven colored hair in ratty braided pigtails, and her round glasses, slightly too big for her small, pale, freckled face, balanced tentatively on her little button nose. Though still sullen she looked at herself in the mirror with disbelief. She looked so grown up with the dress and her hair put up in an elaborate bun with small white flowers laced throughout. She blinked at her reflection in surprise.
“You look beautiful.” Her mother said with pride, more as if she were congratulating herself and all the other women in a job well done than complementing Margaret.
Margaret frowned and started to say something.
“Ah, ah, ah,” her mother said, taping a finger on Margaret’s lips, “Don’t ruin the moment, besides we have more to do. Ladies?”
Margaret found herself sat down in a chair, resisting, she had learned during her bath that morning, was pretty pointless, but that didn’t stop her from trying. Her sister Sophie, married just nine months ago and already very much pregnant, and her sister Patrice, who had already given their parents three grandchildren, helped to hold her steady while the others prepared to make a few finishing touches which wouldn’t have been necessary for most other brides. Her mother took a silk cord, the same color as her gloves and began to bind her hands, while one of her aunts, she couldn’t see who, began to tie her bare ankles, leaving enough slack, as she would find out later, so that she could take small steps but certainly not run away.
There was a knock at the door and then someone said, “It’s almost time!”
To which her mother replied, “We’ll have her ready in a moment, dear!”
After she was securely bound, she felt hands pull her mouth open and she suddenly found a wad of soft cloth shoved in, filling it. Before she could even begin to work it out she felt another piece of cloth go over her mouth and be tied securely in the back.
The whole binding&gagging scene is very different from what would be expected of a kinky BDSM-wedding. Leather cuffs and a ballgag would appear quite cheesy here.
“That ought to keep her from ruining the ceremony with any silly tantrums!” Her sister Sophie quipped to which all the ladies around laughed and agreed.
“Don’t worry, Margaret,” her mother said, still laughing, this will be funny one day to you too!”
Margaret doubted that.
After they were done, Aunt Ruth and Aunt Debbie fanned her furiously as her mother got her veil ready. Margaret felt her mother putting the comb into her hair and as they brought the veil down she suddenly found herself trapped in a white fog (nice phrase). She could barely see through it, certainly not well enough to guide herself. Then she was lifted to her feet, a bouquet of lilies was shoved into her hands, and she was led out of the bride room.
The smell of the room changed from lavender potpourri to a dusty smell of books and stale bread that was served at communion on Easter Sunday. She could feel wood under her bare feet, and hear the murmur of the guests in the sanctuary. Margaret began to tremble as her hands were forced to take the arm of her father. She wanted to plead with him not to make her go through with the wedding, promise that she’d be better, if only he’d let her put this off for another few years. But she knew, even without the gag in her mouth, he wouldn’t have listened. She might have had a chance before if she hadn’t of stolen from him, but now there was no going back.
The preacher’s wife started playing the wedding march on the old church piano and Margaret found herself being dragged forward. It took her a moment to match her father’s steps, a difficult task considering her reduced mobility. Though she couldn’t make out the crowd as more than ghostly silhouettes, she could still overhear their remarks as she was hauled towards the altar. Most of it amounted to “This is just what that bratty little girl needs. You’ll see. This will fix her right up!”
Finally, at the altar Margaret was made to kneel in front of her husband to be. Already Dwayne towered over all 4’ 9’’ of her, but he seemed like a giant as she knelt before him, her father standing behind her with his hands on her shoulders. Margaret’s heart felt as if it was going to beat right out of her chest. She feared that she couldn’t get enough air through just her nose, but she wasn’t going to give the town the satisfaction of seeing her faint. As she struggled to remain conscious, she vaguely heard the preacher begin. He talked about all the usual wedding stuff, two people coming together, God, sacraments and all that. It was at this moment that Margaret wondered how she was going to say “I do” in her current state. She heard Dwayne say his and realized that she was about to have her question answered.
“Dwayne, do you,” the preacher asked. “Promise to love her, guide her, discipline her, and see to her welfare from this day forward?”
Margaret couldn’t make out his expression, but she somehow knew that Dwayne was smiling down at her, looking at her like a hawk would look at a mouse. Despite the suffocating heat, it gave her chills down her spine.
“I do.” He said.
The preacher not looking down at her then said, “Margaret, do you promise to love him, submit to him, keep his home, and provide him with as many children as you are able?”
She started to speak. She wasn’t sure what she was going to say, but it was going to be nasty, that was for sure, but her father squeezed her shoulders hard.
“She does.” He father said flatly.
Margaret knelt there, shocked. That was it. She didn’t even get to say anything!
“Then by the power vested in me, I now pronounce you husband and wife…you may kiss the bride.”
Margaret let out a slight whimper as her father hauled her to her feet and raised her veil. Before she could do anything Dwayne’s hands her on her and he’d planted a firm kiss on her gagged mouth, which he held for some long seconds. She struggled and protested, but to no avail. The crowd laughed, clapped and cheered him on. Margaret had never imagined her first kiss to be like this! She wouldn’t have been able to admit it to herself, but his lips felt good against hers, even with the gag in the way. His strong, rough hands pushing against her tiny waist made her knees weak. That coupled with the kiss almost made her swoon after all.
The exit music started on the piano and Dwayne wasted no time in dragging her back down the aisle. Unlike her father he didn’t have much patience to wait for her, so Margaret followed, best as she could, tripping over herself as she went. She wasn’t exactly graceful, in fact she was downright clumsy, but the silk cord on her ankles made her that much more so. The crowd got a further laugh out of watching her.
The reception was held in the yard around Dwayne’s home. The sun had finally moved far enough into the west that the big cotton wood trees on that side were able to provide some well needed shade for the party. Dwayne had a stupid grin on his face as he paraded Margaret around like she was a prized cow. Margaret hated every minute of it. After their first dance together, before which the ladies were kind enough to point out that Margaret would have an awful time doing that with her ankles tied, Dwayne fed her a piece of cake, since she couldn’t very well be trusted to have her hands undone.
“Behave…” He whispered in her ear, “Or the gag is going to go right back in after I feed you this piece!”
Margaret found herself obeying, though she wanted to spit the cake back in his face, she found something in the forcefulness of his voice made her think twice. After the rather degrading incident of being fed from his fingers like a baby bird while everyone watched, the humiliation continued as she was required to sit there while he fed her dinner. Having not eaten all day, Margaret begrudgingly went along with it.
Dwayne speared some salad with a fork and offered it to her, “You really hate me don’t you?”
Margaret glanced away from the fork full of salad, surprised that he had actually felt it fit to finally speak to her as opposed to about her. She took the bite, chewed and swallowed, “If my hands were free right now, you wouldn’t have any doubt!”
He smiled and offered her a drink of water, “Well, good thing they aren’t free then, huh?” She sipped and then he took the glass away, picked back up her gag, looked at it, and then looked back at her. “I’m not cruel just for the sake of being cruel, little lady. If you behave yourself and keep quiet I won’t put the gag back in. Say ‘yes, sir,’ and nothing else if you understand.”
Margaret considered his proposal for only a moment before she spat, “Get stuffed!” She didn’t need anyone’s permission to speak!
Dwayne smiled and grabbed the back of her head firmly, shaking her out of her momentary rebellion, “If that’s what you want.” He said, shoving the gag back in and then tying it securely.
After that the reception went on as most do. She was made to dance with her husband a few more times and some members of both families. There were conversations, none, of course, she could participate in herself, and none she would have wanted to anyway.
“Beat her well and beat her often!” Chubby (no capital c here) and bald Uncle Mark said as he stroked Margaret under the chin once causing her to recoil like a wet cat. “You may not know why you’re doing it, but you can be sure, she does!” He turned to his wife, Aunt Ruth, and put his arm around her, “She knows what I mean!” (small s, or the comma has to be changed to a colon)
“Oh, Mark!” Aunt Ruth said smiling and shaking her head. Then she leaned in closed to Dwayne and with a hand by the side of her mouth as if she were whispering, but she wasn’t, and said, “He’s right!” (same here) The she glanced at Margaret with a knowing smiled, “With her probably even more so!”
Dwayne’s grandmother, a woman older than the hills, like so many others was full of advice too, “Now, Dwayne…” She said, elongating the e at the end of his name, so that it sounded like Dwany-knee, “You’re going to have to be firm with her! She’s young and from what I understand from talking with her parents quite willful! The best thing to fix that is to get her pregnant as soon as possible! It calms troublesome little girls down and stops them from becoming shrews! She may fight it, she may cry, but just know that you’re doing it for her own good!”
Margaret gave a start to that. She narrowed her eyes and mumbled through her gag, “Dumb hag!”
Dwayne’s arm tightened on hers.
“What did she say?” Grandmother asked.
Dwayne began to pull her away, “She was thanking you, Grandmother, for your good advice!” Once he had gotten her away, he whispered in her ear, “Oh, I know that was a little too blunt, but it didn’t matter if she said it or not. It’s true, and it’s what I have planned.”
Margaret’s knees turned to jelly again. She found herself, despite how humiliating it was, wishing that the reception wouldn’t ever end, so she wouldn’t have to go through what she knew was coming. The reception, in fact, did not end for quite some time, but it did almost immediately after that for Margaret. Her husband handed her over to the women of her family again to take her in the house and prepare her for bed while he continued to enjoy the party, drinking, and smoking cigars with the men folk.
Preparing Margaret for bed didn’t take long. Amidst playful teasing about what was going to go on in the room from her sisters and cousins and sly smiles of the older ladies, they bathed her again, the heat making this a necessity. Then they dressed her in a white baby doll night gown, pulled back the covers on the bed, lay her down, and then tied her down securely. The women walked by each wishing her luck and giving the gagged little bride a pat on the head. Margaret glared back at each one as they left until finally the door closed and she was alone.
She tugged at the restraints on her wrists and ankles and whimpered pitifully now that she was alone and she was sure no one could hear. Out through the open window she could hear everyone still enjoying the reception down in the yard. All those people and not one of them would help her! After one last frantic attempt to free herself from the ropes accompanied by some self-pitying crying she decided to lay still and wait.
There was no clock in the room, but it must have been at least an hour before she heard her husband’s heavy footsteps at the door, because she had started to dose off. The handle turned and there he was in the doorway. His jacket was off, his tie undone, and a wolfish smile on his face. Margaret looked at him and then followed his gaze down to her lower half and suddenly became very much aware of her bare legs. She squirmed a little, but then became still. The party was still going on down below, but it was otherwise dead silent in the room.
Dwayne let out a single syllable of laughter before striding in and closing the door behind him. Margaret felt faint again. She wished the gag was off so that she could breathe easier. “Well, my little bride…” he said as he dropped his tie on the chair by the door and started unbuttoning his shirt. “I think it’s time we make this official.”
Despite the heat, Margaret began to tremble. Dwayne took off his shirt, his muscles straining slightly with the effort. Margaret found herself deluged with all kinds of conflicting emotions. She was terrified of what he was going to do to her, but at the same time she imagined what it was going to feel like when his chest rubbed against hers. Her confusion only increased as he reached down to undo his pants. Margaret was a farm girl, so she, of course, even though her parents had tried to prevent it, knew the difference between male and female animals, but she had never seen a man without his pants before. She wanted to look, but was afraid to, and at the same time she didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of knowing that she was curious, so she turned away. She heard his belt buckle hit the floor and knew that he was, if not naked, then was probably very close to it.
Margaret could sense him getting closer. She shut her eyes tightly and tried to imagine that she was somewhere, anywhere, other than tied onto this bed and waiting to be deflowered. She felt the cloth over her mouth, much to her surprise, loosen, and then he pulled the gag out. Margaret kept her eyes tightly shut. Then she felt the lip of a glass against her lips.
“Drink,” he said and she did. After taking the glass away he asked, “Are you going to open your eyes, little lady?”
Margaret shook her head, “No.”
She could hear the smile in his voice, “Why not?”
She hesitated, she wasn’t really sure why, “Um, because, it wouldn’t be proper…”
He laughed, “Oh, so suddenly you care about manners, huh?” (I often notice two blanks instead of one between sentences, but that can be a formatting glitch, of course.) She felt his hands on her shoulders, playing with the ribbon bow ties that held her baby doll up. “Well, since we’re married it is proper, but if you want to keep your eyes closed that’s your business, but I can promise you, I won’t be.” She felt him slowly untie the bows and then grab the hem of her baby doll and start to pull it down. .
“No!” She started to cry. “Please don’t!”
He didn’t stop. The silky fabric floated down her sensitive chest ever so slowly. It felt like an eternity had passed and all the while she kept her eyes tightly shut. She tensed as she felt the warm evening air dance across her bared breasts. Cringing, she lay there, completely repulsed. Though she refused to admit it, she also wondered if, and perhaps even hoped that he liked what he saw. She chanced a look and saw him looking down at her. His gaze shot up to her eyes, he smiled, and she quickly closed them again.
Margaret felt his weight on the bed as he climbed on top of her. She tugged at her restraints again, her breath quickening from desire and from fear.
“No!” She cried again.
His only response was to touch her between her legs on her most private of areas. Margaret gasped as unknown passions and perfect terror flooded through her. Dwayne began to rub her, his thick fingers going back and forth on her moistening sex. Margaret, little, (Grammatically, the comma can stand here, but I would take it away for style) prudish Margaret, found herself moaning with pleasure. She tried to stay silent and she tried to hold her body still, but the unladylike noises and the bucking of her narrow hips continued, despite her best efforts.
After who knows how long, he drew his hand away. Margaret whimpered for a very different reason and desperately tried to follow him. She opened her eyes again, and saw him smirking down at her from between her legs.
“I think you’re ready now,” he said lying down between her bound legs. Margaret tried to close them again, but found the same frustrating result.
“No!” She panted. “I’m not ready! Please! Don’t make me do this!”
He looked at her with a patronizing smile and spoke to her as if she was a little girl, “Sorry, sweet heart, this is for your own good…” He kissed her amidst her sobs and chuckled at her hysterics.
She felt his hard, strong body against her frail, dainty frame. His farm rough hands went to her small breasts immediately. He squeezed them and tweaked her nipples, ignoring her pleas for him to be gentle with her, mauling them with his hands and his greedy mouth. All Margaret could do was shaking her head and continue to beg, but her pleas fell upon deaf ears.
Suddenly, she gave a start. She felt his hard manhood against her opening. She tried to inch away, but he followed her, looking into her eyes the whole time.
“Please…” Margaret managed once more before he pushed into her.
Dwayne was no gentler than the male animals she’d seen mounting the females. He thrust deep into her, tearing her maidenhead, in one painful motion. (If the "painful motion" belongs to "thrust", I would write: "He thrust deep into her in one painful motion, tearing her maidenhead", else get rid of the second comma) Margaret cried and cried as he pumped himself in and out of her with no concern for her feelings whatsoever. His hands still squeezing her breasts, his lips locked onto hers, muffling her cries. He thrust faster and faster, groaned loudly and his eyes rolling back into his head. Margaret felt a warm sticky explosion inside of her. He collapsed on top of her in a sweaty heap, crushing her against the mattress.
After a few moments he pulled himself off of her, gathered up his clothes, and went to the bathroom. She heard the sink running, then the sounds of him dressing. Dwayne returned with a thick pillow in his hands.
“I hope for your sake you learn to enjoy this a little more, otherwise it’s going to be awfully hard on you!” He said shaking his head and smirking at her.
Margaret glared at him as he walked towards her.
“Oh, so for once little miss loud mouth doesn’t have something to say? I mean other than all that begging?”
With one hand he reached under her bottom and lifted her up, while he stuffed the pillow under her with the other. (nice insider trick :) )
“I think a week like this will be good for you, and if you’re as fertile as the other women in your family you ought to be bearing me a son by the end of the week too…”
Margaret squirmed on the bed, trying to get the pillow out from under her but to no avail.
“Well, I’m going to go back down to the party, but don’t worry. I’ll be back soon for more. So, just sit tight!” And with that he was out the door. She heard it lock behind him.
Margaret thought about what was going to happen. No longer did she see herself in the big city studying at university. She knew her future. In six or seven months she was going to be stuck in Dwayne’s kitchen, cooking his dinner. Her bare feet would be swollen and she’d be as big as a house with his child. She wanted to cry, but she had no more tears.
All in all a well developed story without any over the top elements. I did not comment on every little detail that caught my eye, but used examples to make general remarks.