Taming the Wilde (20 page)

Roake noticed, for I barely stopped fiddling with it. “Is it bothering you, Jane? Is it too tight?”

“No,” I said, glancing over at him. “It is strange, that is all.”

He was quiet for a moment, then he spoke. “I will make you happy Jane,” he said. “I promise that.”

“I am sure you will Master Roake,” I said quietly. For many months he had been the supreme authority figure in my life. He had chastised me and punished me and thrashed me and now he was my husband and I could touch him as I pleased and he... he could touch me as he pleased. That thought made my stomach flip back and forth. In a few short hours he would claim his marriage rights and I would no longer be a virgin.

I was an innocent but during the course of various associations I had gleaned some idea of what the process involved. The man would insert himself into his mate and saw back and forth until such time as he felt fit to cease the activity. I did not know how it would feel to have such a thing done to me - I had touched myself before of course, but to have Roake take my virginity, that made me tremble on the inside.

“What has your pretty head so concerned?” His query was deep and gravelly and patient.

“It is no matter,” I lied, turning to look at the view as it passed us by. The Australian wilds were exciting but intimidating. They had not bowed to the pressure of man and I knew that there were probably dozens of animals capable of inflicting serious harm in my vicinity at any time. It was strange therefore that part of my mind wanted me to leap from the wagon and go haring off into the scrublands.

“You must confide in your husband, Jane,” Roake censured me gently.

“Very well.” I did not wish to be caught up in maidenly embarrassment; after all I was a married woman now. “I was thinking about the intimate acts a man and woman share.”

“Oh very good,” he smiled rakishly. “I will also make you happy in that regard.”

I blushed and turned away; I could not meet his glittering eyes. Though the intent held in their gaze would no longer result in my moral ruin, I was quite overcome with the feelings stirred up by his words and look.

His next comment was more reassuring. “You need have no fear of what will pass between us Jane, it will be beautiful.”

I made to reply, but my throat was dry and my lips sealed by leaden weights of maidenly shame.

He drew the wagon to a halt and bade me step down. I did so not knowing what he had in store for me. Taking me by the hand, my husband lead me to the back of the wagon and had me climb up inside. He followed in short order and then we were in that private canvas covered space together. Roake brushed my ruddy red and dark locks away from my face, slid his hand behind my head and claimed my lips in a kiss that was as passionate as it was skillful, his tongue teaching mine the ways of intimacy between a man and woman. I surrendered to him completely as he took my weight against his arms and held me close. “Do not fear me, Jane,” he murmured when he broke the kiss. “I am the servant to your pleasure.”

He proved such by going to his knees before me and lifting my skirts. I squealed and tried to press them down, but he moved my hands away with a gentle touch and placed his own hands on my bare thighs. “Do you not burn for me Jane? Or do you wish to deny me the heat of the fire I have stoked?” As he spoke his palms were sliding up the flanks of my thighs with a slow and intimate touch. I wondered how he knew of the heat that I felt between my legs. I tried to press my thighs together once more, but he pushed me back to sit atop a crate and parted my legs with insistent pressure. “Let me look upon your flower, Jane,” he said reverently. “Let me look upon the garden the lord has seen fit to bless me with.”

His fingers worked at the laces of my short undergarments and they slid away, revealing the strawberry gold curls that grew plentifully in that valley betwixt my thighs. “Oh there it is,” he said, his voice thick with yearning. “The sight I have always longed to see - and it is even
more beautiful and more delicate than I had imagined.”

Naked before him, I blushed the entire length of my body. His stare was intense with wonder and when he leaned forward to place a gentle kiss at the very top of my curls I wondered what he was playing at. His plan became clear when he trailed the kisses lower, lower, lower, until I felt his soft lips against my bud of pleasure. I gasped and squirmed as I felt that sensitive spot swell under the touch. It was fleeting, his lips pausing there only for a moment, then his fingers were stroking the underside of my petals. His touch stirred up all new manner of sensations, I had touched myself before of course, but it was not the same as when a man, this man, my husband laid his fingers across those mounds and made a small scissoring motion, parting them so that my nectar flowed onto his digits.

I watched as he brought his dewy fingers to his lips and traced his tongue across them. “You taste like the garden of Eden,” he said rapturously. I could not help but be charmed and aroused by his ardor. I had always feared conquest and the rough advances of a man intent on sating his animal urges, but he was worshiping me, not conquering me.

His fingers returned and this time stroked me between my lips, spreading my natural moisture up to the tingling bud. The pleasure was so great I let my head fall back so that I might enjoy it fully. When I felt a hot muscle sweeping along my slit I looked down and discovered that Roake had his mouth to my privates and was teasing the tip of his tongue about the folds and ridges in a way that made my knees quite lose their stiffness. I almost crumpled to the ground, but he caught me with strong hands and held me up under my bottom as he feasted upon my sweetness, simultaneously consuming and pleasuring me. A climax swept over me, consuming my mind and senses.

“We must move on quickly,” he said, helping me to stand on my own two feet when my pleasure was done. “I do not wish to deflower you in the back of a wagon.”

I sat next to him as we drove on, every rocking motion of the wagon spurring me to greater arousal. The skin between my thighs was slick with my juices and the moisture from his tongue. I was wet, willing and so ready to be taken that I would have agreed to it if he had simply stopped the wagon, pulled me atop him and speared himself inside me.

It was late when we arrived in Castlereagh, a little town that was barely a town. There was a house though, a fine, small, sturdy thing. Roake swept me into his arms and carried me across the threshold and then I knew it was mine. My house. My husband. My home.

“It is bare
, I know,” Roake said as he lowered my feet to the ground. “But you may furnish it according to your tastes. My salary is not overly generous, but I have some fortune of my own to draw on.”

I looked about the little house, saw the little touches that told me it was Roake’s house, everything laid out neatly and sparsely. Quite caught by emotion, I burst into tears.

“Jane, what is wrong? Do you regret this?”

I pressed my face into his chest. “I have not had a home since I was a child,” I explained through sniffling sobs.

“Well you have one now,” he said, comforting me with his strong arms. The following hour was filled with all manner of kisses and caresses, of loving words and charming little speeches. In the process I was disrobed and so was he, we came to one another quite naked, standing as husband and wife without any impediment between us.

He laid me down on the bed and I looked up at him, entirely entranced by his body. He was not a bulky man, but his torso was well muscled and there was a lithe power about him that reminded me of the predator I had first supposed him to be. As his hard member pressed against
my inner thigh and the mushroom head found my nether petals, I gasped.

“Are you uncomfortable?”

“No... it is... warmer than I thought it would be.”

He chuckled and pressed profuse kisses to my lips and neck. “You are a charming innocent Jane.”

“I will not be so innocent in the morning,” I replied, feeling how his manhood surged against me.

He groaned and held one hand to my hips, holding me still as he eased the very tip of himself inside me, moving slowly enough that it did not hurt but rather ached as our two separate bodies became joined in flesh. I stopped talking then, there was no room for speech in my mind, it was full of new feelings and new sensations as he went in, in, in, deeper than I could have imagined a man could go. There was a sting as he passed through the barrier that declared me virgin, and I let out a small whimper.

“Shh, it will only hurt for a moment,” he said, gentling me with more kisses and caresses. He held himself still until the little pain passed, until I urged my hips up, wanting to see what more there was to this new experience that would bind us for life. His manhood went deeper still, until I was sure I could take no more and his body was pressed hard against mine.

I gasped with wonder as his cock throbbed inside me, his hot, hard flesh stretching mine, claiming me for all time. I thought I had reached the peak of things, but then he began to move in and out with slow strokes, in and out and in and out and every time he moved ripples of pleasure passed through my hot, wet flesh.

Roake was a masterful lover and he did not simply claim me with his hardness, he claimed me with his hands and his mouth, tracing his tongue across my pink nipples as he moved inside me so that the ripples emanated from both ends of my body and met in the middle, perturbing my pleasure like raindrops on a lake with little wavelets that came and went.

There was still more to come. As my initial shyness and tension drained away under his practiced hand, he began to surge inside me with more urgency and then the little pools of pleasure became waves that rose and slapped against the sides of my being, washing over me and taking me with their power. I was overcome by the forces of lust and I clung to him as he thrust into me, making my flesh part for him, taking his pleasure and creating mine in the same instant.

For small moments I thought we were back on the Valiant, so roughly did the bed rock. He consumed me, everything was him, I was a slave to his spearing rod, desperate for each new thrust that brought me closer to a more complete pleasure than I had ever known. I cried out, almost afraid of the feelings that were so strong. I felt as if my very core were melting, as if I myself were fading away.

He reared up and pressed his hand between us. I had not known that there was still more pleasure to be had, but he showed me how it felt when he thrust his cock into my body and simultaneously caressed the little bud at the apex of my lips. “Look down,” he urged me. “See how beautiful you are.”

I opened my eyes and saw my naked body, spread and penetrated. I could see my once virginal lips spread around his thick, veined cock. It was slick with juices, the sweet nectar that flowed from my center and covered us both. He pressed forward and I watched as his rod slipped inside me. His thumb brushed over the top of my bud and an exclamation of pleasure escaped my body. I was losing control of myself, but he was still master, thrusting, riding against me.

“Cum for me, Jane,” he said, laying a light slap to the skin above my sensitive lips. My eyes opened wider and he smiled darkly, laying another slap so close to my little bud of pleasure
that I felt it shock through all those nerves.

He commanded and my body obeyed. Barely were the words out of his mouth than my pleasure rose in a great crashing crescendo, rushing over me. I felt my inner walls contract about his cock and heard his answering shout. He could no longer stay knelt straight above me as my wanton, needing pussy throbbed against him. As tremors of ecstasy rushed through me, he bent over me and began pounding with hard, urgent thrusts that took my climax to another level of intensity. His hips battered against mine, his hard bone grinding against my sensitive little bud. I screamed his name, clawing and clutching at his back as he stiffened and with his own cry, began releasing his seed inside me.

“You are beautiful,” Roake breathed reverently afterward, caressing my bare breast as I gently traced the places his manhood had been. It seemed both wonderful and strange that he had pushed himself inside me and left a little piece of himself behind.

“So are you,” was all I could say as he took me in his arms and held me close. We were joined before man and god, we were joined in flesh and we were joined in spirit.

Perhaps you are wondering how Roake and I managed to get along with one another in a sleepy little town in the colonies. I will not pretend that the course of our love ran smooth. Neither of us was truly prepared for the rigors of marriage, but we did our best and when our best was not good enough we did our worst.

There was plenty of work to be done. I was responsible for all the duties that came with being a chaplain's wife, which included teaching Sunday School, doing laundry and the odd flower arrangement – which was usually very odd indeed as I had little aptitude for such things. I went through a somewhat painful period of adjustment during which I came to terms with the fact that I now lived in a house that was mine, with a husband who was also mine. One would have thought that nice, charming, sweet things would be easy to become accustomed to, but it was not always the case. Sometimes I felt it all becoming quite stifling, but Percy knew me well and when I began to grow irritable and agitated he would take me into the countryside on long rides. If that did not ease my temper, he would put me over the back of the comfortable armchair we purchased together and ply my behind with strokes of a hard wooden paddle until I agreed to behave myself.