Massively Taboo 50

by Izzy Slam

  “This is lovely,” I said, lifting the salve and admiring the rosy color.

  “I promised my cousin I would offer you my amenities. Though I have to admit,” she said, leaning down and peering into the mirror, “you don’t need much help. I think with a dot of powder and rouge, maybe a trace of salve to lift the fatigue, and you’ll be as good as new.”

  As she brushed my hair and applied a dusting of powder and rouge, I felt pampered. Nervous butterflies swarmed through my belly as Mr. Joseph’s arrival came nearer.

  “Are you married, Ramona?”

  I figured she must have been.

  She flashed a smile as she tucked a strand of hair underneath a hair pin. “Yes, I am. My husband runs the saloon downtown.”

  “So, this is your home?”

  “It’s the family home. But don’t worry. Mr. Joseph purchased one several years ago, not long before his wife passed.”

  “Oh, I had no idea he was married before. How did his wife pass?”

  “Tuberculosis.” She let out a sigh that made me feel heavy. “My cousin wasn’t even allowed to be around her before she died.”

  “That must have been awful for him. And her.”

  “It was. It took him nearly eighteen months to stop grieving. But once he did, we all saw the light in his eyes. So, we pooled our money together and suggested he look for another bride.”

  Knowing this little detail about my future husband made me feel a little closer to him. And in just a few moments, I could put a face to the man who purchased me two and a half weeks ago.

  Ramona opened a drawer next to me and removed a small bottle of perfume, passing it to me. “I’ll let you put this on.”

  I removed the glass lid and touched the lip of the bottle. A strong floral scent drifted my way as I lightly dabbed my neck. And as I caught my reflection in the mirror, I suddenly felt like the picture of femininity. Never had I ever felt or looked this beautiful.

  She led me back to the bedroom and helped me get the new dress on. And that made me feel even more beautiful.

  “You are gorgeous,” Ramona said as she pulled some long curls around the front of my shoulder.

  “Thank you,” I beamed. “Do you think he’ll like me?”

  “How could he not?”

  With that, she led me to the sitting room where I would wait for Mr. Joseph. She gave me a light kiss on the cheek. “My cousin will adore you. Enjoy your afternoon, and I will see you again this evening.”

  I nodded as she walked out the door, and my nervousness grew as the questions mounted.

  What would I talk about with my husband?

  What if he didn’t like me in person as much as he did on paper?

  Will he want me to call him “Mr. Joseph” or “Sir”?

  What if he was well endowed and sex was excruciating?

  I had heard stories of women bleeding profusely during consummation. But my best friend, who was married last year, told me that her husband’s thick manhood felt good and caused her to have multiple orgasms.

  She also told me that he insisted on using her mouth for sex, but that he also did the same to her. Apparently, this was common bedroom activity for many couples. Personally, I found it revolting. Why would you want to put your mouth down there? I hoped that Mr. Joseph wasn’t like that, and that he would only want to make love to me the traditional way.

  As my anxiety grew, I walked to the large windows in the sitting room and pulled back the curtains that had been closed to keep the sun out. The house was located several miles from town, surrounded by rolling hills and sycamore trees. I tried to picture the rest of my life with a man I hadn’t met, imagining what sort of life I would have, how many children we would be gifted with, and whether we would be truly happy together.

  Fantasizing like this wasn’t unfamiliar. I often wondered what the world would be like if we could choose our husbands, not the other way around. My mother was paid sixty dollars for me—money she desperately needed as a widow. But the government would get nearly a third of that money, a tax every parent paid when their daughters were sold. It had been this way for many generations, and it wasn’t likely to change.

  I stepped away from the window, and the second I did, I heard the sounds of the wagon wheels grinding along the earth. My heart pounded inside my chest as I pressed down the front of my dress. I wanted him to like me so much. I wondered if he was as nervous as I was.

  When he finally walked through the front door, he nearly stole my breath. He was more handsome than I could have dreamed, and he was not dressed like a farmer at all.

  Once the door was closed, he immediately removed his hat and brushed his gaze up and down my body. I tingled from head to toe, doing the same. His hair was dark and wavy, and his face perfectly sculpted. Hard lines around dark green eyes hinted at his age and occupation that required being in the sun all day. Charcoal gray trousers that matched a light gray vest made him look rather distinguished.

  “My lovely maiden, Claire...” His voice, deep and commanding, echoed around me.

  I licked my lips and smiled, taking a step his way, suddenly drawn to him. It was socially forbidden to approach your new husband like this unless given permission, but I couldn’t help myself. “Hello, Mr. Joseph.”

  ~Joseph~

  I had decided to take the day off instead of making Claire wait until the evening to meet me. I knew she would be feeling nervous, as most new brides did. And quite honestly, I was a bit nervous myself. I wanted my soon-to-be wife to feel as strongly attracted to me as I did her. It would make our marital relations that much more enjoyable.

  I never understood men who didn’t care what their wives thought or felt. Yes, we owned them and had complete charge over them, but their happiness was a reflection of our abilities to not only care for them, but also to please them. And if your wife isn’t happy, it spills over to every part of your life.

  I had seen pictures of Claire just a few weeks ago, only several months after my cousin Ramona informed me that the family had pitched in nearly $40 to help me move on with my life. My first wife died two years ago, rest her soul, and I had just finished paying off her funeral several months ago. I missed her dearly, there’s no doubt. But I knew that I was ready to remarry when all I could think about was a nameless, faceless angel who would submit to me willingly and happily. How many nights had I jerked myself to completion fantasizing about her? I knew she was out there somewhere. And the moment I ordered the monthly catalog of available maidens, I could feel it in my veins. My future was somewhere within these pages.

  I flipped through dozens of sheets (I doubt Claire knew how many women she was up against; most maidens don’t) before I saw her photograph. Her faint smile, long naturally curly locks of hair, fair skin, and soft angelic eyes made me harden instantly. The fact that she had chosen to wear a dress that displayed her ample cleavage made my manhood twitch. But still, there was something about her that did me in. My chest swelled with potential love for this woman that I didn’t even know.

  Really, all I knew was that her name was Claire Goode. A quick flip to the back where her maidenograpy was listed in one short paragraph told me only part of what I wanted to know about her—that her father had died when she was a young girl, that she lived in Holden, Missouri, she was an exceptional cook, loved to sew and read (when time permitted), and dreamed of owning an animal farm someday. Good heavens, I wanted this woman and I wanted her right away.

  Her price was a modest $60. I would have happily paid more than that. I had put aside $30, and that combined with my family’s earnings would afford me the loveliest of maidens.

  But my gorgeous Claire was the loveliest of all, and by this time tomorrow, she will be Claire Miller, my forever bride and the mother of my future children.

  When I got to the family home that we use for guests and travelers, I felt that tug in my gut. I had plans for Claire that involved a tremendous need to assert my dominance and begin training her to please me. Knowing
that soon, I would be shoving my erection past those pretty lips of hers made blood pump through my shaft like a flooding river.

  But the moment I walked through the front door and saw her standing there in the dress I’d bought for her, everything coalesced at once. I felt it in my soul, that I had made the right decision.

  My God, she was beautiful. Part of her hair had been twisted into a braid and knotted on the side of her head while the rest of her curls spilled down the front of her chest. The white dress accented the healthy, innocent look she had. It dipped down low enough to show she was not lacking in breasts, and her sensual, child-bearing hips were easy to see underneath the fabric that clung to her body. Obviously, the dress was slightly too small, but not really. In fact, it was just “too small” enough.

  I took my hat off and greeted her, having a hard time not visualizing her naked underneath me. I was surprised when she took a step toward me as it’s considered impolite to approach your husband to be if he hasn’t done the same. But the moment I heard her voice, I knew that I was done for.

  My erection bulged in my pants as I approached her. I could smell the perfume from several feet away, and I couldn’t wait to put my hands on her.

  ~Claire~

  After setting his hat on the wall hook, he approached me and took me by the hands. My pulse thrummed in my neck as I took in the sight of the man I would lie down with the next day. His tongue brushed along his lips as he studied my face, and that familiar throb between my legs made an appearance. I’d felt it many times but never did anything about it, wanting to remain as pure as possible.

  My future husband cupped my face with one hand, the calluses along his palm scratching my cheek, making him that much more rugged. He smelled fresh and clean, and yet so manly. “Only nineteen years old. Such youth and beauty radiating from you.”

  I bit my lip to hold back a smile as I didn’t want to seem overly excited. As I had learned in the maiden’s class I took last year, women were expected to remain humble and demure when meeting their new husbands.

  “Thank you, Mr. Joseph.” I wanted desperately to tell him I found him equally striking. The wetness seeping from between my legs and onto my drawers was evidence of that. If he were to touch me, he would see for himself.

  “I’ve looked forward to meeting you since the day I saw your picture. You were the purest looking angel amongst all the others. I don’t have much, but I’m proud to have you as my bride.”

  “And I’m proud to have been selected by you, Sir. I look forward to serving you throughout our lives.”

  I heard an animalistic grumbling in his throat, and it sent shivers all through me. He sounded as though he was ready to claim me right away. And to be honest, I found myself having those same urges.

  “Beautiful and well trained. You will make me very happy, my bride.”

  “Likewise, Sir.”

  He leaned over and pressed his lips to my cheek as his fingers snaked through my hair and along my scalp. It sent rivulets of pleasure shooting down my body.

  The first real kiss would happen at his discretion and his discretion only, but most men chose to wait until the wedding night for the kiss. This was because tongues flicking against each other could lead to uncontrollable urges. Since I had never kissed, I couldn’t speak on the subject. But I did have to admit that feeling his tongue dart inside my mouth was something I now longed for.

  “Let’s go for a walk, shall we?”

  “Of course.”

  He took me by the hand and led me outside, towards the rolling hill and trees surrounding the property. He was quiet for a few moments, but every now and then, I would catch him looking my way. I could feel my face heating, wondering what he was thinking. My palm began to sweat against his, and out of courtesy, he dropped it and wrapped an arm around my waist.

  “I appreciate the respect you’ve shown me. And while most men like the title ‘Sir,’ I would prefer you to call me ‘Master’ instead.”

  I glanced his way, those green eyes of his tugging at my core. “Yes. Of course, Master.”

  It was an old school formality, which I could appreciate. If anything, it made me respect him more.

  “I also have expectations of you today. Nothing extraordinary, and I promise that you will be rewarded greatly for all you do.”

  The mystery shrouded in that statement scared me but also thrilled me. “I am here for you, Master. I will do my best to meet your expectations.”

  He squeezed my waist and pulled me close. “Good girl. Now, do you have any questions for me?”

  “I’m allowed to ask questions?” I was trained to not ask anything unless absolutely necessary.

  “With me? Of course. I want you to be comfortable, happy.”

  What could I ask that seemed curious and not intrusive? “Tell me about your family? Are your parents still alive?”

  “Yes, they are. My father owns the farm that I manage while he works at the general store four days a week. I also have three sisters, two aunts and uncles, and nine cousins. You’ll eventually meet them all.”

  We approached the shade of a tree, and he removed his vest, lying it on the ground and gesturing for me to sit. He quickly joined me, wrapping his arms around his knees. I noticed his large hands and thick veins rolling along the top.

  “Tell me about you. I know your father passed years ago from influenza, but do you have any other family?”

  “Not really. My mother was an only child, and her parents were killed in a village raid when she was just a teen. That’s when she met my father. He found her hiding and took her in to keep her safe, marrying her when she was of age.”

  He slipped his fingers through mine and stretched out his legs, pulling my hand to his lap. “Those raids created many orphans. I’m glad your mother was rescued.”

  “Me too,” I echoed with a smile. “She is a wonderful woman. I just hope she doesn’t get too lonely or struggle to get by.” I suddenly realized the passive aggressive nature of my musing and immediately turned red. “I’m sorry, Master. I just meant that, well, you know, I just worry about her, that’s all. I don’t regret being purchased at all.”

  His eyes darted around my face, an intense look in his eyes. There might be consequences for what I’d just said. Consequences that ranged from a hard spanking to a verbal thrashing.

  “You speak your mind to me, Claire. I’ll tell you if it is too much.”

  I gulped and nodded.

  “As for your mother, I will make sure she’s taken care of. If she gets lonely, I’ll move her here.”

  My chest suddenly swelled with happiness. “You would do that for her?”

  “I take care of my family. And that includes your widowed mother, if and when she needs it. I knew what I was getting into when I made the decision to purchase a fatherless bride.”

  So much honesty in his voice, and in his eyes. I wanted so much to cup his face, to feel the ruggedness of his body against mine. Lord, what was happening to me? I did not expect to be overwhelmed with this much lust when I first met him.

  “Thank you, Master. You’re a good man.”

  He pulled my hand closer to his crotch, making my heart race like mad. I wasn’t sure if it was an oversight or if he was feeling as heady as I was. But I had no desire to complain.

  We sat for another half hour, talking about our families. He filled me in on his wife and her passing, saying that he had never known such pain. He also told me that he sorted through dozens and dozens of photos before coming across mine.

  “May I ask what you thought when you first saw my picture?”

  He released a low growl and pulled my face towards his, dangerously close to his lips. “I had to have you. That’s what I thought.”

  I pulled in a rush of air, never expecting to hear such a raw confession.

  “In fact,” he grumbled. “I must have a small part of you right now. I can’t wait another moment to begin our training.”

  ***

  I stood
before my master in the small bedroom as he brushed his hands over my face. He pushed the shoulders of my dress down, revealing my pale skin. Waves of desire rippled through me as well as uncertainty. Surely he wouldn’t take me before our wedding vows were exchanged? While he technically owned me, having paid for me already, he should still want to abide by common law rules, one of which was maintaining purity until legally wed.

  “You have questions running through that pretty little head, don’t you, darling?”

  I nodded as he inched so close to me, I felt his body heat blanket me. The corner of his lips pulled up into a sly smile as he moved to my neck, planting soft kisses along my flesh.

  I gasped and threw my hands up to his chest. My loins throbbed as the heat built there, and when his tongue dragged along my clavicle, my nipples puckered into hard bumps underneath my dress.

  Master’s fingers found them and softly pinched them, making me quiver with need. “Don’t worry,” he growled, cupping my breasts and squeezing them. “I’m not taking what’s not yet legally mine.”

  “Oh—okay…” I whispered, feeling a blissful combination of relief and disappointment.

  “But I do feel compelled to begin your bedroom training.”

  Holding my face steady, Master dragged his lips over my cheek, down to my chin, and up the other side, giving me soft kisses that made my knees wobble.

  When I was dizzy and could hardly stand up, he took a few steps back and began to loosen his trousers.

  “Have you maintained purity for me, Claire? Internally?”

  A question I had been expecting. My maidenhood—external purity—had been checked and confirmed through a certification process he had paid for weeks ago, then rechecked before leaving yesterday morning. What he was asking about—my internal purity that could not be certified and relied solely on my honesty—referred to the deepest part of a woman’s womb and whether an orgasm had taken place by a lack of self-control, a need to touch yourself and experience that release. I’d wanted to many times but had resisted the deep urges.