The Toll

by Jeanette Lynn

  This part was completely accurate—per the ladies’ information on the marriage bed—but everything else they’d said, up until that point, was confusing, and not at all what I found I’d experienced, and now I had to question it.

  Panting and trembling, Trystan fell down on top of me in a sweating, stumbling heap. I grunted but absorbed the impact, taking the weight of him, all of him, inadvertently smooshing me into the soggy, wet patch of ground cradling me.

  Sighing into my nape, he shuddered as his softening male flesh brushed the lips of my sex.

  “Your skin is so hot down there,” he muttered into my neck, and I felt a spurt of wetness from his cockhead before he pressed his semi-hard erection into me.

  “Trystan!”

  “Oh, yes, Daph, yes. Say my name.” He only got the head inside of me, my swollen insides protesting his attempted invasion, before I heard a familiar shout.

  “Daphedaenya! Daphedaenya!”

  And never have I been so relieved to hear someone say my name, like only Mamma could.

  Trystan froze and stilled, but hopped up at the sound of her voice. A look of panic washing over him, he shoved his now shriveling, glistening member into his pants as he tugged them, drawers and all, up his legs.

  I watched, dazedly, as he redressed himself, still reeling from all that had just happened.

  What, I almost found myself asking, exactly, did just happen?

  Trystan knelt down in front of me and pulled out a handkerchief from his pocket, wiping any and all traces of his bodily fluid from my person, tucking my clothes back into place as I, still stunned, just stared at him.

  “Come on,” he crooned gently, sweetly, back to my loving, kind and caring Trystan. The change in him, after and during what we’d just done, left me staring after him, blinking dumbly at him as he went about redressing me, as if nothing was amiss. I didn’t know how or what to feel.

  Still a bit shaken, I got to my feet before I finally spoke.

  “What just happened?” I mumbled in a small voice and dared to peek at him, uncertain. He laughed and hugged me tight, kissing my forehead as he ran his hands lecherously over my bottom. It didn’t feel the same anymore, and it sort of made my skin crawl. I jumped, but he just took that as a good sign and nuzzled my cheek.

  “Why, we just made love, my silly, soon to be wife,” he teased, waiting patiently in front of me with a bright, happy smile.

  “Soon to be wife?” I mumbled stupidly, perplexed and a bit more than surprised.

  “Yes!” he cried happily, scooping me up to twirl me around. “Our Pa’s were talking on the way to the bridge, and mine suggested the match, along with the back land your Pa’s always been eyeing. He agreed, though they both decided right then wasn’t the time to iron things out, and now we’re engaged to be wed. Isn’t that wonderful, love?”

  At the look on my face, his smile slowly fell and he set me down carefully on my feet.

  “You do want to marry me still, don’t you, Daphie-girl?” The uncertainty in his voice pulled at me, along with a slow measure of guilt.

  “I do,” and I did, “I just, uhm, I’m, uh…”

  His smile returned as he cottoned on.

  “Oh,” glancing away sheepishly, he rubbed at his neck worriedly, “are you upset about what happened in the field just now?” Tossing his head, he motioned towards the spot we’d just gotten up from.

  I wouldn’t look, refused to, actually. And no matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t really meet his gaze at that moment.

  “Well…” Pausing, I chewed on the inside of my cheek and debated if it would be unkind to tell him my thoughts on our ‘love making’, as he referred to it, of moments ago.

  “Daphie?” he whispered hoarsely, and at the sound in his voice, I forced myself to look up. He had a sudden, inexplicable look of panic on his face, but then he cleared it and hugged me to him tight.

  “Look, it was my first time too, even if we didn’t finish together, and, uh, they always say the first time doesn’t always go the way you’d like it to, especially if you’ve never done it before. So…”

  Thinking about that for a moment, and how that likely could be the explanation, I slowly relaxed into his embrace, smiling a little into his shirt front, taken in by his admission and his adorable babbling.

  “It was your first time too?” I’d never thought about that, assuming that all men did away with their virginity as soon as they could. Most of them did. It had never crossed my mind he would wait.

  “Yeah,” he admitted sheepishly.

  That must have been why it was so horrible, I thought, feeling a little better about it. We both have no idea what the hell we’re doing.

  The thought lifted me a little and I pulled back, glancing up into Trystan’s trustworthy face. I’d heard stories about lust overcoming men—is that what had happened with him? Was he so overcome with lust and passion he’d forgotten himself?

  The idea brought a flush of pleasure rushing through me, that I could do that to him. Me. Plain old me. But then I thought about the act itself, how that had made me feel, and I was right back to uncertainty again. Was it me? Was it him? Is this normal? Is this like those wedding jitters you hear about? Sexual intercourse jitters?

  Yes. Yes. That had to be it. I have the jitters. I’m just scared.

  “You know I love you, don’t you, Daphie-girl?”

  Blinking out of my thoughts, I didn’t need to think about it. “I know you do.”

  “No regrets?” he asked sweetly, kissing my brow tenderly.

  “Can we get married soon?” I asked tentatively, a rush of nervous flutters enveloping me at the thought. He loves me. Trystan cares. I bit my lip, gnawing on it worriedly, doubts assailing me again. No. I shook my head. Our fathers already made a marriage pact, Trystan and I are to be wed. There’s really nothing for me to decide anymore—it’s done.

  We’ll figure this lovemaking stuff out, and we’ll do it together. I bit my lip at the naughty, unladylike thought. And we’ll keep doing it until we get it right.

  “As soon as we figure out a way to get your sister back, I swear it,” he promised.

  Mamma shouted for me again, and he gave me a lingering kiss before we parted ways.

  “Meet me again tomorrow?” he murmured huskily, a wealth of promise in his voice.

  The thought of trying again, so soon after the first time, sent a thread of trepidation skipping through me.

  “I’m sore,” I admitted, when I thought my silence might have offended him.

  “Oh,” was all he said.

  Nibbling my lip, I wrung my hands nervously and my eyes shot to his.

  He frowned down at me, studying me, noting the look on my face. “Did I hurt you that much?” he finally got out.

  “A little, but you didn’t mean to, I don’t think,” I rushed to assure him.

  He still winced. “I didn’t mean to, really, Daph. Honest. I guess I got a little carried away, huh?”

  “Just a little.” My face soured, unbidden, but he caught on before I could blank my expression.

  “I’ll be more careful next time. I promise. I’m sorry, love.”

  As he reached over and gently caressed my cheek sweetly, I felt all the tension building up inside of me slowly leave. Nodding slowly, I let out a long, quiet sigh.

  Grinning impishly, he chuckled at the look on my face and couldn’t resist pulling me to him one last time.

  “Oh, Daphedaenya,” he whispered, chuckling, “you’re perfect. Did you know that? What would I do without you?”

  I chuckled along with him, if a bit reluctantly, and we laughed again as Mamma started shouting my name even louder, if that’s possible.

  “You’d be bored,” I mumbled, but winked when I let him go, tossing him a quick smile as I turned and headed home, rushing off before Mamma started shouting the rooftops down, searching me out to come home and fix supper.

  I learned a few things then—first, I know absolutely nothing about sex,
despite initially thinking otherwise, and second, even the best of distractions, well meant or otherwise, are just that—distractions.

  Sure I’d go unnoticed, I entered the house quickly, glad Mamma was still on the other side of the house, shouting after me. Rushing, I changed quickly and shoved my ruined outfit between my lumpy straw mattress and the bed ropes, redressing and hurrying out before she came storming back in. I was really sore down there, and I had noticed a few smears of blood, but it wasn’t something I couldn’t ignore, so I didn’t give it another thought.

  The pot was already bubbling with stew by the time she came back, stomping in.

  “Where were you?” she demanded, studying me shrewdly as I glanced up at her from my knitting, seated comfortably, as far as she knew, in a worn out old chair at the kitchen table. My throbbing, aching pussy was a story and issue for me and myself only. I was not about to chat up my Mamma about engaging in unwed intercourse. Unwed, uh, pre-intercourse, that left my loins swollen, irritated and chafed.

  “I came when you called.” Which wasn’t exactly a lie.

  “Why did you change your clothes?”

  Caught on to that, did she?

  “My hem got dirty,” I answered vaguely.

  She grunted and headed over to the lidded pot on the pot belly stove we cooked all of our meals on.

  “Always was one for muddying up your things,” she grumbled, and I knew I was off the hook. “It’s a good thing I taught you how to do the wash young or my fingers would surely have shriveled up and fallen off by now, your clothes were always so filth ridden.”

  Knitting away, I stifled a smile, hiding it as I bowed my head, forcing myself to concentrate on the socks my needles were producing.

  The lid lifted on the soup pot and Mamma sniffed appreciatively. “Maybe if you spent more time acting less like a man and more like a lady, you wouldn’t get so starved and pack on so much stuffing,” she mumbled.

  My smile fell and I felt my needles faltering.

  With a nod and a wave in my direction, I got up to give Mamma my seat.

  “Go do something useful, child,” she instructed, “I can finish it from here.” And just like that, I was effectively dismissed.

  Not bothering to look back, I went to my room and sat on my bed, staring out my window.

  “I hope you’re okay, Otvla. I really do,” I whispered out loud, but nobody heard.

  Barterers And Beggars

  Papa came home, had supper, then immediately left.

  Mamma seemed hopeful with their new plan, supposedly unbeknownst to me, but I could tell he’d, for some reason or another, despite her femininity, informed Mamma.

  She probably brow beat it out of him, I thought to myself, then immediately felt bad for entertaining such untoward thoughts. It was kind of disrespectful, and I knew better. Even if they were more than likely true. Glancing up, I snuck a surreptitious glance at Papa and Mamma. Mmm. Most definitely true, but that’s beside the point.

  And even though Papa assured Mamma he thought it would all work out, using hushed tones, thinking I might accidently overhear, I knew better.

  The last part confused me, though, as I unashamedly listened in. I may have said I was respectful, I didn’t say how far that line was drawn. This is about Otvla getting released from the evil clutches of an ugly troll, so, I felt justified as I pressed my ear closer to the entry way, catching on to that last bit, but not understanding a word.

  “And then, will you consider it, then?” Mamma urged. “You have to choose, one way or another, Nathem, and as I’ve said, I’ve already made mine.”

  Papa sighed resignedly, and I could make out him clearing his throat uncomfortably. “It won’t be as easy as you’re thinking, heart. You can’t just hand ‘em over like that and call it good.”

  “Well,” she growled, “what, then? Does it need our permission? If so, you will give it!”

  “No,” he whispered lower, “it has to be…”

  The rest was cut off as someone banged on the door, and then, as if they felt ignored, they banged loudly a few more times, until I heard Papa open it and rush out.

  Staying hidden, I hesitated to join my mother as Papa left, still feeling the bite of her words, the harsh sting. I flinched and fidgeted self-consciously where I stood, just thinking about it. It was a horrible thing to tell someone, let alone your own child, but I still loved her, just the same. She’s my mother. I’m supposed to love her, right?

  Mamma sat down heavily at the kitchen table, I saw as I poked my head around the corner. Throat catching, I went to her as soon as I saw her shoulders silently shaking as she cried.

  Grief stricken sobs tore from her throat, and I rested my chin on top of her head, wrapping my arms around her comfortingly.

  “I love you, Mamma. Don’t cry. It’ll be okay,” I whispered over and over, not surprised at all when she didn’t respond in kind. Heart breaking, I felt my own sob well up in my throat, but I held it back. There would be time for me to do that later, much later, when I’m all alone in my room.

  I didn’t stay up this time to wait for Papa, exhausted from keeping after Mamma, ultimately fearing the outcome of Papa’s quest, and too chicken to face it.

  A Price To Pay

  I must have overslept, waking up to Mamma shaking me viciously.

  “Daphedaenya! Daphedaenya, wake up! Wake up! Wake up! Wake up!”

  “Huh?” I mumbled, rolling over and wiping at my eyes as I squinted into the light coming from the lantern mother had lit, waving it around madly over my head.

  “Wake up!” she hissed, and I felt something soft and billowing hit me square in the face.

  Groggily, I sat up, pulling the offending material, whatever it was, away from my person. It was my warm dress, I realized, grunting when my stockings, bloomers, and chemise soon followed, smacking me with a soft slap in their wake.

  “Mamma, what are you…?”

  “Look,” she started, whirling around, “I need your help.” Huffing out a long breath, she stopped suddenly and gripped my hands in hers, her eyes a little wild and blood shot. “I mean, we need your help, your Papa and I.”

  “Okay, Mamma,” I mumbled in a sleepy voice. “What do you need me to do?”

  There was a noise in the other room and her head shot to the door.

  “Get dressed quickly,” she ordered, rushing out of my room in her nightgown and tattered robe. “We haven’t much time, dawn will be upon us soon enough, and then it might be too late.”

  “Too late?” I echoed, hurriedly dressing and tossing on my boots to follow.

  I made it into the kitchen in record time, taking the cape she had held out in front of her for me.

  “Hurry. Hurry, now, child.” Mamma shoved a brown sack into my hands and urged me outside, nudging my back almost painfully to get me going.

  “Mamma,” I protested, “what’s gotten into you? It’s-”

  “What’s all this?” Papa demanded as he scratched at his balding head, his nightgown hanging off his slender shoulders crookedly.

  “Daphie’s going to offer the troll everything we’ve already offered, plus,” she patted the sack I held loosely in my hands, my eyes widening with dawning horror, “my mother’s diamond rings and great Auntie May’s ruby necklace,” Mamma informed Papa primly, the fire and defiance in her eyes daring him to argue.

  “Heart…” Papa croaked, but Mamma made a cutting motion.

  “She will do this for us,” Mamma barked, “she will.” Turning slightly, she glanced at me. “Won’t you, Daphedaenya?”

  “Of course, Mamma,” I stuttered timidly, scared spit-less as my eyes darted back and forth between them.

  Papa rubbed at his face, looking older than I’d ever imagined in that moment.

  “At least let me take you most of the way.” Papa addressed me, but looked to Mamma as he spoke.

  Without another word, he left the room before she could answer, and we were both left standing there, my hands clutching t
he brown sack she used to store potatoes in gripped tightly in my hands, Mamma’s clutching her robe.

  As minutes ticked by the silence in the room stretched out before us, but neither one of us broke it.

  Papa came walking out moments before one of us might have cracked, having hastily dressed, his night shirt tucked into his trousers, tossing his thick winter coat on over it.

  Unsure, I followed him out, glancing back to see Mamma worriedly watching us go, a troubled expression on her face. It was hard to make it out, it was still so dark outside, but I know I saw it. In fact, it must still be the middle of the night, it was just that dark.

  Glancing around, I turned back to find my father watching me, swallowing thickly as he walked up to me and led me to his horse, offering me his hand to help me get up. Surprised at the generous gesture, I smiled gratefully, graciously accepting his proffered assistance.

  “Up you go,” he mumbled distractedly.

  Papa’s hands were warm, despite how thin they were, and I felt like a little girl again, like when he used to take me for rides when I was young.

  “Thank you, Papa,” I whispered as he mounted and settled himself in front of me. Papa froze and stared straight ahead, head dipping as he sat up a little straighter, back stiff, urging the horse on as we started off.

  “You’re, uh, you’re welcome, child,” he said finally, but his voice sounded strange and strangled.

  Oh, no. He must think this won’t work either. Wishing to give him strength, comfort him somehow, I gave his back a little pat, pleased when he accepted it. It was a rare thing for the two of us, since he wasn’t much, like Mamma, for shows of affection.

  “Don’t worry, Papa,” I assured him, lying through my even, white teeth, “We’ll get her back.” Lifting it from my lap, I shook the bag Mamma had handed me. “The jewels in here are surely tempting, I’d wager.”

  “I’m… I’m sure they are, sweet. I’m sure they are.”