Keeping Katerina (The Victorians)

by Simone Beaudelaire

  "Yes."

  "I have to fill it."

  She blanched and then looked at him, bewildered. "With what?"

  "With my… my…I can’t explain. Just let me show you." He took her hand and guided it to the front of his trousers. Her eyes widened.

  "Do you feel that?"

  "Yes. Of course."

  "It fits right in. And then, well, there’s… a substance which comes out. I put it inside you, and, if the timing is right, and the Lord wills it, a baby is created."

  "That’s the consummation?" He was pleased to note she appeared curious rather than revolted.

  "Yes."

  "And it causes bleeding?" She asked, concerned.

  "The first time. There’s a little… blockage inside you. Your maidenhead. I break it when I enter you."

  "The first time? How many times do we do this?"

  "Often. It’s quite… pleasurable."

  She raised one eyebrow.

  "You see, love," he told her gently, "you’re not ready. I married you to save you, but now you’re my wife. It’s for life, you know? I’m not keen on adultery. Disgusting practice. Therefore, from now on, you’re my only source of sexual satisfaction. I don’t want you to become… unwilling because we were intimate before we gave desire time to develop."

  "But there’s no choice. We have to. I won’t be safe until we do it."

  "I know, but it’s also our first time making love together. You’re giving me your virginity. All of that matters. I want it to be good for you, so you’ll like it."

  "We can try, but even if this time is… difficult, I promise I’ll let you keep doing it until we get it right. I’m a wreck right now, but I don’t want to stay this way forever. I want to be a good wife."

  "Thank you my dear. That might make the difference."

  "Shall we proceed then?"

  She was right and he knew it, but he still had grave doubts. "Very well."

  He helped her onto her feet and led her into his bedroom. Like the rest of the apartment, it was small. There was barely room inside for a modest wardrobe and a rather large bed, simple and unadorned, with good quality sheets and covers but no hangings or side curtains.

  "This is normally done nude, you know," he told her. She blushed but nodded. It had been years since she had refused an instruction, or even a subtle suggestion. She no longer remembered how. Turning she let him open her borrowed dress, dropping it to the floor, lifting her bloodied chemise over her head.

  In the daylight, the wounds on her back were even more terrible, and they extended almost to her knees. How many times had she been beaten bloody and no one tried to help? Too many. Well, no more. Abandoning this line of thought, he pushed back the covers on his bed, glad to note the cleaning woman had changed the sheets.

  He extended a hand and she gripped it for support, climbing onto the mattress.

  "Get into a comfortable position, love. I’ll work around what you can manage."

  She lay down her uninjured side, facing him, her arm under her head. From the front, she looked less desperately damaged, and he could focus his attention on her pretty breasts, her soft thighs, and ignore the yellow and purple bruises on her abdomen. He undressed quickly and joined her, face to face, leaning in for a long sweet kiss.

  "You like kissing, don’t you little love?"

  "Yes. Is that good?"

  "It’s an excellent start. You know, if you open a little, I can give you an even better kiss."

  "Really?"

  "Try it. Don’t be startled though."

  "What are you going to do?"

  "You’ll see."

  Her lips parted. He lowered his mouth to hers again, pulling the pins from her hair, letting the long dark strands fall all around her. How beautiful she was. Working up the desire to be intimate with her would not be difficult at all. He was already there. But he really did want her to find joy in their marriage bed someday, and so he had to take her slowly.

  Stroking the silky strands, he let his tongue touch her lips. She drew in a deep breath but didn’t protest. She was allowing his experience to guide them. Excellent. He entered her mouth. She tasted of tea and woman, and he worked her mouth gently for long moments while her surprise faded. Eventually, she began to respond instinctively to his kiss, touching his tongue hesitantly with hers. How nice. He let her explore for a few moments and then drew back.

  "Was that wrong?"

  "No, it was perfect."

  "I feel like such a bad girl, being nude in bed with you." Her eyes were shy, though he would not say exactly ashamed.

  "Ironically, the same characteristics that make a bad girl make a good wife. Now that we’re married, love, you have every right and responsibility to share your lovely body and your sweet kisses with me, and I have the same towards you."

  "Good. I like the way you touch me." She said as his fingers stroked through her hair, arousing very pleasurable tingles through her scalp and down her spine.

  "You haven’t had enough affection in years, have you?"

  She shook her head.

  "I’ll take care of that for you." That made her smile, nervously, but sincerely. "Now then, are you ready for a little more?"

  "Such as?"

  "You have lovely little breasts. May I touch them?"

  "Why do you want to?"

  "I think you might enjoy the sensation."

  "Is it allowed?"

  "If we had time, I would let you read Song of Solomon. If the scriptures glory in a man touching his wife’s breasts, we have nothing to worry about."

  "You’re right. I’d forgotten that part."

  "You read it?" His eyes widened.

  "Yes."

  He grinned. Under the crushing weight of abuse, there was a passionate woman waiting to be released. Something told him all the time it would take for her to heal would be worthwhile in the end. And so he ran his hand up the length of her side, skimming lightly over the bruise, and stroked up to her collarbone. How beautifully slender she was. He traced his fingers down to the little globe, touching it softly. There really wasn’t an excess of flesh there. It was almost all nipple, but the nipple was lovely, and he caressed it tenderly, plucking it, making it rise under his fingers, and then gripping it gently.

  "Oh," she sighed, "that’s very nice."

  "Good."

  "Christopher, may I put my arm around you?"

  "Of course. Yes."

  She wriggled closer to him and laid her arm over his waist. He transferred his attention to her other breast and she sighed again. Her pleasure was increasing. He tended her breasts thoroughly, kissing her while he aroused her, loving how her body softened, relaxed as he pleasured her. She was such a good girl, so willing to let him try. And so he fondled her tenderly. If only she were well, how he would delight in caressing her back, cupping her bottom, kissing her belly. Someday, he would show her all these delights. He was sure, now, that she would let him.

  At last, she was squirming with pleasure and it was time to move on to greater intimacy. He took her knee in one hand and lifted and bent it, giving himself access to her.

  "It’s very important that you let me touch you here," he indicated her mound.

  "Why?"

  "As I pleasure you, you will become wetter inside. Then, when I take you, it will be much easier. Can you let me touch your private parts?"

  She didn’t speak. Her eyes closed, but her leg remained bent, permitting the access. He stroked the coarse curls for a long moment. Already there was some dampness there, on the outside of her lips. Excellent. He spread the folds and touched her core. Wet. Wonderfully wet. He dipped one finger inside. Desperately tight, and the thick hymen stretched, intact, across her opening. So her father hadn’t molested her. That was one good thing out of the whole damned situation. It was a very thick maidenhead though, and she would have some pain in the breaking of it. In the meanwhile, he wanted to give her more pleasure. His fingers slid through her folds, upward, until he found what he
had been seeking, a little erect nub of exquisite sensitivity. She gasped, not having exactly realized that spot existed before this moment.

  "Are you sure this is right for us to do?"

  "Yes."

  "How do you know?"

  "My dear, if the Lord didn’t intend women to experience sexual pleasure, would he really have equipped them with an organ that has no other purpose?"

  "I suppose not."

  "Then let me touch it. The more I caress you, the better our joining will be."

  And then he kissed her while his fingers worked gently between her thighs. She was nervous, of course, but again she submitted without question. And just as he had predicted, moisture surged. Her breathing grew unsteady and ragged.

  "If you feel something building, don’t be alarmed. Let it happen," he advised her. She felt what he meant and obeyed, and the pleasure did build… and build… and built… and burst.

  She squealed in startled delight as her belly contracted, her intimate flesh throbbed. He worked her through the little peak tenderly; thankful he had been able to get her there under such desperate circumstances.

  "Very good, love. You’re doing wonderfully. What an excellent wife you’re going to be."

  "Oh, that was lovely."

  "Now do you understand why people want to do this?"

  "Yes." Her cheeks were glowing, but with satisfaction rather than embarrassment this time.

  "All right. Now, how do we do the rest? Normally I would have you on your back, but that won’t work. On the side is too difficult, and I don’t want you standing. Hmmm. How shall I take you?"

  Suddenly inspired, Christopher piled up a mound of pillows.

  "Here, roll over and lean on this."

  She obeyed.

  "That should take some pressure off your back. All right, I’m coming behind you."

  It was a strange way to take a virgin, but the only one he could think of under the circumstances. It also gave him her whole damaged back, bottom and thighs to look at while he positioned himself. Poor darling. The sight was terrible, and dampened his desire considerably. But it also reminded him why this was necessary.

  At least he was able also to look at her intimate flesh. What a pretty flower she had, innocent and untried, but drenched from her very first orgasm. He spread the lips again, this time finding her virgin portal and aligning his sex with it. He pressed the very tip into her, and she gasped.

  "Katerina, I know you have some experience tending injuries."

  "Yes, why?" Her voice was thin with nerves.

  "When a bandage is stuck to a wound, is it better to rip it off, or peel it slowly?"

  "Well, if it’s a bad injury, you have to soak it, or you open the wound again and have to start over."

  "What about if it’s small?"

  "Rip it. Get the pain over with quickly."

  "All right then."

  He braced one hand on her uninjured hip and entered her with a hard thrust, tearing her hymen apart and filling her to the limit.

  She squeaked in protest.

  "I know that hurt darling. I’m sorry. That was the blockage I told you about."

  "Are we consummated now?"

  "Yes."

  "Good."

  "Are you able to take a few more moments?"

  "Of what?"

  "Remember how good it felt when your pleasure peaked?"

  "Yes."

  "I want one too."

  "What do I do?"

  "Just stay still. I’ll take care of it."

  She stayed still. He pulled back and thrust into her again. No wonder some men pursued virgins. Her tightness was delectable. She caressed every inch of him with wanton sweetness and so it was not difficult at all for him to find his release in her. He groaned as his seed spilled, filling her belly. And then he gently withdrew from her clenching sex, lifting her from the pillows and arranging her, seated, on the bed. She winced as her bruised bottom landed on the sheets.

  "What are you doing?"

  "Making a bloodstain. Stay there."

  To keep her still, he kissed her mouth.

  "Well little wife, what did you think of that?"

  "Interesting." She said, and then giggled a little hysterically, remembering how he had said that to her.

  "Did you hate it?"

  "Of course not. Um, it won’t always hurt like that, will it?"

  "No. I’ll give you some time for the soreness to subside before I take you again. After you recover inside, the penetration will feel good for both of us."

  "Have you done this often before?"

  "Fairly often yes."

  "Ah."

  "But we’re married Katerina. From now on my only partner is you."

  "I doubt I can live up to what you’ve had."

  She was so uncertain of her worth, poor darling, but she couldn’t have been more wrong. Her innocent loving had been quite pleasing, rather more than the jaded experience displayed by his previous lovers. He had to reassure her. Giving her a tender smile, he said, "Actually, dear, it was perfectly lovely, fully equal to anything I’ve done before. And you’re mine, my wife. That’s very special." And it had been special, and much more powerful than he had realized it would be.

  She smiled. Then she yawned hugely.

  "Sorry."

  "Think nothing of it. Would you like to sleep for a while?"

  "Yes please."

  She stretched out on the bed and Christopher covered her with the blankets, noting in passing that they had succeeded in making a very obvious mark, her virgin blood mixed with his semen, on the sheet. Proof. Excellent.

  He kissed her cheek. There was something very important he had to do. Quickly pulling on clean garments, he headed out into the hallway, and summoned the hotel’s housekeeper, Mrs. Bristol and his valet, Mackenzie.

  "Friends," he addressed them, "Your discretion and service are excellent. And now I have a very difficult task to ask of you both. I have married a lovely young woman who has suffered more than anyone should ever have to suffer. The abuse she has endured is beyond imagination. But she’s mine now, and I will not allow her to be harmed again. As of a few minutes ago, we were married beyond all redemption. Do you understand?"

  They nodded, wondering where he was headed.

  "First of all, no one is to know of the abuse. I don’t want her embarrassed. If anyone asks, please say we were struck with a mad passion for each other and could do nothing other than marry as quickly as possible. It’s not a lie, you understand?"

  "Yes sir," Mackenzie agreed. Mrs. Bristol nodded again.

  "And then, I want you both to gossip like never before. Tell everyone who will listen how very… passionate our marriage is. Very soon, I will take her out for a while. Mrs. Bristol, there is a bloodstain on the bed. You understand what this means."

  "I do."

  "It is very important that everyone know it was there. In fact, if you would be so kind as to save the sheet without cleaning it, it might be very beneficial. But you must tell everyone how very… physical my wife and I are together. There can be no doubt, in the interests of her safety, that the marriage is completely legal. Can I count on you both?"

  "Oh yes," Mrs. Bristol said, and Mackenzie agreed easily.

  The uncomfortable conversation finished, he returned to his sitting room and flopped gracelessly on the sofa, overwhelmed by the events of the last twenty-four hours. As the adrenaline faded, his mind cleared. A square of paper caught his eye. He lifted it; the marriage license.

  Dear Lord, he had really married Katerina. What was he thinking? For the last eighteen hours he had been caught up in a frenzy of protectiveness towards this young woman, and he desired her, but he barely knew her. And now she was his wife, his utterly irrevocable wife. Perhaps this impulsive act was not the only way to save her, but try though he might, he could think of no other. In order to preserve her, he had sacrificed himself, his future, his ability to chose a wife later, when he was ready. And if she never heal
ed, if she remained wary and damaged, or worse, went mad, there would be no recourse.

  But then he remembered all their brief encounters, how sweet she was, how eager to be loved, to be touched. She had even enjoyed being bedded. There was every chance that, in time, her natural passionate nature would emerge and she would be a perfectly adequate wife. He imagined making love to her again, when her back was better, her bruises faded, her sex no longer sore. She’d done well all things considered, and it would be better the next time. A slow smile spread across his face. Passionate lovemaking was not the worst way to start a marriage.

  There was a knock at the door. Actually, it was a loud hammering. Someone was beating with a fist. He went quickly, not wanting Katerina’s rest to be disturbed. Throwing it open, he found himself face to face with a thickset dark skinned man with silver-streaked black hair slicked into submission with a rather excessive amount of pomade.

  "Can I help you, sir?" He asked coldly.

  "Where is she?" The breath issuing from the interloper was strongly scented with liquor. Christopher made a face at the unpleasant aroma.

  "Whom do you seek?"

  "You know. You have my daughter. I want her back." The sounds of Italy were heavy in the man’s voice.

  Christopher’s jaw clenched with icy rage. He leaned insouciantly against the door frame and challenged the other man with sneer. "No."

  Giovanni’s face turned red. "I’ll have the law on you."

  "Go ahead. You no longer have any legal right to her."

  "What?"

  "We’re married, Katerina and I, and she’s safe from you."

  "Safe? What the hell do you mean?" His eyes shifted nervously.

  "I saw what you did to her. But you’ll never hurt her again."

  A vein in his temple began to throb. "Did that lying little whore say I did something to her?"

  Christopher wanted to hit him. His fingers actually itched with the urge, but he forced himself to hold back.

  "To the best of my knowledge she’s never lied, SOMEONE did something terrible to her. And as for her being a whore, not likely. She gave me her first kiss. Her virgin blood is staining my sheets as we speak. So you see, Katerina Valentino no longer exists, only a very satisfied Mrs. Christopher Bennett. Good day to you."

  This provoked an extended round of Italian curses, which Christopher found utterly unimpressive. He began to close the door. A heavy fist clamped onto the wood.