The largest wedding the district had seen for some time had gone well. The parish church was crowded with family, servants and villagers. The bishop himself had officiated at the union of Caroline, the twenty-year old, third daughter of the Earl and Lady Hawswater, to Sir William Laxby, a forty-three year old mine and railway tycoon, MP and widower.
Caroline, after some bitter battles with her parents, had got her way and married trade instead of into a noble family. Because of that a large dowry had not been forthcoming, but there again, Sir William had no need of an injection into his considerable assets. A young and beddable wife with noble blood was compensation enough for a man whom, rumour had it, had sired, by seduction or rape, a number of bastards running around his local villages. Plus two from his first marriage, a boy of seventeen years and a girl of fifteen. The new Lady Caroline knew little of her husbands history. All she knew was that he was rich and he was powerful in the seat of government. He was also charismatic and handsome, although his looks were fading.
Caroline’s Maid-of-Honour was her closest sister the twenty-three year old Lady Beatrice, the most wilful and adventurous of Earl Hawswater’s four daughters. He had been relieved to marry her off, with little hint of scandal, to the Baron Richmond who had a sizeable estate in Yorkshire. Only now was there talk filtering through of her liaison with a lusty farmer’s son who had mounted her daily in the week leading up to her marriage. Other bride’s maids were Caroline’s younger sister of seventeen, Martha, the prettiest of the daughters, her step-daughter to be Matilda and two nieces. Two nephews were page boys. The best man was the groom’s younger brother, Frank.
Caroline’s happiness on the day had been completed by the unexpected arrival of her brother Charles, who, at the young age of twenty eight was a Post Captain in the Royal Navy. His father’s money and influence of various relatives had ensured a rapid rise in the service, but he was a brave and competent sailor, his elevation to Admiral was assured, as long as he survived the rigours of war and storm.
The feast in the great hall was finished and the tables being moved to make room for the ball. The occasion was a chance for Lord and Lady Hawswater to parade their youngest daughter to potential husbands. It was one reason why Lady Hawswater made little fuss at the amount of cleavage that Martha’s dress displayed. The number of admiring glances had been very satisfactory. There were several suitable beaus among the company. But Martha wasn’t the only spinster on show, there were other husband hunters attending.
Most of the ladies had retired to their rooms to loosen their stays and rest. Martha had no need to wear stays, her figure could not be improved, and she hated them anyway, but her mother would have raised an eyebrow if she knew she was without.
Martha stepped out onto the terrace that ran the full length of the side of the building were several men folk were smoking, chatting and occasionally laughing. She nodded to a few she recognised and walk gracefully down the steps pleasurably aware of some eyes following her. She followed the meandering path through the flower beds and into the woods.
The gardens had been set out by a previous Lady Hawswater and every turn produced a new vista. The path eventually terminated at a boathouse on the lake; but Martha didn’t get that far. She remembered a cleft in a rock face that led to a grassy place surrounded by high limestone. ‘My secret place’ Beatrice called it when she showed it to her. Martha realised she had passed it and turned back. It was hidden by low branches and the strong shadows cast by the bright sun. The passage was narrow, impossible to get through if she had been wearing unfashionable hoops.
Martha stepped out onto the grass. She loved this place and was about to enjoy its peace and solitude when a movement caught her eye. At first she didn’t realize what she saw, then she understood; a pair of stockinged legs were sticking out of the grass with knees bent backwards, naked buttocks visible. Between the legs the naked hips of a man rose and fell rapidly accompanied by his grunts. It was the first time Martha had seen what she had overheard servants talking about. She watched engrossed and excited until the fury of her place being violated by the lower orders, in such away, overcame her fascination.
She was about to order them out in the strongest terms when she noticed the stockings were of the finest quality. Martha was confused and thrilled at the same time. She wanted to creep away but was entranced by the fornication. Then she realised with a start he was no stranger, but the married son of one of the estate’s tenant farmers and ruggedly handsome. He was cheating on his wife, adulterously rutting with someone above his station. He must be raping her. As she watched he pushed himself up on his hands, his back arched as he thrust his penis harder into the girl, for girl she must be, the flesh was young. Powerful loins rammed his manhood into her body. When he withdrew, Martha caught glimpses of his shaft and balls before he drove in once more.
Martha winced at the onslaught but she heard a sobbing cry from the girl ordering him to do it harder. How could she take such risks with a common land worker? The demanding girl was hidden from view by the long grass until, with a squeal of joy, her hands went around his shoulders and she pulled herself up with her eyes screwed shut in ecstasy, mouth open, gasping, “Don’t stop,” over and over.
It was her sister Beatrice. Martha was immobile, rooted to the ground she stood on. Before she could move Beatrice’s eyes opened, they opened wider when she saw Martha. They stared at each other in disbelief. Beatrice was the first to react, she smiled and put a finger to her mouth and pursed her lips just as her lovers thrusting became more urgent. His head went back. Gasp after gasp left his lips as he spurted his sperm along his plunging rod and into Beatrice’s body. Martha turned and stumbled quietly away, heading back to the house. She felt herself blushing as she relived everything she had just witnessed.
“I’ve been looking for you Martha,” a voice said. It was Charles, resplendent in naval uniform, walking down the path towards her.” I saw you come this way when I was having a cigar. We haven’t had a chance to catch up yet. Are you alright? you look a bit flushed.”
“I am fine Charlie, a bit too warm for me. Not surprising we haven’t seen each other, I was in bed when you turned up this morning, then you had to catch up on your sleep, and when we have been awake, father’s claimed you.”
“I know. The dear chap likes to hear about my exploits even if it is peacetime.” He kissed her on both cheeks and held her at arms length looking her up and down. His eyes lingered on her full breasts, pink with arousal. There was a glint in his eye that Martha had enjoyed from other men, and some insolent servants. “My God you have grown into a beauty. You would be the belle of the ball if it wasn’t Caroline’s day.”
The pleased Martha turned her brother back towards the house, away from Beatrice and her vigorous adultery. She hugged his arm so that it put pressure on her swelling breast. She long to be fondled there. She long to be fondled every where. She wanted a mans hands all over her body. She was aware of the moisture trickling down her inner thighs. She hadn’t been this stimulated since the drawing master had squeezed her budding breasts nearly two years ago.
She dragged her thoughts away from the scene she had just witnessed. “Daddy gave me a book to read written by Captain Pardoe, based on his voyage to the South Seas. He speaks well of a junior lieutenant called Charles Hawswater,” said Martha.
“Dear Captain Pardoe, “Charles replied, “wonderful seaman. He taught me a lot. I sailed away a boy and returned a man. We were gone for over a year. The book was a very good account, very honest not embroidered like some.”
“Those convict transports sound awful.”
“Dreadful vessels. Barely sea worthy and stunk to high heaven. We were going to Australia escorting the new Governor so they joined us because of pirates off the coast of Africa and the eastern seas.”
“There was one chapter in the book that was less informative than the rest,” said Martha, “you delivered some passengers to an isolated island on your return journey and Captain Pardoe simply said, ‘There was a situation developed that was resolved without bloodshed.’ what was that about?”
Charles didn’t answer right away; his reluctance was plain to see. “The Captain was less forthcoming about that incident because he knew lots of ladies would read his book, as you have. There are some things about the pagan that an English lady would find upsetting. Doubly so for my baby sister.”
“You may not have noticed Charlie but I am not a baby anymore.” Martha blushed at her own forwardness. Charles had noticed those parts of her body she had referred too. She was just drawing his attention to them again. “You can tell me. I won’t repeat anything, cross my heart and hope to die.”
Charles laughed aloud and motioned her to a bench they were approaching, one more bend and they would have been in sight of the house. “Let’s sit here Martha in case you feel faint. You must stop me telling you this story if you find your sensibilities are offended. Bear in mind relating the story to you is against my better judgment.”
“You are an absolute darling brother dear, it’s time somebody treated me like an adult.”
They sat down and Charles cleared his throat, “The passengers that we gave passage too, at the request of the Bishop of Australia, was a vicar and his wife and a translator. The island in the past had been very hostile to visiting ships, mainly whalers seeking water. The death of the old chief brought to power his son who was friendlier and could see some benefit with contact with the outside world. The Governor of Australia heard about this and approached the Bishop about the possibility of establishing a missionary before attempting trade. The bishop was all for it and that is how our ship became involved. The vicar, although quite young, was a humourless man, given to pomposity, I think the bishop was glad to get rid of him.”
“The islanders welcomed us as only Pacific Islanders can. They are either very hostile or very friendly. In common with a lot of South Sea Islands the natives have no concept of ownership. Everything is communally owned. For instance if you want some goats milk, you go to the nearest goat regardless of which hut it is tethered outside. Consequently there is no such thing as theft on that island. We had to put an armed guard on the stores we brought ashore and that caused a little friction between the two parties. But that wasn’t the real problem.”
“This is wonderfully fascinating Charlie, thank you for sharing it with me.”
Charlie grinned at her before continuing, “the first evening of our arrival, a feast was arranged in out honour. As the reason we were there was to deliver the vicar the chief deemed him to be the most important member of our party and he became the guest of honour.”
“This vicar had treated the translator with distain the entire trip because he was a half breed, his mother having been taken into slavery from that very island by a passing whaler to be the captain’s plaything.”
“The poor woman Charlie. I hope they treated her well.”
“White men usually consider natives as an inferior species and she was no exception. When the captain tired of her, he gave her to the crew. They had to tether her like an animal because she tried to throw herself overboard.”
“That is dreadful Charlie. How did she survive?” Martha tried to imagine what happened to a woman with so many men. Did her legs lift in the air like Beatrice?
“She was later released by a British frigate searching for deserters,” continued Charles, “and eventually married an ex-convict in Australia. Do you wish me too continue Martha?”
“Please Charlie. I know you consider this story unsuitable for my ears, but I am not a weak woman.”
“I don’t suppose you are Martha. Where was I? Ah yes! I an sure the translator kept certain customs and traditions of the island from the arrogant vicar deliberately. As the feast ended, the chief clapped his hands and a hush fell over the gathering and a beautiful and very young girl was led out of a hut. She wore nothing but a grass skirt and a necklace and bangles made of sea-shells. The chief spoke some words with his hand on the girls shoulder and beamed at the vicar. The translator repeated the words to the vicar, ‘This is my youngest wife with whom I honour you until sunrise.’
‘Thank the chief for me, I am indeed honoured.’ said the unsuspecting vicar.
The translator repeated to the chief his words to the chief who nodded and continued to smile for a while. Then the smile waned and the islanders started to mutter among themselves.
‘What is wrong with this heathen,’ hissed the vicar.
The translators reply shocked everybody, ‘you are expected to take his wife into the hut from wence she came and mate with her until sunrise, when the chief can claim her back.’ Honestly Martha, the look on his face was a sight to behold. I thought he was going to have a fit.” Charles hesitated, “I don’t think I should go on with this Martha, you are so young.” He tried to suppress a smile.
“Don’t be beastly Charles.” spluttered Martha, “you can not stop now. The customs of strange lands intrigue me,” she quickly added.
“Very well Martha if you are sure,” said the teasing brother, “the vicar’s response, while understandable, was unfortunate. ‘Absolutely not. Against the commandments. Thank him but tell him no.’ and he shook his head. The shaking of the head is a universal sign of disapproval. The tribe looked very threatening.
‘What’s going on here?’ demanded Captain Pardoe.
The translator explained, ‘when the chief offers his youngest wife to a third party it is a great honour he is bestowing, the greatest he can offer. To refuse brings great dishonour to the wife as she is seen as undesirable by the guest. She will then be cast out by the tribe and treated like a leper. But her own family will kill her and kill the shame. But the chief loses face for choosing an undesirable wife and he too is shamed. This is an insult to the chief that the islanders will not stand for. We may not get off this island with our lives.'”
The captain leaned over and said, ‘you have no choice vicar. You must do your duty to your Queen and your Bishop.’ Then the vicar’s wife spoke.
‘I understand your reluctance dear, but God’s work is needed on this island, and if any one can turn the natives to the true God, then you can. There are a lot of young men’s lives at stake here, including your own.’ she smiled at him. I always believed that the translator had already warned her of this custom and left her to inform her husband. She proved to be a flirty young thing on the voyage to the island. In my opinion she was enjoying her husbands discomfort. Do you wish me to continue Martha?”
“Of course I do Charlie. I must hear the outcome of this story.”
Charles saw the spots of colour on Martha’s cheeks and knew she was excited by the story. Her full breasts threatened to spill out of her bodice as her breathing was so deep. He decided to carry on with his story to see how much she was prepared to take. “Reluctantly the poor vicar agreed. The translator told him he would be given a bitter drink that would make his manhood stronger and more constant so that he could do justice to the honouring. Do you know what I mean by ‘manhood and stronger’ Martha?”
Martha hesitated, “yes I do Charlie,” she blushed again,” I have two married sisters whom I have overheard talking about the male member and that it can be strong or limp.”
Charles smiled at her discomfort. “Very well, to continue. The poor vicar groaned, then as the vicar smiled at the chief and stood up, the translator told him that as it was such an important ceremony, all the tribe elders have to witness his honouring of the wife and therefore the chief. I have to say, the vicar managed to retain the smile on his face as he led the dusky young girl away with eight members of the elders following as his audience.”
“Good gracious Charles! And the trouble started because the vicar didn’t perform well?” Charles looked at her steadily until she blushed once more.
“What would my little sister know about a man performing?” he asked with a chuckle.
Martha giggled and wished she had a fan. “You hear servants talking, you know that Charlie.” And watch it first hand in this very garden not a few minutes ago, she thought.
“No performance wasn’t an issue, apparently he lost all inhibitions after taking the bitter drink and applied himself very well. What he didn’t find out until the following morning was the honour was to be returned and the chief would have the vicar’s youngest wife until sunrise, and as the fair haired, blue eyed girl sitting next to the captain was his only wife he had, it fell to her to be the receiver of her husband’s honouring. She was surprised at this turn of events, obviously the translator had failed to mention the part she would be expected to play.”
Martha gasped, “you mean that young white girl, a vicar’s wife, had a black heathen’s manhood…I’m sorry Charlie for my interruption, please continue.” She was very pink after betraying her thoughts. Charles saw how pink her globes had turned and the shimmy induced in them by her heavy breathing. He felt his penis stiffen. His sister knew more than a well brought up lady should, perhaps she hadn’t had such a sheltered life after all. The talk that must go on behind closed doors, and with innocent ears within range.
“The vicar’s wife stood up without a murmur, she had little choice after telling her husband he had to do his duty. As the ship’s officers were the elders of our party, we had to watch the chief honouring her until sunrise. This he did, sometimes with her on her hands and knees.”
“Like the beasts in the field? Good gracious me.” She took a deeper breath, Charles saw a little areola peak over her bodice. He saw Martha was watching him and averted his eyes.
“The bitter drink,” Charles continued, “must affect the male body because the chief took some time to…er…honour her but not very long before he coupled with her again. He applied himself right royally and with great vigour. It was a wonder that the vicar did not hear her cries, which I say sounded like cries of pure joy. This went on until sunrise, which fortunately, was early at that time of year. Apparently should either wife become pregnant because of this union then an even greater honour is bestowed on their husbands.”
“That is a most strange custom Charlie, I’m quite jealous that you see all these strange things on your travels.” Martha’s mind eye was filled with a black chieftain coupling with a vicar’s wife.
“It is indeed. The trouble started in the morning when the vicar found out why his wife looked so tired but happy. He was berating her in front of everybody which upset the natives because it was a slur on their chief. It got quite ugly until the vicar was convinced that she had no more choice than he had and the reason she looked pleased was because she had done her duty to the best of her ability.”
“You are suggesting that she enjoyed…doing that, when women don’t.” Martha recalled the look on Beatrice’s face when the farm labourer was pounding her; she seemed in paradise. Martha realised that none of her sisters had complained about the physical side of their marriage.
“The native girls enjoy it as much as the men, in fact fornication is the favourite past time on the island. It is a great insult to refuse a girl who offers herself to you, and the natives found the white skins of our crew beautiful. The bitter drink was very popular amongst the men. Sometimes you had to step over couples in the grass.”
“Really Charlie, I think you tease me. What about yourself in this paradise?”
Charles grinned, “as I said Martha, I sailed away a boy and returned a man. We were on the island two weeks while the ships carpenters built the church and the vicar’s house.”
Martha heard a footfall on the path. It was Beatrice returning.
“Hello Beatrice my dear sister. Marriage must agree with you, you are positively glowing.”
“Thank you Charlie. Life is enjoyable at the moment.” She looked pointedly at her sister. Her voice sounded a little husky to Martha, but her attire was neat. Apart from a slight sheen of perspiration and a pinkness, she showed no sign of her outrageous activities. “What has been the topic of conversation here?”
“I have been reciting some of my adventures in far off places to Martha,” replied Charles, “although she is possibly too young to hear it. Our parents may consider my stories totally unsuitable for her young ears.”
“Really Charles!” retorted Martha with some annoyance, “I am not a child.”
“Are my ears too young?” asked Beatrice as she sat down on the opposite side of her brother.
“You are a wife now Beatrice, so the answer is no, but I will leave Martha to tell you the incident of the vicar, if she can stop blushing long enough.” Charles chuckled.
“Actually Charlie, I would have no trouble with sharing stories with my married sister. When we get some time to ourselves we will do just that.” It was Martha’s turn to look pointedly at Beatrice.
Beatrice blushed and broke eye contact with her, a small smile on her face. “Are there more tales of your travels that my innocent sister hasn’t heard?”
Charles thought for a moment and looked at both girls in turn. They seemed to be sharing some private amusement. “We are here to celebrate a wedding and this account is about wedding customs on an island that Martha is familiar with and will relate to you; soon no doubt.”
Don’t tease Charlie,” retorted Beatrice, “the bride and groom will be leading off the dancing soon and we have to change into our ball gowns, so you should get on with it.”
“Yes sorry girls,” apologised Charles,”much like our own society, a couple can become attracted to each other and agree to set up home together. The groom has to prove to the bride’s father that he can provide for her, this he does by hunting and fishing. His efforts becomes the basis for the wedding feast. During the feast the couple exchange head dresses of woven flowers, get the blessing of the tribe elders and that means they are married.”
“Not that much different to us,” proclaimed Martha, “we have wedding feasts and exchange rings.
“I agree with Martha, but there is more, isn’t there Charlie?”
“Yes there is indeed Beatrice,” Charles was nodding his head as he spoke, “after the feast the groom must leave his new wife and go off and build their home. This entails him to clear a patch of land by felling trees and clearing undergrowth and using the wood to build the home, which he also has to thatch. And he has to feed himself during this time. It can take two weeks.”
“Surely his bride should be helping him,” exclaimed Martha.
“His wife has other duties to perform,” answered Charles, “the ceremony is not complete until the home is built and she returns to her husband.”
“Do tell Charlie,” demanded Beatrice, “what other duties?”
Charles smiled at the two girls in turn, “When the groom goes off to complete his task, the bride is taken into the home of her father-in-law until the home is complete. There after imbibing a bitter drink, the father-in-law fornicates with the bride.” The two girls gasped.” After the father came any brothers who are old enough, followed by any uncles of the groom.” More gasps from the girls.” And so it goes on daily until the husband returns.”
“Good gracious Charlie, Surely you jest?” queried Beatrice.
“Not at all, many islands have the same customs.”
“But the girl could get with child.”
“Yes indeed and usually does, and it is considered a desirable outcome.”
“Oh please Charlie! What possible gain is there from such behaviour?” asked a shocked Martha.
“Think about it Martha. Families are very close. Nobody is sure who the father is of any child, so everybody treats the child as there own offspring. The child is loved by all members of the family. If anything happens to the head of the household, his dependents wish for nothing, in that respect it is all very civilised. There is another bonus for the groom in that while he is building, his senior male relatives are giving his bride the experience and lessons in the secrets of pleasing a man.”
“Heavens above Charlie! Are you going to tell us these secrets?”
“Certainly not Beatrice. At least not while Martha can hear.” Martha stamp her foot on annoyance and pouted, much to the amusement of her siblings. “If I’m not mistaken I can hear the musicians tuning up so we must rejoin the party.”
Charles returned with a girl on each arm, both looked flushed and beautiful. He was aware once more of the pressure of Martha’s breast. She was at the age when she was aware of the effect she would have on men. Flirting would be an important part of her amusement until she became engaged-and possibly after.
Published
