Note: This story was dynamically reformatted for online reading convenience.
 
 TITLE: Lord Dirkwood's Bride
AUTHOR: Big Al
KEYWORDS: MF cons fant piv impreg size 1st F1st rom
SUMMARY: An arranged marriage blossooms into true love at first sight.

   **********



   The carriage trundled steadily along the cobbled path between rolling
hills.  It was early morning, and still a bit chilly as the sun peeked over
the horizon, but the interior of the coach was quite warm, with curtains
drawn over the windows.

   Charlotte Stardawn, 21 year old heiress to the Grand Duchy of Aurorika,
bit her lip pensively.  The coach's only other occupant, her handmaiden
Ashleigh, noted her young mistress' nervousness and tried to soothe it the
only way she knew how: by chattering away distractingly.

   "I think we're getting close!" the girl said brightly.  "Lord Dirkwood's
estates should be around the next corner - well, I guess they're your
estates now too!  Well, they will be," she amended, "in but an hour's time!
I've heard he's handsome.  Do you think he's handsome?  I do hope he's not
an ugly old sow, for your sake, milady.  But rich!  The Dirkwoods are the
oldest family in Paylundun!"

   Charlotte knew that much, of course, and much more besides.  Her tutors
had drilled the background into her in preparation for her wedding.  The
Dirkwoods were a noble lineage stretching back a thousand years, older than
the kingdom of Paylundun itself.  Rich and powerful they were, one of the
most.  Oh, not as much so as the royal house, or even the Aurorikan Grand
Duchy, but they had maintained their influence and wealth across an entire
millennium while other houses rose and fell.

   "Look, milady!" Ashleigh said breathlessly, tugging aside the curtain
ever so slightly, revealing trees all around them now, clad in their
brilliant garment of autumn.  "The Sword Wood!  Where the imperial prince
fought his last battle a thousand years ago, and proclaimed that never
again would a battle be fought on his land.  Do you think it's true, the
legend?"

   A thousand years ago, the great empire that stretched across the
continent and beyond had collapsed, and the grandson of the last emperor
had done in his wisdom what others had not: instead of fighting over a
broken throne, he sought to claim a single territory in which to keep his
kin safe.  Fighting off bandits and raiders, he forever safeguarded his
stronghold in a great battle here on these rolling plains.  Pledging his
kin and house to ensure peace on these lands, he had his army draw their
swords and plant them into the dirt, forswearing their use ever again.

   It was said that the earth itself had obeyed him, and the dirks became
saplings, growing into the mighty wood surrounding them now.  And that
house, so named the Dirkwoods, had remained here ever since.

   Charlotte mostly ignored her handmaiden's silly chatter, but was
exceedingly grateful when she let the curtain fall back into place.  It was
cold!  Normally she could bundle up, but she mustn't muss up her hair or
her wedding gown.  Presently she heard noise, and knew that her procession
was in sight of Castle Dirkwood itself.

   Inside the grand hall of the castle, Lord Alain Dirkwood did his best
not to fidget.  He was standing by the altar, and had been for an
interminable time as he waited for the traditional carriage processional to
deliver the bride to his door.  He was clad in thin platinum chestplate,
polished to an eye-hurting gleam, bedecked with jewels and golden
scrollwork.  It was hot and uncomfortable and utterly useless in battle,
and he hated it.  Give him good honest steel any day.

   The priest didn't seem to have any problem waiting in his place,
intoning low chants to the gods and waving his censer.  Alain put the
elderly man out of his head, though; his impending marriage filled his
mind. He'd never even met the girl, Charlotte, but a pledge was a pledge.

   Years ago, his father - then still living - had betrothed him to the
Grand Duke Stardawn's eldest daughter, but Alain had been a man of war, not
a man of the home, and had managed to stave off the marriage for years. 
Now, however Lord Farlangh Dirkwood had passed into the embrace of the gods
at last, and the Grand Duke Stardawn, aging and wanting to secure his
lineage, had pressed his daughter's suit to the terms of the betrothal.

   There was a sounding of trumpets, and the bards took up their harps and
lyres as the double doors to the grand hall of Castle Dirkwood opened. 
Morning sunlight spilled in, highlighting the form of Charlotte Stardawn
and revealing his bride to Alain for the first time.

   Alain had to work to keep his jaw from dropping.  The maiden was wearing
an ornate wedding gown of white lace, embroidered in gold, and stitched
with glimmering pearls and diamonds.  A tiara of crystal and gold adorned
her locks, which fell below her buttocks in a waterfall of sunshine
ringlets with white blossoms woven all throughout.  Her face was utterly
angelic, with a plump pink mouth, button nose, rosy cheeks, and big blue
eyes.

   She looked so lovely and so...  small, Alain suddenly realized.  She was
being thrust into a unfamiliar situation, where she was to be united with
an older man she'd never met, far away from her family and the life she
knew.  His heart went out to her, and in the space between two breaths,
Alain swore to be good to her, to treat her gently and provide for her and
cherish her.

   Charlotte's eyes riveted instantly to the large man standing before the
altar by the priest.  His dark piercing eyes were fixed on her, deep wells
full of life and experience.  He had long dark hair - quite a lovely shade,
she thought - currently tied into a loose ponytail, though there was some
silver at his temples.  His face was craggy and weathered, but not unkind;
it had character, she thought, unlike those smooth-faced fops she often
encountered in her father's court.

   The maiden was surprised by the sudden thought that she should like to
explore the crevices of that face with her small hands.

   She was so distracted by the appearance of her husband-to-be that she
started a bit in surprise as someone nudged her.  She looked up to see her
aged father, the Grand Duke Lars Stardawn of House Aurorika, smiling kindly
at her and offering her his arm.  He was such an old man, having sired her
late in life, and was not in good health.  She was glad he was well enough
to give her away today.

   Slowly - more slowly than she needed to, given her father's shuffling -
she strode stately along the red carpet.  Charlotte was transfixed by the
groom however - Lord Alain Dirkwood, warrior and statesman of an ancient
house, who seemed just as taken with her.

   As they reached the altar, the old duke kissed her hand and placed it in
Alain's.  His hand was so broad and large, easily holding her entire hand
in his palm, it seemed.  He was a bit awkward about it, as though he wasn't
sure what exactly to do, and in a rush, Charlotte understood that he was
nervous, too!  Her heart warmed to him, and a smile blossomed upon her face
finally.

   Alain's heart melted to mush at the dazzling smile the young woman
turned upon him.  It was like the sun cutting through the fog of a cold
morning, warming the air, and his knees felt weak.  Her hand was so tiny
and frail in his, and he was afraid he would crush her in his grip.

   The priest began to intone the ceremony then, but neither one of them
noticed it.  He was so very big, Charlotte was exclaiming to herself.  He
dwarfed her, and his shoulders were broad enough to encompass two of her.
But no fear fluttered in her heart - there was kindness and empathy and
nobility in his gaze.  He reminded her of her father's old warhound. 
Osmund had been a huge and savage beast, growling and snarling and biting.
But with Charlotte he was gentle as a lamb with big puppy eyes, staying by
her side and watching over her, and even allowing her to ride upon his
great back when she was a child.

   She suddenly became aware of the priest's words again as the old fellow
said, "Do you, Alain Dirkwood, take Charlotte Stardawn to be your lawfully
wedded wife, to have and to hold, to guard and to provide, to honor and to
cherish, all the days of your life, till the gods do you part?"

   She watched him take a deep breath, and then he said, in a loud, firm
baritone, eyes locked with hers, "I do." Those were the first words
Charlotte had heard him speak, and they were deep and resonant, uttered
with conviction, and she realized that he truly meant it.

   There had never been any doubt in Alain's mind that would be faithful to
his wife.  Just as duty required him to marry her for the sake of his
house, so too did duty require him to care for her.  But the words had been
far easier for him to say than he'd expected.  Seeing Charlotte in
person... she'd not spoken a word, and already stolen his heart.

   The priest turned to Charlotte, who couldn't look away from the big man,
utterly mesmerized.  "And do you, Charlotte Stardawn, take Alain Dirkwood
to be your lawfully wedded husband, to have and to hold, to bear his
children, to honor and obey, all the days of your life, till the gods do
you part?"

   Charlotte tried very hard not to blush at the phrase bear his children,
and mostly succeeded.  But she was overwhelmed with a strong, burgeoning
desire to please this large, noble man she was marrying, and to be loved by
him, and in an instant she realized she wanted very much to bear this
lordly warhound's offspring.

   "I do," she said, and her voice was high and sweet, the words a maiden's
fervent promise delivered in a breathy tone.  A tingle shivered its way
down Alain's spine as her big blue eyes swallowed him up.  There was no
doubt in her eyes when she said it; she was pledging herself to him
forevermore despite the fact that they had just met.

   "Then may the gods grant you love, prosperity, and children," said the
priest.  "I now pronounce you husband and wife."

   Alain hadn't planned to kiss her.  Many lords, when marrying a betrothed
young woman, would assert their new ownership of her body by kissing her in
full view of the congregation.  Alain did not want to make her
uncomfortable, nor did he want to treat her as property with no will or
freedom of her own - even if in the eyes of the law, she now belonged to
him.

   But she was upturning her head, and her plump lips were very slightly
parted, breathless, and her gorgeous sapphires were beckoning to him.  He
leaned down - struck very aware of how much difference there was in their
sizes - and pressed a kiss, light and gentle as a feather, to her lips.

   Charlotte's breath hitched in her throat as he kissed her.  An electric
thrill shocked through her - his mouth was so full and warm.  In the space
between entering the grand hall and being wed, the desire for him to kiss
her had sprouted.  She wanted him to care for her, she wanted him to want
her, and that kiss - oh so wonderful and tender - filled her with security
and warmth...  and a new heat coiling in her belly.

   Propriety belated forced them apart a second or two after they should
have, and Charlotte blushed a deep scarlet as she realized, but there was
nothing except happiness in her face.  Alain's cheeks were a bit red too,
and it was adorable, she thought.  Her cheeks were flushed, her pupils
delighted, and her husband recognized the signs of burgeoning lust inside
his new bride - a wondrous, amazing, unexpected revelation.

   The new bride and groom proceeded to the wedding feast in a bit of a
daze, being seated at the places of honor, side by side at the head of an
enormous dining table laden down with gourmet foods prepared by the finest
chefs a grand duke could employ.  A minor noble - Alain couldn't recall his
name at the moment - seized the opportunity to offer the morning's first
toast to the newly wedded couple.

   As everyone sipped from their wineglasses to drink to the toast, Alain
noticed Charlotte grimacing ever so slightly into her glass.  "Is...  is
everything alright?" he murmured to her.

   The maiden - his wife, he thought in dumbstruck astonishment - blushed,
a vision of rosy-cheeked loveliness.  "It's...  nothing, my lord," she said
demurely, shyly.

   In a gesture driven by instinct that nevertheless surprised them both,
Alain reached for her hand under the table to hold it reassuringly.  Such a
hot hand, delicate, and seeming so small in his broad palm!  Charlotte
blinked, taken by surprise, and her lips parted ever so slightly with a
breathless hitch.  "I am your husband, my lady - Charlotte," he corrected
himself, and they both blushed as he addressed her so familiarly.  "Your
comfort and welfare are my glad and sworn duty.  Do not be afraid to speak
openly to me."

   A shy, pleased smile blossomed from her face, and it was like the sun
breaking out from gray clouds.  "It's...  my father has always had me given
watered-down wine," she confided in a breathy whisper.  "I hate
watered-down wine."

   Her declaration was uttered with such fervence that Alain couldn't help
but grin broadly, his heart warming.  He held up his finger, and his portly
chamberlain hurried obediently over, bowing his head.  "Stukes," the newly
married warrior lord commanded, "see that the Lady Dirkwood is never served
watered-down wine again."

   Chamberlain Stukes bowed his bald head.  "It shall be done, my lord."

   "And," Alain added, "see that she is given whatever she may ask for, at
any time." Stukes bowed again and hurried off.  Charlotte's gaze followed
the portly man in amazement before turning to look at her husband - her
husband!  what a strange, wonderful thing it was to call him that!  - and
bursting out into a stifled giggle.

   In a matter of moments, Charlotte's wineglass was replaced, and the
maiden relished the pure smooth taste of the rich dark wine.  "Thank you,
milord," she whispered gratefully, and he seemed almost shyly happy with
her response.

   After the feast, the bards struck up their harps and lyres, flutes and
trumpets.  The bride and groom were expected to begin the dancing, Alain
gulped and stood up, offering his hand to his 21 year old bride.  She
accepted it, standing out of her chair and gazing into his eyes trustingly
as he led her out to the center of the dance floor.  It had to be a
ludicrous sight, Alain thought, for the guests to see such a big man and a
short woman placing their arms around one another to dance, but it felt so
right and good to him.

   "I confess," he said, "that I am not very good at dancing."

   Charlotte beamed at him, her virgin heart melting.  He was already so
good to her, and he seemed strangely vulnerable now that they were trying
to dance, clearly out of his element.  But dancing was something at which
she excelled, and which she loved, and she giggled, leading him - in a
non-obvious manner of course; it wouldn't do for a woman to be seen leading
her husband.  She giggled again.  Her husband!

   She pressed her luscious body against his as they spun slowly around in
a waltz as other couples began surrounding them.  He was so large and
strong and warm, she thought, and practically burrowed into him.

   Alain's breath caught in his throat.  Her body was hot and soft pressed
into his, and his cock throbbed.  He had the absurd, embarrassed hope that
she hadn't noticed, but of course that was ridiculous - she was his wife,
and it was expected that their union would be consummated.

   Charlotte had not felt that twitch in fact, but her mind was also going
to the consummation.  Very soon now, the traditions of the marriage
ceremony would require them to leave the dance floor and retire to a
chamber that had been prepared ahead of time for them.  There the joining
would become physical, and then they would bring the sheet out to the
gathered guests, displaying proof of their consummation and the bride's
prior innocence.

   She blushed very slightly, and wondered if it would hurt.  Like the time
she'd fallen off a horse several years ago, and her kitty had bled.  Yet
despite her anticipation, she wanted to be joined with this man, to know
his love and his lust, and her plump pussy lips quivered out of sight
between her thighs.

   Alain was thinking to himself how very wonderful his new wife's young
body felt, but he knew they had to retire soon.  But as much as he relished
worshipping his bride's succulent form, he hated to leave this dance, and
worried that she would be fearful of the experience.  But Charlotte pulled
her head back to look at him, looking at him with a dazzling smile full of
trust and burgeoning love, and indicated their suite with a barely
noticeable nod of her lovely head.

   Hand in hand, the couple walked in a stately stride up the grand
staircase as the guests danced on, but of course they were watched by every
eye.  As Alain closed the double doors of the consummation suite behind
them, the bards struck up a loud tune, intended to cover up any possible
noise the newlyweds might produce, and the big man uncharacteristically
blushed.

   Charlotte bit her lip in anticipation, her plump nether lips quivering
moistly, and didn't realize how beautiful that expression made her look. 
"My lord..." she began softly, but Alain interrupted her, cupping her
angelic cheeks in his broad hands.  She leaned into his hold, eyes
fluttering, and mewled happily as he pressed a tender kiss to that full,
pouty mouth.  "Mmmmmmm," she moaned desirously into the kiss, and returned
with a fiercer passion that belied her inexperience.

   As they pulled away briefly, Alain gasping for breath, he said,
"Charlotte, I am your husband.  You need not call me 'lord' when we are in
private.  To you, I am Alain."

   She blushed but smiled brightly.  "Alain," she said slowly, as if
tasting his name on her lips, and a little shiver tingled down his spine at
hearing those sweet virgin lips frame his familiar name.  She puckered her
lips up for another kiss, and he obliged her, filling her world with his
wonderfully male, musky scent.  Her soft hands came up to cup his face, and
his hands encircled her waist with ease.

   A small shiver ran up her spine, and an involuntary moan mewled from the
maiden bride into their kiss, surprising Alain but apparently passing
unnoticed by Charlotte.  They stripped together, gently pulling off each
other's clothes.  Charlotte's skin was flushed with heat, her soft flesh
glowing and prickled with delightful goosebumps as his large hands wandered
over her supple skin as they undressed.

   They stared at one another, fascinated by the other's nudity.  Alain was
utterly entranced with the soft naked beauty of his bride.  Her skin was
fair but flushed, her nipples pink and small but puffy and hard, jutting
out from the succulent twin globes on her chest.  Her pussy was fuzzy with
sunshine down, and the waterfalls of her locks framed her achingly lovely
body, making her look like some faerie queen out of his dreams.

   Charlotte sucked in her breath at seeing her new husband's nakedness. 
His skin was corded with musculature; with every breath he took, muscles
heaved and rippled under his skin.  Scars pockmarked him here and there,
and a fierce protectiveness flamed in her heart, a desire to protect her
man.

   But most of all, she was mesmerized by his tremendous, turgid manhood.
Rising in a curved pillar out of a nest of dark pubic curls, it was a
thick, long slab of cockmeat, ridged and veiny, that was longer and thicker
than her forearm.  Clear fluid beaded from the slit on the tip as she
watched it, and her husband's dick throbbed and twitched as though alive.

   She reached out to touch it, gingerly grazing it ever so lightly with
her deft fingertips, and a growl of pleasure guttered in her husband's
throat.  She was startled for the barest moment, before realizing that she
had produced that amazing sound from him.  "Charlotte," he said, and his
voice was thick and husky, even deeper than normally; the sound of his
lustful murmuring of her name washed sensuously across her skin, and she
sighed happily, her nearly downy cunny quivering moistly.

   Alain knelt before her, and guided her, gently pushing her back onto the
bed in front of which she had been standing.  His touch sent goosebumps
racing along her supple young flesh where he touched, and her breath came
short.  She lay back, spreading her legs instinctively, eyeing that
towering monster with wonder and burgeoning lust.

   Her lordly husband land his hand upon her smooth mound, and Charlotte
heard a long low animal moan of delight before realizing it came from her
own throat.  She humped her hips up into his hand, grinding her puffening
nether lips greedily along his calloused palm, whimpering with pleasure.

   Alain was amazed and gratified.  It brought him pleasure to give this
maiden, his own bride, pleasure.  He bent his head and sniffed, almost
ferally, at her pussy.  It had a wet, sweet, fragrant aroma that awoke a
heady sensation in him.  Charlotte shivered involuntarily with euphoria as
his breath washed over her sensitive virgin pussy, and electric shocks
stole away her breath as her lord pressed his full manly mouth to her most
intimate pair of lips.

   Alain worshipped her pussy - it was light and fragrant and sweet and
divinely delicious, and as her virgin moisture seeped out, it was like
ambrosia on his lips.  Wondrous noises of mewling delight guttered in his
bride's throat as her body writhed and gyrated beneath his loving oral
embrace.  The petals of her cunt parted slightly, and he dragged his tongue
through that barely opened slit, and Charlotte nearly came off the bed,
gasping his name.

   Her hands fisted in his dark curls, and tugged his head up.  She met his
eyes and panted, "Make love to me, husband.  Make me a woman, your woman."
Alain obliged, kissing his way up her torso and eliciting sweet breathy
giggles of maiden pleasure as his beard tickled her soft young flesh
erotically.  He pressed soft kisses around her nipples, watching them
prickle till she squirmed, aching for them to be touched, and then kissed
one puffy hard pink nipple while rolling the other one with his finger.

   Charlotte moaned, the sound a sweetly obscene noise of guttural lust,
and Alain kissed up her neck now.  His virgin 21 year old bride was
writhing, gazing at him with breathless anticipation of the heights of joy
he would bring her, her sunny hair splayed around her, still woven with
white blossoms, the tiara still upon her head.  He braced his knees against
her inner thighs, hitching her legs up and spreading her pussy slit wide,
as he held himself up over her, with his hands on either side of her
sun-crowned head.

   Her plump lips were parted, her perky ripe tits heaving as she looked
into his eyes.  Her hands reached up above her to grip his wrists, and she
instinctively humped her hips up at him, moaning lewdly as she ground her
puffy, dripping wet slit along the underside of his shaft.

   Alain gasped as Charlotte's eager, horny body rubbed along his raging
boner, and precum dripped from the tip on her tummy with a sizzling plop.
Charlotte moaned, and Alain pulled his hips back a bit, then thrust
forward. His big cockknob pressed into his bride's puffy pussy, and her
tight plump lips parted, eagerly slurping in her husband's monster cock
till she clamped down around his cock crown.

   Charlotte heard a scream of ecstasy before realizing it was her own. 
Through glazed eyes she saw her husband's face above her, screwed up into
an expression of intense pleasure, and she squirmed in delight, feeling
that fat swollen knob filling up her insides.  She bore down, wanting more,
needing more of that wonderful cock to plug up her achingly empty pussy.

   Her husband gave it to her, his cock throbbing madly in such violent
twitches that Charlotte gasped and moaned with never-before-felt pleasure,
sliding his huge cock steadily inside her soaking wet cunny.  Her grip on
his wrists tightened as she spasmed in the throes of her pleasure, and
Alain watched through glazed eyes as the girl's head tossed back and forth
with uncontained delight.  Her long sunny hair was in sweaty tangles,
plastered to the sides of her head as he stuffed her virgin twat with his
huge cock.

   Fuller and fuller he filled her, full of his cock and his love and that
euphoric passion the feeling gave her, yet there was still more as he kept
feeding her pussy his manhood.  Charlotte thrashed, gasping and moaning her
husband's name as he spitted her on the shaft of his massive dick. 
Finally, he hilted himself inside the blonde woman - no longer a maiden -
his pubic curls tickling her pussy lips erotically.

   Alain and Charlotte looked down simultaneously at their joining, seeing
those cunt lips stretched obscenely wide around the hairy base of his cock,
disappeared completely inside her.  The sight was hot, erotically and
lewdly hot, and their moans became breathy cries as Charlotte's silken
sleeve clenched and clutched needily on his fuckpole.

   She reached her hot hands up and pulled his face down to hers, and she
sighed blissfully into their kiss, feeling his beard tickle her smooth face
even as his pubic curls tickled her twat.  Her hands wrapped around his
head, and her legs did their best to wrap around his waist, as she pulled
insistently down on him.

   Alain granted his young wife's wish, and brought his full weight down on
her, his hard muscular flesh grinding and heaving on her soft, supple,
sweaty body.  Charlotte was squealing and mewling in ecstasy, convulsing
beneath him as he began pumping his huge dick in and out of her tight hot
pussy.  Every thrust was a wet slurping squelch that punctuated the sounds
of their groaned passion.

   He was so very large, and Charlotte felt utterly safe yet completely
dominated by his powerful weight crushing her in an rapturous heat.  Her
kisses left searing brands of love upon his hairy chest as he pounded his
cock into her, and her tiny hips slammed back into his thrusts with equal
abandon.

   "Alain!" she cried.  "Ohhhh, Alain!" Her voice was high and shrill and
breathy, woven with the delicious noises of her virgin pleasure, and he
grunted her name in kind, barely coherent as he growled like an animal,
claiming this bitch in heat as his mate.  Charlotte loved it, feeling her
big strong husband take her, bringing her to heights of delight she'd never
known existed.

   With a growl of untamed pleasure, Alain burst, pumping his cum deep
inside the young woman and flooding her fertile womb with his potent seed.
Charlotte shrieked, her bliss skyrocketing in intensity as she felt her
husband's jizz shoot into her with the force of staccato thunderbolts. 
Climaxes crashed through her body, and she convulsed beneath his pinning
weight, her high-pitched moans mingling with his deep groans of primal
triumph.  Their sweat mingled as their bodies heaved and slid along each
other, flesh against flesh in the throes of their shared love.

   Charlotte's juices slathered Alain's pumping cock, as he slammed
mercilessly home inside her spasming twat, relentlessly squirting load
after load of hot thick cum inside her.  It seemed an age before his fat
balls stopped clenching and unclenching against his lovely bride's sweet
ass, but finally he poured the last of his cockslop deep into her
thoroughly impregnated womb.

   They panted and gasped together, and he cradled her tenderly beneath his
weight as she clasped her arms around him, pressing adoring kisses to his
shoulders and chest.  Dark love bites branded him where she had nibbled on
his deliciously musky skin in the throes of her virgin delight.

   "I love you, Charlotte," Alain panted, his cock pulsing inside her cunny
and sending little aftershocks sizzling through her, "always and forever."

   "I love you too, Alain," she murmured fervently, "my husband." The
knowledge that she was now bearing his seed glowed inside her as warmly as
the jizz pooling in her womb.

   "My wife," he murmured back, and bent his head to press a kiss to her
upturned face.

   They would have lain there, and cuddled in their afterglow, or even
fucked again, but they had to return to the wedding party.  Every marriage,
from that of the meanest peasant in the kingdom to the royal queen herself,
had to be proven consummated and pure.  The sheet stained with the bride's
maiden blood must be displayed to the guests.

   But as Alain pulled off Charlotte, smiling down at her, they belatedly
noticed that the silken sheet, while damp and soaked through with juices,
was white as snow.  Charlotte sputtered and stammered, an instant of panic
surging through her.  She had been a virgin, but why was there no evidence?
Her husband had the legal right to KILL her if he discovered impurity; she
was his property by law.

   Alain pressed his mouth to hers, killing her fears stillborn.  It was a
deep soulful kiss, one of reassurance and commitment.  "You are my wife,"
he said, "not my property, no matter what the law says.  The Dirkwoods have
always disagreed with the crown on this.  Even if you HAD lain with another
man, it is a Dirkwood's duty to love the wife he has pledged himself to."

   Her heart melted all over again.  He believed that she had come to this
bed a maiden!  Relief flooded through her, and he touched a tiny, pebbly
nipple, sending another sizzling jolt through her young body.  "I had...  a
riding accident," she whispered, "five years ago.  My kitty bled..."

   Her husband was silent, considering.  He pressed another kiss, this one
to her nose, and rolled off the bed.  His sword had been strapped to his
wedding belt.  It had been his father's sword, and his father's father's
before him, all the way back to the beginning of the Dirkwoods.  He
unfastened the scabbard from the belt, and then came to the bed,
unsheathing perhaps a half foot of the blade.

   And then, holding his arm over the sheets, he made a quick shallow cut
on the meat of his forearm, letting the blood drip out onto the white
wedding sheets, staining them with the color of love, of duty, of
commitment, of trust everlasting.  Charlotte watched his face as he did so
- intense, reverent, fervent - and knew she would never forget that
expression.  He was her warhound, so fierce and protective and gentle and
loving, and she would love him till the day she died.

   They donned the post-consummation clothes that had been set aside for
them beforetime, and together took the sheet out to the assembled guests.
The expected applause was given at the display of the bloodstained sheet,
and Charlotte looked at her husband, sharing a secret smile with him.

   They had to mingle with the guests a bit more before they could retire,
but when they did, the newly pregnant bride was going to fuck her husband's
brains out...

   **********

   COMMENTS: Like many authors, I love hearing positive feedback and
suggestions!  If you like, email me: big DOT al DOT author AT gmail DOT com
   NOTE: All characters are 18+