Chapter 2
Jane returned to the present: "Clark, darling ... why am I tied up?"
"You know the answer to that, Jane," said the handsome, brooding man with a bare chest and leather pants sitting on the bed.
Jane blushed, fell silent. She did know the answer. It was all part of the lifelong problem she had had with sex since her teens.
It all dated back to the incident with Uncle Freddy, of course. Her lecherous uncle had terrified the young girl and filled her with a fear of sexual love.
Jane had tried long and hard to rid herself of that fear, but it was no use.
Sex attracted her and repelled her at the same time. The fear it put into her was a physical thine, which made her break out in a cold sweat.
That was why she was still a virgin at the relatively late age of twenty-two.
Every time she summoned up the courage to surrender her virginity to a man, she could never go through with it-go all the way.
Clark was understanding. He was older, more experienced, and had had many women and girls, and a few virgins at that.
He loved Jane. He wanted her to be his wife. And he had even been willing to restrain his impetuous desires until after they were married.
But now they were legally married, in the eyes of man and God-and still Jane was too frightened to make love to her husband.
Jane fidgeted uncomfortably in her ropes as she thought back to what had happened just a few short hours ago.
Following the marriage ceremony, Jane, dressed in virginal white, had been taken by her new husband to his place in the country.
Clark was a self-made millionaire, and, as such, had numerous property holdings. This remote country home was one of his favorites.
He was handsome, rich, and he loved Jane. It was a storybook marriage, and by all rights it should have been a night of sexual bliss for her.
They arrived at the country estate shortly before sunset. It was a rambling, old stone house, surrounded by acres of green lawn.
The house was located in an isolated section in the northeastern part of the state, and the nearest town was miles away.
It was perfectly private for a pair of newlyweds.
Clark maintained a staff of household domestics at the country place, since it was his favorite spot for rest and relaxation.
Jane had heard him speak of it many times but this was the first time she had ever visited it. It was even more lovely than she had guessed.
The household servants had hung a banner over the main entrance, welcoming the newly married couple, congratulating them.
The servants thronged the old stone stairs of the mansion when Clark arrived with his bride. Jane was flushed with excitement.
She looked over the servants. There was Wilson, the butler, a dignified middle aged man with silver hair and a thin moustache.
Lucas, the chauffeur, was considerably younger. He was a stocky, sandy-haired man in his middle thirties, trim and athletic.
Adrian was the chief, in charge of the household and staff. Jane had very mixed feelings about her.
For one thing, Adrian was beautiful.
She was in her middle thirties. She was tall and slender and high-bosomed, with a wasp waist, rounded bottom, and long strong legs.
She was a brunette. Her coal-black hair was pinned up at the top of her head, accenting the sharp bone structure of her exquisite face.
Her brows were dark and arching Her eyes were pale gray. It seemed to Jane that she detected a glint of hidden amusement in those cool gray eyes.
Adrian had a sharp, beak-like nose which in no way detracted from her good looks, but which gave her a hawk-like profile.
Her lips were thin and pale pink. Her flesh was very fair, almost white.
Adrian wore a white, frilly blouse which had ruffled lace at the collar and sleeves and many little mother-of-pearl buttons down the front.
She wore a fawn-colored skirt which covered her from her trim waist down to her booted ankles. The skirt was made of a light, thin material.
Her boots were ankle boots. They were made of shiny black patent leather. They had sharply pointed toes and high heels.
Jane thought that those boots must be very uncomfortable to wear, since the sharp toes must pinch the feet. And those high, spiked heels must be most difficult to walk on rather like walking on stilts, she would think.
Adrian was dressed in a rather old-fashioned manner, like some turn-of-the-century governess. But her somewhat archaic style of dress suited her personality, which was crisp and business-like. It sniterl the decor of the house, as well.
Young Sherry was a serving maid, and here, too, Jane had mixed feelings.
Sherry was younger than Jane. She could hardly be out of her teens. Her face had a raw fresh beauty, an innocent loveliness.
Sherry's hair was light brown in color, very soft and fine, like silk. It was cut short in layers, giving her hair a reckless charmingly haphazard look.
She'd bright green eyes, a deep tan, and full, pouting pink lips. She was short and petite, with sharply pointed breasts, a roundly curved rump, and trim legs.
Sherry wore the black-and-white uniform of the domestic, what could be called a French maid's uniform.
A frilly white lace cap was pinned to the top of her brown hair. Her uniform was made of tight black satin-a bit too tight, Jane thought with mild disapproval since it clung to the curves of the girl's slim body.
The uniform had a plunging neckline, leaving Sherry's cleavage exposed. Her breasts were pert and pear-shaped.
The uniform had puffed sleeves and a tight waist. The hem of the onepiece garment reached down to just a few inches over her knees.
She wore a few thin petticoats beneath the skirt, which rustled and swished and crackled as she moved. They were white and frilly.
Her legs were sheathed in fishnet stockings. In all, her costume seemed sexually provocative to Jane-a bit too daring for a servant girl.
However, Jane was nothing if not well mannered, and she kept her misgivings to herself. Perhaps she would mention them later to her man.
Besides, Sherry was very vivacious and outgoing and friendly.
Adrian, while cordial and perfectly polite to Jane, lacked some of the personal warmth which the other servants had in abundance.
One thing was clear to Jane-all the servants, Adrian included, were more than fond of their master, Qark Crossland.
It went beyond the normal master/servant relationship, she noted. There was genuine affection between the group.
After the initial greeting, the group went inside. Clark scooped up Jane in his arms and carried her across the threshold of the mansion.
Clark thanked his servants for greeting him in such a pleasing manner. He informed Adrian that he and Jane would be taking supper in his master bedroom.
"Very good, sir," Adrian said crisply. She dismissed the servants, sending them off to their appointed duties, while the bride and groom went upstairs.
Jane's long white bridal dress rustled as she climbed the long, winding staircase to the luxurious second floor of the mansion.
She was most impressed with the handsomeness of the antique furnishings.
The bedroom was equally lovely, and in keeping with the rest of the house.
But Jane felt a curious, sinking sensation as she saw the big, antique bed. Her heart beat more rapidly, and her throat was dry.
She fought down a rising panic. Here was that old, familiar trapped feeling, that suffocating sensation which filled her where sex was concerned.
Clark shut the door behind him, and gathered his bride in his arms.
Jane shut her eyes as he carried her face with kisses. Her body was smooth, soft, pliant; his was muscular, strong, hard.
Clark clamped his open mouth on hers. He pushed his tongue into her mouth, and rubbed it against her own tongue, teeth, gums.
His tongue was bold, insistent in her mouth as he tasted the spicy sweetness of her saliva. He pulled her even nearer to him.
His hands were on her white-clad shoulders. He put one hand on her upper back, then let it drop down to her bottom.
Jane involuntarily stiffened in his arms when she felt that exploratory hand fondling her behind.
Clark rubbed and kneaded her buttocks through the dress, patting the rounded bottom cheeks. There was a certain proprietary familiarity in his handling of her, as though she truly belonged to him now that they were wed.
Jane fought down her rising panic. Over the years, she had mastered her emotions to the extent that she could engage in preliminary foreplay.
Clark's groin pressed against her crotch, rubbing it. She felt a stirring of motion down below in the crotch of his trousers.
Jane felt miserable. If she could only have a marriage where ugly, sweaty sex played no part! That would make her truly happy.
But such a marriage was not for Clark Crossland. He had been gentlemanly and understanding of her special problem while he was courting her.
Now that they were lawfully man and wife, however, he would not restrain his desires. Jane knew that as he kissed and caressed her.
His hand moved down along her thigh, caressing it through her dress.
Jane started to sweat.
As Clark continued to fondle her, she started to shiver-not with desire, but with fear. She felt like she was drowning.
Clark started to ease her toward the bed. He had waited for over two months to enjoy the delights of his lady's beautiful body.
As he eased her toward the matrimonial bed, Jane slipped free from his embrace.
"Is something wrong, darling?' Clark frowned.
"Oh no, not at all!" Jane said with a chirpy brightness which was the very opposite of how she actually felt.
She stammered some lame excuse about how she hadn't eaten a thing all day, and that she felt a bit lightheaded.
Couldn't they have their supper first she asked him?
The wry, skeptical grin on his face showed that he was wise to her. But he played along with the game, for now.
He used the phone to call down to the kitchen, requesting that their meal be brought up to the bedroom.
"As long as we're waiting, Jane, why don't you get out of your gown, and into something more comfortable?" he suggested.
Jane said, "Oh, Clark, a girl only wears white once in her life-I don't want to take off my lovely gown yet!"
He patted her shoulder. "Anything you say, Jane."
Sherry arrived with the meal. Clark opened the door at her knock.
The maid wheeled in a cart. She removed the coverings, set out the silverware and place settings, and made sure that all was to the satisfaction of her master.
When Sherry exited the room, she looked over her shoulder and threw Jane a saucy wink which seemed to say, I wish I were in your shoes!
Jane wished the same thing. She dreaded the prospect of her defloration.
The delicious meal, prepared by the in-house gourmet chef, was sumptuous. Jane tasted not a thing, but chewed mechanically.
She tried to eat as slowly as possible, lingering over each bite in an attempt to delay the moment of truth with her man.
Finally, the plates were clear. Clark pushed the wheeled serving cart out the door into the hall, leaving it there for a servant to attend to later.
He came to Jane. He held out his hand to her. She took it. Her palm was sweaty. Clark pulled, easing her to her feet.
"Darling," he murmured. He put his hands on her shoulders, and turned her so that her back was to him.
His nimble fingers plucked open the tiny hooks which held her gown closed. It was clear from the practiced way in which he unfastened the littly hooks, that he was quite skilled in undressing omen.
He opened the garment down to the small of her back. Shivers ran up and down Jane's spine when he kissed the nape of her neck.
Putting his hands on her smooth, soft shoulders, he eased the bridal dress off them, and pulled it down to her waist.
He wasn't looking at her face, which showed real fear. White surrounded her bright blue irises, and her mouth was open in a shocked O.
A lacy white bra covered her oversized breasts.
Muscular tendons and veins rippled at the backs of his strong hands as he tugged the dress off her wide, alluring hips.
The bridal gown, with its wide, flaring skirt, fell into a pool of fabric at her feet. Jane wore a white satin half-slip which covered her from the waist to the knees. Nervously she chewed her lower lip.
"Beautiful, simply beautiful," Clark murmured. He pulled the slip down off her hips, and it joined her gown at her feet.
Jane wore a pair of white pantyhose. Clark frowned when he saw them.
"Pantyhose?' he laughed softly. 'That won't do!" He patted her rump. "I want my bride to wear stockings and garters, not pantyhose!"
Jane said, "But I don't have any of those things, dear. Besides-pantyhose are so practical, and stockings are such a bother-"
"They're worth it," Clark said firmly. His tone indicated that this was not a subject about which he cared to argue.
He continued, "Tomorrow, we'll see about outfitting you with a brand-new wardrobe, lingerie included.'
His hand rustled against her pantyhose as he caressed her thigh. "Anyway, that's for tomorrow. You won't need any clothes at all tonight, my love."
He reached for the back of the bra. "In fact, I want you naked-now!"
He plucked open the tiny hooks which secured the backstrap of the bra. It came open. Jane's gasp was just a soft whimper, barely audible.
Clark eased the shoulder straps down to her arms then pulled the cups free from her dress. Jane reluctantly yielded to the undressing.
Her lush breasts, soft and white with pink nipples, tumbled free from the bra cups. They jiggled softly from side to side.
Jane fought down an irrational impulse to cover her breasts with her arms She was with her husband now, and such modesty was ridiculous.
There were soft grooves on her bosom, outlining where the bra cups had held her breasts. Similar grooves marked where the straps had indented her shoulders.
Clark turned her, so that she faced him. Jane was so shy that she could not look him in the eye, and instead looked down at her feet.
"I've heard the expression, 'a blushing bride'," lark laughed, "but this is the first time that I've ever seen one!"
It was true-Jane's fair face was crimsoned with a deep, hot blush.
"You're so lovely,' Clark said. "Now I want to see the rest of you, in the flesh, all naked and gorgeous for me!"
He slipped his fingers inside the waistband of the pantyhose. They fit tightly, of course, and he peeled the fabric off her wide hips.
Jane closed her eyes as he pulled the pantyhose down off her hips, past her pussy, and then rolled them down her smooth thighs and calves.
She lifted her feet, while he knelt and removed the pantyhose from them.
Now she was undressed, with the sole exception of the pair of white lace panties which covered her perfect sex.
Standing close to her, Clark took off his clothes. His handsome black formal jacket and pants were removed, as was his white shirt front. His magnificent body was revealed as he disrobed.
Jane knew what he looked like in the flesh. They had spent outings at the beach and the lake, and she had seen him in a swimsuit.
She had even seen his penis-and done more than see it at times.
She understood how hard it was for Clark to keep his hands off her during their engagement. It would have been hard for any man.
He was strong and red-blooded, and needed some release! So, from time to time, when their necking and petting sessions got really hot, Jane managed to fight down her fear of sex, and bring him to orgasm with her hands.
Now, Clark was stripped down to his shorts. Fear or not, she couldn't help peeking at his perfectly proportioned body.
He was handsome, and in fine athletic trim. His shoulders were broad, his chest massive. His torso tapered to lean hips and a small, rounded bottom.
She quickly blushed and looked away when she glanced at the fat bulge in the crotch of his shorts, a bulge caused by his rigid member.
He took her hand, felt the sweat beading on her palm. "Nervous?"
"Well, yes," Jane shyly confessed.
He took her head in his hands and tenderly kissed her forehead. "Jane, love, you have nothing worry about. I swear that I'll be gentle."
"I know you will," she said. "It's not you, it's me, Clark!"
"That same old panic, eh?'
Before the marriage, Jane had confessed everything-everything. She told Clark about the incident with Uncle Freddy, and how it had scarred her psyche.
'Don't you worry," Clark said. "One way or another, I'm going to cure you of that fear permanently."
"If only you could!" Jane murmured. "But I wonder if any man can!"
"I'll prove it to you," Clark said.
He and she stood at the side of the bed. It was huge bed, with four massive posters supporting an overhead canopy.
He put his hand on her hip. Jane tensed up. Clark stroked her shoulders, then fondled her soft hair and downy cheeks.
His touch was light and caressing, but failed to calm Jane. The beautiful, angel-faced blonde had a look of stark fear on her face.
Clark took down her panties. Jane groaned as he soft panties were removed from her pussy. They rustled as they fell down her long legs.
And then she was naked. Her pussy lips quivered as they were exposed to the air. Jane pressed her thighs tightly closed.
"You're tensing up, Jane," Clark said softly. 'Relax, honey."
"I'm trying!" Tears started to brim in her blinking eyes.
Their first attempt was a miserable fiasco.
Clark did all he could. He kissed her softly, all over her body, trying to ease the tension which made her soft flesh hard as a rock.
Jane lay on her back on the bed, arms at her sides, staring straight up. She looked like a martyr who was about to be burned at the stake.
Clark did his best. His hands glided over her soft breasts, grazing the nipples, stroking the soft masses of flesh.
: He kissed the breasts, licked the nipples. He fondled her soft, smooth inner thighs. But all his best attempts were futile.
Jane's white body was as hard, cold, and unresponsive as marble. Cold sweat broke out on her face. She shivered and shook.
Her thighs were tightly clenched. Clark urged her to relax and open them.
Jane fought as hard as she could to obey. She managed to relax her thighs, so he could push them open. He knelt between her long legs.
He bent forward and kissed her pussy lovingly.
For an instant, Jane was stabbed with excitement, and she started to relax. But she was unable to yield herself up to pleasure.
She felt sick to her stomach. She bolted upright, swung her legs over the bed and planted her feet on the floor.
She raced to the bathroom which was adjacent to the bedroom. Her face was white as sheet. She flung open the bathroom door.
Clark could hear her retching.
This situation called for drastic measures, that was certain. While Jane was being sick, Clark picked up the phone, and called downstairs. He spoke to Adrian, telling her what he required. She heard the note of suppressed fury in his voice, and kept her comments to herself.
She assured him that things would be done as he demanded. Clark hung up, then went into the bathroom to assist Jane.
The lovely young lady was a mess. She was bent forward over the toilet bowl. Her pale face looked green at the edges.
When Clark put his arm around her shoulders, helping her up, Jane burst out crying: "I'm so ashamed! I've failed you as a woman!"
"The game isn't over yet, darling." Clark smiled enigmatically.