12 Brides Part One

~1~

~Orientation~

A long yawn escaped me as I sat on the stool, waiting to be called in. My father had loaded me into the cart with a satchel of my favorite belongings long before cockcrow. I rubbed my sandled foot against the side of the haversack. The rough hemp fabric was scratchy against my toes. I would have liked to bring one on my nicer bags, having many in silk and satin. But my father had insisted that a place like this, it would be better if it was nondescript.

My eyes darted around the room with the other girls. Some looked to my age, some still looked like literal children. That notion turned my stomach. What kind of parent would send their child to a place like this, knowing the kinds of things that happen here? As an adult, I made the decision to enter the Bride’s Market.

The girls refused to look at each other, most with their eyes on the ground. One, a blonde girl who looked to be about 14, was on the verge of tears. I caught the blue eye of a dark haired young woman, and she smirked at me in a way that sent my skin crawling.

One by one each young lady was taken into the next room. The blue-eyed woman, who seemed too worldly to be called a girl, kept her eyes on me. I ignored her so hard my scalp itches. I kept my eyes on the swirling embroidery pattern on my sleeve.

“You,” the portly woman said. She pointed at me with a quill while holding the heavy door open with her other hand. I jumped up, stretching and heading toward her. The door closed behind me with a gush of air. The woman looked me up and down. She wore her hair in gray dreadlocks, wrapped back with a fine linen scarf. Her skin was dark and even, obviously she spent most of her time inside.

The room had a desk with ink and quills made from various birds’ feathers. Stools sat on either side. Oil lamps sat unlit as the sun steamed through the wide, round oculus in the stone ceiling.

“Turn, child,” she ordered.

I obeyed, doing a once around.

She looked at me like I was stupid. “Turn slowly. How am I to look at you if you move too fast.”

I complied, taking small steps in a circle. I’d been warned that the first day would be dehumanizing. I felt rather like a sheep. Maybe I’d even start bleating if they brought out sheers.

The woman sat at the desk, writing on a scroll of parchment. “Name?”

“Iris Chrysos.”

“Age?”

“One and twenty.”

“Lain with a man?”

I blushed. “No!”

She never looked up. “With a woman?”

“No,” I repeated, calmer.

“It’s okay if you have. I would just need to notate it.”

I nodded my understanding. “I have been intimate with boys my age, but never lain with one.”

“Take off your dress.”

“My… what?”

“Strip. I need to see your body.”

I began to pull the strings expertly tied into bows at my shoulders. The gauzy cloth fell to my feet and I stood bared before the unimpressed woman. She looked me up and down, eyes studying my breasts and groin. She made more notes.

Without looking up from her scroll, she ordered, “face away.”

I did as she commanded, studying the relief on the wall of Heracles and the seven trials.

Could this possibly get more demeaning?

“Bend forward.”

I bent at the waist until my palms rested on the floor. I wasn’t terribly tall so I figured I looked like a sloped table. I kept my eyes and hands on the dirt floor, listening for any movement. All I heard was the stretching of her quill.

“Stand.”

I did.

“Dress.”

I did, at record speeds.

She eyed me. “Would you say you know how to bring a man to completion?”

I thought about the question. The boys I’d been with were like oil soaked rugs, very easy to excite.

I shrugged. “I’m not sure.”

More writing. I shifted from foot to foot, trying to push past my nervousness. It was so silent I could hear my leather sandals creaking.

“Ma’am?” I asked, not able to stand the quiet any longer.

“Call me ‘Mamma’. I’ll be taking care of you girls when not in instruction. You need something, come to me.”

“Yes… mamma.” It felt foreign to say. I had a mother. This had been her idea.

Mamma nodded as she finished her writing. “Come with me. We’ll get you washed up.”

She led me out another door and down a hall that looked like it had been carved out of the hill.

She spoke as she walked ahead of me. “The girls will be your sisters. The men are to help you hone your craft. Some of the girls here are going to pleasure houses, some are looking for a husband. You don’t need to know who is whom. You’re all equal inside these walls.”

My mind flashed back to that scared girl. Was she going to a pleasure house? She didn’t seem to want to be here.

I asked, “Why are some looking for a husband and some going to the pleasure house?”

Mamma replied, “Those who paid are looking for a husband, those who got paid are going to the pleasure houses.”

I felt my blood run cold. My dowry came to the brides’ market so that I could make a suitable match and learn how to make my husband happy. I’d heard of families selling their girls to the Market. The owners of the pleasure houses paid for the girls after they had been trained.

Mamma opened a door to the right. Inside were large tubs carved out of the rock. Water trailed in through a crack on the opposite side of the room into a large kettle under which a flame burned. The hot water in turn, fed each of the tubs. Nearly every tub had the girls and women from the waiting room. They all appeared to be naked. Servants scrubbed and lathered and rinsed to varying degrees. Some of the ladies came in filthier than others.

A small bronze girl of maybe 12 appeared before me. She took my hand and led me to a fresh tub.

“This is where I’ll be cleaning you,” She smiled back at me. Her hair was cut to just above her ears.

“Thank you. I can clean myself, though.”

She stood on a stool and went to work untying my dress. “This is just so everyone can start with a fresh slate.” My dress puddled around my feet. She jumped down and lifted my feet out of the cloth. Slinging my dress over her shoulder in a practiced move, she pushed me toward the bath.

The water was deceptively hot on my skin as I stepped in. She deposited my dress in a basket and came back to quickly scrub me down. I looked at the others in the bathing room again, for the first time wondering if this was actually a bad idea. It was not exactly like I could go home.

In a flurry I was washed and dried and tied into a new white linen dress. I and the other 11 ladies stood in a room full to the brim of pillows. The sun began to set, the oculus in this room showing the darkening sky. The oil lamps had been lit, lending an air of mystery to the event.

A man stepped into the room with Mamma. He was pale as she was dark, with a full head of white hair. They made a very striking pair. He wore only a green chiton which landed just above his knee, and braided leather sandals.

He looked each of up and down as mamma spoke in his ear. Was it time to start bleating?

Men walked in from the opposite door. Some were more musclebound, some were tall, each attractive in one way or another. One looked like an absolute beast. He was tall and broad with tattoos of the barbarians from north of Hadrian's wall. One was thin and blond with an easy smile. None of the men looked like they were below the age of majority. I fought my neck not to look down the line of ladies.

The official spoke. “Ladies. You are here to learn the ways of the pleasurable acts. I am your proctor.” He motioned behind him to the men. “They will be your test subjects. We will be starting immediately with assessment. We have six ladies who have never known a man.”

My face burst into flame. I wasn’t even sure why.

The proctor looked at the men. “Who will be respectful of our delicate flowers?”

Looks shot up and down the line before six stepped forward. One was the Gaelic giant.

I had a sinking feeling that we were about to be intimate in a group setting. My legs twitched to back away. I satisfied my nervous energy by rubbing my bare toes together. None of us had been given shoes after our baths.

The proctor walked to one of the ladies, but I couldn’t see who he was talking to. He stepped away holding the hand of the nervous 14 year old. He led her to stand in front of the men. “Choose one.”

She looked back at Mamma. The matron gave her a smile. “Go on, Kore, just because you pick one doesn’t mean you’re getting married.”

The girl, Kore, walked looking at the men, who had the grace to look uncomfortable. There was one young man, who while he did look like an adult, looked very young. His body held promises. He would be taller, would be broader. His brown hair looked like his mother cut it close to his head.

Kore looked up at him and he smiled at her. He held his hand out and she accepted. The proctor ushered them out of the room. Three more ladies, Candace, Eula, and Meloney, were called and chose a man. I fought the butterflies in my stomach as I imagined what I was supposed to do with one once I left the room. I tried to calm my nerves by concentrating on hair color. Kore had red hair. Candace, Meloney, and I had dark hair. Eula was blonde.

Another Blonde in the virgin group was the woman who had stared me down. I found that I was actually surprised by that. She’d seemed worldly. Maybe she lied to Mamma.

The proctor called her out of line. “Peta, choose."

The only two left were the blond man with the easy smile and the barbarian from north of Hadrian’s wall. I knew before she even walked to them, that she would take the smiling blond. Leaving me the barbarian. He was large and imposing and I found myself rooted to the floor as the proctor tried to take me to him.

The barbarian didn’t seem emotionless, but rather, passive in his role. He didn’t stare me down, but the look on his face was relaxed. I somehow found myself in front of him, sure that there were drag marks behind me. I reached a hesitant hand out to him and he tenderly took it. His skin was rough and warm against mine. We walked to the door that the other couples had gone through. A hallway lay on the other side with twelve doors along the walls. 5 of the doors were closed. I walked ahead of the man, our hands still entwined, to the first available open room.

There were no windows in this room, no oculus. There was a sunken tub in the far left corner and a large low mattress along the right wall. On the back wall were shelves with oils and flowers and scrubs. A pitcher of wine rested on the small round table with a lit oil lamp. To my alarm there was nowhere to sit.

“You look like a trapped bird, your head turning this way and that.” The barbarian said from behind me. He spoke with a slight accent, but his voice was kind.

I turned to him. “I’m not sure what I was expecting.”

He smiled for the first time and pushed the door closed behind him. “I’m to assess your skills pleasing a man.”

“Are you also supposed to confirm my virginity?” I suddenly felt haughty.

He gave a chuckle. “No need. Very few of you will be leaving with it intact.”

Fear spiked through me. “What does that mean?”

He held his hands up. “I mean that most of the brides will be leaving having completely known a man. Probably many of them. Look at your face! That will not be happening today. I am to follow your lead. You are to show me what you’re comfortable with.”

Nothing. I do not know you.

I looked at the ground before looking into his brown eyes. “What’s your name?”

Surprise crossed his face. “Duncan.”

“Duncan,” I repeated, feeling the foreign name in my mouth.

“And you are Iris,” He said.

I tried to think if I had said it at all, but he smiled. “It was on your description. Brown of hair, gray eyes, heart shaped face.”

I nodded, suddenly feeling awkward. “What do we do now?”

He smiled and walked past me to the bed. He sat and looked at me. “I could kiss you.”

I nodded, still feeling uneasy. I walked to him. Even with me standing and him on his knees, he was almost tall enough for me to lean down and kiss. His arms went around me. He laid his large hands flat on my back, pressing the linen into my skin and passed that, his heat. He laid kisses on my still covered breasts before sliding his hands down my back, down my ass, to my legs. With those large hands, he spread my legs apart and pulled me down with him, so that I sat on his lap. In this position his face was even with mine, even though I still felt impossibly small in his hands.

He swept his mouth against mine, testing the waters. I wasn’t really sure what to expect and when I didn’t pull away, he kissed me harder. My arms wound their way around his neck. His mouth moved with a deliberate gentleness and warmth started to grow deep in my belly.

I must have shifted on him because he groaned and thrust up against me. I could feel him hot and ready between my legs. Without pulling away, he picked me up and shifted so I was on my back and he was above me. I shivered, loving the feeling of his weight on me.

“Iris,” He whispered in my ear, “I want to touch you.”

I didn’t trust my voice, so I nodded my consent. My sex ached.

Duncan rested on his right side. Reaching his free hand down, he slid his hand up the outside of my leg. I moaned his name and shifted my feet apart.

“Tell me you want me to touch you,” he spoke in a husky tone.

“Yes.”

“Yes what?”

“Touch me!” I wanted it so badly.

He took my lips again. This time he was hungry as his fingers found me wet and aching. Finding the most sensitive part of me, he rubbed my clit with his fingers. One dipped into me, using my wetness to make rubbing easier. I arched my back and let out a loud moan. I’d never known another person could make me feel so good.

His voice was low next to my ear. “I’m going to put my fingers inside of you. I’m going to fuck you with them.”

“Yes, please, yes!” I begged.

One large finger slid inside of me, hitting the back of me and I bucked against his hand. He worked me slow, sliding his finger in and out while still rubbing my clit. I was going to explode if he kept his pace.

Then another finger found itself in me and I was nearly undone. He rubbed deep within me, finding pleasure spots I didn’t even know I had while still working my clit.

“Dun… Dun… Duncan!” I screamed as he pushed me over that electric edge. I wrote wave after wave after wave of pleasure, crying out. I moaned, thrusting my hips against his still busy hand.

I finally stopped spasming and he pulled his fingers out of me. I looked at him, finding a self satisfied smile on his face. I looked down his body, finding him straining against his breeches with need.

I sat up even as my legs felt like water. My hand pushed against his shoulder and he laid back as I untied his breeches. He shifted his hips to allow me to pull them down. I allowed myself a moment to gaze at the naked man laying in front of me. Celtic tattoos decorated more than his arms and chest. The patterns swirled along his hips. I put my small hands over the patterns and brought my face close to his erection, breathing a trail over it. His eyes followed my hands as I rubbed between my legs. I was wet with my orgasm and sharing that wicked lubricant, I ran my hands up and down his rock hard cock.

He let out another groan and closed his eyes. I brought my head down, suckling at the head. Duncan put his hands on my shoulders. I fit as much of him in my mouth as I could. He was so big, it was hard to tell how far down I went. Another groan and I sucked as I pulled my head back. His fingers caught the back of my head and he set the rhythm, thrusting in time with my movement.

“Iris,” he panted, “I want to be inside of you. I want to make you cum on me while I’m fucking you.”

If I’d been in control of my reason, I might have protested. But as it was, my need had begun to build again. I untied the dress’ straps.

“No, wait,” Duncan said. He stood, pulling me up with him. He took hold of the straps and slowly lowered them down my body, teasing himself with the glacial speed. When the fabric was on the floor and I stood bared to him all he could do was stare at me.

I felt myself blush. “How do you want me?”

He picked me up and I thought he would fuck me against the wall. My legs wrapped around his waist. But he laid me down like I was weightless. His mouth found mine again, and I was just as hungry as he.

Duncan leaned back, taking my knee and spreading my legs wide. He used his free hand to rub my sex again. His figures working me again. He used my wetness, spreading it on his cock before he started to push himself at my opening. I’d always heard the first time hurt. I'd braced for it. But Duncan must have done some kind of magic because even as he was filling me, all I felt was ecstasy. When he found the back of me, I moaned, rolling my hips up. He steadied himself on his hands and pushed into me as I moved, meeting my at the apex of my movement.

While we started slow, there was nothing slow or gentle as we neared completion. I moaned over and over as he worked my clit with his thumb in time with his thrusts. I had no idea that it would feel like this.

“Duncan… I’m going to… again!” I panted, stopping my movements. I couldn't move anymore. He grabbed my hips and worked himself inside of me, allowing me to rub two fingers over my clit. I found that exquisite edge again. And this time, came so hard all I could do was feel the pleasure crash over me. Allow him to keep fucking me. Duncan gave a mighty groan and thrust deep into me.

I laid catching my breath, watching the man above me. He took a deep breath, raising his shoulders as he filled his lungs. He dropped a kiss on my forehead.

Later, after we had redressed and were sipping wine, I cleared my throat. “Will I please my future husband?”

Duncan seems surprised by the question. “You are ardent and willing to learn. whoever finds you, will be lucky.”