New Salem Ch. 03

I met Abigail that summer.

"I can't believe you're still here," was the first thing she said to me when she opened the farmhouse door. "I thought they'd give you the Dispensation. You know, since your sister can't use it."

I am always amazed by the manners of new subjects. Growing up in the outside and volunteering for the experiments must imbue them with a carefree attitude.

"I brought eggs for Goody Margaret," I said.

Abigail smirked. "She's not here," she said. "She bought out."

I blinked. I hadn't heard any such thing in the village. "Already? She only had three years left."

"Yeah, but another three years of her being barren," Abigail pointed out. "Useless." She ran a hand over her rounded belly. "And I am not useless."

I knew that Abigail had started as a housemaid at the Chatsworth farm the year before. I had heard Elisabeth's comments and the whispers outside the Meetinghouse. But I had not believed it was possible. I had known only one other person to leave the experiment early, and that was because their outside family paid handsomely for their early release. It was the only way I knew to escape stoning in New Salem.

"He... he married you?" I asked, stunned. I didn't know William well, but he had always appeared to me as an upstanding Elder. I could not imagine how the auditors or the Meetinghouse men had approved.

Abigail nodded. "As soon as she was transported out. He never even liked her, you know. And the auditors aren't going to waste a good homestead on a genetic mistake. I heard she was supposed to have four or five children. Not a single pregnancy. Shows how awful she was." She opened the door wider. "Would you like to come in? Have some tea?"

I shook my head. "No, thank you. I should be getting back."

Abigail accepted the proffered eggs. "You don't have to stay a housemaid," she pointed out. "You're pretty. Have you had your tests?"

I shook my head.

"Get them," she advised with a wink. "And don't wait around for the auditors to choose your life for you."

---

When I woke up the next morning, I rolled over and found that he was smiling at me.

"Good morning."

I blushed. "Good morning."

Whatever fears I had were allayed by the gentle kiss on my forehead. "I hope you slept well."

I never told John about my dreams.

"It was the best night of my life," I confessed.

He frowned. "That's unfortunate. You deserve more than a few kisses."

"A few?" I laughed.

"More than a few, I'll admit." He rolled onto his side and propped his right hand under his head. "I wonder what it must be like for you - such a regulated existence. So little experience. It's a travesty."

"I don't mind," I said. "You cannot miss what you don't know."

"You're not curious?"

I thought. "I am curious about one thing."

"Oh?"

"I am curious about... sex."

I felt him recoil. "Hannah, I -"

"Let me finish!" My hand grabbed his before he could move away. "It's not just that I wasn't kissed before. No one has reached for me, touched my hand, even told me I was pretty. For most of my life, I've felt invisible. And I know - I know what is expected of wives. Of husbands. I'm not stupid. But hearing of a thing and doing it are so different."

He nodded. "It is."

"I'm not asking you for anything," I said. "Only... I am afraid, sometimes. I wonder if.. If it will hurt. I've heard some of the women cry. Some of them hate to be touched. Some of them blush and smile. It's confusing and I don't..." I gathered my thoughts. "I wish I could understand, before I'm assigned to some man. He might never care for me. I might never care for him. I don't want my body to be just... data."

He was conflicted, I could tell. He shook his head. "No! I could not bear to hurt you."

"How could this -?" I kissed his cheek, "hurt me?"

His groan was pure, frustrated desire. "Your security here depends on your marriage," he pointed out. He pressed his forehead to mine. "I cannot," he said. "I will not risk your chance to survive this place."

"John," I whispered. It was the first time I had said his name aloud, without 'sir' or 'mister'.

"You'll be assigned a good husband," he said, trying to be rational. "He will care that you are inexperienced." His eyes traveled down my body, and I saw longing in his face. "He will teach you what you need to know. He will know how to do it."

I played my cruelest card. "Like the men in the Party?"

"No!" John winced. "No. Nothing like that."

"How then?"

He sighed. "He will protect you, Hannah. He will take time to make you comfortable."

"I listen, in the village. Not all men are kind, John. Some are cruel."

He swallowed hard. "I know it. But, they could not assign a cruel man to you. They would give you a good man. I'm sure. You deserve the very best."

"What we deserve and what we are assigned are very different."

"He will care how your body feels," John insisted. "You husband will know that you are a great treasure. He will want you to experience pleasure."

"And what if he doesn't?" I asked.

John closed his eyes. I could see the conflict in his face. We both knew the penalty for unauthorized congress in the experiment. I had seen my first stoning when I was eight.

But, he was so beautiful in the gray morning. I squeezed his hand. "Show me?"

"I can't -"

"Please." I stroked his cheek. "Please."

His groan told me everything I needed to know; I had won. John opened his eyes and looked down at me with such intensity that it took my breath away. "I cannot - I dare not..."

"I know," I agreed. "Only a little."

John kissed me, and the hunger between us swallowed any lingering hesitation. His strong body leaned against my left side, and I moaned my delight into his mouth. His strong hand moved down my neck, across my breasts, over my stomach. I returned his kisses more earnestly, urging him on. The wandering hand passed over my hip, down my thigh, and caught hold of my skirt hem, just below my knee.

My breath caught in my throat when his hand slid under my skirt. His fingers were so gentle on the inside of my leg, caressing every inch of skin. I had never felt such a state of wild emotion, as if my body was an animal with a singular desire.

John, with his head propped on his right arm, chuckled at my frustrated gasps. His hand had brushed the top of my leg, then wandered up to my stomach. I knew, with desperation, that I would do anything to make him touch me.

"Please," I whispered.

He leaned down to kiss my forehead. "Patience," he whispered.

My hips bucked, as if that would force him to give me the pressure I needed. His hand pressed on my stomach more firmly. I forced myself to relax, to abdicate control. Even as I burned with eagerness, I tried to memorize every second. John was with me, touching me. It was what I had wanted for so long.

"Your husband," he whispered, "must be gentle. You will want everything at once, but your body needs patience."'

His hand moved lower, and, for the first time, touched the mound of my sex. I squealed softly, and his smile rewarded me. My legs instinctively spread wider in anticipation of his touch. Cool air met the wetness beneath his fingers and I shivered.

John's hand, which I had often studied, was rough and scarred, yet more gentle than my fantasies had imagined. I writhed beneath his touch, desperate to feel him everywhere. I could feel the passion building in his body, and yet he was careful with me. Gentle, but firm.

Slowly, his fingers traced the soft crease where my legs met my pelvis. I shuddered and gasped. My hand gripped his thick hair. He leaned in to kiss me again, and as he did, his fingers parted the soft lips of my sex. I would have cried out, but his mouth arrested mine; as his tongue danced in my mouth, his finger entered me.

Stars exploded on the back of my eyelids. My virgin canal gripped his finger. He kept his finger still as his thumb traced the soft hair of my sex. Heat and wetness flooded me, coating his finger. My body begged for more, even as I was ignorant of what I craved.

John pulled his finger free and I almost wept with frustration. "I don't want to hurt you," he whispered. "Tell me -- "

"More!" I gasped, gripping his hand and pushing it down between my legs.

I could hear his smile. "As you wish, my lady."

I cried out as his finger entered me again. This time, he slid it in and out, producing an effect that left me gasping. Each time his finger entered me, my hips rose to meet him, desperate for his touch to go deeper.

An unfamiliar feeling was building within me. It started deep in my stomach, perhaps lower, and grew stronger with every passing second. "Oh! Oh," I groaned. My fingers tightened their hold on his hair

"What is it?" he asked. "Did I hurt you?"

"No!" I wriggled beneath his hand. My body jerked uncontrollably. "I... something is happening! I feel -- " I could not find words.

I registered no thoughts but the craving for more. More. Whatever was coming, I must have it. My whimpers were higher, louder than before.

John slid one leg over mine and pinned me down with his weight. His hand continued to fuck me. His other hand slid behind my neck. He held my head steady, leaned down, and growled in my ear. "Yes, yes! Let it happen."

I wanted him to explain, but the sensation was too much. Every muscle strained as the pleasure grew hotter. My body arched beneath him; his finger thrust faster.

"This, this is how a man should bring you pleasure," he growled. "Now. Come."

I screamed as every fiber of my being reached incandescence. My body went rigid. White hot ecstasy raged through me, leaving me blind and deaf to anything but the roar of pleasure and the sensation of his hand inside me. I cannot say how long I was lost in that madness. But when I was able to breathe again, I was coated in sweat and trembling with exhaustion. I collapsed against the blanket.

I wailed softly when he withdrew his hand. Even the passing brush of his fingers left streaks of fire across my thigh.

"There," he murmured, kissing my temple, my cheek, my nose. "Now, you know."