Primal Moans
It was a universally acknowledged truth that a woman of her status was destined to be married off to an elderly man of fortune, like a prize at an auction, than to find herself married to someone she truly loved. Yet in spite of this, she continued to rebel against tradition and destiny, and offended any potential suitors, much to the dismay of her own father, and she supposed, the natural order of things.
She wouldn’t mind them of course, if they were more considerate, and empathetic, not entitled toffs that turned their noses up at everyone they deemed inferior.
She was privy to her parent’s musings, as they contemplated the latest events. Her mother stirred a tepid cup of tea, taking her time before placing the cup to her mouth. Her husband continued, “And I hear that master Briley is in town, no doubt fresh from his tuition.”
“I hear he is quite the gentleman, and certainly a match for our first born.”
He sighed, “If only. She has had numerous opportunities to find a suitor and yet she sends them off running into the woods, screaming for their mothers.”
She took a sip before replying, “That is probably an exaggeration, but warranted.”
Jane overheard this, of course, and couldn’t wait to roll her eyes at the next half witted of her parents and the town sought as her potential suitor. The only need for these men she could propose was to honestly escort her past the woods that skirted their town, even then she would have to risk her own sanity as they prattled on about themselves and their preoccupations with everything concerned with the accumulation of wealth. The thought was interrupted, as she heard her father announce to her mother, and the rest of the English speaking world,
“There is the ball tonight. It might be a chance for young Jane to meet Master Briley. Of course the event has been staged by the Mastersons in the highest of hopes to marry off their second eldest. Good stock the Mastersons, much easier to organise than our shrew.”
Her mother’s mouth dropped open,
“My dear Edmond, how can you say such a thing? That is our eldest you are speaking about there. She will find her way before too long.”
He shook his head, before replying, “Hell will frost over before her cold heart thaws for another.”
“Do not lose hope Edmond, besides she could use the ‘experience’ tonight. I will have a word.”
She shook her head. Shrew? How dare he? He would put me on display like a stuffed animal and then curse my name when I refused to conform to his expectations.
As the evening drew closer, they were finishing her ritual, preparing her for another evening ball, or meat auction, as she preferred to call it. She was wrapped up in a bodice, which seemed to feel like it was crushing her chest and strangling her enlarged breasts, suffocating her at the same time. She couldn’t wait to get the whole affair over with, and rip apart her fashion prison.
She was escorted to the back of their stagecoach, and ushered besides her parents down the darkened laneway at the edge of their town towards Masterson Manor. Along with the cricket sounds pulsing from the edge of the woods, she could hear the cracking of twigs as if someone was running through them. The evening air seemed to grow chilly as the wind picked up, howling its lamentations and causing the hairs on her neck to rise in response. The eerie quietness was abruptly cut short by what seemed at first an earth-shattering scream, deep and guttural. She watched her father recoil and her Mother’s hand tightly gripping his, but she heard it again and something else in her mind told her otherwise, and to a keen ear like hers, it felt more like a deep feminine moaning, and she felt herself growing wet between her legs, and a flush of excitement shot in side of her as something dark and primal beckoned. She could barely compose herself as she felt herself growing wetter and warmer down there, and she desperately yearned for something to fill her void.
The moment was fleeting, like so many of her positive interactions with men; she composed herself and crossed her legs, attempting to stifle her arousal. Her parents completely ignored her and Edmond commented, “Very strange those woods, something unholy no doubt.”
Her mother laughed half in shock, “Edmond, you’re scaring the poor girl, why it is merely the work of some wild animals.”
Wild indeed. She thought as she stared out into the darkness. She sighed deeply and wished the noise would return, but before too long the momentum of their horses plundering along brought them to the Manor, the lamp-posts beckoning them towards conservative safety, and a sanctuary from the depravity of darkness that lay behind them.
