I shiver as I wait patiently to be joined.
I spent the morning being preened and waxed and plucked, made to look smooth and soft for my new husband. The officiating took place early, and I could barely see him through my veil. I’ve caught glimpses in the past few months when he would come to speak to my father, and today, during the celebration. But neither of us are allowed to see the other until we’re consummating our marriage
I know he’s much older than my 19 years, and bigger than me. And I know that he requested that I be waiting on all fours for him on the bed, my face pressed into the soft blanket, and on display for him. My mother said consummating would hurt, but that being a wife means being dutiful.
The door opens with a click, and I hear footsteps coming close. There are hands on my hips. They slide down my legs, and then back up, rest on my thighs. “Spread yourself open for me.” He says, gruffly. My face gets hot, and shaking, I reach back to hold my asscheeks apart.