Page 83 of Vows of Sacrifice

“Yes, Dovah,” she replied.

The tone of her voice was full of love, and then I felt her legs wrap around my waist. It was an instinctive movement, just like her hands naturally finding their place on my shoulders. I penetrated her all at once, to be sure her hymen was torn and not hurt her any more than necessary. Then, with immeasurable effort given the state of intense excitement in which I found myself, I remained still, allowing her body to get used to my presence inside her. I even held my breath, if that could help.

After a little while, kissing the thin skin near her ear, I asked her:

“Are you alright?”

No, of course she couldn’t be, but what else could I say?

“Yes.”

Her reply was brief and her voice hoarse. I noted her rapid breathing and closed my eyes. My mouth seized hers in a long, passionate kiss, and then, when I was sure her body was beginning to relax again, I allowed myself to move very gently. What she didn’t know was that I was gritting my teeth. One, because it was so good that I was dying to come; two, to help me maintain a considerate cadence as my body roared to go harder.

When, while moaning with pleasure, Ashana’s hips began to meet mine in a movement that drove me completely mad, I lost my footing. It was too much. More than I could bear. I immediately quickened the pace, making it rougher at times, to give as much pleasure to her body as to mine. Suddenly, her fingernails scratched my back and in response, with a growl completely devoid of humanity, I kissed her wildly. It didn’t take long for my orgasm to kick in and I was overcome with the desire to ejaculate; however, I waited for my wife to reach orgasm before allowing myself to do the same. The only thing that held me back was my desire to make her first time a pleasurable experience, so as to make her want to do it again.

My skin moist with sweat, I collapsed on top of her before rolling onto my side so as not to crush her with my weight. Amazed, I watched her search for her breath, her body shaking in orgasmic spasms from the pleasure. I placed a hand on her soft belly to caress it before moving up to her breast. My thumb grazed her hardened nipple. Ashana let out a lovely sound close to a moan. I smiled. Her body is so sensitive!

“Is that . . .” she began, before her tongue came up to lick her upper lip. “Is it always like this between a man and a woman?”

My pride refused the possibility that this question had a negative connotation.

“It can be better.”

This time, I restrained myself from smiling stupidly with a male pride worthy of an adolescent. Ashana turned her head to mine and, thankfully, I was back to my usual appearance: tattoos and eyes. I’d felt scales bloom on my hand as I ejaculated, but too much in the moment, I didn’t give a damn. She seemed incredulous. My male ego—again—swelled.

“Better?” she said.

Oh yes, I thought, but I just smiled lovingly at her; a love I felt in every part of my being. I was crazy about my wife, and it was a madness I accepted with a certain enthusiasm.

Suddenly, she sat up slightly to stare intently at her lower abdomen. I raised an eyebrow, intrigued by what was happening to her.

“Dovah, there’s something strange,” Ashana murmured.

I detected embarrassment and panic in the inflection of her voice. I sat up as well.

“What is it?”

She pointed to her groin.

“Something is flowing out of me.”

And I understood. I understood that the chambermaids had told her many things that had made her less frightened, but that they had forgotten one important detail: male ejaculation and its role in making babies.

I immediately got up in search of a towel and found a cloth near the water tub. I returned to the bed and delicately wiped her privates.

“It’s, um . . . it’s normal, Ashana. When a man feels a lot of pleasure, he almost always ejaculates. This liquid is . . .”

“What makes a woman fertile?” she finished for me.

She covered her face with her hands.

“I’m so ashamed!” she exclaimed against her palms.

I gently grabbed her wrist to move one of her hands away, but she resisted; I didn’t insist.

“I once read a passage in one of my father’s medical books, but I didn’t make the connection,” she whimpered.

Which made me curious, of course.

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