Disclaimer: Do not own Marvel, DC or The 100
Warnings for mentions of pedophilia, domestic abuse, period typical misogyny, racism, homophobia and transphobia
Please remember, this takes place int he early 1800s in America, the attitudes against marginalized groups today might still be pretty bad in America today, but they were a lot worse then, especially since there weren't any laws that were used to protect these marginalized groups. That is to say, this fic is going to have some very period typical bigotry, just warning everyone reading.
Maintaining civility….while someone is beneath your dress-Chapter one
Clarke Griffin, the only child of Jake and Abby Griffin, knew that she shouldn't be doing this.
Of almost twenty-one years, with pale blonde hair, blue eyes, and far above the expected marrying age, as her mother was trying to marry her off for years, but her father had always stopped her, Clarke had enjoyed a great deal more freedom than most girls and young women of her day.
But now her father was dead. Dead from some disease that the doctors still didn't recognize. The doctors were far more advanced than they used to be, however, even in this new and exciting age of the eighteenth century? The doctors just didn't seem to know enough, to save someone who was sick.
Her father had died three years ago.
And Abby had married almost instantly. To a man named Marcus Kane.
Clarke at the time, was able to procrastinate from marrying long enough for three years to go by.
She had screamed at her mother to honor the woman's husband's memory, by not forcing Clarke to marry.
And Abby was shamed enough, if only for appearances sake, to not force Clarke to marry yet.
But no longer.
And Kane certainly wasn't going to try to convince her not to force Clarke into marriage.
So, Clarke had to marry, unless she wished to apparently, disappoint her mother.
The man that her mother had in mind, was not the worst that she could select for Clarke, Clarke would admit.
A young man just a year older than her, named Bellamy Blake.
Clarke had met him a couple of times. And he repulsed her.
He was several years older than her, in his late twenties.
He was rude, cruel and entitled. He reminded her of the worst bully imaginable. And she was almost positive that he had sex with girls as young as thirteen.
But that didn't seem to matter to Abby when Clarke brought this to her mother. All that mattered to Abby Griffin, now Abby Kane?
Bellamy was rich. That was all that mattered to Abby.
It didn't matter to Abby that Bellamy probably was a pedophile. It didn't matter to her that Bellamy might beat Clarke. It didn't matter to Abby that Bellamy most likely would make a horrendous father.
All Abby cared about was social standing and the money.
Now, Clarke had this friend, Wells Jaha, the only child of Thelonius Jaha, and his family was just as rich and Clarke had known Wells for years. Yes, Clarke saw Wells as a brother, practically, but she and Wells both agreed that if they were required to marry? Then it would be wonderful if they could marry their best friend, and in which case? They would happily look the other way while they each took on another respective other as their lover-the person they actually fell in love with.
But there was a complication.
Wells was black.
His family was rich, yes, but he still was black.
Now, Clarke didn't think that her mother was racist against those with dark skin, however, she suspected that her mother was concerned about "social status."
While it was true that Wells was rich, it was still looked down on for a white woman to marry a black man.
Abby was concerned about becoming a pariah, for being the mother of a white woman that married a black man.
Now, Bellamy Blake, if the rumors were correct? Wasn't entirely white. His mother was white, but his father was not.
But the important thing? At least in society's eyes? The important thing in society's eyes, was that Bellamy Blake was not black, and had light enough skin. He could "pass for white," and claim that him not being completely white were based solely on rumors. And he was rich. That was a combining fact that earned him a great deal of praise.
So, there was what Clarke was dutybound to do.
It perhaps was why Clarke was sabotaging her mother's plans, even if it was subconsciously, by going to this secret party.
A party currently was being held in this town, only a few streets from where Clarke's house was.
It was to be a masked club, and many young yet to be married men and women alike were to be attending.
It would happen every month, according to the invite she was given. There would be a specific location listed on every invite given, and it would happen every month in a different location.
Clarke knew what this was.
A party most likely held by rich young men, hoping to fuck who they wanted to fuck, before their mothers and fathers forced them to be tied to someone they wished not to be with, for the rest of their lives.
Clarke was going to take advantage, even if she knew that there was a strong chance that this might hurt her in the end.
If she could get pregnant before she and Bellamy married? Well, then, word would get out that she was "spoiled goods," before marriage.
There was time. She still had half a year before the marriage.
And Bellamy wouldn't want to marry her. And Abby would be disgraced.
So, there would be no point in her trying to marry her off, right?
Wells, Clarke knew, wouldn't care and would marry her and be happy to raise a child with her, even if they only loved each other as friends and brother and sister.
Clarke saw the building up ahead and sucked in a breath, going to it. She walked up the stairs, to the white painted wooden porch, holding the sides of her black dress up, so that her legs had easier access to the stairs, and saw the many butlers there, holding trays, full of ornately designed masks of velvet, silk and leather.
Animal masks.
The butlers themselves were masked, all of them sporting brown bear masks.
Clarke nodded to them hesitantly and reached down, picking up a red and black tiger mask, placing it onto her face and going into the thronging party.
The band there were all masked, each bearing a comical, blue cow mask, as they played their instruments, and many of the dancers-all masked, danced together, many already touching each other in ways that was completely unseemly to do outside of the bedroom.
A slight gasp left Clarke's mouth from under the tiger mask, when she saw three women up against the wall, two women holding the third woman against said wall, the woman against the wall, with black hair and bearing a silver cat mask, as the other two women, both with brown hair and boasting white deer masks, fucked her with their fingers, each of them probably having at least three fingers inside the other woman.
Clarke swallowed hard at this sight.
Yes, she knew that some women desired other women.
But that was considered "wrong." It was considered "sick" or, "sinful."
Many women who exhibited any signs such as desiring another woman, were usually carted off to an asylum or, were considered "undesirable." Not just undesirable for marriage but undesirable in every social setting.
Clarke moved quickly, wishing not to stare.
She saw several other sights she never thought she'd ever be witness to.
A young man in a tuxedo and a purple dog mask, was up against a counter, with his pants almost entirely down, and behind him, was a figure in a white dress, with a brown buffalo mask on, and the upper part of the white dress was opened up enough, to reveal a hairy chest.
Clarke almost gasped. The person in the dress was a man, and the man was fucking the other man in the ass.
Clarke had heard of men that liked to wear dresses. Like women that desired other women and men that desired other men?
They were considered by society as "wrong," as "sick."
But hearing the moans around her, from the woman against the wall, being fingered by those other women, by the man being fucked against the bar, Clarke wasn't sure she understood that.
Was it really wrong?
This was unlike anything she had ever seen, sure. But did that make it wrong, just because it was considered by her society as "abnormal?"
The invite that Clarke was given by a young woman her age, going by, making sure neither Abby nor Marcus, saw, was clear. The invites were for young adults only.
No one below the age of twenty.
Those that were not yet married, sure. But still? Old enough to make choices about sex.
And yet, the things that happened here were considered "wrong."
All the while, Bellamy was excused for having sex with those that were as young as thirteen.
Clarke tried not to consider what that meant about her society.
She always had felt like her society was full of hypocrites, given the occasional thing that her father, Jake Griffin, would say. He would make the occasional comment about how "backwards" the society they lived in was.
Clarke hadn't entirely understood what that meant, but Jake would occasionally elaborate with her, explaining that to not marry just because two people were of different skin colors, or, two people were of the same sex, even if they were in love, was ridiculous, that as long as both parties were old enough to consent and both agreed to it, then they should be allowed to marry, if they chose to.
And he also believed that women and girls who had sex outside of marriage should not be seen as pariahs, and should have the right to own wealth and property, just like any man could.
In this way, Clarke knew, her father had been an oddity of his time.
It was what made her mother feel slightly embarrassed to be with him in public.
And it was what made Clarke adore her father all the more.
A thought occurred to Clarke when she went down the next hall, hearing moans all around her and seeing a man in a tuxedo, with a black shark mask on, sitting down in a chair with a woman in a champagne-colored dress and a green wolf mask on, bouncing up and down on his cock, the two of them moaning together.
Clarke went by them awkwardly and found a much larger back room, where men and women alike were being bent over counters, various toys being thrust into them. Masked men and masked women alike were thrusting into other masked women and other masked men.
When Clarke was about to go into that next room, a voice stopped her, causing her to turn to the owner of that voice.
The voice said, "You seem like you're not sure where to join." It was a man's voice that Clarke didn't recognize.
Clarke turned to the person that spoke, startled to see a large man with long blonde hair, the voice that had spoken was British. And the mask that met her gaze, was a bronze stag.
Clarke forced her words out, "Uh, yeah. It's just-there's so much. I don't know where to start."
This was not a lie.
The man with the stag mask nodded and said, "You can always come with me. I can show you around."
Clarke was hesitant. She didn't know this man at all.
And who was to say; at a masked party like this, what he might do to her, thinking that since she was a woman coming here alone, then he might assume that he could do whatever he wanted and that she would want it, even if she said "no?"
But still, she cautiously followed him through the hall, as he led her down it.
There was a large room he entered, where there was a huge bed, and several figures were seated atop that bed.
Clarke counted the figures in the room.
She couldn't count just how many of them there were, but there were a lot of them.
"Uh," Clarke said hesitantly, "Hello?"
She felt like an idiot, responding like that.
However, none of the figures were put off by her ineloquence.
"Hello, sweetie," one of the women said, and it occurred to Clarke, that this woman sounded older than being in her early twenties.
Clark observed the body types and heard the voices that greeted her.
These were all older people, weren't they?
She caught sight of one figure, who had dark hair with some gray in it, who was wearing a green shark mask, and she realized that he had to be somewhere in his early or, late fifties at the youngest.
It occurred to her then; there were all sorts of "sinful behavior" being committed here. Including much older people having their fun with younger people, but no one even close to the age of seventeen or younger. All people here were adults.
But Clarke just hadn't expected the much older adults being involved too.
Clarke stepped back.
Her movement caught the figures' further attention.
"What's wrong?" One of the women asked softly-she had long orange hair and a bronze cat mask.
"It's just….," Clarke mumbled, "I don't know if this is a good idea."
"Oh?" The orange-haired woman asked, "Well, if you insist."
"Don't mind us, in the meantime," one woman with long, chocolate brown hair and a bright red cat mask said, as she laid down on her stomach, allowing black-haired woman behind her, who was wearing a black and gold tiger mask, and was lifting her dress, allowing Clarke to catch sight of a some sort of thick, glass toy, to be arranged at the cat masked woman's entrance.
Clarke saw that the toy between the black-haired woman's legs, was lubed up, and the toy was thrust into the cat masked woman, making the other dark-haired woman, moan, when the toy entered her.
Clarke swallowed, shivering at the sight.
There was a pale woman with long, black hair, with a black wolf mask on, who was going to her knees in front of another woman, this woman had light pink skin, and had blonde hair, and was wearing a red and blue eagle mask.
The woman with the eagle mask opened up her red pants and the woman with the black wolf mask, pushed her mask up and began feasting on the pussy of the woman in the eagle mask.
Clarke swallowed, feeling heat go right down to between her legs.
She imagined not just one or, two, but all of these people going to their knees and taking turns using their mouths on her cunt.
Clarke usually would never imagine even thinking those words-"cunt," "pussy," or, "cock." But seeing all these sights? Brought those strange thoughts to the front of her mind.
The large man next to Clarke turned to her and he said softly, his voice still low, as he said, "I can please you, if you'd like?"
Clarke tried not to shiver. This was what she had come here for, right?
Her hope was to become pregnant before her wedding to the repulsive man that was Bellamy Blake.
But she didn't know…she didn't know if she actually could do this.
Clarke shook her head as she answered, "I'm sorry…I don't think I can."
There was some hesitation on the man's part, before he nodded. "Very well," he said, and walked over to where a woman with brown hair and a white wolf mask on was and he sat down, pulling the woman into his lap, as she began riding his large fingers.
Clarke gasped at the crassness of what was happening, and watched, fixated as this woman was riding the man's fingers happily.
Between her watching this and enjoying it, and enjoying watching women devouring each other and fucking each other with fingers and with toys, Clarke knew that the previous suspicions she'd had before, that she physically desired women, as well as men, was confirmed.
Here, in this house of what her society would refer to as "sin," was the proof.
She enjoyed watching women fuck together. She enjoyed watching men and women fucking together. And she enjoyed watching men fuck together.
Clarke would have felt humiliated, had her father not been so open-minded and told her that those of the same sex marrying, was not wrong at all.
But still, she heard her mother's voice in the back of her mind.
"Never let another woman touch you the way a man is supposed to, Clarke," Abby had said one day, when hearing gossip that widow in her fifties was having a relationship with a younger woman, "You will never be able to hold onto any respectability if you do."
Clarke tried to look away, but couldn't.
There were times when Clarke truly hated her mother.
A voice spoke next to her Clarke turned, almost jumping when she heard the voice.
It was a woman's voice.
She came face to face with a woman about her height, with long, glossy red hair and a red fox mask. The woman had green eyes staring at her behind that mask.
Next to her, as a broad-shouldered man with short, blonde hair, with a blue, white and red lion mask on.
The woman said, "Are you planning on standing there the whole night, or, are you looking to find pleasure tonight?"
Clarke gasped as she stared into emerald eyes behind that fox mask.
Clarke said, stuttering slightly, "I-uh-sorry, I just don't know…what to do….I want to, but…"
She averted her gaze, then the woman sighed softly, "There is nothing to be ashamed of, malyshka. Our society tells us that certain sorts of sex should not be allowed. Certain sorts of marriages should not be allowed. But no one bats an eye at a child of fourteen being married off to someone twice that child's age. No one calls that marriage 'wrong.'"
Clarke gasped, staring up at the woman, surprised that this woman thought the exact same thing as she did.
Though Clarke couldn't see the other woman's mouth, she got the distinct sense that this woman was smiling under the mask.
"Come with us, dorogoya," the woman said, holding her right hand out for Clarke to take, "Steve and I can lead you to another room, if you're too self-conscious here."
Clarke thought about refusing, but wasn't this why she'd arrived here? She looked at Steve.
She was seeking to get pregnant. To destroy the marriage to Bellamy Blake.
If these people could offer her that? Then shouldn't she do it?
"Okay," she said hesitantly, nodding and taking the older woman's hand, allowing the other woman and the man, "Steve," to lead her down the hall to the private room.
She felt a slight shiver run through her. She hoped she didn't regret this.