Chapter 1

Mistress Becky was not the sort of girl that found love easily.

She was indentured to Sir Hugh Mountbatten and his three lusty sons. They all were saddled with dreadful reputations with regard to seeking female companionship or simply feminine interaction of any kind. Every nubile female drawing human breathe lived in fear of coming under control of either Sir Hugh or one of his dreaded offspring even if one were to take a full day’s ride at a fast gallop in any direction from the home estate. The sons were known far and wide as Hugh Jr., Louie, and Dewey and were a constant source of pride to the aging Sir Hugh.

Becky’s cause of indenture to the brood was her father’s note of indebtedness to the estate of Sir Hugh for spring seeds and other farming implements sorely needed to restore his tenant rental to profitable balance. Her other seven siblings were all younger and unable to assist the father in income production simply because they were too young or too lacking in strength to be of monetary value.

As the oldest child, Becky, was a maid of some degree of exceptional beauty and possessed a youthful appearance that fostered appreciation in male terms of female desirability. She was considered a “prime” candidate for extended indenture to any employer with need for female help requiring more brawn than brains and had the added benefit of nocturnal perks as well. In Becky case, it was a complete waste of her extensive skills, because she was well acquainted with a majority of known authors of the time and had accomplishments in both language skills and the art of herbs and potion creation for almost every malady known to the civilized world.

Of course, Sir Hugh and his dissolute sons had not even the slightest inkling that Becky was a powerful Witch with an impressive lineage of female forebears stretching back into the shadows of time immemorial on the edge of humanity.

Despite her hidden accomplishments, Becky the Witch was an agreeable young girl with devotion to her beloved, but ordinary, father and her siblings with their simpering acceptance of any circumstance. She was amenable to being used as a way to family solvency and signed her name on the writ of indenture using her left hand to hide her penmanship skills.

Almost immediately, she was rushed down to the castle basement and turned over to the seriously overweight female cook for a through “scrub down” with honest British soap and water in a tub already heated by several pots from the iron stove. The no-nonsense cook and her two helpers, Irma and Hortense, lathered the poor girl up into a tower of naked flesh and suds like some dubious French work of art ready to be admired by one and all. Her curly reddish bush peeked through the suds like some impudent sign of proud feminine reluctance to go along with the program.

Hortense took great pleasure in spreading the girl’s heart-shaped bottom and using her soap-filled palm to rub her crack with enthusiasm that revealed her somewhat perverted desires.

Becky suffered the scene of indignity with a sense of rising amusement. She knew it was all unnecessary because she was a creature that washed daily with an air of pleasure knowing the benefits of cleanliness like every committed witch tucked safely away in the nooks and darkened hiding places of the kingdom. All of them, including Becky, knew full well the punishment for being discovered as a witch was to be burned at the stake and tortured for her confession of black magic in opposition to the teaching of the church and the greater glory of God.

She really had no hatred of either the church or of God. In her mind, God was the ultimate creator of all things past and present and in a certain sense; he was fully responsible for her as well.

The youngest heir of the manor stealthily slipped down the winding basement stone stairs and peeked at the beautiful figure of Becky as the cook’s helpers wiped the suds from her perfectly shaped body. She was a tall girl with long slender legs that seemed to go up forever into the crown of reddish tinged bush almost the exact same shade as her long flowing hair that fell far below her shoulders. Her breasts were outstanding and her pretty nipples were raised slightly to the heavens as if reaching for something unseen above. Her flat belly was complimented by swelling mounds of twin desire in her nether regions that swept up into a slightly gaped crack hiding the mystery of her rear entry and the temptingly long, reddish bush-covered slit that demanded his immediate perusal like a magnet of magical properties.

The flabbergasted Louie stood flatfooted and his jaw dropped a few inches in startled shock at the sight of her impressive stature. It was as if some Roman work of art had been dropped in their midst like some spell of an unknown sorcerer having sport with the house of Sir Hugh.

The cook and her two helpers patted and dried the young girl with tender care and dressed her with her new servant’s uniform of a simple cotton shift and cured leather sandals designed more for comfort and durability than for adornment of the human female form.

Becky, the witch in hiding, sensed his presence and she turned in a small circle to allow him to see her female form from every angle knowing that the sight alone would make him a follower of her physical shape and, perhaps, a bit more pliant to her suggestions.

Poor Louie retreated back to his barren room filled with rusty armor and swords that needed sharpening in the worst way. He was the strongest and most savage of the sons, when it came to meeting a foe on the battlefield or place of competition, but when it came to simple elbow grease to keep his tools of war in tip-top condition, he showed total lack of interest. He had recently employed a fairly good squire for this function, but the young lad had run away with one of the housemaids almost six months prior and Louie could not find a suitable substitute to put up with his whims and fits of anger in addition to the duties required to keep a knight in good standing in a state of constant readiness to defend the realm.

The upstairs maid was still sleeping in naked splendor on top of his bed with her plump backside splayed open and displaying signs of recent rough use by his demanding hands. Her name was Cindy and she constantly pestered him for his physical attention to her female need for male favors of the depraved kind even when he only wanted solitude and time to read his favorite books. Still, the sight of her nicely rounded twin globes inspired him to drop his trousers and climb in on top of her before dropping his weight down on her spine to stifle any protest before she had an opportunity to open her pretty mouth. The submissive servant girl just sighed and relaxed to take his hardness without any protest because, after all, he was the heir apparent and might someday be her savior in disguise.