Chapter 5

Lottie was an entirely satisfying sexual partner, and quite restful to sleep with. Rosie was enthusiastic, her innocence charming, her youthful body a delight. Lisa I was sure would be equally as enthusiastic as her friend once she recovered from the trauma of her tough hymen. I had yet to experience Sophie, of course. But Libby ... Oh, Libby. I wondered if I had acquired a nymphomaniac. Not that I complained. Of course not. During our first night together, I was woken in the small hours as she rode me cowgirl, then again in the morning though she let me be on top for that one. It was only by the narrowest of margins that I avoided a return to bed after our morning shower, but even then I’d fucked her (and that’s the only adjective that fits) in the shower, with her leaning against the cubicle wall, pushing her exquisite derriere back at my thrusts. I wondered if I would survive the Libby.

After breakfast – with coffee! Real coffee, though it was Robusta, not Arabica – Lottie came to me. I had been about to go out with Lisa. “Sir...”

“Could I be Ralph, Lottie? I really don’t like...”

“Master Ralph, I would prefer to maintain that respect.” She leaned in and whispered, “Except in bed, perhaps.” Pause, “Master Ralph, we, with your permission, we would like Sophie to have tonight. Then, Lisa tomorrow night. After that, we will take turns unless you ask for one of us particularly. Libby, Rosie, possibly Lisa, and maybe Sophie will probably ambush you during the day. I have suggested that they limit that to once in the morning and once in the afternoon, and then only if you are not busy.”

I was shaking my head slowly, not in negation, but in disbelief. “I,” I stopped, but went on, “I certainly don’t object to the programme, Lottie. I will honestly miss your company in bed, you know. I enjoyed having you there every night.”

“Master Ralph, I am too old for a young man like you. I love the way you love me, and I think you may be the best lover I have ever known, but you need young women.”

“Lottie, I may have to start spanking you. You are not old. Mature, yes. Sexy, thoughtful, responsive ... oh, yes. Just one other thing. What about babies? Have you considered being a mother?” I think I may have just punctured her shell.

“Why, I, you want me to have a baby?” She seemed genuinely shocked.

“Certainly. I’m sure you’re still fertile, at least if your implant is removed. We need more people and that means babies. Babies from the widest genetic base we can. Lottie, you may not want to be a mother. I won’t force you. But if you do, you need to be the first in this house. Not because you are old, but because you are older than the others. And,” I added, “because I love you, respect you, and would love for you to carry my child.”

I could see the impact of my words. Her jaw dropped and flapped a bit. “Sir, master Ralph, you ... you love me?”

“Yes, I do.”

“I, I, I,” she stuttered. “Master Ralph, I dreamed of being a mother from being a teenager, or even before. The war killed that dream. No men. Or no men who wanted a wife, a family. Then, a slave. An object to be used, to serve. Cook, clean, spread my legs. I still think I’m too old for you, but I would carry your baby.” She turned away, but spoke over her shoulder. “You were going to check the garden with Lisa.” It was a dismissal, or as near to one as I’d get from Lottie.

I went outside. The back of the house now had grass shorn short by scythe and sheep. An oval flower bed in the middle with a few lonely standard roses in the middle. The grass looked uneven, patchy, yellow in places, but I knew it would revive. I crossed it to the gravel path leading to the walled kitchen garden. The gate was standing open. Lisa was inside, surveying the turned soil. The grass and weeds that had been on top were no longer visible.

I stood in the gate and watched her, so slim, almost boyish, but to me, very lovely. She must have sensed me, or perhaps it was a coincidence, but she turned and saw me. Her face lit up with a smile. “Master Ralph!” I went to her, held out a hand, which she took and held. “It’s a start,” she said. “I don’t think we’ll see much from it this year, so we’ll just plant some tough plants, then spread some rotted horse manure this winter. I’ve got some on order. If only we could plough and harrow.”

“Rotavator?” I asked, unsure if that was a stupid thing to suggest.

“If there’s petrol available,” Lisa told me, “that might be an option in the spring. Right now, all the green stuff is dying in the dark and we don’t want to bring it to the surface. Might be best to just leave it like this. A cold winter will break up the lumps. Master Ralph, do you know the history of this place?”

“Not in detail, Lisa. It will have been a monastery, or perhaps a convent, with a large church. Our house will have been built on the site after Henry VIII dissolved the monasteries in the sixteenth century. That period is interesting. But I don’t think there’s any trace of the original abbey.”

“How big is the estate?”

“Most of the estate is leased to farmers. The house stands in about two acres. What we’re dealing with at the moment is about an acre. I haven’t investigated the paddocks which are about another acre. I expect they’re as overgrown as the kitchen garden was.”

“Um ... can you ride a horse?”

“Well, I am not a skilled horseman. I can ride if the horse is quiet, I suppose.”

“There are farmers who keep a few horses. They might be willing to sell or rent one, perhaps against the use of paddocks for grazing.”

“Hm. I know almost nothing about the care of horses. How if we build a stables, barn, whatever. Let someone use the facility, perhaps for a reduced rate for the hire of a horse?”

As we were talking, Libby, in shorts, t-shirt, obviously wearing a support bra, appeared loping along. She did a circuit of the grass, and disappeared back to the front of the house.

“Might work,” Lisa said after a pause to watch Libby.

Libby reappeared, not even breathing hard, still running. When she got to the grass, she ran through a sequence of exercises before beginning some sort of kata. We watched, fascinated. I was struck by her sheer grace.

“Wow,” Lisa breathed. “She’s incredible.”

“So are you. Why don’t you ask her for some training, if you like the idea?”

“But I’m not ... I mean, look at her! She’s gorgeous.”

I sighed, took her by the shoulders, turned her to face me, bent and kissed her, trying to convey the depth of my love and respect. Her knees sagged, and I had to support her. When our lips parted I sighed. “Lisa, you are gorgeous in your own way. I love your slim figure, the breasts you think are too small. I love your red hair, and every freckle on your pretty face. I was so sad your first night was so painful, because I wanted to show you just how much I appreciate everything about you. I will try to do that tomorrow night. I have so many lovely ladies in my life that I worry I can’t do justice to you all, but every one of you is special. You are special. Libby has spent a year being trained. Diet, exercise, sex. She started with advantages anyway. But you, you are entirely enough for me on your own.”

She peered up at me from the maybe five inches difference in our heights, eyes wide. “I think you mean that.”

“I really do.” I took her hand and we walked over to the boundary of the garden to look over a gate into the pasture next door. Overgrown, like the rest of the place had been.

“That yellow stuff,” Lisa pointed. “Ragwort. It’s poisonous to horses, and a nightmare to remove. It will be necessary to be vigilant and deal with any sign of the stuff in the future.”