Chapter 72: A Young One

I am not sure whose bright idea it was, probably the captain's. He dressed himself up as a well-to-do planter and sold George and me into bondage, complete with phony contracts. George went off to work on the docks and learned some useful information before he broke and ran when they decided to send him to Barbados, and I suffered a different sort of fate as a groom at the riverside home of the Ambrose family, one of the richest bunch of Tories anywhere. I should have been able to learn something of use, but I did not.

During my first night in the shabby, low-ceilinged loft above the horses, I was visited by the lady of the house, a mature and very healthy matron of, I would guess, some forty years whose name was Diedre and who was called Dee. She evidently was continuously randy. It must have been midnight, cool and very dark, just starshine to see by when she stood beside my bed and jostled my shoulder.

"What's your name?" she demanded, looking rather ghostlike.

I told her.

"Well," she said, "move over a bit." I heard a rustle and stuck out my hand, grabbed at her leg and felt her nightgown flowing to the floor. Then the quilt lifted and she was beside me, her mouth on mine, her tongue in my cheek, her hands very busy, our legs intertwining.

"One of your duties," she whispered as she clawed at me, rubbing her furry mound up and down my thigh, "one of your most important duties in fact, is to take care of my physical needs, perhaps once a fortnight, perhaps more frequently. It depends on how well you perform. If you do your task properly, you will receive more food at breakfast and a pie once a week. My lord and master is seldom home, and when he is, he pokes the servants more often than he lies with me. I am, evidently, too old and ugly to interest him any more."

I nodded and caressed her warm, soft flesh, hotly erect and ready for my test. She did taste good and her body did not feel too old for anything

"I like to be loved strongly, slowly and for as long as possible. Can you oblige?" One of her hands found the sensitive head of my quickly-upright prod and felt it, took it into her palm. She stroked down my heavy-veined shaft, moving the foreskin back and forth, and made an odd noise in her throat when she cupped my hard ballocks.

"I'm ready," she said, rolling to her stomach and pulling her knees up under her, lifting her wide rump and taking a deep breath. By then my eyes had adjusted to the gloom, and I could see she was a well--rounded woman with a great deal of hair, a thick waist, a strong chin and sloping shoulders. Her breasts were pendulous and her nipples very large. She was about five feet tall and went ten stone I suppose.

I clambered up behind her, half awake by then, kneaded her fleshy buttocks, lodged my weapon in her dripping cunny and shoved it up into her without further by-play. She was pleasantly tight and deeply muscled, fluttering and rippling.

She gasped and quaked and uttered an animal-like cry, like a fox caught in a trap. Then she sucked in air and moaned, "Slowly, slowly, you big horse." She reached back and slapped my flank.

I slid my hand through the thick hair beneath her soft, round belly and found her small prick, slippery and hot. I teased it from its hiding place and stroked it as I rammed my spear up into her again and again, faster and deeper. She gushed lubricants and shivered a bit.

"No hurry," she moaned, getting her feet atop my calves and rocking to and fro, breathing hard, trying to set the pace, heaving back against each of my thrusts. The boards beneath my thin, corn-shuck mattress creaked in protest.

I grasped her dangling breasts and squeezed until she squealed, her protruding nipples hard between my fingers, as big as the first knuckle of my thumbs. On and on I rogered this lush and pliant woman as she reared back and forth, meeting my efforts with her own, both of us snorting and beginning to sweat in the cool morning air. She seemed tireless and difficult to rouse.

"Now," she sobbed out, quivering all over, "by damn, sirrah, now, now, now, do it now," and she suddenly came after perhaps a hundred strokes, rearing and spasming, clamping me within her. I slowed but did not stop, probing deep within her, rocking my hips from side to side and letting my member enjoy itself with jumps and quivers at full extension while ripples ran through her vagina. Then I reached up, grabbed a cross-beam, arched my back and jabbed faster and deeper until I came, spurting out my relief with a groan.

Her head dropped between her elbows and her breathing deepened. "Enough, enough," she gasped out, trying to pull away. There was no place to go since her head was right up against the wall of the barn.

I held her rump tightly, slowed up my ramming, recovered my breath and said, "Soon," through clenched teeth. When I climaxed again, after I had enjoyed her for another ten minutes or so, it was with a roar, pumping up into her five or six times until my ballocks emptied, and I was fully spent, my sweaty face lying on her heaving back. Still I did not withdraw, but slowed to enjoy some very long strokes that finally ended when my limp member was expelled from her sodden slit, and she collapsed with a sigh.

She rolled out, found her gown, pulled it over her head, and took another deep breath, her legs a bit wobbly. "That was highly satisfactory," she said, and then she left.

And that was how it went for a few weeks. I nosed about, listened every chance I had, did the work I was assigned and rogered the mistress weekly, whenever she wished, in every position we could think of and a few we invented I am sure. Then her daughter returned from England where she had been in some sort of school or convent. She was, I suppose, sixteen or so, a bright and vivacious youngster who was fairly bursting out of her expensive, frilly, beribboned and extremely low-cut, Frenchified gowns. She was ripe for plucking as they would have said back in Fredericktown.

Shortly after her return, and on a morning after I had swived her mother to distraction and whoops of pleasure, she cornered me in the barn. She put her hand on my chest and pushed me back into an empty stall; then she jumped into my arms and kissed me fiercely and wetly, gnawing at my mouth and grinding her young body into mine, her feet well off the ground. I grabbed her muscular buttocks and helped, hardening as I did so and making her feel it, the size and shape and hardness of it.