Penelope, Mistress of the Manor

by Lubrican

Copyright© 2013 by Lubrican

Foreword

For those of you who follow my writing on a general basis, I'd like to say a few things to give you a heads up. When I first finished this book, I thought of it as a long stroke story, with no plot. But people who read it disagreed with me, saying that, while it isn't my usual plot, the plot is there. Further, they reminded me, while it has a lot more sex in it than my usual fare, it still has the character development my readers have come to expect from me. So I guess that means that, while this one is diffrerent, it's not like somebody else wrote it.

Okay, that said, there are two places in this book where there is violence. The plot calls for it, and it's the right kind of reaction for the period in which this story is set. It's not BDSM. At least I don't consider it to be that. On the other hand, Mistress Penelope is dominant. There is no question about that. But then all noble ladies were dominant, when it came to dealing with servants. And she's not dominant in the sense that it is usually used in the acronym BDSM.

Also based on reader response, I'll just come out and tell you the purpose of the narrator is to create places where the tension is reduced by humor. That's why he's the way he is. You don't really understand the narrator until late in the book, but he's really a nice guy.

Finally, part of the purpose of writing this book was to play with language. Language is fascinating, and I was constantly fascinated while I wrote this. If you find yourself getting frustrated with the language you're about to wade through, just pull up Google in a separate tab. When you get to one of those words that makes you think "WTF?", just type it into Google and it will give you a quick definition. It's all about atmosphere. If I can't write something that classifies as actual literature, at least we can have some fun with atmosphere.

All of us have our little quirks, occasionally. This is simply one of mine.

Bob

P.S. I should shout out to the group of Anglophiles who rendered assistance in vetting the forms of address in this book. They (and my editor, Andy) educated me on the ins and outs (no pun intended) of what members of the British nobility are supposed to be called in a given situation, by various classes of other people. I then took rather hefty license, and used incredibly informal titles for the aristocracy in many places. If you're a Yank, or otherwise not British, you won't notice a thing. If you're British ... well blame it on me being a Yank. But, if you can, please withhold judgment until the end. I think everyone will see that the context makes those social gaffes appropriate. When civilization breaks down, the rules often don't make sense.

Bob

Chapter 1

Greetings and salutations, to the readers of this, the gleanings from my journal. I write it in my dotage, and the minutiae within the journal itself are too tedious to present without editing. I welcome your attention to this attempt to pull secrets out of the dark closets, and into the light of day, where they may be examined, and judgments made.

I am Wadsworth, butler of Farnsworth Manor, and your narrator for this little while. I fulfill that role eagerly, for reasons that shall soon become evident. Suffice it, for the present, to say that I was witness to the life and times of the mistress of the manor, and that having no place in her machinations other than to be her ear and the instrument by which she caused certain situations to develop, my frustration has led me to record events that scandalized me, but may entertain you. I claim from this very beginning that everything I did was because I was ordered to do so. I know that is poor excuse for my role in the events I shall describe, but it is the only excuse I have.

A warning here. As you shall learn, bye and bye, my probity may come into question. That is another reason I expose the turpitude and iniquitous nature of Her Ladyship Penelope Farnsworth, Countess of Haversham. She stole from me my decency, the good reputation I had worked for more than three score years to manufacture with good deeds, honesty and trustworthiness. You shall begin to doubt me as I tell this tale. What you shall not doubt is that I fell from grace, and became a most despicable, low sort of being. But what I am now does not affect the veracity of the history I now expose. I may not be worthy of your trust, but everything I will pen here is true.

I say I witnessed the life of the mistress, but I should be more precise than that. Mistress Penelope, or Penny as she required certain of her lessers to address her, was the second mistress of Farnsworth Manor, as she was the second wife of His Lordship Malcolm Farnsworth, the Earl of Haversham. That was his official, noble title, though it was rarely used. He had but rare contact with the king, who took little notice of us. He was known to us as simply "His Lordship." His Lordship's first wife was always a stickler about her nobility. She never allowed even the minor familiarity of letting us call her Milady. She graced the halls of the manor for most of my life, but then died of an ague. She was childless when she left us, which is why His Lordship required another wife.

I shall never forget the day Lady Penelope first arrived at the manor. Not only my life, but the lives of countless others were changed irrevocably by this wild bitch ... this haunting woman ... this epitome of the softer sex. She was a lubricious woman, who would inveigle almost all in the manor with her licentious ways.

She subsequently forbade me ever to utter a single word of what I was to see (and come to know.) But she neglected to include writing in her proscription, and so here I am, uttering nary a word, while exposing the siren's wanton and lustful ways. There lies in her depraved, debauched and libertine behavior a lesson to be learned about the downfalls of surrendering to the desires of the flesh.

As I said, forgetfulness is not among my options, as they pertain to The Lady Penelope. Her arrival by coach was, itself, an event, for it was both noisy and highly anticipated by the staff, of which I was the leader.

Nigel, who among several functions served as footman, had been sent to accompany the new lady, who was to be delivered by her father's coach to her new husband's home. He was, of course, first to arrive, having run ahead to announce her imminent arrival so all would be ready when that event came to fruition.

Nigel was, in fact, the first evidence that our world at the manor was about to be upturned, though I was not wise enough to recognize the redness of his face, and his sweaty brow as evidence at all. He had, after all, run all the way to her father's estate, and back as well.

But I should have noticed. He was a stout young man as strong as a bull, who succeeded to his position upon the death of his father, the footman before him. I have seen Nigel lift one corner of the freight wagon and hold it aloft, while the wheel was changed by two other men. I blame my laxity on the fact that the coachman thundered toward us at a gallop, as though highwaymen were in pursuit, though no danger was observed.

I was only later to learn that the new mistress exhibited her sexual deviancy that very first day, on the way to us. She had the coachman stop, so she could "rest her shaken bones" as she put it. She then issued Nigel his first formal order from his new mistress, which was to shake her bones in a different manner as she lay beneath him, bare legs kicking in the air.

His symptoms were the result of those efforts, and not the running beside the carriage.

The coachman was another clue, for he sat, stiff and red, having peeked at the lustful joining of a lady and her lesser, upon the blanket she made him install in the very road in the forest. Of course, being of another household, he said not a word, and waited only until her luggage was off loaded before he turned and returned home at a more sedate pace.

"I do so love a good gallop," were the first words delivered by the new Lady of the manor, as she shamelessly displayed a bare ankle while stepping down from the coach.

Then, to our utter confusion, she patted Nigel on the shoulder and said, "Thank you so much, Nigel. You shall have to accompany me on many rides through the lovely forests in this district."

---

I welcomed her to the manor, of course. It was my duty, and I had yet to learn of her scurrilous ways. His Lordship was, as usual, still abed from having imbibed too much wine the night before, at one of his incessant card parties, which various other lords and dandies seemed to foist upon him. Truly, he lost enough wealth at such parties to support these men handsomely. That he was not up and about to welcome his own wife was explained by the fact that, while we knew she was coming, we knew not when.

My new lady took my arm, in a most forward fashion as she stepped out of the coach.

"And you must be Wibbley," she said.

"Wadsworth, My Lady," I demurred.

"Wadsworth ... of course," she said. "You must be a fine butler, Wadsworth. Malcolm speaks highly of you."

"Lord Malcom," I gently corrected.

"And you're quite long in the tooth, now aren't you?" She laughed aloud, as a commoner would.

I was aghast, of course. But duty is sometimes a penance, and so I stiffened my resolve, and blamed her gaffe on the rigors of the journey. Little did I know her ... rigors ... had already been addressed by the footman. I was well aware that Nigel's physical attributes delivered to him a certain lonesome nature. His manly member was apparently both long and thick when aroused, and he developed a reputation which usually denied him the company of the girls who lived around the manor. Of course he knew better than to pursue any of the girls on the staff. I would not stand for that. So Nigel suffered in silence, for the most part, unable to find a woman who would accept his prodigious proportions more than once.

Such would not be a problem with our new mistress. Of course I was, as yet, unaware of her carnal desires, or of the fact that she would reduce poor Nigel to a whimpering husk of a man, on occasion. But his story can wait.

I instructed Nigel and Jack, the groom, to deal with her luggage, and then bade her enter her new home. The staff was all lined up properly, in their best uniforms. They didn't gawk, but looked straight ahead as was expected. She stopped, and stared each one in the eyes, something that had an unseemly feel to it, in my humble opinion. She also spoke to each. To the maids, she said, "We shall see, we shall see," though what was to be seen was left unsaid. To the cook she said, "I love to eat."

Last were the two Lady's Maids, Jenny and Sally, both of whom were pink-cheeked and a-flutter. The previous Lady of the manor had been a dour and humorless woman, as befits the wife of an Earl, and their lives had been colorless at best. It had been muttered that the woman died of bad temper, though the doctor pronounced it a killing fever.

Suffice it to say that the appearance of an admittedly comely young woman in the manor was a delight to her ladies in waiting, and they immediately hustled her up to her rooms, to relieve her of her travel attire, and offer her a bath. At the first step of the staircase, she turned and addressed the assemblage.

"I'm certain we shall live wonderful lives. I look forward to it." She turned her eyes on me. "Wadsworth, please give us thirty minutes and then attend me in my rooms."

I bowed, and as I returned to the upright position, she was already climbing the staircase.

---

At exactly the thirtieth minute, I knocked discreetly on Her Ladyship's boudoir door and entered. Of course no reply was necessary, as I had already been instructed to seek her out within.

You are allowed to imagine my distress, therefore, when I found her still in her bath, chatting animatedly with the two women who should have been serving her.

"Ahem," I said, giving voice to my irritation with Jenny and Sally for the abrogation of their duties.

The two maids squealed, in proper astonishment at my presence, thus requiring that my future lecture to them now include the fact that a Lady's Maid does not squeal.

The Lady Penelope, however, completely destroyed all thought of propriety by standing, which displayed her undeniably abundant charms to my tired old eyes. Well ... perhaps formerly tired old eyes would be the better choice of words.

Her Ladyship was of three and twenty years, and this was her first marriage. That alone would have made her arrival a subject of much discussion. Even more puzzling was that she was an exceedingly beautiful young thing. In my three score and five years, I had seen many comely wenches. And, in my younger days, I had availed myself of more than one saucy maid's charms. The new mistress, however, put them all to shame. I will let slip the bonds of propriety for a moment, and describe her as a woman, leaving aside her nobility.

She stood midway between five and six feet, standing barefoot in the bath. Her figure, dripping water and suds as it was, had the shape of an hour glass, having swollen, firm glands above, with teats perfectly prepared for a baby's mouth to attach. Those teats were shockingly pink, and were dividing the suds on her chest as the bubbles slid slowly down, like a river being disturbed by twin, immovable rocks in the stream. Below a slim waist were hips swollen as if there had, indeed, been babies passed between them. And yet, this being her first marriage, that could not have been so. Her legs were shapely and lacking in the heavy rolls of insulation most women carried about in those days. In fact, I wondered at such a lack of fatty tissues about her body, that she wasn't shivering violently already as her body was exposed to the air.

"My Lady!" gasped an astonished Jenny. Jenny was the daughter of the local blacksmith, and had been elevated far beyond her proper place by the previous mistress. "You're naked!" she added, as if that fact might not be self evident.

"Wadsworth has seen many a naked lass before this," said Her Ladyship, calmly. She smiled. "Besides, at his advanced age, there is likely very little he could do about it. Isn't that right, Wadsworth?"

My proper duty was to obey and support my Lady, and so I bowed. It also helped conceal the fact that she was quite wrong. Luckily, bowing allowed me to move my cock into the upright position, where it would lie comfortably against my belly, and its tumescent condition would not announce her error.

"Towels!" she demanded. I shot a glance of absolute rage at the two girls, who recognized it and scurried to resume their duties. Her Ladyship stood as they dried her, dragging soft cloths all about that lovely, smooth looking, pink ... naked ... skin.

Let me make an observation here, rather than later, for it will serve you well as the story unfolds. This very incident illustrates how Her Ladyship Penelope Farnsworth had the peculiar ability to somehow palliate the most outrageous and completely immoral things, and make them appear to be completely normal and acceptable. Countless times would she cause people to act in ways they would never have done without her urging. People did things around Lady Farnsworth that they knew were scandalous and yet ... somehow ... she made them feel like they had done no wrong whatsoever. She even did this to me, as you shall soon see.

"Wadsworth," she addressed me, as they continued. "My husband has announced his intentions to get me with child as soon as possible. He wishes me to produce an heir."

"As befits the estate," I said, bowing again.

"I suppose I must," she said, sounding petulant. "However, I am not looking forward with animation to being the only woman in this house who is reduced to waddling around with a grossly distended belly."

I wondered if she expected me to vocalize that I felt sorry for her. What was the point of this? She had her duty, as did we all.

"Therefore, I want you to ensure that none of the women in this house avail themselves of silphium or laserwort to avoid impregnation. Nor shall any pessaries or concoctions be used. It should go without saying that animal bladders will not be worn by any menfolk during sexual congress. Is that clear?"

I was astonished. I was flabbergasted, in the first place by the fact that this woman not only knew of such things, but was willing to speak of them aloud. True, the Church frowned on the use of attempts to foil the natural result of coitus, but the Church was far away. Second, I was dumbfounded that she would believe I had the sway with the staff to order such things, and expect to be obeyed. Finally I was astounded by the implication that if this prohibition actually took place, the house would soon be swarming with yowling infants.

But I knew my place.

"Perfectly clear, My Lady," I said, bowing.

She was, by then, dry, but still she stood in perfect nudity, unashamed, glorious, making an old man think of things long past in his life. My glance fell upon the two ladies in waiting. Sally, the miller's daughter, looked quite content, but then I'd always known she was a bit slow. Jenny, on the other hand, I knew to be able to actually read. Her cheeks were tinged brightly with pink, and I knew she was thinking of some boy ... some boy who had, perhaps, seen her in the same perfect nudity as her mistress currently was.

I wondered if she'd be the first to experience a pause in her menses.

---

Having been dismissed, I returned to my duties. I did make a short detour to my rooms, where I exposed my manhood, exulting somewhat in the ability to stroke it again. It had been some time since it was stiff in that manner. But stroke it is all I did, in fond memory. I doubted it would spurt any more, even if I tried to make it so. So I put the thing away and went to check on the condition of the manor.

The master was still abed, and probably would be until noon. So I set about finding Mrs. Hennesey, the Housekeeper. I found her supervising the polishing of the silver and took her aside. I informed her of the Mistress's prohibition on all things consisting of birth control. She was properly horrified, of course, blushing furiously that I should be charged with conversing with her about such intimate things. But she kept a stiff upper lip and assured me she would see to it that the girls obeyed.

A good butler is ubiquitous, having eyes and ears everywhere. Being a good butler, I was aware that Mrs. Hennesey, a woman of five and forty years, and a widow of ten was, shall we say, on quite friendly terms with Ralph Tilly, the butcher in the village. He was a widower, whose wife had expired some fifteen years earlier of the coughing sickness. He visited the manor every week, to deliver victuals to the kitchen. I was told he routinely closeted himself in private with Mrs. Hennesey, in theory to amend accounts. I was also told her cheeks were rosy and her disposition much brighter after they attended to all that math in private. So I was aware that it was likely that Mrs. Hennesey, herself, might find certain measures of preventing conception ... appealing.

"And what of you?" I asked, entirely too boldly.

She colored, as befitted a sensible lady, and bowed her head. "Why whatever might you be suggesting, Wadsworth?" She curtsied, and I knew I had unsettled her. Mrs. Hennesey never curtsies to me. We are equals in her mind, regardless of the fact she takes her direction from me.

"I am suggesting that, should it somehow become known that Ralph, our good butcher routinely instructs you on the finer details of hiding the sausage, and should not your belly swell, as no doubt will all the others around here, The Lady may become unsatisfied with your service."

I held my breath. Never had I entered into a conversation of such depth and intimacy with one of the staff. Had she exploded in rage I would not have blamed her.

But her head stayed bowed.

"What am I to do, then?" she asked softly. "I've grown much too accustomed to our sport to simply stop."

I stood, agog. Had my ears been true? Had she all but confessed to her indiscretion?

"Marry the man!" I gasped. "'Tis not prohibited by the Church that one who has lost a mate can join with another."

"In truth, he has suggested such," she whispered. "I thought it would be viewed as scandal."

"What scandal is worse?" I asked. "That you marry again, and have a baby? Or that you refuse Her Ladyship's direct commands? Or that your belly swells and there is no husband to account for it?"

"I will speak to him," she said.

"Good," I said. "Now, carry on."

My next task was to decide what to say to four men who were either employed by His Lordship, or were routinely about the grounds. Curtis Flannery was the stablemaster, and his daughter Marie was the kitchen maid. The forest warden, Harry Bickerstaff, was father of Cynthia, the parlor maid. James Wherry was the village Fletcher, and had his own workshop on the grounds, but didn't live there. Still, he spent a lot of time around the manor. His daughter, Jane, was employed as the House Maid. And finally, there was Jenny, one of her lady's maids to think of. Her father was Aldo Hinkman, the blacksmith. That man could also be called to drop everything else at the master's command, and his two sons were grooms in the stable. He was an important part of the manor.

All four men had daughters of tender age on the premises. Of course, officially, the girls were virtuous to a fault. They were, in fact, quite circumspect in their explorations of matters involving the opposite sex.

But that did not mean they were, in fact, virtuous. Her Ladyship's prohibition might mean that one or more of the girls could be at risk of scandal. Obviously, in fact, Her Ladyship assumed such scandal would take place! After all, had she not said she expected to be accompanied by others as she produced an heir?

I looked upon the matter from the viewpoint as a father. My own children were long gone, living lives of their own, of course, but I could still remember what it had been like when my own tender daughter came to me seeking my permission to marry. I confess that the thought she would become intimate with a man enraged me, initially. I bested that trial, but only because she had made a good match, and the marriage was a good idea.

But there was no talk of marriage concerning any of the maids. And there were no rumors that any of the boys were involved with a female member of the staff.

So did I really need to confront the men?

Why open that particular sealed chamber pot? I would assume that the girls were as virtuous as they displayed themselves to be. When none of them got with child, I would simply inform Her Ladyship that she employed good girls, as befitted a great lady.

How little I knew of her at that moment.

And how quickly I would learn that all was likely to be lost to her wild and impetuous nature.

---

Not a week after Nigel arrived huffing and puffing at the manor, preceding Her Ladyship's carriage, I was called to her chambers by Jenny, who looked flushed and unsettled. I approached the room carefully. It had not gotten out that I had seen Her Ladyship in flagrante visio, so to speak. I had cautioned both Jenny and Sally that such information was to be held closer to their nubile breasts than the color of Her Ladyship's lower hair. It was as auburn, by the way, having a delightful inclusion of red that her brown head hair lacked.

She was dressed this day, though, and awaiting me seated next to the window, her back ramrod straight, as befits a lady.

"You may leave," she said, dismissing the two girls.

And leaving us alone, I might add. Did this woman ever do anything according to the standards of polite society?

"Wadsworth, I have a problem," she said, without preamble.

"I am at your service," I said, instantly.

"Unfortunately, you are not capable of providing the service I need," she said. She looked vexed.

"My Lady?" I said, unbelieving. "You doubt my skills?"

"'Tis not a matter of skill, Wadsworth. 'Tis a matter of ability. You are old, and if you are a man like other men, the ability I seek is long lost in you."

I thought of running, or hewing trees, or carrying heavy objects. Can one blame me?

"You are familiar, are you not, with His Lordship's nightly routine?" she asked, beginning on a new subject.

"I am," I said, steeling myself for abuse. Sometimes the old mistress had blamed me for not obstructing His Lordship's foolish ways.

"Then you know that he is useless as a man. His prick is small in the first place, and limp continually. Drink makes it that way in the first place, and I fear age has snuck up on him as well."

I stood, frozen. To hear such language from a woman's lips!

"If it is left to him, I shall never become pregnant and bear a son to inherit," she said. "And I shall starve in my dotage, for lack of children to support and care for me."

I was beginning to understand that this woman was like no other woman I had met in my considerable life. I was of mixed emotions, to be truthful. She was shocking ... but I must confess she was also most interesting.

"What is to be done, then?" I asked.

"I'm so glad you asked," she said, looking at me with very direct eyes. "I must confide in you, Wadsworth, and you must plot with me to realize my dreams. To do less will be the ruin of this house, and will unseat us all in terms of future comfort."

"May I presume this would not go against the wishes of His Lordship?" I asked, delicately. He was supreme on the grounds. His word was law. I served him first.

"You may presume that I have his best interests at heart ... whether he thinks so or not," she said, evenly.

"Pray, continue," I said. What else could I have done?

"He wants an heir. I am quite willing to produce one for him. But he cannot assist in this mission because of his unhealthy habits and practices. I must rise above that. He cannot get me with child. I must get with child in spite of that obstacle. Do you see the problem?"

"I do," I said. "You mentioned plotting ... which suggests a plan. Have you one?"

"I do," she said.

"May I be permitted to know it?" I asked.

"Do you swear to serve me, and serve this house, so long as you are convinced my motives are indeed in the interests of securing the future of that house?" she asked.

I hesitated, but only for a second. I had no choice, really. I could not go to His Lordship at this point with anything other than wild conjecture. I bowed.

"And do you swear you shall keep our counsel secret, never letting a single word of it pass your lips?"

"Of course," I said. That was part of any good butler's duty!

"Then I must tell you something of myself, so you may understand my desires."

"I am eager to hear," I said.

Words of higher veracity, as it turned out, were never spoken.

---

"I have seven sisters," she began. "I am the youngest, and that put me at the tail end of the line for almost all joys and contentments," she said. "Almost." She smiled.

"My father had two brothers, one of whom was filled with self importance, and who wished to be a great man. The other, my Uncle Robert, enjoyed life too much to work at it. He was a scoundrel, something I knew before I was the age of ten.

"But I loved Uncle Robert dearly, and from an early age. He was funny, and he gave me presents, and was always willing to spend time with me. He taught me things that only boys are supposed to know. And he would read to me, stories that I loved to hear. I loved nothing more than sitting on his lap, warm in his embrace, as his voice lulled me into complete relaxation.

"But as I entered puberty, I experienced odd feelings as I sat on his lap. Of course I told him of these feelings. I could tell him anything, and held nothing back. And in this matter, as in all others that were ever broached, he educated me."

I blinked. I had no idea what she meant. Educated her?

"Be strong, Wadsworth," she said. "He did me no harm. I am quite happy with my uncle. If only he were here, I would not have this problem under which I suffer."

"This discussion is tending toward one such as I have never had with a lady," I whispered.

"This discussion is necessary, so that you may attend to the plot, and help me achieve my ends," she informed firmly.

"Go on, then," I said, unbelieving that I uttered the words.

"At first he merely touched me," she said. "He explained how the body changes, and becomes sensitive in various places. He touched those places, and I discovered pleasant feelings such that they surpassed every pleasant feeling I had ever experienced."

"He frigged you?" It burst from my lips, uncalled. But she was not astounded.

"Not at first. At first he just stroked me, making me feel at ease. When I was thirteen he educated me on the bump between my legs, which I had discovered in the bath, and that when rubbed properly, could leave me insensible. I became instantly addicted to having him do that, and soon it was our favorite game.

"That led to his lesson that a tongue feels completely different than a finger. Of course I was horrified at first, that he might want to put his tongue there, from whence I filled a chamber pot. But he pointed to old Shep, a retired hound, who continually sniffed and licked the bitches about the place. He convinced me that it was simply a part of nature that humans had forgotten.

"I finally let him do it ... and I never questioned anything he ever wanted to do to me again."

She sat, her eyes off focus, remembering that moment, no doubt. I found I was stiff in my breeches again. This woman was making me grow younger, rather than older, it seemed.

"When I was fourteen, he displayed how deep the hole was between my legs. I watched as his long, fat finger sank into my body, and I knew I must always have this delight too.

"On my fifteenth birthday he taught me to use my mouth on him, like he used his on me. And on my sixteenth birthday, he made me a woman."

She looked at me. "I was the youngest. I had no prospects. Not then. It was hard enough for my father to marry off the others. I expected to grow up a spinster. But Uncle Robert gave me what any husband could have, and more. Not children, of course. That would have been ruin. He taught me how to take precautions concerning that. But the fact is that, from the time I turned sixteen, to the time I was bartered to His Lordship as his new wife, I was handsomely serviced by my uncle, and various boys and men he chose to help keep me happy."

She looked at me through lowered lashes.

"I must confess, Wadsworth, that I doubt a single man can satisfy my carnal desires."

For once I wished I was a woman, and could carry a fan, for I needed one at that moment.

"So, you can see that the present circumstances in which I find myself, are quite intolerable, and entirely unacceptable."

"Yes ... I suppose that must be so," I said, my voice raspy.

"You must promise not to punish him," she went on, "but on the way here, I seduced Nigel. I had been a week without a man between my legs, and he was so handsome ... so virile."

That explained his rosy cheeks, and heaving chest.

"What of the driver?" I asked.

"He prefers boys," she said. "My father could not help but become aware of my nature. He was most happy to make this match, and he had Geoff drive me for the very reason that he wanted no scandal before I arrived."

"I see," I said. "What is it you require of me?"

"There are a number of strapping young men about the place," she suggested.

"Indeed," I said.

"But they never come into contact with me in their normal duties," she said.

"Of course not," I said.

"We need to find a way to change that," she said.

I blinked. "You want to bed ... them all?"

"I do," she said, without shame of any sort. Her hand rose to run smoothly over her right breast. I know not whether this gesture was intentional, or a natural result of what was on her mind. I was prevented from contemplating that when she spoke one last time. "And since we will be thick as thieves, promoting the welfare of the manor," she said, "you must call me Penny." She blinked her eyes so slowly that it was clearly intentional. "Only in private, of course," she whispered.

Chapter 2

There was much more to Mistress Penelope's plan than merely filling her bed ... and body ... with vibrant, willing, lusty young men. I was not to learn her entire plan in only one day. Perhaps it evolved, for that matter. But my part in things was to accede to her wishes, and somehow hold scandal at bay.

You may argue that it was not my duty to assist the lady in her obdurate intentions. Her clandestine plan lacked any shred of moral underpinning, and she planned to make our lord and master into a common cuckold. That was undeniably a serious situation. But pause with me for a moment, to think what would happen if there was no heir. The land would return to the crown, and be awarded to some other family. The staff would lose their homes and livelihood. All would be lost, quite literally. I argue that saving the estate was my ultimate duty. I convinced myself that, if Lord Malcom ever experienced a moment of sobriety ... he would agree with me.

My first project was easy. That very day I instructed Nigel that Her Ladyship wished to explore the roads through the forest, and that it was time for him to resume his duties as footman. To avoid the complication of a driver, I simply promoted him. To his credit, he was still consumed with guilt concerning his previous encounter with our mistress.

"Are you sure, Wadsworth, that I have the skills necessary to perform such an honor?" he beseeched, suggesting that the normal driver, Charles, was probably available. Charles was available because he was even older than me, and had been more or less retired to a cottage on the grounds for a decade. The only thing he ever did was occasionally drive the coach. And even then, he required assistance to mount the driver's seat. He prepared his own meals and Nigel kept him supplied with firewood. I hadn't even seen Charles in a fortnight.

But Nigel's driving skills weren't really at issue.

"I am sure, Nigel, that you have talent in the area in which Her Ladyship's interests have been piqued." He stared at me, askance, and I said, "A servant's duty is to please his master and mistress. Go and please your mistress."

He ducked his head, even though I am not worthy of such honor. I saw no little astonishment in his eyes, along with suspicion that, somehow, I knew what had happened, though he could account for no way in which that could have happened. The only witness to his infidelities with our new mistress had kept his counsel before driving the coach away.

"I will," he said.

"Be sure you do," I replied.

Sometimes I blame myself for how poor Nigel ended up. I fear it was my instruction that drove him to perform, shall we say, above and beyond what might be expected?

At any rate, as they drove off, I tried to calm my flustered state, and think of ways to involve the others in her nefarious machinations without raising suspicion.

Why was I flustered, you ask?

That's simple. Mistress Penny kissed me on the cheek as I assisted her into the carriage, and said, "Thank you, Wadsworth. I am in much need of Nigel's services. I shall have to think of some way to reward you for your quick and most satisfactory service."

---

It would be some time before I began to collect details about Her Ladyship's activities while she was off with Nigel or one of the others. Not that I tried to collect such information. Gossip is a dirty thing, and I try hard not to let it soil my ears. But a young man who has a few tankards of ale in his belly will often reflect on the better things in his life. And when it came to the young men employed by Lord Farnsworth, one of the finest things in their lives was climbing between Mistress Penelope's wide-spread, welcoming thighs, and rutting in her as if she were the cow, and they were the prize bull.

You think I jest? You think that callow young men would refer to their mistress in that manner? If so, you haven't spent much time in a tavern.

In any case, my purpose for this aside is to inform you that, on that first trip through the forest, Nigel was instructed on lying on his back while Her Ladyship rode him, as if he was a hobby horse or some such thing. Her ride was both lengthy and energetic, which would have been enough to get any man's issue to leave his balls and enter her body. But she teased him the entire time. Rather, I should say she terrorized him with her words, at least until he began to understand that her words were not threats.

"Nigel?" she cooed, rocking back and forth rapidly. His eyes were pinned to her breasts, which were full, but firm, and yet wobbled in a most delightful fashion as she jerked her hips forward and back.

"Mmmm?" he managed. I should have been required to discipline him for such laxity, had I been there, but Penelope wasn't interested in the proper nature of his reply.

"Your prod goes more deeply into my belly than any other man's ever has," she said, happily.

"I'm glad," he gasped.

"I fear the tip of your manhood pries at the very gates of my womb," she said, and then her fingers tightened, gripping the skin of his chest painfully. He had sported before this, many times, in fact, but in that moment he felt like this was his first time. Never had he felt a sheath clamped so hotly around his prick as it rippled wildly and seemed to suckle at his member like a newborn lamb might.

"Such a delightful cum," she panted, when her fingers relaxed. "You haven't done that, have you, Nigel? You haven't spent inside me, have you? You haven't filled my fertile womb with your manly seed, have you Nigel?"

"No, Mum," he gasped.

"That's good," she said, resuming her rocking. "I am quite fertile at the moment, and should you leak even one droplet of your manly milk, I should be ruined by being impregnated by a mere groom."

"Footman," he corrected.

I know Nigel, and I am quite sure that the only reason he was so brazen as to correct the mistress was because he was desperately trying not to commit the particularly egregious sin of impregnating his mistress.

"Footman," she said, leaning over to brush her hanging breasts across his chest. Her ruby red lips hovered over his. "I seem to remember, Nigel, that your footman's balls deliver prodigious amounts of warm, slippery liquid. You aren't going to do that to me again, are you, Nigel? You aren't going to fill me to overflowing with your hot, common spunk ... am I correct?"

She then sat still again, and her pussy again writhed, though this time her eyes were clear as they stared down into his. She literally pulled the fluid from his body, as a milkmaid pulls the milk from the cow's udder.

"Mistress!" whined Nigel, as he felt her rippling inner muscles defeat his attempt at control.

"Ahhhh, there it is," she sighed, as he spurted within her. "So hot. And so much of it. You're not only longer and thicker, you've quite a lot else I require, my lusty young servant. Give me every drop, you rascal."

It wasn't until she had gotten him to deposit his third load in her that day, that he finally figured out her threats about him impregnating her, were actually a reflection of her desire to be impregnated.

By then, his penis was as limp as a noodle, and every drop his balls had struggled to produce had been delivered in terror.

"A footman you may be," sighed Her Ladyship, relaxing after her enthusiastic exercise. "But a better term would be cocksman, if such a term existed. Perhaps I have just invented it!" She grinned. "If I should call urgently for my cocksman, Nigel, then you alone will know to whom I refer. Wouldn't that be fun?"

It's not fair to say he didn't have a good time. But it's eminently understandable why Nigel tried his best to steer clear of Her Ladyship after that. Later, of course, when he became an ardent and effusive co-conspirator in her plan ... he stopped hiding from her ... and had a lot more fun. And I should say that, apparently, her enthusiasm at inventing a new word waned. She never used that word again and, thankfully, its brief exposure to the light of day was forgotten for all time.

---

While spending the better part of four hours "riding" in the forest appeared to satisfy the woman's craving for carnal pleasure, it only moved a portion of her plans forward. I was told to stay near her chambers that evening, as she might have need of me.

As stated before, the bits of the puzzle eventually came to me, one by one, until I could assemble a clear picture of the things that happened in the manor over the next months. And so I shall, from this point, intermingle those parts of the tale to which I was a direct witness, with the parts in which I was elsewhere. It becomes tedious to document how and when I found things out. So I shall just write what I know to have happened, and let you contemplate on how I knew it, in some cases.

Jenny and Sally, the lady's maids, were already aware that their new mistress was something other than ordinary, or restrained. They were to become much changed by the mistress of the manor, and it started when she returned from her tour of the forest with Nigel.

As they helped her change out of clothing that seemed rather more rumpled than expected, Jenny saw the copious amounts of semen that leaked from Her Ladyship's overfilled sex. Being the third child of the blacksmith, she had two older brothers. As her mother died delivering her, the only influences in her life until she began working for the previous mistress were the men of her family. She was, of course, a virgin. Aldo, the blacksmith, had obtained the services of Mrs. Wallerton, the old woman who supported herself by selling potions and salves, to fill the breach left by the loss of his wife, concerning what to do when Jenny entered puberty. But learning what to do when she bled was about the only thing Jenny learned from a woman until such time as she became a lady's maid. Her mentor at that point, as described earlier, was a humorless and stiff old woman who, if she had ever engaged in things carnal, had not enjoyed it. She certainly never taught Jenny anything about carnal knowledge. On those rare occasions when the master required his wife to sleep in his room, Jenny was not privy to why, or what went on in that room.

And so Jenny, being uneducated on what milky-white substances might leak from a woman's vagina, assumed it was the kind of discharge that required the attention of someone like Mrs. Wallerton.

"No, silly girl," laughed Penelope. " Tis but the milk of a lusty male, trying its hardest to ferret out an egg to fertilize. I was fortunate enough to receive a more than adequate dose, so losing so much isn't anything to be concerned with."

"Milk?" Jenny's eyes were wide.

Sally, who was the miller's daughter, and who had one brother a year younger than she was, leaned over to whisper in Jenny's ear. Sally had come upon her brother, some years past, while he was wrestling with the thing that hung between his legs. Curiously, she had watched from hiding as he appeared to try to jerk the thing off his body. Instead, he produced a long stream of something white, appearing to be a thin rope or thick cord, but made of something liquid. Then he manufactured another, shorter one, and a still shorter one after that, all in a row. Her curiosity drove her from hiding to investigate this strange phenomenon. After a rocky start, she began a new relationship with her brother, in which he performed this feat of amazement for her regularly. She was well aware of what that white, viscous stuff was leaking from the mistress' pussy, even if she'd never had any of it inside herself.

She had tried to describe such events to her best friend, Jenny, who had tried to grasp the concept. Jenny had seen animals mating, of course, but had never seen anything white being produced, shot, or dripping from anywhere. Finally, with the help of Her Ladyship's visual aid, she finally grasped the concept fully.

"Oh my!" she squealed, covering her wide open mouth.

Her Ladyship cocked an eyebrow at Sally.

"You've had experience with this delicious treat?" she asked, scooping a fingerful of the "man milk" onto her finger from her thigh.

"No, Mistress!" said Sally. "I'm a good girl!"

"A lie, I'll wager," said Penelope calmly. "But a lie to be expected. We'll change all that, we will."

"I'm sorry, Mistress," cried Sally, falling to her knees. "I didn't want you to think badly of me. I swear I'll never prevaricate again!"

"I'm not angry, you silly wench," said Mistress Penelope. "I'm simply going to help you understand that doing what nature intends us to do is not reason to feel shame. Milking a man is something we women were made to do. I only require to know the level of your experience, so that we may move forward as sisters, and seek our natural destinies together."

"Destinies?" asked Sally, who was relieved that her mistress wasn't angry, but confused at the conversation.

"I'll explain all that later," said Penny. "Tell me. How did you know what drips from my body?"

It took almost ten minutes, and it wasn't until Penelope stamped one pretty, naked foot in irritation, that Sally confessed all.

"Your brother, you say?" mused Penelope. "And he is but a year younger than you?"

"Yes, Mistress," said Sally. "He's fifteen."

"And does he ever come to the manor to see you?"

"Not as such," said Sally. "But he does drive the wagon to deliver flour to the kitchens when we need it."

"And he is quite comfortable with you watching him ... shall we say ... milk himself?"

"Yes, Miss," admitted Sally, blushing furiously.

"Has he ever touched you?"

"No Miss!" yelped Sally. "I'm a good girl!"

"As you've said," commented Her Ladywhip, drolly. "I seem to be surrounded by good girls," sighed the mistress, as though that were something of a trial, rather than a thing to be proud of. "We shall have to manufacture a reason for your brother to deliver some flour."

"Why, mistress?" asked Sally.

"Because it is time for your education to fully begin," said Penelope. She looked at Jenny, who had been listening with rapt interest. "And yours, as well," she added. She contemplated the mass of semen threatening to drip from her finger to the floor, and then, opening her mouth, she inserted the finger and sucked it clean.

Her laughter rang through the walls to my very ears as the girls squealed their alarm.

---

Their education did, in fact, begin that very night, though not with any aid I might have provided. At one point a flushed and panting Sally issued from her mistress' chamber and said, "She says you can go. She won't need you after all."

I repaired to my own chamber, not knowing that, within the room Sally had just returned to, the girls were being tutored in the ecstasies of self pleasure. Both had engaged in a little simple stroking of parts that it felt good to stroke, but neither had actually abused themselves to the full pinnacle of ecstasy. Mistress Penelope saw fit to make that one of her first changes. She knew it would develop an appetite in them that, eventually, they would be willing to sate under even the most outrageous conditions.

A slut cares not what prods her sheath. She merely demands that it be prodded.

---

The next day, Penelope leaned toward my ear. Whatever scent she was wearing fair to made my knees weak.

"There appear to be weevils in the flour," she whispered. I was surprised. On the first part, I was surprised that she would know. If cook had observed that problem, she should have brought it to my attention, not that of the lady of the manor. On the second part, I was bemused that, if Cook had told her, she would mention it to me rather than instruct Mrs. Tinsdale, the cook, to remedy the problem.

"I see," I said, not seeing at all.

"I want you to ensure that the miller's son, Louis, delivers a supply of flour to the manor this afternoon."

"I see," I said again, and again, not seeing at all. In later days I would know instantly what she planned, but I was, as yet, still ignorant of the depths to which she could sink. Apparently she could see my confusion, because she explained.

"I need him here as part of my plan. There aren't really any weevils in the flour. I just need an excuse to get him here."

"I see," I said a third time, finally, actually understanding that she had something sexual in mind ... for the miller's son?!

My mind went to the politics of ordering flour. Should I say it was because there were weevils in the flour, it would reflect badly on the miller.

"Why don't we just order some sacks of barley?" I suggested. "We can make ale with it, and it won't cause concern about the quality of the miller's product."

She waved a hand. "Perfect. Just get him here. And think of a reason why he might be delayed while on his errand."

---

I dispatched Stephan, the stablemaster's younger son, to go and tell the miller of our need for barley, and to stay and help load the grain. He could then ride back with Louis. They arrived mid afternoon. I saw them coming, and managed to be outside the kitchen when they pulled up.

"'Tis sad shape your axles are in, young man," I pointed out gravely.

"Sir?" Louis looked perplexed.

"There is a deficit of grease on your axles. I heard the squeaks long before you hove into view. Why else do you suppose I was drawn outside?"

"Squeaks, sir?" Louis looked confounded now. "I heard no squeaks, sir."

"Methinks your ears were assaulted long enough that they refused to hear any more," I said, stiffly. I looked at Stephan. "Help him unload the cargo and then take the wagon to your father. Tell him grease needs to be applied to all wheels."

"But sir," complained Louis. "That will take hours. What am I to do?"

I appeared to think about that for a long time. "Your sister is one of Her Ladyship's maids, I believe. Perhaps you might speak with her and see how you could be made useful."

"My father will wonder where I am," said Louis. His heart was not in that complaint, though. I could tell. I thought I saw a gleam of interest enter his eyes. It wasn't often that a young man of his stature got to see the inside of a manor.

"While Mr. Curtis and his elder son, Charley see to the egregious negligence of the state of repair of your wagon, Stephan will return to town and advise your father you have been delayed. He will say only that it was a problem with the wagon, and that it is being resolved. You are young. I suspect Stephan, here, was chattering so much you couldn't hear the problem. I don't think it's necessary to besmirch your reputation with your father. I'm sure you'll listen with more care in the future."

Poor Louis, accustomed to accepting the advice of his betters without question, simply nodded his head. Neither boy was clever enough to question why it should be Stephan who ran all the way back to town, rather than Louis himself.

I stayed to supervise the unloading of the sacks of grain, and then sent Stephan running in one direction, while I escorted Louis to the sitting room, where "it just so happened" that Her Ladyship and her maids were engaged in needlework.

"This young man has just made a delivery, and his wagon requires maintenance before he can return to town. I believe he is Sally's brother?" I said.

The maid in question stared at her brother. Out of the corner of my eye I saw him shrug.

"A fortuitous happenstance," said Penelope. "I was just thinking it's a lovely day for a picnic, and we are in need of a strong young man to carry the necessities." She settled her gaze on the boy. He also wasn't used to seeing a gentlewoman up close. Particularly a beautiful, young gentlewoman. Especially a beautiful, young gentlewoman whose gown was somehow showing much more cleavage than was decent. "Would you be so kind as to accompany us... ?"

"Louis," said Sally, a little breathlessly. "His name is Louis."

"Louis," said Her Ladyship, her eyes peering up at him now through lowered lashes.

I thought the poor boy might have a fit, so eager was he to agree to be their packhorse.

---

I told them I would take the needed action to get the wagon serviced. That, of course, was quite simple, since there was no needed service, and therefore no needed action.

And so, loaded down with a pack containing blankets and laden basket, off they trooped toward the garden. This large patch of ground was screened from the house by a tall hedge that had been infused with honeysuckle vines, which were currently in bloom. The sweet scent of the flowers was almost overwhelming, down close to it. The garden was split, half for the growing of edibles, and the other half as a place of beauty, repose and peace. A large willow tree had grown next to the stream which provided the water for the garden, and there was a gazebo there as well, if grass was not the desired surface to repose on. I, of course, returned to my duties, and was not a witness to what ensued behind that screen of honeysuckle vines. I admit it might have been entertaining.

Her Ladyship must have put some thought into the whole event, because she embarked on getting her desires met immediately, once the blankets had been laid out under the drooping branches of the willow tree, and the food basket unpacked. Louis was somewhat slow in this process, apparently because he was unable to keep his eyes off of Her Ladyship, who managed to bend low much of the time, while she supervised. This, as you may imagine, displayed her charms to the poor lad. When they were finished, Penelope surveyed the arrangements and then surveyed Louis.

"You are all sweaty from your labors," she sniffed. "Perhaps you should avail yourself of the cooling water." She waved a hand at the creek, which was about ten feet wide there, and perhaps two deep. The bottom was sandy and smooth, thanks to the labor of others long before.

Louis looked longingly at the slowly flowing water.

"My clothes would be soaked," he said, sadly, shaking his head.

"They could use as good a cleaning as yourself," she said. "Take them off and Sally will wash them out for you."

Sally's eyes got round. Penelope, by taking the two young women as her confidants, had eroded discipline and decorum, such that Sally actually became contumacious!

"But then my clothes will be soaked," she said.

"Not if you leave them neatly stacked here, on the blanket," said Her Ladyship, ensuring her voice was full of disappointment that Her Lady's maid hadn't thought of that herself.

"But I'll be ... naked!" Sally whispered the last word, in proper outrage.

"So will your brother," said Penelope, carelessly. "Surely you have seen each other in dishabille."

I should point out, here, that while Mistress Penelope was an experienced and energetic slut, she had only scratched the surface insofar as converting her lady's maids into the same sort of sad women. True, they were both already addicted to the pleasures of self-induced orgasms, but an experienced slut must be careful in despoiling others, and pulling them down into the gutters of moral dismay with her. She couldn't just tell them what she intended. She had to seduce them.

Which is why they knew not what her plans that day were. She was skillful. I'll grant her that. I doubt that even I could have resisted her wily machinations. Which, by the way, it is past time to continue describing. My apologies for the needed delay.

It took some ten minutes before she bullied the two young people into removing all their clothing. At one point - the point at which poor Louis realized his member was straight, strong, and hard as a rock - he moaned that he could not remove his pants. Eventually he cried out that she would have him beaten if he did. She looked directly at the bulge in his groin.

"What?" she said, innocently. "Because your manhood will be revealed? I am a married woman, young man. I have seen what lies within your trousers, many times in fact. It frightens me not. Are you concerned that it might display your male appreciation for the beauty of the ladies present? Nonsense! Such is merely a compliment to the attractiveness of those ladies." She smiled. I'll wager it was a beautiful smile. She's good at that. "Now!" she barked. "On with it. I'm hungry, and we can't eat until your offensive odors are removed!"

I suspect that Sally finally realized what her mistress was doing, because she made no further complaint, and disrobed ... right in front of her brother.

"Come, Louis," she said, sweetly. "I'm hungry too. Let's be done with our chores and taste the treats Cook has prepared for us."

Had I been there, I would have reprimanded her for assuming that Cook had done anything for anyone other than the mistress of the manor. But Her Ladyship ignored her use of "us" and simply watched, avidly, I suspect, as the boy finally pushed his trousers to his ankles and stepped out of them. He had the decorum to cover his privates with his hands, of course.

Again, Penelope didn't push things too far. She let the boy try to retain his dignity, and merely watched as he turned, his white buttocks flashing in the sunlight as he scampered into the stream. She looked over at Jenny, whose cheeks were flaming, and whose eyes were so wide that white showed all around her pupils.

"You have brothers as well," said Penelope. "Why, then do you look so shaken?"

Jenny looked flustered, but eventually spoke, her voice low, so it would not carry.

"He's much more ... handsome ... than I remember him to be."

"They all are when they sport about in glorious nudity," laughed Penny.

Sally had followed her brother to the stream, and was bent over performing the chore she had been assigned. Louis had sunk down in the water, and was watching her.

"Go and stand on the bank and talk to Sally," ordered Penelope.

"What about?" asked Jenny.

"It doesn't matter. Just stare at Louis."

"Stare? Why?"

"So he keeps his hand away from his penis," said Penelope. "I suspect he's milking it as we speak."

"What?" gasped Jenny.

"Hurry!" said Penelope. "I want that thing hard when he comes out of the water."

"What?" gasped Jenny again.

Penelope turned a stormy eye on her servant.

The servant scurried.

Chapter 3

I'm sure you're not interested in the tiny details of Penelope's seduction of the poor young people that day, so I will only attend to the effects of her wiles.

Her ruse with Jenny worked. Jenny did, in fact, later report that the boy's hand was firmly in his crotch when she approached and began staring at him. He moved it immediately. Sally finished with her task, and came out of the water to hang her brother's clothes on branches to dry. She was told to remain naked, while the sun and air dried her body. Then she was told to go back into the water and pull her brother out, when he demurred at leaving the concealing nature of his surroundings. The fact that his naked sister had to manhandle him probably inflamed his condition, rather than alleviating it.

Eventually he was standing before the mistress of the manor and her lady's maids again, his hands firmly cupped in front of his offending erection.

"Good!" proclaimed Penelope. "Let's eat!"

Again, we'll skip of the minutia of his objections, over the next five or so minutes, and get to the comment Penelope said that finally won him over.

"Young man," she said. "As a married woman, the state of your manhood causes no fear or revulsion in me. But let me point out that neither your sister, nor Jenny, here, have the experience I do. They will marry some day, and be confronted with the evidence of a man's passion. That man will, in fact, probably be in the act of ravishing them at that point, and the experience may be less than happy for them. Perhaps ... just perhaps, I suggest ... you might be brave enough to avail them of the opportunity to study the object you are so decently hiding, so that, in that future, they will have an idea of what to expect, and therefore be less frightened."

Poor Louis, of course, was not aware that the mistress knew all about how many times his sister had already studied the object that he no longer hid from her. At least, not when they were alone.

Again, tiny details excluded, eventually he moved his hands. There was an immediate cessation of speech.

"Oh my," sighed Penelope. She looked at Sally, whose cheeks were pink, but whose eyes were glued to her brother's cock. "You failed to mention he's enormous."

"Beg pardon, Missus?" said Louis.

"Nothing," said Penelope, turning her gaze back to a penis that belonged on a pony, rather than a fifteen-year-old boy. "Congratulations, Louis. You have been graced with a beautiful penis."

"Beautiful?" The disappointment in his voice was probably based on his unhappiness that a more manly adjective had not been used, but to be truthful, he wasn't thinking consciously about that.

"Magnificent," Penelope amended. "Have you used that thing for its intended purpose yet, Louis?"

"To pee?" He sounded flabbergasted.

"I was thinking more along the lines of its use in breeding," said the mistress, whose voice had taken on a husky tenor.

"No, Missus!" gasped the boy.

"What a shame," sighed Penelope. "It was surely made for that, my boy. You'll make some woman very happy some day."

Perhaps it was the fact that this circumstance was completely outside any possibility of previous contemplation on the part of the young man. Perhaps he responded to the stroking of his ego, as any man will. Whatever the case, his relationship with this astonishing noblewoman changed at that point. As I think back on it, she wasn't behaving very nobly, so maybe that made her seem more common, and helped him relax.

"Do you think so?" he asked, genuinely curious. Few boys think they'll make any woman happy, before they get the chance to try doing so.

"I intend to find out," said Penelope, whose patience was slipping, and therefore causing her circumspection to slip as well.

"Beg pardon?" said Louis again. Much was being said that confused him.

"Louis," said Penelope. "I fear I must confess I have been less than completely honest with you."

"I don't understand," said the boy. This was quite true. The depth of his lack of understanding almost overwhelmed him at that point.

"As you know, these two young women are my servants," she said, motioning to Jenny and Sally. "We spend all our time together," she said. "And as such, it is inevitable that we share secrets. I confess that I know Sally has seen your magnificent phallus many times." She blinked slowly, three times. "And what you do to ease its current condition."

Now it was all of Louis' pupils that were surrounded by white. Penelope reached out to him with one, slim hand, but did not touch him.

"It's all right, Louis," she said, soothingly. "I find no fault in you. As I said, I am a woman of experience. I know what it means when a man is overcome by passion. You are quite normal, and I cannot, in good conscience, treat you as if you were not. I'm sure some close-minded and mean-spirited people would upbraid you. But not I. I think it's sweet that you have allowed Sally to gain some education."

"You do?" Louis sounded, at that point, as if her were perhaps ten years old. And quite possibly female, despite his prodigious prick.

"I do," she said, firmly. "You are quite brave to have allowed your innocent sister to gain the kind of experience that will stand her in very good stead when she marries." She frowned, artfully, and then added, almost casually. "Well... almost the kind of experience she'll need."

"Almost?" His jaw was slack, now.

"You have showed her how you service your magnificent penis," said Penny. "It would have been nice if she'd had the chance to practice it herself."

"My Lady!" gasped the boy.

"Well? Won't she have to help her husband on occasion?" suggested Penelope, as if that was common knowledge. "There are times when a woman cannot surrender to her husband's desires. It would be indelicate of me to describe those occasions. That is women's business," she said, firmly. "But believe me, it would stand her in good stead to be experienced at calming her man with her hand or ... well, never mind that, yet. Believe me when I tell you - from experience, I remind you - that such is the case. And I suspect you are aware at how specifically your manhood must be manipulated to produce the desired result. She will not know how to do that, without practice."

Louis might have been relatively innocent. He might have been in an outrageously unexpected situation. She may have been talking about things that no other adult in his life would have been expected to broach. But he wasn't stupid.

"You want me to teach her how to... ?" He couldn't actually say the words.

"Soothe you?" suggested Penelope innocently. "It would serve her future interests." I'm sure she smiled a wicked smile at that point. "It would also serve your current interests."

I am told that his upper chest flushed, and that the color crept up his neck and onto his face. I am also told that a bead of clear fluid suddenly appeared, oozing from the slit in the tip of his prong, and threatened to extend into a drip.

"I would be happy to supervise," purred Penelope. "If that would ease your conscience."

There was more, but I'll skip to the part where Sally ended up on her knees on the blanket, her face inches from the spike jutting from her brother's loins, and hesitantly raised her hand to gently grasp the fascinating object.

That bead did, then, develop into a drip. Penelope reached with her open palm to catch it.

"We don't want to soil the blanket," she said, easily.

What followed was something that the three young people would never forget. Who knows what the slut who manipulated them into the "easement" of Louis' passion would remember. I suspect she had so many conquests that they began to all run together.

But we'll find out more about that later.

For now, imagine that that first tentative grip became more firm, as Sally moved her hand, experimentally, feeling the loose skin move on its firm underpinnings, and watching as the foreskin stretched, impossibly, to reveal a large, shiny, plum-shaped knob beneath. His enjoyment of the situation was expressed in a groan. It was the first time a hand other than his had done this, and it felt much better than his own. It astonished him that was even possible, but it was undeniable.

After perhaps five minutes of experimentation, Penelope "noticed" that Jenny's attention was raptly fixed on the proceedings.

"Dear me," she said, in mock sorrow. "We have left poor Jenny out. She, too, will marry some day, and she requires the same education as Sally."

"Please don't make her stop," groaned Louis, whose hands were planted on his hips, his back arched slightly, to ease the stiffness in his spine.

"You'll get your release," said Penelope. "More than once this fine day, if your recuperative powers are in tune with your age. Let's not be selfish and deny Jenny her due."

No one thought to question that it was, somehow, Jenny's "due" to be able to stroke a penis.

And so, both girls ended up on their knees, side by side, exchanging the opportunity to elicit one of those delightful groans from the handsome young man.

"Faster," panted the boy at one point.

"Ladies!" said Penelope. "It is at this stage that experience wins out. Permit me to demonstrate. I am not loathe to share my own experience with you. It is, after all, in pursuit of your robust education, concerning your future relationships."

The girls parted to allow Her Ladyship Penelope Farnsworth, Mistress of Farnsworth Manor, a woman of noble breeding (though I know this is hard to believe) and the wife of an important and influential man, to approach a commoner on her knees, and reach to encompass his straining prick with her soft, white hand.

"It will soon make a mess," she said, helpfully. "Sally has seen this mess made many times, but Jenny has not. There are many ways to obviate the problem. The best, of course, is to allow it to spurt where it belongs. But for today, I'll show you another way, one which I have already suggested to you results in a most enjoyable treat for both parties."

Her hand gripped firmly and sped up. His member was large enough that she added her other hand, using one beside the other to control his flailing penis.

"Oh My Lady!" gasped Louis, his eyes bulging.

"Watch carefully," panted Penelope.

Her mouth opened wide and she positioned it to accept the sudden spurts that Sally was so familiar with, but which she had always seen land on the ground, or wherever. Jenny gasped and covered her own mouth, but Sally, feeling a peculiar twisting sensation in her loins, opened her mouth in empathy and leaned forward, as did Penelope, to ensure that nothing squirted outside her oral cavity. Rapidly, as the spurts lessened, she let the plum-shaped knob enter the open cavern of her mouth, and delicately closed her lips around the depression behind that plum. Her cheeks caved in, making it plain she was sucking, and her throat produced two audible gulps.

"I am dying!" wailed Louis, and his knees failed him. He tipped, as a tree cut at its base tips, slowly falling backwards. His penis was dragged from Penny's sucking lips, and with a thud, he landed in a limp pile, half on and half off the blanket.

Penny smacked her lips, wiped them with the back of her hand, and swallowed once more.

"Delicious!" she proclaimed.

---

It took Louis half an hour to recuperate. By recuperate, of course, I mean achieve another erection. This was aided by the fact that Jenny and Sally took him to the stream to "wash the grass and dirt from his body," as the mistress put it. Of course that meant Jenny needed to be naked as well, but by that time her normal aversion to something like that was somewhat abraded.

It also helped Louis recuperate, as was Penny's intent.

There followed, then, more "practice" on the part of the girls, which somehow included the putting of their mouths on his organ before it was quite ready to spurt. But then, they had just washed it, so it seemed not so undesireable as it might have before this. In fact, both girls discovered that the feel of that shiny, purple knob in their mouths was quite different than anything they had put in their mouths before, and somehow felt perfectly suited to be sucked at.

Penny, happy that things were advancing nicely, did not push too hard. I know that sounds ridiculous, but by it I mean only that she slipped her hand under her skirts and achieved relief that way, rather than what she really wanted to do, which was feel that horse cock in her excited pussy.

There would be later opportunities for that. She was quite sure that the next time Louis needed to deliver something to the manor, he would do so happily and eagerly.

---

By the time Louis dragged his tired and depleted body up onto the wagon seat of his "serviced" wagon, and clucked at the horses to move them back towards the village, it was two very much wiser, and very much more experienced girls who accompanied their mistress to her chambers, where she disrobed and bathed. The girls were invited to bathe with her.

They all masturbated, of course.

---

The next day, Mistress Penelope rose after breakfast and called for me.

"I wish to go riding," she said.

Such a simple statement, but one which would result in significant changes to the tenor of the atmosphere in the manor.

Curtis Flannery was the stablemaster at Farnsworth Manor. He was a blustery man, whose temper was sometimes short, but who was a master at dealing with and training horses. He had two sons and a daughter, all of whom were employed on the estate. His younger son, Stephan, we have already met. He was sent to inform the miller that his wagon was being repaired, and his son, Louis therefore detained. Stephan had some of his father's talent with animals, but was still young, and so had not much authority. His elder son, Charley, had a knack for repairing things, and it was that talent he was most often called to use. He had no interest in animals. The daughter Flannery was named Marie, and was the kitchen maid.

The stables had room for forty horses, and currently contained a few over thirty. I paid that part of things not much attention. Most of these animals were used for breeding, which was the primary source of income to the estate. As such, Curtis required more help than young Stephan could provide, and it was for that reason that the blacksmith's son, Jack, who was also our Jenny's brother, had been brought to the estate. He had a room at the rear of the stables, but occasionally slept in the village at his father's house.

The interesting thing about Jack was that he was more like the stablemaster than either of the man's own sons, brash and confident, full of himself and always eager to display his prowess at whatever task was at hand. He was, in fact, a bit of a bully. But Jack had a way with stallions, which were prone to become unruly when introduced to a mare in heat, and his muscle and attitude seemed to match the big brutes. They understood each other.

I inform you of these mundane facts, so that you understand the kind of men Her Ladyship was required to deal with in her pursuit of a morning of riding pleasure.

I sent word ahead so that the horses would be ready, and Her Ladyship would not be peeved at having to wait in such conditions of odor and manure and such. Curtis, of course, knew his place well, and was obsequious in his reception of the mistress into the stables, and his treatment of her. Not knowing what her level of proficiency was in the saddle, he had chosen one of the more gentle mares for her to ride. He had instructed Stephan to make the horse ready, which the boy had done.

None of us could have known, though, that Her Ladyship had adopted the lately popular (and quite daring) practice of wearing riding breeches, rather than a proper dress with skirts, or that she was actually experienced at riding astride, rather than the more demure (and proper!) sidesaddle form. She was, therefore, attired in fawn colored, skin tight breeches, complemented by brown knee-high boots that had been shined to a mirror luster. Her bright green blouse was tucked into a wide, leather belt that circled her waist. The resulting look fairly demanded that the eyes be drawn to her bosom.

Did I mention Her Ladyship was blessed to excess in terms of her ability to feed the babies Lord Malcolm intended her to bear him? Perhaps my shock at first seeing her large, firm breasts in her bath caused me to neglect reporting such. In fact, they were both large and firm. Some women had taken to wearing a band about their chests, reported to support the glands and prevent them from wobbling. Penelope didn't need anything to prevent hers from wobbling. They moved as she walked, to be sure, but they certainly did not flop.

Her hair was plaited in a long French braid, and she glowed with the youth, health and vitality of a noblewoman. She stood, observing the sidesaddle installed on the mare, and crossed her arms under those amazing breasts.

"As you can see," she said, "I am prepared to ride astraddle."

Curtis blanched. I'm sure the very thought of it astonished him. I say she had adopted a trend, but we had never heard of this trend at that point. Simply seeing her attired as she was caused a furor, at least in the pants of each man present.

"I did not know," said Curtis, finally. "My Lady has ... ridden before?"

"Many times," she snorted. "I hope you have provided me a spirited beast."

Curtis must have been confounded. He was up to the task, however. He turned to Stephan. "Take the mistress to see the latest crop of foals, while I see to her horse." He assumed (correctly) that, like most women, Her Ladyship would enjoy seeing the energetic, wild and playful foals capering about, learning how to use their muscles.

He then called for Jack and, most likely snarling, informed the young man he was to accompany the mistress on her ride and ensure that nothing untoward happened to her. In his haste to find a more spirited mount and put the correct saddle on it, he made a somewhat unwise choice. Her name was Starfire, and she was less than a week from being ready to be bred.

Jack, meanwhile, observed which horse Curtis was sending the lady of the manor out on, and made his own choice quite carefully. He should have chosen a gelding, but instead, he put a saddle on Ninepins, a young stallion which was due to be used for his first breeding that summer.

Jack, you see, was best friends with Nigel. More properly, he had made Nigel into his fetch and carry man. Nigel looked up to him, and would do most anything Jack told him to do, wise or not. And Nigel, in an attempt to impress his idol, had freely told him what had happened on that blanket in the middle of the road during the lady's carriage trip to our home and hearth.

In other words, Jack knew that Lady Penelope had instructed Nigel to "prod her until she screamed" and then ensured he did so. Of course she had warned Nigel not to speak of their sport, but young men cannot resist sharing the tales of their conquests, especially concerning a woman like Penelope, and particularly to the one man around he hoped to impress.

And Jack saw this as an opportunity to avail himself of the same cornucopia of sexual delight, which he knew to be nestled between the thighs of the lady he had never actually spoken to.

Of course, when he saw her this day, his lust was inflamed to the point that his blood fairly burst with the anticipation of claiming the prize.

At first it seemed that his plan had worked to perfection. The Lady rode well, and wanted to run. Her horse, smelling the interest of the stallion, also wanted to run. Had the Lady been a less accomplished rider, there might have been disaster, because both horses were excited and unruly. They were thinking of exactly the same thing Jack was thinking about.

And that was mating.

He called the halt after two miles, knowing that both horses had run fast enough, and far enough, that they required a rest. He picked a place to slow to a walk, because he knew there was a glen just ahead where the grass was lush, and there would be room to spread out the blanket he had rolled and tied behind his saddle.

He watched, impressed, as Penelope jumped from her mount, her face flushed and her breasts heaving with delight. Unfortunately, his lust overcame his plan. Had he simply attempted to seduce her, he would have succeeded. Your own short introduction to The Lady Penelope has already taught you that. But he wanted to take what he desired. It was his nature.

He had stopped beside the stream, and knew the horses would go to drink. They would not wander far, and he expected them to be content to crop the thick, rich grass. He had the blanket in his hand as he turned to his mistress.

"I know what you and Nigel did during your carriage ride here," he sneered, swaggering. "I intend to have the same."

Mistress Penelope gave him his initial warning when she simply raised an eyebrow and replied, "Is that so?" The fool did not see her calm for the warning it was.

"It is!" he said aggressively. "It would be a shame if you were revealed to His Lordship and, because of scandal, he threw you out."

"Ah," she said. "I fear I find myself in the company of a blackmailer."

"You find yourself in the company of a stallion!" he said, proudly. "And you are like that mare over there." He pointed toward the two horses, which were dancing in foreplay. His own lust prevented him from recognizing what the horses were about to do. "You need to be mounted, and I shall be the stallion who does so. Be warned, I'll tell Malcolm what you've done. You won't be so high and mighty then."

He crossed his arms, put on his most arrogant look, and also tried to make his biceps bulge.

Penelope reached down into her boot, and drew forth her riding crop.

"He is Lord Farnsworth to you ... and I will teach you never again to demand anything from your mistress."

In the next ten minutes, she reduced the bully of the manor to a whimpering child.

Chapter 4

Jack had never met a woman like Penelope. In truth, the only females he knew anything about were the village girls, most of whom found no interest in him. He had somehow found his way between the thighs of some half dozen girls, but that was primarily because he was in position to inherit his father's smithy. Never had their desire to find a man who could support them (eventually) survived actually engaging in a relationship with Jack, though.

And so Jack was completely unprepared when, in a rage, Her Ladyship attacked him, striking him about his head and shoulders, darting in as if she had been trained to the epee. His vision was reduced almost immediately, because her first few strikes were at his eyes. Then, as he held his hands up, trying to protect where she had just landed a blow, she chose a different spot to leave a weal.

She reminded him, in the process of this, that, as the lady of the manor, she held Jack's very life in her hands, and that should she demand it, her husband would call for rope and hoist the groom's miserable body skyward with his own hands. Whether that is actually true or not could be argued - easily - but when one is half blinded and being repeatedly stung by the business end of a riding crop, one doesn't think rationally.

And, as is true with most bullies, when Jack was resisted, his bravado crumbled.

When he had been reduced to a whimpering, cringing lump, Penelope paused. Anger can produce the same effects on a body as passion. Wielding power raises, in some, a desire to conquer those deemed lessers. Penelope, already affected by the repeated thumping of the saddle on her delicate parts, found herself ... shall we say ... excited?

"Let us see what you intended to force upon me," she said, panting. Had Jack been able to see through his swollen eyes and tears of shame and defeat, he would have looked up at a magnificent woman, whose visage was flushed, and whose breasts were heaving. "Strip!" she commanded.

It took two more blows with the crop to get him moving, but then he tried his very best to obey her command. In scarcely a moment he lay, nude, beside the blanket he had dropped in his efforts to protect his head and face.

Jack was a strapping lad, and this could be seen, despite his cringing deportment. Penelope looked at his bulging muscles, and her eyes strayed to his manhood. That organ might have been engorged when he began his attempt at blackmail and rape, but it was nothing to be proud of at the moment. It lay, helplessly limp, upon a nest of thick, black hair, hair which spread up over his abdomen to form a curly mat across his chest. He was too lazy to go to the effort of shaving, and sported a black beard as well.

"You intended to attack me with that miserable sword?" she taunted.

"No, mistress," he groaned. "I was joking. I swear."

She snorted. She kicked the blanket. "Spread that out!" she snapped.

He did so, rising, hunched over, to hide the attribute he had always been so proud of, and which she had just laughed at.

"Now, lie upon it," she said.

He lay down, on his stomach, expecting to be thrashed across his back.

"On your back, you cretin!" she shouted.

He rolled over. His hands covered his shame.

"If you block my view, I shall have your hands cut off," she said, her voice low and full of malice.

As his hands fell to his sides, tears leaked from his eyes. Never had he felt this helpless. He closed his eyes, wishing only to die, so that his shame would end. A sob escaped his throat.

"Be silent, you idiot," she growled. "Look at me."

He did so, trying to blink away the tears that fouled his vision. One eye was swollen, but not too badly. His view of her was dim and wavered, at first. She stood over him, her feet spread shoulder's width apart. She looked ten feet tall. Initially, all she did was stare down at him. Then her hands went to her blouse, and her fingers undid the top button. The crop made this difficult for her and, knowing it was no longer needed, she tossed it negligently to the blanket beside his hip. Her fingers continued their work, and she pulled the shirt from beneath the belt. Pulling it apart, she bared her glorious breasts to his astonished view.

"Are these what you intended, no doubt to maul?" she asked. Her voice held no malice or anger now. If anything, it teased. She cupped the bounteous mounds, and her fingers pinched the rosy nipples that had sprung, erect from the flesh on which they rested.

He did not answer ... could not, really ... but that bothered her not. Her fingers went to the belt around her waist, which dropped to the ground with a thump, and then the fastenings of her riding breeches, where the buttons fairly popped open. She lifted one booted foot and rested it on his chest.

"Remove it," she ordered.

His hands came to grasp the boot as she pulled her foot from it. The other boot took its place, and the other foot was released. He watched, in awe, as the cloth slid down over her hips, and then to her thighs. His eyes could not help but seek out the juncture of her legs, where her treasure lay. The mistress had lower hair that was not thick, like many women have. Rather, it was a sprinkle of short, flat hairs that lay down submissively, framing thick lips, somewhat stretched and floppy from regular abuse by a penis stretching them. When she kicked off her breeches and stood naked over the poor boy, she introduced one pointer finger to the area and used it to split those floppy lips. It slid inside her to the first knuckle.

"Is this where you intended to consummate your rape?" she asked, softly.

"Not rape," he moaned. Rape was punishable by death.

"Sex coerced is rape, whether it be by physical force or blackmail," she instructed him. "You would have taken me without my consent. Isn't that true?"

"No," he pleaded. "I hoped to gain your acceptance through shame and fear. I admit that. But I would never have forced you."

She bent over and retrieved the crop. She dragged the tip up one of his thighs, to his penis. His hands moved, and she stepped on one.

"No, no," she said. "Leave them where they are."

"Please, My Lady. It was a mistake. Punish me if you must, but leave my manhood intact."

"Is that what you think? You think I'd use this on your miserable prick? That worthless thing couldn't scare a little girl. Just look at it. It would be charitable to estimate its length at two inches. I doubt you're even capable of forcing a woman."

He lay there, silent in his misery. Finally he pled one last time.

"Please. I was a fool. I'll do anything to make it up to you. Name my punishment and I'll accept it gladly."

"Even if I have you castrated?"

He winced. "That isn't necessary. I'll leave the region. I'll seek my fortune elsewhere. You'll never see me again."

The crop left his organ, and left a narrow path through the thick hair on his belly and chest as she dragged it toward his bruised face. He had no idea what his face looked like ... that she could see she had lost control. She was quite aware that one blow could have blinded him in his left eye, had it been struck less than an inch closer to his nose.

"You are contrite?" she asked.

"Vastly," he said, with true emotion.

"May I be assured you will never behave in a churlish manner or threaten me again?"

"I would die first," he pledged.

"Yes ... you would," she reminded him. He winced again.

"Very well, then," she said, tossing the crop aside again. "I will mitigate your punishment ... this time."

"Mitigate?" He was unschooled, and it was a word he misunderstood.

She stepped, her right foot landing by his left hip, while her left foot moved to the opposite position. Smoothly she sat on his thighs. His hands were trapped by her lower legs, which she pulled in tightly against the sides of his. His manhood rested just in front of her own sexual organ. Her hand went to pick up his limp organ between two fingers. She handled it as if it were something she had lifted from the gutter to inspect.

"Have you actually used this poor thing on some girl?"

He blinked. His mouth worked, but nothing came out. He had no idea what to say. If he told the truth, would she somehow strike it off?

"Tell me the truth," she ordered.

"Yes," he said, wincing yet again.

"How many times?"

"I don't know," he moaned.

"More than once?" she asked. Her fingers moved to capture the naked knob and she pulled it away from his body, stretching out the shaft.

"Yes," he said, anxiously.

"How many?" she asked again. Impatience had crept into her voice.

"Four? Maybe five?" he whined.

"And did you rape them too?"

"No!" he gasped. "They were willing!"

"How willing were they?" she asked.

Again, his mouth worked as he tried to think of some answer.

"Were any of them willing a second time?" she asked.

"One was," he wheezed.

"So ... you do not know how to please a woman," she said firmly. "We shall have to remedy that little problem."

"Remedy?" That word could mean several things, and at least one of them horrified him. Could she mean to sever his member, so that he could not disappoint any women he might be with, in the future? "Please don't cut it off," he begged.

She laughed, which confounded him.

"Cut it off? What good would it be then?" She frowned. "Do you cook them and eat them in these parts?"

He sobbed again until she leaned forward to put a hand on his chest.

"I was jesting," she said. "Calm yourself. I'm not going to hurt you any more. I have taught you the primary lesson you needed to learn. Now, I must teach you another."

She stood, and he fully expected her to beat him again. Instead she pointed at the stream.

"Go and wash in the stream. Pay particular attention to your cock. On the way, unsaddle the horses. We will be here a while."

As he stumbled through the grass toward the stream, she called out to him.

"And be sure to bathe your face. You're bleeding."

---

Jack approached his mistress, who still stood on the blanket, her eyes on him. The riding crop was again lying upon it as well. His long locks were wet, and his beard sparkled with drops of water. He had enjoyed enough opportunity to think that he had come to the realization that she wasn't going to beat him again. That she hadn't told him to get dressed again, and that she had remained in a state of nakedness herself, had caused in him what it might cause in any young male.

When he had come back to the blanket, his penis had both lengthened and thickened. It wasn't erect, but it wasn't pathetic looking any more either.

"I see you are much improved," she said, staring right at his groin.

"My Lady," he said. "I don't understand."

"Don't understand what?"

"This," he said, spreading his arms. "You," he said, gesturing at her naked body.

She told him to lie down, and then sat beside him, one hand lying negligently on his abdomen.

"What is your name?" she asked.

"Jack, Mistress," he said.

"Well, Jack," she said, "All men are foolish. Foolishness can be a permanent affliction, which requires harsh measures to contain it. Other kinds of foolishness are temporary, and when that kind of foolishness is in abeyance, a man's company can be quite tolerable." She moved her fingers through the hair on his belly, and let them fluff his chest hair. "I think your foolishness is of the second, temporary variety."

It had been a pretty speech, but Jack wasn't used to interpreting such talk.

"What does that mean, My Lady?"

"It means, Jack, that the harshness of teaching you is over, and that less stringent measures may be used to expunge the rest of the foolishness from you."

"You're going to punish me further?" he asked, his voice almost a whine.

"In a manner of speaking," she said.

"I still don't understand," he sighed.

"You will," she promised. "I assure you of that."

And then, without warning, she leaned down and took his penis into her mouth.

---

The way the Lady Penelope completed Jack's "education" was to tell him that his "naughty behavior" had caused some measure of excitement in her, and that she was contemplating taking her sport with him to soothe her need. Her mouth, and then her hand, revealed that his prick could be made to fit rather well with the rest of his muscular body. He had a peculiar bend to him, though, that she had never witnessed before. His father, being a Christian, had required that his boy's foreskin be removed and now the organ looked like some demented banana, jutting forward from his groin and then curving upwards, as if the little eye in the end wanted to observe its owner's face.

It was a joy, therefore, to play with, and suck and nibble at, which Penny did with great glee as the young man twisted and groaned under her ministrations. Finally, she could wait no longer.

"It is time for you to please me, to repair the damage you earlier inflicted on my tender sensibilities," she said, rising to stand, once again, straddling his middle. He looked up at the other set of swollen, dripping lips that might soon suck at his rod.

"You have forfeited, by virtue of your foolishness, the honor of mounting me in the usual dominant, male position," she said, slowly squatting. She reached for his bent organ. "This does not mean you cannot supply my needs, however. You are to lie there, sedate and calm, while I mount you, and take my pleasure."

She swabbed the tip of his weeping organ between those lips he had just observed, and then sank down on him with a sigh.

"You are my horsy," she said, moving forward, and then back.

Jack's eyes opened wide. It wasn't the position she had assumed, on top of him. Nigel had babbled something about that in his dissertation of what had happened on the blanket outside the coach. Jack had assumed the boy's brain was addled by the event. He had never heard of the woman being on top. It just wasn't done that way. But when she did so, his mind coped with that fairly well. What astonished him now was that, somehow, she had grown a hand inside her body, and that hand was squeezing and massaging his member!

His education had commenced when she taught him humility. It had proceeded apace when she not only showed him mercy, but then that new, astonishing trick with her mouth. Now, with the prick that her mouth had brought to full bloom fully embedded in her luscious, hot pussy, his education was continuing. When she moved, like she was moving now, that rippling sheath elicited in him the most delicious feelings. He hadn't thought anything could feel better than her mouth on him. No girl had ever blessed him in that fashion before. But now he knew how wrong he was about that, too. Already, the Mistress of Farnsworth Manor had re-educated him in more ways than he could have imagined.

The advantage of this position, he realized immediately, was that he could see her so much better. Watching those big, soft breasts bounce around was hypnotic, and her demand that he caress her flanks let his fingers feel warm flesh, instead of supporting his weight over her. And she was doing most of the work too! All in all, he had decided this was a most advantageous new way to fuck.

There was but one problem.

At first, as he watched the beautiful woman working above him, he thought she must be having occasional fits of some sort. He had no knowledge that a woman could reach the same kind of climax that left him weak and panting. So when she paused, frozen, time and time again, and groans were torn from her throat, and her fingers tore tufts of hair from his chest, he assumed she had some mental malady.

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