Onboard the Daisy, at sea

September 23, 1773

This story was inspired by the classic erotic novel "Fanny Hill," by John Cleland, published in 1749. I recently reread it and was interested in trying to write a story in an 18th Century style.

My dearest friend Andrew,

I write you, finding myself in the most retched of circumstance having been made a pariah from my father and, through his good office, an outcast from that part of British society which you and I have, in the past, had such enjoyment in our explorations and capers. I have little doubt that you have been acquainted with some of the circumstance which finds me on a ship bound for Asia to take the supervision of my fathers as yet not fully accounted for estates in Bombay. It appears that the likes of the Indian is to be my fate, making my joys, or more likely remembering my joys, among the Hindi, Mohammedan, elephants and cobras of the Bengali coast. What pleasures of leisure will employ my hands there I have little idea but I am sure that they cannot provide the entertainment and lovely, refined distraction of London. Alas, my dearest friend, no longer will we enjoy the observation of the theatre followed by the sensual pleasures of beefsteaks and pudding succeeded by brandy and cigars at the club, then to stumble to the other parts to enjoy the more earthy pleasures of the saloons and bawdyhouses with their fair maids supplied in ample numbers for our pleasure. It is with great fondness that I remember rising after the noon hour, our clothing disheveled and our pockets empty at some such establishment as that run by Mrs. J________, her pretty maids, their corsets still unlaced, their kisses multiple, to stumble to the street, still drunk, to find a coach to my rooms. Alas, these things, these wonderful times, have escaped me and I will now have to discover new entertainment, most certainly in the production of cotton and water buffalo hides, as the Lord of the Manor and the daily administration of the farmers and manure is my lot. Long I will remember the joys of London, I now become the heathen. My friend, I must tell you the circumstance of my exile, not intending to plead my innocence, but so you, knowing me and some of the more unusual tastes which I harbor, may fully know the circumstance of my departure.

It was with a heavy heart that we bade adieu in May past, traveling to our family estates to escape the heat and disease of the city. Long I contemplated our reconciliation in the fall and our rejoining our cronies in our nightly sport on the London streets. It was a dismal summer I anticipated, a summer which would be spent inspecting stables, dairies, wheat fields and...rock walls. I have never considered the production of hens an important issue but I was looking forward to one or two fox hunts, a welcome diversion with old friends from neighboring estates, and, of course, my most dear diversion of angling. My arrival at the estate was attended by the entire house staff, a terribly tedious affair where I was required to act overjoyed at my return. To be sure, I was pleased to see a few old friends who had cared for me in my younger days. The old butler, Wayne, was a welcome reaquaintence as was the warden, Charles. I was also pleased to see my old housekeeper, a woman who used to help my nurse and now supervises the entire housekeeping staff. The day continued with a tour of the estate, I was pleased with the state of the stables but found the warehouses lacking and left instructions for greater efforts against rats. I spent that evening in the study making a full report to my father who would be joining me in two month's time. I did feel some quiet comfort as I settled into my old rooms, the places which occupied my first years were old friends and many happy memories filled me as I lay abed that first night, the familiar sounds and smells of the old house bringing relaxing reminiscences which accompanied me off to sleep.

So, I quickly took on the cloak of the country gentleman, making daily rounds of the farms and orchards, inspecting the livestock and, as the Lord of the Manor, acting as a petty magistrate to the petty feuds between the petty cottagers of my estate. I did have several enjoyable afternoon pheasant hunts with the warden as my guide and, in June, there was a fox hunt on a neighboring estate which provided a days distraction. There was also the "coming out" of a neighbor's daughter, a gaily arranged affair in a wonderful garden complete with a chamber orchestra and ice sculptures. It is regrettable that the paramour of the gathering was a rather dull girl, fat with stringy hair, a sickly tallowed complexion, no discernable humor and bad teeth. Her gown was white with pink roses which were soon joined with reminders of virtually every food that she ate, of which there was much. She spent the entire afternoon no more than a score of feet from the buffet, I'm not sure which the flies found more interesting, the roast pork or her. I escaped this gathering as soon as was decently convenient and the evening found me at the village inn where I drank down my boredom and awoke in the morning in a strange room with a local milk maid, a buxom and cheerful sort of girl who I wish I could remember more about. What I do remember was waking with my head cradled between two enormous breasts which formed the superior peaks of a great landmass of flesh. My charge looked at me accusally having spent the night in a strange stable, and did his best to brush me off on every convenient tree while we made our way back to the house. The staff was discreet enough not to comment on my absence or the condition of my return.

The conditions of my downfall from the graces of my sire began one day in July, a day which dawned clear with a warm breeze from the south. After I had completed the daily drudgery of the estate, I decided on an afternoon in pursuit of a rather large trout which had, thus far, evaded my invitations to dinner by expertly throwing the hook. The beast lived in a pool which is several hundreds of feet below the mill, a quiet secluded place more often attended to by damselflies and woodchucks than larger beasts, which nestles among old oaks and maple trees and an especially thick underbrush of brambly thorns punctuated by the occasional blaze of daffodils. The pond sits at a bend of the creek, a bend necessitated by a series of large boulders on one side which divert the water, opposite the rocks is a beach of course sand and rounded stones which are perfect for skipping, a pursuit which I became expert at as a boy. At the foot of the rocks, the water reaches a depth of at least six feet, then the bottom rises slowly until, at the centre, it reaches ones hips then continues its rise to the opposite shore.

Upon arriving at the pond, I withdrew my feet from my boots and rolled up the cuffs of my breeches to wade into the water. By now, the water had lost its sharp coldness and was a refreshing coolness on a hot day. I stood, knee deep, and cast my line for my trout who I knew to laze his afternoons in a crevice between the two larger boulders. It was my hope that a small piece of sausage may rouse his appetite and bring him forth so he may quench mine at dinner that evening. But, alas, it was not to be, either he was well sated from a breakfast of crawfish or he was spending his afternoon at another's haunt for, regardless of the accuracy of my cast or the patience of my heart, all I managed to land were three rather puny perch who I returned to their families in the hope that they would make me a better breakfast in the fall. As the afternoon progressed and my luck with the local fish faded the oppression of the day's heat began to tell on my enjoyment of the bird's songs and squirrel's capers in the trees which ov'rstratched the brook. A certain laziness came across me and I surmised that an afternoon's brief nap on the rocks opposite was highly desirable. So, I retreated to the low bank but then contemplated my course to the opposite side. The walk would not be easy and would require careful picking my way through to brambles after the short distance to where the stream narrowed and I could step from rock to rock on my way across. This did not lend itself to me, neither did the idea of laying on the lumpy stones beneath my feet, so I surmised that my best course of action was to cross directly, invading the fishes domain by way of a short swim and easy climb up the roots of an old elm tree to the top of the rocks.

So, rather than again enclosing my feet in the rude leather of my boots, I instead freed my arms and torso from the covering of the white cotton shirt I was wearing and then I freed the rest of me from the encumbrance of the canvas breeches. I now walked into the water in the natural condition in which I was admitted to this world and joined all the animals in their nakedness, to frolic with the fish. I discovered the coolness and freedom of the water to be reinvigorating and took to swimming about, diving deep to the bottom, and checking on the haunt of my late pursuit. It was when I had come close to the sandy shore and was standing in water that barely reached above my knees that I noticed that there was an observer, a flash of auburn hair beneath a black bonnet, a rose coloured cheek among the leaves. I quickly averted my eye so as not to give the interloper reason to believe that she had been observed, this at first to avoid the embarrassment of a meeting with me in such a abnormal state but then, realizing that my audience was a young girl who had recently joined the kitchen staff, I found the idea of being observed, spied upon, in such a circumstance strangely alluring, so I decided to ignore the child and see how long she would remain. Thus, I made a good show of it, insuring that she was fully acquainted with all the normally covered aspects of my manhood. This, and just the thought that she may find the site of me in some way winsome caused in me the beginning of that liveliness of the middle parts which is usually reserved for more developed members of the female sex. I decided that the appropriate course was the one I had already planed so, after a few minutes where I pretended to be searching for something among the rocks, and after skipping two stones down the creek, I went back into the water and swam to the side opposite to pull myself out on the roots of the afore mentioned tree and settle on the large boulder to sun myself and, perhaps sleep.

A sidelong glance showed the girl to still be in the bushes on the far bank but moving, slowly to a point which I surmised would provide her with a better place for observation. Now my pulse quickened with the thought that she was actually finding excess curiosity at observing me and this, in turn, caused a greater rush of vivaciousness to that member which, in turn, caused me to have the greater desire. Thus, upon insuring to myself that the girl was settled, I laid upon a course which would give her much thought and wonderment as I endeavored to provide for myself with that pleasure which is normally reserved for the act of two. I found the entire circumstance so enthralling that I was soon relieved of that essence which is better spent in warmer, moister, places but can, of necessity, be expelled under less productive, and usually, less enjoyable, circumstances. I again checked and was assured that my little spy was still present, hidden among the undergrowth between two large moss covered rocks. And so, I lay and feigned to sleep, waiting for her to move. After at least ten minutes, I sensed a shift in the colors among the shrubbery and rocks and became convinced that she was attempting to creep off into the forest. I made to look like I had just noticed her and sat up, looking directly in her direction and called to her in a commanding voice to halt. At this, she froze, then followed my commands to come forth out of the bushes and show herself on the banks of the stream. She was reveled to be a girl, of maybe a dozen years, (she is, in fact, eleven) dressed in a simple, straight black dress, her full and unruly auburn hair being tucked under a dark blue bonnet with white lace. In the shadows of this hood was a bright face with full cheekbones, green eyes, an upturned nose and full pink lips. I stood up, making no real attempt to cover myself but I am sure that she, at a distance of about 20 paces, would have had a full inspection of my form had she not averted my eyes. I swam to the middle of the stream, that is to say, to that point where the water will reach my waist, where I stopped and stood up.

"Child, my britches are on yonder bush, I bid you bring them to the water's edge." With this command she quickly complied, then, "Turn around while I dress myself." She stood with her back to the water as I came out and, trying not to fall on the unsure footing of the beach stones, pulled my pants on, then laced them. I was now shirtless, but no longer in so natural a state as to cause a high degree of consternation in one of such tender years or fair a demeanor.

"What is your name, Child?" I enquired.

"Rachel, my Lord."

"And how comes that you may be spying on me rather than accomplishing your duties in the kitchens?"

"My mistress gave me leave to go, the days being so warm that we rose early to complete the baking before the heat. She said that I need employ myself until it was time to set the table for your tea. As the butler said that you had gone and he didn't expect you until the late afternoon, I decided that a walk in the fields and woods would do for me."

I stood in silence for several moments and inspected the girl. Except for the occasional stray leaf and the afore mentioned unruly hair, she was simply and appropriately dressed for a person of her station. I recalled that she was the daughter of a cottager whose house had burned the past Eastertide, leaving her a penniless orphan and that my father had taken her on as a charity. "So, is it proper for you to sneak through the bushes and covertly observe your lord at his leisure?" To this, I saw a rapid blush spreading from her neck to her face and up to her forehead. She still had not looked up, instead averting her eyes down and to the side.

"I'm sorry sir," was all she whispered and I observed a tear forming in her eye.

I reached down and lifted her chin, looking at her face while I softened my countenance. "Well, child, while you are here, you may as well help me in my endeavor. There is an especially large trout who haunts at the base of yonder rocks and I have been trying to arrange his attendance at my table for several weeks now, but he has been persistent in his refusals. The bait which I brung with me this day provided an early luncheon for several perch which were too puny for my attention and I returned to their mothers. I am now in need of morsels more acceptable to the trout pallet and I am wondering if you may assist me in locating some particularly fat and juicy crawfish."

It was astonishing to see the girl's face o'rtaken with a childish joy. "Ay, my Lord, yonder is a log which shelters many a crawfish," she said pointing. I could see that she was actually very familiar with the environs and, taking my hand, she led me down stream to point across a small sandy pool to an overhanging tree.

"Why, my dear! I am truly indebted to you for this intelligence," I said as I waded into the ankle deep water and approached the tree from a direction which would keep my shadow from frightening my quary. But, when I reached for a particularly large beast, he easily evaded my grasp, and after three more attempts and splashes, I heard the giggles of the child on the bank. "Oh Sir, you will have to be quicker than that!"

With some feigned irritation, I welcomed the child's assistance, if she was at all practiced at the art of capturing the unwilling crustaceans. She promptly sat down among the stones and began unlacing her shoes which, along with dark stockings, was left on the rocks. Then, rolling and tying her long skirt up at her knees, she waded in with me. She was obviously very practiced at capturing small animals because, with the first dart of her hand, she brought forth a large but somewhat unwilling crawfish. She didn't complain at all as I pried it loose from the skin between two of her fingers then hooked the creature through the carapace. After I had cast the hook again across to the base of the rock, standing in water to my thighs and wetting my pants, I called back to my audience standing on the shore, "I regret not having a pole, twine, and hook for you."

"Oh, my Lordship, I know naught of angling," she said.

"Well," I replied, "I will have to correct that omission in your education." I was silent for a few moments. "But, it is getting late and you should return to your mistress child."

The child looked at the sun, then sat down and started pulling on her stockings, "Yes, sire," she said, her voice and entire countenance falling as she was ordered back to her labour. I felt an instant of regret, the child was quite fetching and seemed to have an especially ebullient personality which made her company particularly agreeable.

"Rachel," she looked at me directly and with a little shock be my using her Christian name, "I will teach you how to fish the next opportunity I have to waste a day in the hunt for our finned friends."

"Thank you, my lord," she seemed to brighten. By now she had restored her apparel to its previous condition. "By your grace, sir, I will return to the kitchen." She curtsied summarily and scampered into the woods leaving me to catalog the remembrance of the afternoon and muse on my curious reaction to her presence and an even more irregular desire I had to expand on it. That evening, in bed, I again took that solo pleasure, this time thinking about my little auburn haired friend. I had had such a visceral reaction upon seeing her removing her stockings, I savored the remembrance of her rounded feet, thin ankles and smooth calves the backs of which were decorated with a spray of beige freckles on her pink skin. I recalled the feeling of her plump hand and little fingers and tried to reckon what their replacement of my own appendages would be. I drifted off, thinking of her auburn hair, lit by the dim light of the quarter moon, laying on my pillow.

The following day dawned as the previous, the promise of a clear sky was unquestionable and I soon decided on a course which would start as a repeat of the last. Upon completing my luncheon, about noon, I acquainted Wayne with my intention to spend the afternoon in the company of fish again. He inquired if I required the assistance of the warden and I said no, that the warden was being sent to a distant farm to assess the recent offspring of a certain beagle bitch who is well know as an expert at tracking the fox. As he was leaving, as an aside, I said, "Wayne, there is a certain girl working in the kitchens, Rachel is her name. I was talking to her yesterday and promised to teach how to fish. If the kitchen mistress can due without her labors today, she may join me at two."

"Very well, Sir," he said as he bowed out of the dining room. "I will speak to the cook."

And so it was, I was found sitting on the boulders I had feigned sleep on the day before, sitting with my feet hanging toward the water, a line falling 4 feet down to the realm of my trout, when I heard the sound of two bells in the church over a mile away. The air was still and the day's heat was beginning to approach the uncomfortable, I had already loosened my collar and removed my boots and it was with some keenness that I anticipated my consociate. It was only ten minutes later that she appeared on the bank opposite.

"Hello!" I called.

"I am here, my lord."

"Step across the rocks yonder," I called pointing, "and join me on my perch." I watched as she expertly skipped from stone to stone, then climbed the steep bank, gaining my rock as only one accustom to making her way through the wood could do. "I see that you are not unacquainted with these woods," I said. "Sit down next to me."

"Ay, sir. Before...." She paused, "before I came to live under your roof, I used to visit these woods often."

"Well, you are well met here," I said in a cheery voice, hoping to take her mind off of other subjects. "Bring yonder pole and I will teach ye angling." We spent the next minutes in discussion of how to judge the length of the string, the advantages of certain bates and where fish can be expected. I had brought a hunk of cheese as bait and we soon settled companionly down to await our luck. In less than five minutes, Rachel let out a holler as her pole seemed to take on a life of its own. With some amusing discussion, she retracted to pole, then grasped the line and landed a marvelous little perch, a pretty child of no more than 4 inches. Through laughs and shouts, we were able to disengage the little fellow from the hook and send him back to his watery environs, much relieved, I am sure. It was after we had rebaited and returned her hook to the water that I noticed the child fidgeting uncomfortably.

"Child, it is an uncommon hot day and do not let modesty stand in the way of your comfort. I bid you to remove your heavy shoes and set aside your bonnet," I said. She handed me her pole and, pulling her feet up from the side of the rock, began to unlace her shoes. As she worked, she pulled her skirt up to her knees and, oh, the wondrous flesh of the knees and thighs. With the hem bunched just above her knees and falling then over her thighs, there was reveled for me such a stretch of pink skin, this too ornamented with a spray of beige spots. She withdrew her first leg from its brown woolen coverings and, again, I marveled at the beauty of the child's feet and calves. I watched as she then unlaced her other shoe and removed her other stocking, the sight leaving me more breathless than any of the sweet working girls in London. She replace her legs over the ledge and made a show of putting her dress to rights, as little girls are taught by observation of their older sisters. Next she untied the ribbon at her throat and pulled her bonnet off, shaking out a mass of red waves, the sun reflecting in iridescent rainbows from her hair. Nowhere have I seen a greater glory as in the mane which now sparkled in the sunlight, liberated and shaken out for all nature to admire. Without thinking, the site of this glorious coiffure, I reached across and inserted my hand, pushing my fingers among the soft filaments and gently stroking the child's head.

"Oh sir, I do so enjoy being here," she said and, as my hand reached the far side of her head and traversed down her shoulder and back, she leaned against me, putting her head against my shoulder and I could feel a state of contentment pass through her. That is when I realized just how dismal this child's life must be, her family ripped from her to then come and live in a servant's quarters with no friends and no one her age, there to toil as an adult must toil and never indulge in the carefree times which all children seem to manage to enjoy. And so, we sat in silence for several minutes, a time punctuated only by my landing of the exact same perch and a certain whooping and laughing that went with his escape from my hand only to fall off the back of the rock into the undergrowth from where Rachel retrieved him and returned him to his rightful environment. It was when this shenanigan was complete and we were again settled that I suggested that, the fishing being a non- productive enterprise, and the day being unaccountable warm, that we may find refreshment in a swim.

"Oh, me lord, I know naught about swimming," she said.

"What, did not your friends and companions spend time in this very stream farther down, where it flows through the fields near the granary?" I asked, for I had often observed children playing in those waters.

"Nay sir, my father would have forbid such foolery. If we had had such time for recreation, it would have been spent in prayer."

"Oh, many times my brother and I spent at this very place, enjoying to coolness of the water. Come, we will leave our fishing poles here and move to yonder bank where the entrance to the water is more gentle. She started to pull her shoes back on and I told her to desist as she would just be removing them again and so, with bare feet and turned up hems, we made our way to the other side. Upon achieving our goal, the rocky shore of the sandbank, I removed my shirt and hung it on a convenient branch. Then, as I started to unbuckle my belt, said, "Come, Child, let loose your clothing for to return to the house with drenched attire would only cause Charlotte (the housekeeper) a great level of consternation." With this urging, my interest unbuttoned three buttons at the neck of her dress, then opened the top worked it over her frame to step out of it and lay it across the branches of the same shrub which held my shirt. She now stood before me in her shift, a straight sleeveless garment of muslin, closed at the top by a few buttons and, as its only ornament, a thin stripe of lace at the neckline. I had, by this time, unbuckled my belt and was in the process of pulling my breeches free of my legs. My partner took my action as direction and, after looking shyly around, lifted her shift free of her frame and lay it alongside her dress. We were now both completely free of manmade coverings, clothed only in that sublime garment which God had provided us. My breath came short when I beheld my friend, naked in the bright sun, a goddess next to the water.

I took her hand and led her into the water, at first stepping lightly due to the uneven footing provided by the stones, but then more surely as we gained the water for, near the shore, the stones gave way to a firm sandy shoal under the surface. Upon reaching a depth of water which reached my midsection, Rachel became alarmed, the water having reached her chest, so we stopped and, with reassuring words, I calmed her and had her take my hands, then lift her feet off the sand and make some preliminary kicking motions. Then, thinking demonstration would be a better form of instruction than description, I left her standing to show her the means with which I propelled myself through the water and kept my head out. I also demonstrated the technique of holding my breath and swimming under. Of course, I took this opportunity to approach my inamorata from the underneath. Regretfully, the action of the water against my eyes obscured my view to the most cursory, allowing me an impression of shapes and colors which did little but flair my imagination of the charms which were now hidden. Upon rising next to her, I took hold of her waist and held her in the water, her stomach down, her head craning out, and encouraged her in those movements which would allow her to swim. This allowed me a full inspection of her dorsal, a long expanse of pink flesh, her shoulders now covered by her hair, floating around her and stained a darker hue by the water. Her back is smooth, then the flair to the most desirable of twin orbs, soft mounds of almost white flesh, wonderfully rounded. Below these, stretched the reaches of her thighs, again a glorious expanse of white and smooth skin. A description here, must be presented of one of her more, to me, alluring characteristics, that being her freckles. There are few places where these lovely beige spots, this peppering of a darker hue, does not cover her. Her face and hands are, of course, gaily decorated by them, as are her shoulders down to the small of her back where they become sparse, leaving a smooth pink expanse until the area just below her knees where they start again.

Observing this thing of beauty, this gift of the greatest comeliness to pass into my hands, had the expected effect on my manly interests as I experienced that tightening in my loins and a certain giddiness of emotion. Setting her again on her feet, I said, "One can also swim on the back, in fact, if duration is of importance, to float on one's back is the most advantageous position." At this I fell back, spreading my arms high and that firm, but not yet fully armed, member was broken to the surface. As I floated I was pleased to watch her eye, as it dwelled on that part of my anatomy and a light blush filled her throat and face. Thus I back paddled for several moments, both demonstrating the advantages of swimming such and providing the girl with a full accounting of my less seen parts. Then I returned to her and said, "Lie on your back thus, I will support you as needed." I put my hand in the small of her back and, with my other against her upper chest, slowly and gently lay her into the water. Oh! What a beautiful sight met my eyes as I looked upon her, laying on her back, her arms outstretched, that I fear my powers of description will communicate but a paltry shade of the reality.

I have already described to you, my friend, her wondrous mane, that auburn crown and mantle which falls from her head half way to her waist. These locks, which in the sun are the colour of burnished copper, were now darkened by the water and spread over the surface to provide a frame for her extraordinary features in the way of a face. Her forehead is, in the form of her Celtic origins, broad and domed above thin eyebrows, again the colour of copper, which seem to vanish against the backdrop of pink skin. Her eyes, widely set, are green with small flecks of brown in them around, and they are clear and, as I was to learn, were usually laughing with some prank or private amusement. Below these are lovely full and rounded cheekbones. Her nose is smallish and upturned above full fleshy lips, themselves just a shade or two darker than her skin. She has white and straight teeth above what is actually a bit of a weak chin, small and fragile looking. Her skin is wonderfully soft and smooth, a light pink colour which has been sprayed with a very generous number of small beige freckles which only work to enhance her comeliness, giving her a girlish charm. Her shoulders are broad and strong, for a girl only a half score years old. She is not fat, but does possess a comfortable fullness which softens and rounds her shape. Her breasts show no sign of impending womanhood, a darker area, no larger than a h'penny, provide a cap to where her bosoms will be. Here too, in fact, over her entire frontal portion, are the ubiquitous freckles, spreading down her neck, marching across her chest and down her stomach. But, oh, the site of those parts below her stomach! First, however, her navel is an elliptical cavity, perfectly proportioned and lovely crafted. Then, below an expanse of softness, is the rise of that most female. A roundness lifts up, bisected by the cleft, the gates of her womanliness. These are full and rounded but still do not escape the freckles which seem to entirely coat her skin. The gates are large, momentarily pushing flesh of her thighs apart, then forcing them into two, smaller companion clefts, these being false promises of the wonders which hide between the folds of the main. From here extend her thighs, soft, round expanses not spared the full measure of beige spotting.

Rachel knew, she saw, mine taking her in and, I believe, she saw the admiration in my expression, for she looked up at me with an expression of gracious surrender, a look with which she promised herself to me so long as I found her gratifying. The moment was so keen that I lost my powers of speech as I looked upon her. Then I slowly set her back on her feet and, after a moment's silence during which an enormous tome was communicated, we started our swimming lesson again. This only lasted another ten minutes or so until we ended with my swimming with my interest holding on my back, her arms around my neck, her legs clamped around my hips. I swum to the roots of the tree holding upon the boulders we had earlier occupied and suggested we climb up to dry in the warmth of the sun. This she did, going before me and, as she did, I was rewarded with a glimpse of that secret place, the mound and cleft which extends down betwixt the woman's legs. But this, here, was not hidden by the normal covering of curls which hides this wonder from view. Here, it was proud and free, a beckoning reminder of future womanhood and also, a powerful elixir to my desire.

Soon, we were laying on the rock, Rachel on her back, myself next to her, on my side, propped up on one elbow, admiring her form. I do not remember the conversation, but I do remember reaching across her to caress her far areola, I remember my delight at seeing it harden and rise under my soft touches, I remember Rachel closing her eyes and emitting a long breath as a new and unique sense of passion was transmitted through her frame. I remember moving my fingers along that womanly cleft, to open the gates and caress the soft folds within. I remember her soft moan as I moved my finger along and touched the stiffening protuberance, that "little man in the boat," as she raised her knees and further spread her legs. I remember the soft smooth feeling of her skin against my part, it being stiff against her thigh. I remember her sharp intake of breath as I probed deeper in her, testing her maidenhead and her request to be gentle, to not cause her pain. I remember watching her shake as she was overcome with that pinnacle of climax, shuddering and moaning and I remember this pushing me and the sensation of my seminal emission against her thigh and side, my holding her leg between mine as I was overcome, spraying the white froth of my manliness in long stripes across her thigh, some reaching across her belly and a drop even landing on her arm opposite. More had been spread in lines across her womanly rise, to lay across that small furrow of her sex. Then, upon observing my seed spread over her most soft and warm flesh, she started to laugh.

"Oh! My lord. Ye put me in remembrance of an old ram which me father had. Er'ed be so overcome with passion for the ewe that e'd leave his seed sprayed on her hindquarters. That'd disgust me father to no end!"

We both rolled with laughter which I soon silence with my mouth on hers, then to feel her lips, then teeth, then tongue with mine as we embraced, arms and legs intertwined, her hair mixing with mine, falling over us both. Thus we spent the next considerable fraction of the afternoon, cuddled together on the rock by the stream, a happy couple learning each other's pleasures.

During a quiet moment, I was looking down on her, she was gazing back up with abandon, knowing the intense pleasure which her sight gave me. Those gates to her womanhood, the rise and perfect shape of the heart with the crease was just too much of a temptress for me and I leaned down, my hair free and falling on her hips, and kissed those other lips. In so doing, I released an heretofore unknown drive to lick, to taste, to suck, to consume. I believe it was the remarkable smoothness and cleanness of her pre- pubescent construction, the loveliness of a woman's charms without the covering of fur, which drove me. I know not what, but the perfect smoothness and slickness of these parts to my tongue, the subtle scent and light taste drove me. I felt her hands in my hair, pushing me and directing me as she pressed herself up against my face, her knees bent, one of her feet flat on the rock under my left shoulder, her other looped over my arm and pushing into the rock next to my ribs. Her desire reached an incredible crescendo as she positively yelled, a loud moan which filled the woods, I'm sure drawing the attention of many of the creatures which were near, witnessing our passion. With this she also pressed me against her, her parts opened up fully, my tongue deep in that place which is normally the home for other parts of a man.

Now she calmed, making low squeeking noises as she melted against the stone. I sat up on my knees, between her legs, and surveyed the goddess creature laying there, her face still flush, her nipples rising as small cones above the flat chest, the ribs heaving to catch her breath, the open lips, fully exposing the folds and mounds between, now glistening with her wetness and my saliva. She looked down at me and giggled, then looked lower and, seeing my staff, standing tall out from my loins, bouncing with my heart, it seemed a different personae swept over her face.

She sat up, then reached out and grasped me, sliding her behind under her so she could sit. Now she grabbed me with both hands and looked straight at the unsheathed head. With a wicked smile, she looked up at me and, brushing her hair back, she leaned forward and admitted my manhood into her mouth. Oh! the exquisite sensation of the wetness and mix of feelings within. The hard but smooth slickness of her pallet, the roughness of her tongue, the gentle scraping of her teeth, the firm lines of pressure from her lips! She worked me in and out, sucking me deep into her, pushing my bulb against the back of her throat as I knelt between her knees. Several times she licked the length of my shaft, once kissing and then sucking those pendulous additions below, then to return to the sucking and pistoning of my manhood in her mouth.

As my passion grew, I warned her of the impending explosion, but this only seemed to make her redouble her efforts, pulling me repeatedly into her oral cavity, putting an almost painful vacuum on my most sensitive parts. She grunted when my first splash of seed flooded into her mouth, some leaking around her fastened lips. As more of me flowed out, I could feel her hungrily swallowing my manly effusion. Each movement of her mouth was met with another emission of my spore. Then, as my flow lessoned, she continued her vacuum, pulling the last of my seminal fluids from me, causing my intense pleasure to even pass that boundary to where it becomes pain. As I fell from my apogee of passion, I sank back onto my heals, panting. She sat, her knees wide, one hand supporting her behind, the other wiping a small remaining drop of my sperm from her chin. Then she laughed ruefully, "My sire, ye seem most overcome."

With this, I sprung forward and we rolled in a laughing, tickling, warming embrace which soon calmed to a lovely meeting, she laying atop me, her head tucked under my chin, my arm across her back. One of her legs extended down between mine, my now spent member comfortable against her hip, her sex on my hip, her other leg folding down, her knee on the stone which made our bed. She was soon sleeping and I even dozed softly for a few minutes until the hard rock began to press into certain places. I resisted the desire to move, allowing my lover a comfortable twenty minutes sleep before I had to move.

With her awakening, we talked. I questioned her about her life on my estate and her labors. She seemed reluctant to talk of her coworkers or the conditions of her employment other than to express gratitude for my family's indulgence of an orphaned girl who could have just as well been turned out onto the streets of the local village. We talked of her life before coming into my care and, again, she described a somewhat bleak time of work on a sheep farm, her mother's preoccupation with her spiritual salvation denying her the companionship of her peers on neighboring farms. Her mother had died of a fever around the harvest time last year and that had left her to make a home for her widowed pa.

This brought to light certain facts which I had, in the back of my mind, suspected, that being that she was somewhat acquainted previously with the characters of a man's sex. Although she was subtle in her intimation, and seemed to fear that the revelation would lesson my desire for her, the story can be surmised by certain off hand comments, occasional slips of information, that I can now piece together. Not all this information was received on this occasion, but over a time of two weeks during which we spent many private hours.

Her father had taken to attending the tavern in the village on occasion and would return without the full control of his faculties. Once, he returned with a lass who also occasioned the establishment (from her description, I suspect her the same girl who had bedded me not two weeks earlier) and Rachel, fining sleep, had witnessed their frolicking. Not long after, her father had also apparently requested and instructed Rachel in the relief of his masculine desires, this done in her bed, he laying on his back and her kneeling next to him. Apparently, at these times, neither of them had fully disrobed and he never attempted to provide to her a return of the service which he, gently, requested. Rachel came to both anticipate these times, wanting to please her father, and feel saddened because, for days afterward, her would be somewhat distant.

As the low'ring sun made the shadows of trees on the opposite bank fall over us, my darling Rachel remembered her obligation to the mistress of the kitchens and bade me farewell, walking as a wood sprite to the stepping stones, carrying her shoes, to the other shore where I, with great disappointment, watched her don her garments. Then, with the liveliness which I have come to love beyond distraction, she blew me a kiss and, giggling, ran off through the wood, leaving me to ponder the events of the afternoon and come to realize that I had been hooked, more securely than any trout which I may desire.

That evening, she stood at the doorway to the kitchen as I took my dinner. Oh, how I wished I could have invited her to sit with me! Upon finishing the meal of mutton chops and boiled potatoes, I asked the servant to insure that I was supplied with brandy in my study. To this she assented and, going ahead of me, was filling a glass from the decanter as I entered, lighting a cigar from the mantel in the parlor. My young lover came to me, cherishing the crystal stem in her hands, and presented me with my aperitif with a slight curtsy and large eyes. I took the glass and thanked her, holding her gaze longer than is usual, and bade her to bring my lap desk and quill as I sat. Then, once settled, I continued with a tedious letter to my aunt. Rachel asked her leisure to return to the kitchen but, insuring that there was no one around to hear, I called her near. "Rachel, I have found myself captivated," I whispered. "For these hours, I have thought naught but to have dwelled on you. In you I am entrap'd! Ye hath turned me, I have spent the last several years avoiding love, but you have broken me!" Her face showed an expression of confusion and alarm. "I must have your love, your continence or I am nothing!"

"Sir!" she responded. "I am your servant, me pa was a sheep farmer on your estate! I am too modest a person to give justice to your station."

"My station be damned!" I raised my voice, her face shewed alarm. "What is my station if I can't love on one as wondrous as you? If ye father was but a sheep farmer, he be the god of all such! I love you! I care naught for sheep or station!"

Rachel stood in shock, our eyes locked. "If you choose, I beg ye, tonight, make your way to my chambers. I promise, this night, ye are my heart." We were silent for over a minute as I considered these impromptu expressions which seemed to come from reaches of my soul I did not know. I watched as these thoughts ran through her mind and a certain softening of expression o'took her. "Do not use a candle, as this will alarm the others, but come, please! I ask, I beg, not as your Master, but as a man who awaits your interest. Come, Come! When the clock beats out the eleventh hour, if ye be not at my door, I will be a broken man!"

"My lord," she spoke in a hushed voice, "I am a kitchen worker, I am naught to you, plainly, ye can't love me?"

"Ah," I locked her in my gaze, grasping her collar, "you are the most captivating creature in God's creation. My heart has found new meaning in your pleasure. My estate is naught to my passion for you. You must come, or I be more retched than can be imagined! The master is the slave, my very soul stands on your disgression. Come to me tonight! Or my passion for all that is lovely will wane from my life!"

At this, the child was silent, a considering expression on her face. I pulled her to me and kissed her, feeling her soften, feeling her remembrance of the afternoon's passions. "As the quarter moon reached the heights, I will come, my lord." Then, tearing herself from my grasp, she ran from the room.

It was with great agitation that I suffered the hours of that eve. In the looking glass I considered the face which had been there for the past score and two years. I yelled to my manservant for a warm basin of water and a razor and cleaned that face. Then I ordered my bed linens changed and the lamp filled with fresh and scented spermaceti. Then, in a rage of anticipation, I ordered them all out of my rooms, naught to return until the cock crowed. A fresh decanter of water and claret sat near as I attempted, unsuccessfully, to pay proper attention to a book. Then, when the chimes of Winchester sounded out the half hour after ten o'clock, I lowered the light and waited in the dark, observing the quarter moon skirting puffy clouds which continued to march from the south on a breeze that lifted the curtains with a warm breath.

I was watching the King of the Roman pantheon being brushed by the branches of a large elm when there came a small rapping at my door. I near tore the door from its portal, the act startling Rachel. She stood, wearing only a shift, her hair free around her shoulders. I grasped her hand and pulled her in, crossing mine own with the finger of my other hand, then gently closed the door. Then she was in my arms, our mouths merged, our tongues in fierce sword play. I felt her body against mine, small but firm, her arms traced up my back. After an interval which provided me with a glimpse of rapture, I pushed her away, then pulled my shirt over my head. Then we were again in each others arms but, now, I explored down her back to feel the firm round place. I slowly gathered the fabric of her shift up, till my fingertips brushed the soft skin. With this, my own male body came up betwixt us, pressing against her stomach through the fabric of our coverings. I pushed her back, then lifted the shift free of her, taking her in with the grays, blacks, and silvers which the moon would provide. Next I stepped out of mine own garment and then sat her on the settee which faced the window. In the dim light of the waxing moon she appeared a goddess of the night, lay before me, her arms at her sides, her hips on the edge of the seat, her legs slightly parted, that most perfect slotted aperture disappearing in the darkness between her thighs.

I knelt at her feet and slowly parted her knees, opening those parts for me. With my tongue, I traced the rise of her sex, then moved along her cleft, pushing deeper to pass over the firm button and taste her soft, mild womanly scents. With this, a sigh escaped her, almost a moan as she put her hands on my head, fingers tracing through my hair. As her desires grew, so I increased my efforts, pushing my tongue inside her woman's place. Her hands were roughly massaging my scalp when she was overcome, a low cry escaping her as she lifted feet free and pulled my hair.

Now I straightened up and moved in to brush my unsheathed bulb along that furrow, parting the lips and pressing in. With a sharp intake of breath she asked I not hurt her, but take her gradually. I could not bring upon myself any desire which would hurt this child, so I moved slowly, carefully moving inside her. But, alas, the friction was too great for her not to feel a discomfort and I was soon to despair of my desires when I realized the solution. Taking some of the fine whale oil from the lamp, I dribbled some down her and she giggled with the feeling. Then, oh wonders, I slid into her. I felt the small give and she gasped as her maidenhead gave up its defense of her virginity, then half my shaft, a full four inches, sank into this child become woman. With that, I started a slow rhythmic thrusting, moving myself in and out of her as her raised her hips to meet me, her thighs against my ribs, her feet in the air behind me. For a time she crossed her feet behind my back, holding me to her, and lifted up, kissing my neck. She leaned forward, pushing me back until I landed, prone on the floor with her in the dominant position, kneeling astride mine own hips. She rocked, impaling herself on me, sometimes covering my face with her kisses, sometimes lifting up and looking at me, her face obscured in the shadow of her mane which fell over my face, neck and chest. When, in ecstasy, she threw her head back I glimpsed the veins of her neck tracing a fair line down her throat. With an animal call her body was shaken, her Venus passage becoming as a fist grasping me. At the same moment, my essence filled her, flowing deeply into her child-womb and filling those cavities of love.

She lay atop me, panting as a thoroughbred after a race, then gently kissing me again. As we lay, our perspiration a sheen in the moonlight, the breeze became cool against us and I carried her to my bed where, under the covers, we wrapped our bodies around each other and fell to sleep.

I awoke to the sound of my chamber door being opened as Wayne entered. "Beg your pardon, Lord, it be past eight o'clock and ye..." he stopped mid sentence when he saw the red hair mixed with mine own chestnut, the small freckled face, still relaxed with sleep in the crook of my neck.

"Excuse me, sir. I did not know...., by your leave sir." He turned toward the door.

"Wayne," I called. He stopped, not turning around. "I know I can depend on your disgression."

He turned, "Of course, sir," he said, looking into Rachel's eyes, who had now stirred with a shock. "But, I cannot be certain of the other house staff."

"Of course, Wayne. I hope you can come up with some sort of excuse to explain her absence from the kitchen this morning."

"I will think of something," he replied with a small smile. "With your permission, I will return in five minutes to escort her to her quarters."

"Thank you, Wayne."

Then he addressed my young lover, "Rachel," he searched the room with his eyes for her clothes, only finding the white shift on the floor, "I suggest you wrap yourself in a blanket, I will tell the others I found you sleeping in the attic and that I had observed you sleepwalking the past evening."

"Thank you, sir," she said.

With that, Wayne departed and, after some giggles and more kisses, Rachel left my bed to dress and await my butler.

During the day, the weather changed. With a great booming and flashes of lightning, the wind backed to the north and a great rain poured down to fill the land with water. Soon, the fields were running with water between the rows of corn and potatoes, the wheat, still green, was beaten down, cows stood uncomfortably in the wet. During the day, the temperature dropped and, by evening, fires had been lit in the fireplaces and the maids had pulled blankets off the shelves in wardrobes. Most of us were obliged to change from cotton to wool shirts and pants. By late in the evening, the cool dampness had crept through the house, making all seem clammy. I climbed into my bed that night, damning the damp bedclothes and hoping that my small lover would join me to help warm the covers, despite the condition that I had not particularly invited her.

I was awakened when I felt her light form slipping next to me, her arms reaching across my back and around my neck, her feet cold against my legs. I rolled over to face her and, without a word, our mouths met and our bodies melted together. Soon we had worked our nightclothing off of us and our combined heat made for a warm environ. It was very dark, the lamp being extinguished, so our only communication was by feel, small laughs and giggles, muffled sighs and groans. At one point, she bent down and took me in her mouth but I pulled her away before I was spent. For a time we lay as spoons, my member hard against her behind and lower back as I caressed her small nipples and probed her cleft. Then I pushed her onto her stomach and climbed behind her. Lying on top of her, I first pushed my staff between her and the bed, her having spread her legs, now her knees beside mine. I pulled back and my lover reached under herself and guided me to the gates.

Oh, the marvelous feeling as I slid into her, she pushing her behind up against me to meet my gentle thrusts. With one hand, I caressed her sex, feeling myself sliding in and out of her as I paid special attention to the exquisitely sensitive part of the female anatomy, my other arm was between her chest and the bed, lifting some of my weight from her tiny frame. She lay, her gasps meeting my thrusts, pushing back harder against me as both our passions grew. With a loud groan from her and a sharp gasp escaping from me, I filled her, feeling her perspiration spreading as her body shook.

As we relaxed in the aftermath, me laying beside her, she still on her stomach, she said, "Oh, sir, ye are incredible."

"I find you the most astonishing creature," I responded.

We kept a warm night under the blankets as the unaccountably cool July rain fell, waking in the dim morning, Rachel running off to meet her responsibilities. Rachel joined me in my bed every night for the next fortnight, until my father arrived from his travels in Scotland.

The situation came to a crux only two days after the old man's arrival. While Rachel and I redoubled our efforts to be discreet, and my rooms are on a different floor from my father's suite, word of our liaison reached his ears quickly, as I knew it must eventually do. I was still surprised at how quickly I was confronted.

I was called into the library where the old man usually spends his mid-mornings attending to the correspondence. As I entered, I expected to be questioned on some matter dealing with the administration of the farm, a subject which he scrutinizes closely but rarely finds more than trivial fault with. Instead, he standing at the mantel, myself just having closed the door, I knew from his countenance that the interview would be awkward.

"John," he paused for effect, "I have heard rumors that you are involved in some dalliance with a member of the household staff."

With rising anxiety I responded, "Yes sir." There was no point in denying it.

"You know that that will not due. It is beneath your station and will degrade the discipline of the staff if you do that."

I remained silent.

"Further, should there be any issue from this, it could threaten the orderly inheritance." Again he paused for effect and thought. "I have no qualms with your capering about London with your friends, that is a young man's prerogative, however, the domestics are out of bounds!"

I could see that he was working himself up, a thing that he, unfortunately, has a talent for. This has occasionally caused him some embarrassment in the House of Lords but can be a useful trait in other circumstance. I still remained silent. Now, however, I came to the realization that he did not know the unique nature of the relationship.

"You are to break off this relationship immediately, John. And to insure this, I intend to interview your paramour and warn her that, should this continue, she will have to find other accommodation."

This concerned my greatly. I had assumed, at first, that I could just leave for a summer vacation until I could, without my father's knowledge, call for Rachel to join my small staff in London, but now that father was going to become acquainted with the details....

"Oh sir," I said, "That will not be necessary..." I started.

"Nonsense! If you can't be trusted to avoid such entrapments the responsibility falls to me!" he almost yelled as he rang for Wayne. In a way, it was almost amusing to watch him.

"Wayne," he said as my old friend appeared at the door (he must have been listening in the hall), "I wish to see a member of the staff, I believe her name is Rachel."

"Very well, sir," Wayne said as he backed out of the room. He gave me a most peculiar look, a mixture of pity and amusement.

We stood in silence until I heard the sound of small feet running down the hall from the direction of the kitchen. There came a light tapping at the door.

"Come in!" my father positively roared, spinning from the mantel to face the door.

Rachel slowly opened the door and stepped through. She went white when she saw me, then remembered herself and curtsied, "You called for me, my lord?"

My father was positively apoplectic, his mouth was working but just some strangling noised came. He looked from her to me (I met his eye) then back to Rachel.

I saw control overcome his momentary rage and his face calmed. Then, in a quiet, almost friendly voice, a voice appropriate for addressing a child he said, "My dear, your name is Rachel?"

"Yes sir."

"And, my dear, is there anyone else on the staff who goes by the same name?"

"Not that I know, sir."

My father straightened and, after another long pause during which the click-click-clicking of the clock could be heard, he said, "That is very well, my dear. You may return to your duties."

As she closed the door, Rachel had a heartbreaking look on her face, a tear was running down her cheek. The door latched and we heard her footsteps quickly departing down the hall.

Without looking up, my father started, "In all my years, I have never...." We stood in silence for another minute. "You will never see that child again, do you understand?"

I awaited my fate, "Yes sir."

More silence, then he moved to his desk, sat down and started furiously writing. "I am sending you to take charge of my estates in Bombay, you will leave this afternoon." More writing. "If you cannot behave in a civilized manner, I will insure you are not among the civilized people."

A cold chill clamped around me, "Father!..." He looked at me, "Be glad I don't send you to the savage frontier of America, my boy."

He continued writing. "I will draw up the appropriate papers, you must go pack." With this I was dismissed. As I opened the door, he said, "And John, you will not see her again."

"Yes sir." I walked out and up the stairs. That was the last I have seen of my father, and I suspect it was the last I will ever see of him.

And so, my dearest friend, that is the tail of my disgrace, if you should describe it as such. For me, however, it is not a disgrace to have fallen in love, regardless of the station and, in this unique case, the age of the interest. It was a sad trip from Derby down to the London docks and I waited only two days, a time in which I was busy acquiring items I would need for the trip and upon my arrival and making certain arrangements with my bankers to insure that my personal inheritance from my Grandmother would be at my disposal with no complications. I acquired the appropriate letters of credit for banks in India and the required letters of introduction to personages there who I will have to count upon.

Then, just before my sailing, I received a note from Wayne, my old friend and confidant on the household staff, informing me that, as my father had expected, the hullabaloo had caused certain strains among the staff, a circumstance which Rachel, at her tender age, was not equipped to handle and that he, upon his own initiative, had sent her to the dairy to work. He related that she was heartbroken and glum but he expected that, with the increased freedom which that situation would provide her, she would recover and, in a few years time, settle into the comfortable life of a tenant farmer's wife. Frankly, my friend, the idea made my blood run cold. Rachel's vivacity and zest will never allow her to be happy in such a mundane life. It is her excitement and forthrightness which has captivated me. She will never willing submit to a life which requires her to remain in a dull grinding routine. It is just this character in her which has captivated me, not withstanding her other considerable charms which far surpass, for me, every other member of the female sex.

Now, my dearest friend, now that I have acquainted you with my circumstance, I must ask, I positively beg, that you enter into a conspiracy with me. With this letter I am enclosing two more. I ask you to seek out my love and set her on a course which will follow mine so she, if she chooses, may join me.

The first is a letter of introduction which will allow you to draw on such funds which are required to provide Rachel with transport and outfit for Bombay. Request an interview with Mr. B________ and C________ & Son and you will find him most obliging. The second letter is to my most darling Rachel, begging her to join me. You will have to read this to her, as she doesn't know letters. Finally, should you need direction in this endeavor, you may rely on my friend and servant Wayne at my father's house, however, it would be best if you availed yourself of his services as a last resort.

My friend, I have laid upon you a heavy burden. The charms and fortunes of love do make a twisting path through our world and I have asked you to kindly work to bring mine and my lovers to a junction. I await you word.

--John

* * *

London, December 4, 1773

John,

I am sending this short correspondence via fast packet to Alexandria, then across the Sinai to the Arabian Sea, in the hope that it will meet you upon your arrival in Bombay.

I am overjoyed to acquaint you with the success of our conspiracy as I just waved off your lovely Rachel as her ship made off down the Thames with this morning's tide. I must say, she is a most precocious and captivating child and I can full understand your passion for her.

I met her in a field where she was attending to a mother cow and her half grown calf, she looking curiously at me as I alighted from my coach and approached her. I introduce myself and when I told her that I brought news from you, she flushed white, immediately struggling to suppress a torrent of tears. I told her I had your letter and asked if she would want me to read it, to which she nervously assented.

I had not finished the first paragraph before she fell to her knees, weeping and upon finishing she, without looking at me, ran toward my coach like deer escaping the wolf. Before entering, leaving me to gape after her, she called back, "Please Sir, make haste!"

"But child," I said as I approached her (she was already inside, looking out the doorway), "what of your possessions?"

"My things be damned!" she yelled. I was in fear she would strike me. "May I never see this place again. It is not suited for Hell!" I could see by her determined expression and stance that there would be no dissuading her, so I simply signaled the driver and we were off.

She is traveling on the Crimson Knight, a full ship of three masts, for Calcut, via the Cape of Good Hope, Mombassa, and Bombay. She is under the protection of a Miss G______ who is traveling Calcut to take the position of tutor on some estate there. I have asked that she begin Rachel's education on the trip.

My friend, I hope that this news will be well met and I wish you the best of luck in your endeavors in that far place. I also wish you the greatest happiness with your darling Rachel. I can truly see that, in spite of her youth, she is an excellent match for you and, in two or three years time when you can legally marry, please send me word of the date as I have always wanted to see India.

--Andrew