I turned to Bentley, who was watching me appraising this young man in his new bareness. 'You know, Bentley...' I said, over my shoulder. 'I wonder if I might commission you to discover a lady in the neighbourhood who would be able to do a similar job on my person. I feel that my privy parts would benefit from attentions of this nature.'
My own intimate areas had never been an issue to me seeing as when I married Lord FitzWilliam his attentions were very little focussed on them. But now that my life had changed and there were young men around the place, I felt that, for my own personal contentment, a more visually appealing privy area would be desirable.
'Of course, my lady,' said Bentley. 'But, if I may be so bold, my lady, there is no service I would not personally be willing to perform. If my lady should find that acceptable to her.'
My sex gave a little flutter at the very idea of Bentley doing to me what I had just done to young Stephenson and my hand, almost like an automaton, reached out towards Stephenson's member at the thought of it. I grasped his penis, then anointed it with a little of the oil that Bentley had brought with the soap, and started to manipulate it, rubbing the oil in his testicles, in the denuded pubic area, in the shaft of his penis and, finally, and to most effect, the head.
As I glided my hand over the knob of this young penis, Stephenson gave a shudder and, looking up, I could see his teeth bite his lip in rapture so I continued, moving my gentle hand over that hard flesh, watching the effect of that movement in the beautiful young man's face and his quivering lithe body. After just a couple of minutes of this exquisite torture, he said, 'Excuse me, my lady, would it please you for me to complete now?'
The look upon his face seemed to indicate that resistance would be, if not useless, then at least difficult and so I said, 'You may release, Stephenson...' at which a fountain of hot white sperm, entirely creamy slid from the eye of his penis, down my hand and onto my arm. I could feel the young man's body shuddering and had my other hand to the part under his testicles through which the molten liquid was surely pumping, such was the feeling my hand detected there.
Having determined to taste the semen of all my young employees -- I felt to taste their essence was to own them a little more -- I put my hand to my mouth and, with Stephenson's eyes still on mine (the poor lad had not dared to break this connexion), put his sperm to my mouth. How sweet it tasted! Where Bentley's had had a saltiness, this was entirely fondant, which suits my tastes entirely so I licked the entire load from my hand and arm with obvious relish.
Shame had come over the young lad, still naked on the edge of the tub, his penis now visibly deflating before me, and he broke eye contact and turned his head downward. Bentley, as professional as always, noticed this change and in order to diminish any awkwardness that could result from it, said, 'Very well, Stephenson. You have performed well for my lady. Now clean up yourself -- you have a tub before you -- and then recruit one of your colleagues to use the water, as it is still warm. They will not mind a little of your outpourings in the water... especially if you fail to mention it to them.' With this he gave me a little conspiratorial smile. Such a naughty man!
'And now my lady, if my offer of assistance was palatable to my lady, we could retire to your personal quarters and proceed with the task,' said Bentley, the smallest of smiles playing around his lips.
'An excellent idea,' I replied, regaining my feet with his aid from my position at the side of the tub. 'Please ask Sarah to join us in my rooms within this ten minutes, where I shall receive you.' It is true that I am determined to live according to my own rules at Heaton but a little propriety in terms of having a lady present at all times I felt would safeguard my reputation. Not that my reputation was at the forefront of my priorities at this point.
I regained my rooms and, after a moment or so, Sarah joined me, having come away from her task of blanching my lace and generally keeping my dresses in good repair. 'I was told by one of the... young men that I was needed, Ma'am,' she said with a perfunctory curtsey.
'Yes, Sarah,' I replied from the height of my dignity: I did not want to allow Sarah to think her opinion of anything I may do would have any impact upon me. 'Bentley is coming to perform a personal service for me and I thought it best to have you present.'
A lascivious look briefly crossed the old woman's face before she checked herself and, returning to her usual formality, replied, 'Of course, my lady. I will sit here with a little bit of sewing work and you will not even know I am present.'
That situation seemed acceptable to me and Sarah immediately took a stool on the far side of my bed to the window, while I took my chair at my dressing table, the one that looked out over the grounds towards the trees and waited for the knock at my door, a knock which came within moments.
'Yes, Bentley,' I said as he came in.
'I have brought some articles that will assist me in the job at hand,' he said with a smile that was difficult to read. On a tray he was carrying I could see a bowl of water, clearly warm from the wisp of steam that was rising from it, the razor that we had but presently used on young Stephenson, a smaller bowl of hard soap and a small tub of what looked like balm or ointment. There was also a soft-bristle brush of the kind the late Lord FitzWilliam had used for shaving.
Spotting Sarah at her needlework, he gave a little jump but, looking at me, saw my close-eyed nod and realised that she was there at my behest and was welcome to stay.
'As far as positions are concerned, my lady,' he said, 'I think this seat would be ideal, especially if I arrange these two little stools by the front legs for my lady's feet...' He had brought a pair of stepping stools, which I use to climb into my prodigious high bed, towards the chair and put them either side. Kneeling in front of me, he took one foot in his hands and put it on the first stool, then the other for the other stool, which, of course meant, he was now kneeling between my outstretched legs.
'Is that quite comfortable for my lady?' he enquired to which I replied that it was.
With his tray of requisites on the floor in front of him, slightly under my chair, he took the hem of my gown and simply said, 'With my lady's permission...' and lifted it to my waist. He then took my petticoats and lifted them in a similar fashion until they were in my lap. Now before him were my widened thighs in fine linen stockings that stopped just above my knee and undergarments, which, without ceremony, he caught by the hem and, requiring me to lift myself from the chair temporarily, pull down, catching my knees together so they could slide down onto one ankle.
My privy parts had never been looked at with any interest in my life and I must own that I was concerned that such a sight might not be pleasing to any man but, by the expression on Bentley's beautiful young face, there was much to be admired under my skirt. He took the soft-bristle brush, dipped it in the warm water and ran it over the entire area around my most private place. The feeling was so delicious I bethought for a moment I may not be equal to it and may lose my senses but such was the delicacy of Bentley that I remained conscious to enjoy the experience.
I darted an eye over to Sarah and could see her struggling to keep her eyes on her needlework when a spectacle such as this was taking place just feet away. I blushed a little but returned my gaze to Bentley, whose eyes were intent on my sex. Having moistened the entire area, he dipped the brush in the tub of hard soap and by dabbing and stirring, soon worked up quite a lather, with which he coated the soft-bristle brush.
The next sensation I felt was the brush again, this time softer and creamier as it circled my sex -- top, side, bottom, side -- Bentley's focus leaving the area only every so often to read the expression on my face, an expression I imagine to have been somewhere between ecstasy and unconsciousness.
With the whole area now thoroughly frothy, he took the blade, and wiping it on a linen cloth tucked at his waist, took it under my skirt. I felt the blade and heard it as it scraped gently across the area around my no doubt gaping sex. He leaned in for a closer view of his work, so close I could feel his breath between my thighs, a sensation that led to a melting feeling, and continued to peck with the razor at odd hairs. I wondered if any visible juice was visible to Bentley and assumed, in an instant, that there was as I felt a finger swipe from the bottom to the top of my sex, a movement that provoked a deep shudder down there. I saw Bentley smile at the recognition of it and, looking down to his breeches between my legs, could see that familiar penis standing straight up with the excitement he was experiencing from his task, a sight that gave me another melting feeling between my legs.
After a few moments of back and forth, from the bowl of foam to the bowl of water to my sex, Bentley sat back on his knees, looked appraisingly between my thighs and said, 'My lady looks beautiful...' And taking a small looking glass from my dressing table, angled it between my legs so that I could admire his handiwork. I had never witnessed my own sex, in any state, before and was delighted at what I saw. I may be a woman in her 60s but having been left largely untroubled by sex and having never given birth, what I saw was a tidy little sight, the lips plump and well-formed and, with all hair having been removed, a sight that suggested youth and freshness.
Bentley clearly liked the sight before him as I felt him clutch his own groin, out of sight of Sarah, and give it a couple of prodigious squeezes. Then, with a perfunctory 'with my lady's permission...' but without waiting for that permission to be granted, his head disappeared between my thighs and my next sensation was of something soft and muscular licking the length of my slit.
I brought the petticoats up further and looked down to see Bentley's handsome face between my thighs, his red tongue darting and licking and savouring as sensation after sensation flooded over my entire body. I could feel the bristles of his ever-growing beard on the soft flesh between my thighs, the heat of his breath inside of me and that tongue, searching and slurping and occasionally brushing against a particularly sensitive spot at the top of my gash. This brushing, used economically, was the apex of my enjoyment and made me throw my head back physically until, at last, a wave such as I have never experienced before flooded my entire body as Bentley's tongue lapped me like a cat lapping cream. And then I was spent.
Bentley emerged, his face coated in sweat and stickiness from my sex, a smile on his face. 'I hope my lady enjoyed the experience,' he said, reaching back under my skirts to apply the balm from his tray to my still quivering quim. Then he stood, his erect penis clearly visible in the breeches, something he sought to rearrange before Sarah saw it. But he was late in this: she had already seen everything that had passed between us, including the erection in the breeches.
'If there's nothing else, my lady...' said Bentley, collecting his tray.
'That will be all,' I replied, rearranging my clothing, cognisant of the fact I now had no undergarments and the whole area of my sex felt smooth and naked, and, attempting an equanimity and poise that eluded me in this blissful state after what was clearly a breakthrough for me, I suggested the door to him with my eyes. He quit the room with one last look and smile sent in my direction.
'Well, Sarah...' I began, looking at my maid who had stood and was approaching me. 'What do you think of that?'
'I think my lady is the luckiest woman in all the county,' she said to me, beaming.
My own intimate areas had never been an issue to me seeing as when I married Lord FitzWilliam his attentions were very little focussed on them. But now that my life had changed and there were young men around the place, I felt that, for my own personal contentment, a more visually appealing privy area would be desirable.
'Of course, my lady,' said Bentley. 'But, if I may be so bold, my lady, there is no service I would not personally be willing to perform. If my lady should find that acceptable to her.'
My sex gave a little flutter at the very idea of Bentley doing to me what I had just done to young Stephenson and my hand, almost like an automaton, reached out towards Stephenson's member at the thought of it. I grasped his penis, then anointed it with a little of the oil that Bentley had brought with the soap, and started to manipulate it, rubbing the oil in his testicles, in the denuded pubic area, in the shaft of his penis and, finally, and to most effect, the head.
As I glided my hand over the knob of this young penis, Stephenson gave a shudder and, looking up, I could see his teeth bite his lip in rapture so I continued, moving my gentle hand over that hard flesh, watching the effect of that movement in the beautiful young man's face and his quivering lithe body. After just a couple of minutes of this exquisite torture, he said, 'Excuse me, my lady, would it please you for me to complete now?'
The look upon his face seemed to indicate that resistance would be, if not useless, then at least difficult and so I said, 'You may release, Stephenson...' at which a fountain of hot white sperm, entirely creamy slid from the eye of his penis, down my hand and onto my arm. I could feel the young man's body shuddering and had my other hand to the part under his testicles through which the molten liquid was surely pumping, such was the feeling my hand detected there.
Having determined to taste the semen of all my young employees -- I felt to taste their essence was to own them a little more -- I put my hand to my mouth and, with Stephenson's eyes still on mine (the poor lad had not dared to break this connexion), put his sperm to my mouth. How sweet it tasted! Where Bentley's had had a saltiness, this was entirely fondant, which suits my tastes entirely so I licked the entire load from my hand and arm with obvious relish.
Shame had come over the young lad, still naked on the edge of the tub, his penis now visibly deflating before me, and he broke eye contact and turned his head downward. Bentley, as professional as always, noticed this change and in order to diminish any awkwardness that could result from it, said, 'Very well, Stephenson. You have performed well for my lady. Now clean up yourself -- you have a tub before you -- and then recruit one of your colleagues to use the water, as it is still warm. They will not mind a little of your outpourings in the water... especially if you fail to mention it to them.' With this he gave me a little conspiratorial smile. Such a naughty man!
'And now my lady, if my offer of assistance was palatable to my lady, we could retire to your personal quarters and proceed with the task,' said Bentley, the smallest of smiles playing around his lips.
'An excellent idea,' I replied, regaining my feet with his aid from my position at the side of the tub. 'Please ask Sarah to join us in my rooms within this ten minutes, where I shall receive you.' It is true that I am determined to live according to my own rules at Heaton but a little propriety in terms of having a lady present at all times I felt would safeguard my reputation. Not that my reputation was at the forefront of my priorities at this point.
I regained my rooms and, after a moment or so, Sarah joined me, having come away from her task of blanching my lace and generally keeping my dresses in good repair. 'I was told by one of the... young men that I was needed, Ma'am,' she said with a perfunctory curtsey.
'Yes, Sarah,' I replied from the height of my dignity: I did not want to allow Sarah to think her opinion of anything I may do would have any impact upon me. 'Bentley is coming to perform a personal service for me and I thought it best to have you present.'
A lascivious look briefly crossed the old woman's face before she checked herself and, returning to her usual formality, replied, 'Of course, my lady. I will sit here with a little bit of sewing work and you will not even know I am present.'
That situation seemed acceptable to me and Sarah immediately took a stool on the far side of my bed to the window, while I took my chair at my dressing table, the one that looked out over the grounds towards the trees and waited for the knock at my door, a knock which came within moments.
'Yes, Bentley,' I said as he came in.
'I have brought some articles that will assist me in the job at hand,' he said with a smile that was difficult to read. On a tray he was carrying I could see a bowl of water, clearly warm from the wisp of steam that was rising from it, the razor that we had but presently used on young Stephenson, a smaller bowl of hard soap and a small tub of what looked like balm or ointment. There was also a soft-bristle brush of the kind the late Lord FitzWilliam had used for shaving.
Spotting Sarah at her needlework, he gave a little jump but, looking at me, saw my close-eyed nod and realised that she was there at my behest and was welcome to stay.
'As far as positions are concerned, my lady,' he said, 'I think this seat would be ideal, especially if I arrange these two little stools by the front legs for my lady's feet...' He had brought a pair of stepping stools, which I use to climb into my prodigious high bed, towards the chair and put them either side. Kneeling in front of me, he took one foot in his hands and put it on the first stool, then the other for the other stool, which, of course meant, he was now kneeling between my outstretched legs.
'Is that quite comfortable for my lady?' he enquired to which I replied that it was.
With his tray of requisites on the floor in front of him, slightly under my chair, he took the hem of my gown and simply said, 'With my lady's permission...' and lifted it to my waist. He then took my petticoats and lifted them in a similar fashion until they were in my lap. Now before him were my widened thighs in fine linen stockings that stopped just above my knee and undergarments, which, without ceremony, he caught by the hem and, requiring me to lift myself from the chair temporarily, pull down, catching my knees together so they could slide down onto one ankle.
My privy parts had never been looked at with any interest in my life and I must own that I was concerned that such a sight might not be pleasing to any man but, by the expression on Bentley's beautiful young face, there was much to be admired under my skirt. He took the soft-bristle brush, dipped it in the warm water and ran it over the entire area around my most private place. The feeling was so delicious I bethought for a moment I may not be equal to it and may lose my senses but such was the delicacy of Bentley that I remained conscious to enjoy the experience.
I darted an eye over to Sarah and could see her struggling to keep her eyes on her needlework when a spectacle such as this was taking place just feet away. I blushed a little but returned my gaze to Bentley, whose eyes were intent on my sex. Having moistened the entire area, he dipped the brush in the tub of hard soap and by dabbing and stirring, soon worked up quite a lather, with which he coated the soft-bristle brush.
The next sensation I felt was the brush again, this time softer and creamier as it circled my sex -- top, side, bottom, side -- Bentley's focus leaving the area only every so often to read the expression on my face, an expression I imagine to have been somewhere between ecstasy and unconsciousness.
With the whole area now thoroughly frothy, he took the blade, and wiping it on a linen cloth tucked at his waist, took it under my skirt. I felt the blade and heard it as it scraped gently across the area around my no doubt gaping sex. He leaned in for a closer view of his work, so close I could feel his breath between my thighs, a sensation that led to a melting feeling, and continued to peck with the razor at odd hairs. I wondered if any visible juice was visible to Bentley and assumed, in an instant, that there was as I felt a finger swipe from the bottom to the top of my sex, a movement that provoked a deep shudder down there. I saw Bentley smile at the recognition of it and, looking down to his breeches between my legs, could see that familiar penis standing straight up with the excitement he was experiencing from his task, a sight that gave me another melting feeling between my legs.
After a few moments of back and forth, from the bowl of foam to the bowl of water to my sex, Bentley sat back on his knees, looked appraisingly between my thighs and said, 'My lady looks beautiful...' And taking a small looking glass from my dressing table, angled it between my legs so that I could admire his handiwork. I had never witnessed my own sex, in any state, before and was delighted at what I saw. I may be a woman in her 60s but having been left largely untroubled by sex and having never given birth, what I saw was a tidy little sight, the lips plump and well-formed and, with all hair having been removed, a sight that suggested youth and freshness.
Bentley clearly liked the sight before him as I felt him clutch his own groin, out of sight of Sarah, and give it a couple of prodigious squeezes. Then, with a perfunctory 'with my lady's permission...' but without waiting for that permission to be granted, his head disappeared between my thighs and my next sensation was of something soft and muscular licking the length of my slit.
I brought the petticoats up further and looked down to see Bentley's handsome face between my thighs, his red tongue darting and licking and savouring as sensation after sensation flooded over my entire body. I could feel the bristles of his ever-growing beard on the soft flesh between my thighs, the heat of his breath inside of me and that tongue, searching and slurping and occasionally brushing against a particularly sensitive spot at the top of my gash. This brushing, used economically, was the apex of my enjoyment and made me throw my head back physically until, at last, a wave such as I have never experienced before flooded my entire body as Bentley's tongue lapped me like a cat lapping cream. And then I was spent.
Bentley emerged, his face coated in sweat and stickiness from my sex, a smile on his face. 'I hope my lady enjoyed the experience,' he said, reaching back under my skirts to apply the balm from his tray to my still quivering quim. Then he stood, his erect penis clearly visible in the breeches, something he sought to rearrange before Sarah saw it. But he was late in this: she had already seen everything that had passed between us, including the erection in the breeches.
'If there's nothing else, my lady...' said Bentley, collecting his tray.
'That will be all,' I replied, rearranging my clothing, cognisant of the fact I now had no undergarments and the whole area of my sex felt smooth and naked, and, attempting an equanimity and poise that eluded me in this blissful state after what was clearly a breakthrough for me, I suggested the door to him with my eyes. He quit the room with one last look and smile sent in my direction.
'Well, Sarah...' I began, looking at my maid who had stood and was approaching me. 'What do you think of that?'
'I think my lady is the luckiest woman in all the county,' she said to me, beaming.
