Many years ago, down in the West Country part of England, sweet innocent Celia Manson is prepared for her coming of age ceremony in accordance with local tradition so she is dressed in her finery and taken to the Rosary for Squire Trelawney to make her a woman......

“Are you all right in there our Celia.” she heard her father shout.

Celia looked around the room, the windows misted with steam hiding the snow covered roofs of the barns and the trees and open countryside stretching to the moor land beyond. She looked at the clock on the dressing table but its pendulum was still. Her Mother's best hat and Fathers waistcoat lay together upon the shelf as it was their bedroom she had today been allowed to use for her preparations, and there on a chair-back and laid abed her virginal white gowns awaited their moment.

The water in the iron hip bath gently lost its scalding heat to become just warm on her soft skin and the expensive soft soap sent for the purpose from the Squires own store house felt delicious as she washed away the dust and grime of the farmyard and milking shed, ready for her visit to the Rosary as the manor house or Hall of Trelawney was known.

“Yes Father what's the time.”

“It's five and twenty to five o'clock.”

“I'm nearly done Father.”

She looked at her new clothes laid out for the evening, pure white skirt and underskirt with a pure white corset with red ribbons which she hardly needed with her thin waist and the pure white blouse, all brand new, sent from the hall for her interview with Squire Trelawney just an hour hence.

She climbed carefully from the warm water and dried herself with the sheepskin, the smooth silk of the underthings felt most peculiar as she dressed so carefully desperate to keep the white cloth pristine and unsullied for her interview, she remembered her instructions, boots before skirt, she grasped the bleached white leather firmly and hauled the boots on with all her might but these were the footwear of idle courtesans and her honest country feet were ill at ease constricted by the leather where as often as not she worked barefoot in the milking shed or wore sensible boots when walking the ten miles and more to visit her cousins at Granton,

Celia checked her appearance in the mirror, her white skirt almost brushing the floor despite the rise the high heels of the special long bleached white leather boots which forced her to walk strangely awkwardly and uncomfortably and she crept quietly from her parents bedroom and  ducked under the low door frame to the smaller room where she slept, she peered from the low window and saw the Squires small cart approaching, just a two wheel Jaunting cart where she dreamed of a Landau, with four not two in harness to pull. She continued along, descending the tight spiral staircase to the living room.

“Oh Celia!” her mother cried, “You look just like an angel.”

"It is time mother." Celia told her sadly "I saw the cart coming from the bedroom."

"Now bear what comes stoically" he father bade her.

"I don't know what stoically is, but I shall remember my manners and act with honour."

Poor Bill Manders nearly choked, were she to act with honour, with Squire Trelawney around, why they would surely be evicted.

"Well don't upset his lordship, you do his bidding girl, one word from he and we are out upon the streets, don't thee forget it." Bill insisted.

Celia carefully wrapped rags around her shiny boots before she kissed Bill and Emma, her mother and walked out into the yard to mount the cart ready to proceed towards the big house, she smiled her radiant smile and waved before she climbed aboard.

Bill turned to Emma, "Did you tell her what to expect?"

"No, Bill, no one ever told me, we don't have your country ways at Granton." she explained.

Bill thought back to that day they first met, when the squire trusted him to collect some luggage from Granton and he met Emma as she toiled in her father's shop, he remembered their courtship and their wedding day until Emma interupted his thoughts.

"Did you say anything."  Emma asked hopefully.

"I could not." he said simply, and tears welled in his eyes.

"Then she knows nothing? nothing but what she learned from the farmyard?" Emma asked again.

"That's your place Emma, father and child cannot speak of such things, but tomorrow we will know, we shall surely know."

================================

Alf Biggins sat in the squire's jaunting cart, holding the reins loosely as they trotted along, a big ugly stupid man he usually drove the farm carts so this light two wheel cart was a pleasant change, he stared at Celia's and leered at her  beauty relishing the delights to come.

"What happens tonight Bill." Celia asked innocently.

Bill looked round sharply and tugged the reins, Couper, the nearside horse stopped dead with the jolt upon his tender mouth while Armitage the off, continued twisting the shaft pole which strained the bindings and then suddenly "Crack" the shaft snapped with a sound like gunfire and the cart fell down backwards upon the ground. The horses bolted and Alf released the reins and watched them run in awkward curves as the pole and harnesses still bound them together.

They fell back, sprawling helplessly in the upset cart, and seeing him bleeding she asked "Are you all right Mr Biggins?"

"Yes, me head" he croaked, "Can you walk the last bit miss?"

"If you are sure you're all right?" she asked.

"Yes go." he replied, "here take this and bind it round your dainty boots, keep them clean," he said and her tore a piece of cloth in two and handed it to her.

Celia looked carefully at her robes as she picked her way from the ruins, a small patch of dust sullied a sleeve but to her relief little damage was done. She set forth for the Manor, her backside wiggled a like a cows behind she feared as the cloth now bound round her boots made her walk on the tips of her toes and each step needed the effort of three but she plodded onwards stoically.

John Trelawney sat in his bath looking at the steam dampened bathroom walls, his finery laid out upon the hangers, moleskin, silk, the full regalia, how he had relished evenings such as these in his youth, but now he had grown old and weary, and he knew he had become just a sad caricature of the country squire he had once striven to be.

Forty three years, was it really forty three years since he arrived upon this earth, he was sure it was more like sixty, and was it really two years since his beloved Rose had passed away.

He glanced at the water closet where often one sat while the other bathed, and the sadness engulfed him.

He climbed from the deep water careful not to unseat the metal tub and tear away its brittle leaden pipes, and extracted the wooden plug sending the water shooting down along the drain and down the drainpipe alerting Roberts the butler that the Squire was ready to dress.

Trelawney was waiting in his trousers and shirt as Roberts knocked the door.

"Come in, help with this waistcoat would you."  Trelawney asked almost pleadingly.

"You lost more weight sire, you looks like some twenty year old farm hand sir, you needs fattening up!"

"Tis what I thought." Trelawney admitted, "Can we make it fit?"

"Oh dear no sir, there is but an half hour, unless." he paused.

"What you bloody fool, spit it out man."

"You stuffs a pillow up your shirt." Roberts smirked.

"Yes, Capital," Trelawney sighed with sarcasm, Fetch one."

Roberts' mouth gaped as his jaw dropped. "it was said in jest sir."

"Well I am serious." Trelawney insisted.

Roberts collected a cushion from Trelawney's study next to the Bath-room and Trelawney stuffed it beneath his shirt, the waist coat now filled proudly as it it restrained the squires bulging belly and he admired his reflection, perhaps his thin face spoiled the illusion, and perhaps the contrast between fat ugly squire and lusty farm lads were not so clear cut as it may be, but he felt he had done his utmost.

He pulled on his scarlet coat with silk lining and moleskin trim, and stood before the mirror once more, practising his waddling gait, why could he never put on weight like his friends, he pondered, then he remembered the missed lunches and dinners as he struggled with the estate finances, each year fifty guineas and more had to be found from his mines and mills to support the estate, where the deficit arose he could never fathom, and the worry ate away at his soul, how he wished his son John would come home and run the estate instead of playing soldiers, so he might escape to the high life of Plymouth or Penzance or distant Newton Abbott.

Celia knocked tentatively on the big front door, she waited but a few moments before Roberts invited her in, "How does it feel to come in that way miss."

"Strange sir." she replied, oblivious to Robert's amusement at being called "Sir"

"Its a once in a lifetime moment Miss," Roberts insisted, "Savour it, the one moment in time when you live like a lady, dine with the squire, see life through their eyes and forever after know your place."

Roberts smiled at her and her innocent smile troubled him.

"Have you been with a man?" he asked.

Well she was with a man until the cart broke, what a silly question she thought, "Why yes sir many times."

"Oh the squire will be relieved," he said with conviction, "Now lets get those rags off your feet and the squire will be down shortly," he ordered, and then added, "Pray sit a while in the Library, look at a book if you wish, many have pictures in them."

Celia removed the bindings holding the rags to her feet and tossed them into the corner and went to the library, her heart leapt, books stacked from floor to ceiling, never had she seen such things, and the works of William Shakespeare, she pulled a volume down.

"Once more unto the beach dear friends once more" she intoned, as she sought that famous passage.

"Stupid girl, its breach, the hole in the ramparts." Trelawney corrected her in irritation. "You make it sound as if he wrote of pirates."

"Sorry sir." Celia apologised.

"You will not impress by pretending you can read." Trelawney explained.

"But I can sir, a little anyway." she insisted

"Don't lie girl." he warned

"I don't lie sir." she looked at the ground, heedful of her fathers advice she had so singularly failed to follow.

"I suppose you do mathematics and calculous and conduct scientific experiments down on the farm in addition to your excursions into literature." he taunted sarcastically.

"No sir, but I do the accounts for my father sometimes." she admitted.

Trelawney sensed the truth in her answers, but something jarred as incorrect, he regretted scolding the child.

He looked at her, her jawline was very fine, the nose petite, the auburn hair disappointingly dark, the eyes green not blue, no match for his beloved Rose whose blonde hair cascaded almost to her waist, and whose blue eyes shone, but this girl was not un hansom, she stood very straight, her small breasts yet to drag her into stooping round shouldered-ness that would surely come with motherhood, and her robes still glistened in pristine virginal white, a careful, conscientious girl he mused

"Come," He said, "tradition requires I take your arm and escort you to the dining room for our dinner, do you like Quails eggs?" He asked.

She looked horrified. "I like hens eggs sir, I don't think I like Quail, they're a bit small sir surely?"

"Neither do I like Quails egg, so it will be soup, followed by beef, then some salmon and then a sweet." he suggested.

He felt her flinch as he took her arm and guided her to the table he pulled the chair out for her as if she were a lady and pushed it back in and she sat decorously, almost ladylike, he imagined her for a moment as daughter in law, the thought pleased him, housekeeper and bedmate for his son.

The thought faded as quickly as it came, the lads were already assembling in the barn soon she would be far beyond redemption, covered with the semen of all the young blades from the  estate, all the unattached, and it would be for her to choose whom of those who used her she should take for a husband.

He found her calmness strange, she seemed unconcerned at the events to come, Roberts had whispered to him that she had already been with a man, which pleased him, perhaps they would lie abed a while, or even just sit in the bedchamber, he would have chicken blood smeared on her as if he had done the deed but that way he could retain his dignity and the secret of the cushion could remain just that, a secret.

The food was edible, yet he wondered how fresh steak could taste so much like he was chewing rope, and the Salmon tasted like someone had caught it three weeks ago last Thursday.

"How do you like our cuisine." he asked.

"I don't know what quizzing is sir." she replied.

"Sorry, my dear, it's from the French it means cooking." he admitted.

"Meats off, and the Fish, I reckon we will have guts ache," she suggested charmingly.

"Have some wine," he suggested, "Finest import from Portugal," he announced proudly.

"Not as good as me Dad's elderberry wine," she suggested and as he rolled the liquid around his palate Trelawney was inclined to agree, not that he had tasted her father's elderberry wine but that the Portugese wine was in reality pretty awful.

He changed the subject, "So do you have a special boy-friend."

"Oh no sir, I go with lots of boys."  she replied.  He tried a different tack.

"Do you see yourself settling down in your own cottage now you are of age?" he asked

"Yes sir, except." she paused awkwardly.

"Yes, except what?" he probed.

"I should like to be a bordello girl sir." she admitted.

Trelawney almost choked in surprise.

"What!" he exclaimed.

"Bordello girl, all dressed in finery with gentlemen visiting, they have a Bordello by Grandpa's shop in Granton sir, oh it would be so nice if I could be one of those girls sir."

"What, does your mother say." he sputtered regaining his composure.

"She says I'm not pretty enough and my chest is not big enough," she explained.

"Quite so." he agreed.

"Am I not pretty sir." she asked innocently, Trelawney struggled with the sheer impertinence this wench displayed.

"In a fresh country sort of way, yes you have beauty," Trelawney suggested, "but not I fear what the sophisticate of Granton would deem pretty or sexy as they say."

"Yes sir." her heart pounded, beautiful, he said she was beautiful, the old fool with a cushion plainly stuffed beneath his shirt said she was beautiful in a country way, like a cow?

"Are you saying I'm country beautiful like a cow is sir." she asked impertinently.

He thought quickly, "No but like a Hare or a Racehorse, natural beauty, the sort that needs no face paint or whalebones to turn a mans head."

The final dish arrived, cheese-cake. Celia took up her spoon to taste it.

"Its off, I makes these for my dad and I tell you this is off." she announced putting her spoon down.

"I agree, I'm so sorry the meal has been a disaster, has it not?"  he suggested.

"No, the food was off but you spoke to me and listened," she smiled, "I liked that."

"What shall we do now, shall you sit a while?" Trelawney asked.

"I should like to watch you string the cook up, but if you will not then yes I should like to sit in the withdrawing room." she replied mischievously.

"She is a sore trial, but I often forget to eat and the meal is wasted which poor Bessie resents." he confided.

"That's why you got pillar down your front," Celia insisted, "if you had my cooking inside of you you would not need no pillar."

"It's a cushion, and it's rude to make such observations." Trelawney chuckled, "but you're right!"

"My mum says I'm a rude girl, sometimes sir." she said so innocently.

Trelawney looked at the firelight flickering lighting up Celia's face, he imagined her in a patterned gown, knitting maybe, seeing beyond the caricature of an angel seated before him, he imagined the way her first few children would swell her chest pleasantly, not as with the large chested women where their udders dangled about their navels but she would be a fine looking woman as she matured, the sort any man, even a gentleman, would be proud to escort on his travels.

The clock on the mantle ticked, almost the half hour past eight o'clock, he realised they had been staring at the fire wordlessly for a quarter of an hour.

"It's nice here sir." she said suddenly.

"Yes but tradition makes demands, my dear, so pray accompany me to my rooms."

He took her hand, and guided her towards the staircase, the polished stair-treads shone matching the wooden panels lining the walls of the passage ways and the polished wooden boards creaked gently under their feet, the old tradition, any young wench not spoken for when she commeth of age shall be presented to the master upon that day and she shall choose from among them as come afterwards her intercourse with the master, he hoped he had the words right.

Two years, Two years with no wife, Two years with no girl as yet not spoken for and now Trelawney felt he had once more escaped from his duties, he led her to the bed chamber.

She jumped on the bed. "Oh how soft it is, I should barely touch the pillow before I slept."

He joined her, "You have been with many boys?"

"Oh yes," she said "Many boys, many times, I went with seven at one time."

Trelawney almost choked."Seven at once?"

"Yes sir," she replied innocently, "On the cart to Babbercombe."

"Seven on a Cart?" he asked incredulously.

"It were a crush and we had to walk up Fishock hill cause the horse were wore out," she admitted. "but it were a wonderful day."

"What did you do, with these seven men?" He asked.

"Brought them home of course." she said not understanding.

"No do with them at Babbercombe or on the Cart?" he probed again.

"Went the fayre of course." she replied.

"Celia, look at me." Trelawney ordered, "be truthful, have you ever been with a boy or man in the way a bull covers a cow."

"Oh heaven forbid sir." she replied in amazement.

"No not like that but face to face like man and wife." he explained.

"I'm not married sir." she replied innocently.

"Have you ever had a man's member between your legs'?" he asked awkwardly.

"Member sir?" she asked.

"Have you ever had sexual relations girl?" he asked bluntly.

"What sir." she struggled to understand.

"Like a cow, oh bloody hell." he swore with the realisation that she was innocent as she seemed, "You are an innocent, aren't you." he reached out and held her in his arms.

"This is so hard Celia," Trelawney admitted. "I don't know where to start. I am supposed to initiate you into the art of lovemaking, tradition requires it, that is why we send the virginal white robes, the trouble is Roberts said you had been with boys and I took it to mean you. ah, you had made love, ah, had intercourse, ah, had sex, which."  he had to stop.

"You have to sex me?" she asked.

"In a nutshell, yes." he explained, "But Celia, its worse, when I have sexed, I mean, had sex with you I give you strong wine and take you to the barn where the feast is starting where the men of the estate may also make love to you and you may choose any as may use you as husband."

"Make love sir? she enquired.

"They queue up and," He paused, "They help, strip, ah, oh hell they take you for sex one after another. There I said it."

"And if I say "No?" she asked in alarm.

"Then you shall be banished from the estate." he explained.

"Then I shall be free to join the Bordello." she grinned.

"Your family shall be banished also." he pointed out.

"Oh" she choked.

"Thrown out to dwell in the workhouse." he warned her.

"It's not fair." she exclaimed.

"Nor on myself, the thought of abusing you against your will is abhorrent." Trelawney sighed.

"You are a kind man, Mr Trelawney, I think you must do as is required and I for my part will do my utmost to bear it stow quill like." she said quietly.

"You must say stop if you cannot bear it, please give me your assurance." Trelawney said honestly.

I cannot, she thought, but the vision of her parents being cast out was too awful. "Yes." she agreed.

"We shall undress then, if you please," Trelawney suggested as he removed his coat and waistcoat, and while she giggled, he felt a shiver of unease pass down his spine.

"The pillar!" she chirped, "why do you do it?"

"I have grown thin pining for my dear wife, it embarrasses me," he explained, "I should be fat as a pig at my age, yet I shrink."

"I think my husband will be thin,"  she spoke whimsically, "Yet he will not stay thin long with my cooking inside him."

"Do you know I will hurt you, this first time, it may be agony, but then when the men make love to you it will ease and it will become wonderful, my beloved Rose often sought the solace of lovemaking of her own accord." he reassured her.

"You really loved Rose?" Celia enquired.

"Of course, we married so young, her father thought me beneath her so we stole away to  Lockerbie, in Scotland where we wed, her fathers agents waited at Gretna thinking we had gone there to wed," he smiled to himself" it was such excitement, and then nine months later we had John."

"Just the one child sir."

"The second." tears came to his eyes, "Was dead when she was born and we were never blessed again."

She stood awkwardly in her under-things and boots, she seemed uncertain of how to proceed.  "I'm sorry sir." I can't get the boots off.

He came to her aid and together they freed her from he constricting leather, "My feet are too big sir," she apologised.

He nodded, "Hones feet, walking feet, feet for the honest wife to carry her offspring, feet to walk barefoot, no it is the boots at fault, not the feet."

Trelawney stripped off his shirt and undershirt to stand bare chest-ed before her,  "here let me," he offered, and as he undid the buttons on the shapeless white garment covering her breasts it fell away and the cool air stiffened her nipples, Trelawney smiled mistaking the reaction for excitement and reached round to loosen her corset, his cheek brushed hers and suddenly their chests were touching, her small breasts against his manly chest.

"Oh my." he muttered as he held her close.

"What about the laces.?" she asked.

"Hush I'm savouring the moment" he suggested. but he began to loosen the constricting ties.

He soon realised the garment was superfluous, hardly an once of spare fat adhered to Celia's slender frame, "I thought you said your food was fattening," he queried as her corset fluttered downwards. He kissed her neck and as he did so he released the draw string and eased her underskirt down.

She stood naked except for her flimsy silk underpants. "No." that's private, she tried to insist but still he pulled the underthings down and he stared at her perfect virgin vagina.

"It's beautiful, so perfect, come sit on the bed," he suggested as he kicked off his boots and socks.

She sat on the bed as he struggled with his breeches and underpants. finally he too was entirely undressed save for his wedding ring and he joined her on the bed.

"What now sir?" she asked.

"You lie back and I." he looked down sadly, his penis remained curled up like a baby rat or small shrew. "I'm supposed to pop this." He pointed to the shrunken member, "Up there." he placed a finger on her sex.

"Oh, I see sir," she said uncertainly.

"But your innards are supposed to be moist and my protuberance," he paused awkwardly, "My ah this, well I am supposed to be hard." he explained as he gripped his member.

"It's because we are not in love sir." she explained.

"I believe you are right. I shall have to say I am unable to perform and the ceremony is off." he suggested with considerable relief.

"Would you do that for me sir," she gasped, "wont you look foolish, surely a man is supposed to be like a bull, always ready?"

"Not this man," he relied, "Oh Celia, you innocent, there are the techniques of the bordello for such occasions."

"There are other techniques also sir, plain obvious things." she pulled at his wedding ring, and slipped it off.

"Hey, stop that!" he shouted but it was too late.

"Death has parted you sir, perhaps that is why?" she replied.

"I could never get the ring off, twenty years and more," he explained, she smiled and toyed with the ring then.

"Oh no for pity's sake don't," Trelawney cried as she tried it on her own ring finger.

"I'm sorry," she apologised as she struggled to get it off again.

"Let me," he grabbed the ring himself but the angle was awkward and they fell sideways sprawling across the bed, he felt her hot breath on his neck and the warmth of her thighs against his thighs and the tickle of her pubic hair against his now erect member.

"Are you hurt?" he asked.

"Sir, Squire Trelawney, sir, it's grown." She exclaimed. "Please sir I never realised it was that big sir, you cannot consider surely sir, can you, sir it would break me in half sir.

Trelawney marvelled at his sudden extension, his manhood suddenly reared as if his beloved Rose awaited him, his sensibilities suggested he should immediately bathe in cold water and send the girl away but he was intoxicated by lust and craved a haven wherein to assuage his needs.

"Hush girl," he ordered, "You wear my ring, now hush, bite your tongue and bear what transpires with fortitude."

She closed her eyes as he pushed her back and spread her legs apart to the utmost. then she squealed a tiny squeak as something brushed the lips of her sex, teeth, a tongue, the squire's  head occupied the gulf between her thighs and his fingers roamed her body, his tongue worked up amongst the downy hairs of her lower belly seeking something and suddenly she gasped as the tongue and then teeth found that which they sought.

"Oh my lord what are you doing to me," she gasped, "never have I felt such."

"Is it pleasant my sweet, can you feel the juices flow, do you feel my thumb, I feel the juices washing over it." he whispered.

"Oh my Lord, please I have never ever felt anything so wonderful." she explained

"You shall feel a greater thrill yet my love," he moved rapidly to leave her clitoris and kiss her shoulder and as he did so he positioned his straining penis against the lips of her vagina the deep red end contrasting with her oh so pink lips and he thrust in.

Her poor face contorted with pain. "No, its too big."

He tried again.

"No it wont fit" he thrust harder but the unseen obstruction held firm

He grasped her shoulders firmly and thrust furiously. "It wont go." she started to say but as she spoke so she felt him begin to ease inside her, and they realised that it was indeed going in, going right in until he felt his very balls touch her downy skin.

"Aaaaggghh it hurts, please no it hurts." she cried.

"My God I did it." he told her. "It feels wonderful, I had forgotten how good it feels." he explained.

"It hurts sir please sir, you have had your pleasure can you just stop now?" she asked.

"Don't you like it, honestly, say if you don't." he suggested,

"It hurts" she admitted, "but I have done my duty, I have borne the pain,"

"Is there no pleasure in it at all?" he asked.

He lay still for a moment then gently started to thrust against her in a slow rhythm.

"I like you holding me," she continued "But it hurts."

"Then if you shall bear it I shall take my pleasure, with you.." he stated bluntly.

"Have you not done so?" she asked.

"No sweet girl, let the pain subside, let me kiss you." he kissed her neck once more.

"I can bear it sir, indeed I believe I am becoming accustomed to the pain." she confirmed.

He started to thrust more against her,

"Please sir what is this?" she asked.

"Hush, this is no time to converse," he asserted "Hush."

She held him to her but his thrusting increased breaking her grip, she bit her lip to staunch her pain then she felt the pain become unbearable and she knew she must have died, she heard the angels singing, but she felt his breath on her neck and heard her own breathing loud in her own ears and then something welling deep inside her, pumping gushing surely her heart had burst?

"Oh, Ohhhh, he gasped, "Do you like that."

"Yes sir." she agreed

"Do you really." he replied as he sensed he was shrinking within her.

"Yes sir," she agreed once more, "But are you injured, your member shrinks, it feels most peculiar."

He pulled away from her, and threw her some cloth. "Wipe yourself, " he suggested, "Oh you are bleeding." he realised he had hurt her indeed.

"You have stretched me to the utmost sir, but it is nothing I think." she replied uncertainly.

He looked down at her, a vision of loveliness in his soft bed, the image of a silken night dress around her, and the thought of her belly swelling gently flashed through his mind, then the thought of the rude bed awaiting her in the barn, and the yokels waiting to take their pleasure troubled him.

"I cannot let you go to the barn." he told her, "I know it is the tradition, and I have taken my benefit from that tradition, but I own, if you will have me I wish  that I might repeat this."

"You jest sir." she rejoined, "but the barn?"

"A bed awaits, and the young men, it is the tradition that all who are unattached may sample you as I have." he said awkwardly.

"Sir?" she cried as she understood the enormity of that which awaited her.

"Yes sweet maid, as I have done." Trelawney confirmed.

"Please no sir," Celia pleaded, "but for your kindness and gentleness I should have died."

"You had no notion that the act we performed is the daily round of the bordello that ten times and more such acts you must perforce perform." he saw the tears flow.

"I had no idea." she whispered, "The girls seemed so cheerful."

"What is to be done?" he asked but then Roberts knocked loudly.

"The hour of Ten has passed Sire," Roberts announced, "The men grow restless."

"I thank you Roberts, but when were you made master in this house? does not the tradition say when the master has taken his pleasure then shall she be delivered among the unattached for their pleasure, where pray does the Ten O'clock gain mention?"

"It was your fathers habit sire." Roberts stated flatly.

"Then perhaps my lusts are greater." Trelawney joked.

"Sir, I cannot let you break the tradition, I must go." Celia insisted. "I shall always remember your kindness."

"If that is your wish, then I must not detain you." he said quietly his mind in turmoil and she sorted her clothing and dressed in just her white dress, and barefoot, forgoing the struggle with the constricting boots.

"It would be wasteful to dirty the under things." she suggested. "I wish I might make you a cheese cake one day sir." she said but knew not why she said it.

"String the cook up, yes." he agreed, and with neither able to glance at the other they parted.

The door creaked open and she passed into Robert's care and he placed a protective arm around her and led her away.

Trelawney listened as she went "No" she muttered, "Stop, you are not unattached,"

He saw Roberts fingers invading her in his minds eye, Roberts fingers at her breasts where he wished his mouth to be at this very moment, Roberts hot breath on her neck, Roberts stripping her fine dress away to reveal her nakedness, she who but two hours before had no notion of the ways of love.

He pulled on his underclothes and shirt, his breeches, his old jacket and clattered down the stairs.

"Was your dinner pleasing. Sire." asked Bessie the cook housekeeper as she stood in the doorway.

"No, Bessie it was horrible, now out of my way." he grasped her firmly and threw her bodily aside, and then he threw the back door open and strode towards the barn.

The aged stone walls of the barn echoed to the merriment within, the candle light flickered through the gaps in the great oak doors that stood two and more times the height of a man and above the din a plaintive voice, "No."

He pushed through the door, the young lads were clustered around the makeshift bed  he recognised it as one of them they used when townsfolk came for the harvest and there sat Celia naked her hands forced behind her by two large labourers while Roberts egged the men on to bid money to be first.

The men parted reluctantly to allow the squire to pass but suddenly the throng parted and the shouting faded.

Trelawney realised all eyes were upon him. "Ah," he said uncertain of what to do, how to proceed.

"I am taking a collection for the wench sire" Roberts suggested.

"How much are you bid?" Telawney enquired.

"Three shillings and seven pence half penny sire." Roberts replied.

"Then I shall bid," he rummaged for his purse, "Seven guineas, shall any bid against me?"

Silence reigned, "There ent no meat on her any road." moaned a labourer from the shadows.

"Seek bids Roberts." Trelawney ordered.

Roberts asked hopelessly for further bids, and when  none such came he turned to the squire and said quietly, "She is yours sire."

Trelawney took a deep breath, "The tradition is that any who takes the wench may ask for her hand, now I ask you all to take note that I John Trelawney ask for her hand, shall any of you seek to oppose me in this."

"But what of our sport sire." the murmur increased.

"Some said she had not an ounce of  meat upon her bones, so if that be a criticism wait on, take a drink and I shall find some alternate wench with copious meat upon her." Trelawney promised.

Trelawney turned, on his heel, "Come," he ordered, "Let her go, and a coat someone lend her a cloak or a," he suggested, "Damn it," he said and he flung his own jacket towards her. "Have mine."

Celia clasped Trelawney's jacket to herself, "Sir?" she said not understanding.

"Come," he insisted, "We have a whore to find!"

"The Lass should remain until you find another," Harry Weeks reminded him.

"Aye, 'tis the custom,"  his brother Andrew confirmed.

"Yes sir, that's what they say," Piddock affirmed.

"Then let no man touch her!" Trelawney ordered and all at once he threw the barn door wide and strode from the barn and across the yard towards the house.

The courtyard was dark but as he strode forth the light from the kitchen glowed with the brilliance of whale oil and by it's light he saw Bessie the cook plainly as  she took a great silver salmon trout from its basket and wrapped it in a cloth, she sang to herself even as Trelawney threw the door open.

"My Dinner I'll wager," Trelawney growled as he whipped the cloth from the basket, as Bessie looked on in horror.

"Sire you startled me." Bessie blustered, her huge breasts wobbling over her copious midriff in an display of corpulent opulence some would deem pornographic.

Her skin and long black hair glowed with the health of fine living, she reminded him of a prize cow, her short fat legs enhancing the illusion.

"I have had my fill of your gruel madam, and of your lies and your preening, you stand before me as if I should desire you," He complained, "Simpering, your bosoms laid out for inspection, I am only surprised your treats remain covered, well no more, you are dismissed madam."

"Sire?" she protested in horror.

"Stealing, Theft, you have been feeding me bad meat and stealing the good, look at that fine fish, you cannot deny it."

"You have no appreciation of fine things they are wasted upon you!" she blustered, "No harm was done,"

"That may be but you shall go forth this instant, no more shall good food be stolen or abused by your ineptitude, now go." Trelawney ordered.

"But I have nowhere sire" Bessie protested.

"I order you to go hence," Trelawney repeated, but in an instant an idea formed " But should you choose you may stay and face the constable," he suggested.

"Oh no sire." she quailed.

"Or perhaps?" he queried with mischief in mind.

"Yes sir." Bessie said hopefully.

"You might find employ," he suggested, "As entertainment in the barn."

"They are sampling that sad beanpole of a Manders girl," Bessie reminded him, "Nine months hence she will be in the poor house with child as none as samples her will wish that as a wife."

"Then take her place." Trelawney offered.

"But I am spoken." she exclaimed as she started to admit her illicit association with Roberts

"No madam we well know about your liaisons with Mr Roberts, come, your audience awaits, seek a mate." Trelawney continued as he reached out to take her hand .

"I cannot." she insisted.

"Then I shall call the Constable." Trelawney suggested.

He looked at her, she had come as cook from being widowed while yet childless, she had come to feel invulnerable, believing she was desired by all the men of the estate yet suddenly she had no alternative but to set forth from the warmth and security of her kitchen to the debauchery of the barn.

The hubbub was increasing as dissent increased, the men cheated of their pleasure wished Trelawney's protestations set aside and the wench made available for use but then there were gasps as Bessie the supposed belle of the Estate was led to the bedside.

"Gentlemen!" Trelawney shouted "I have a maiden for you Gentlemen, Pray bid again gentlemen, I have taken my pleasure with her, is she not a fine specimen, finer far than this beanpole," he said as he motioned towards Celia, who now stood against a wall clad only in Trelawney's jacket.

Celia's eyes blazed with anger at her squire's slighting of her but then she realised that he was using sarcasm and wit, yet she sensed the men indeed preferred the voluptuous curves of the cook to her own slim shape.

"Show her beauty, Roberts, come along man," Trelawney cried.

"No." he replied.

"Then stand aside." Trelawney grasped Bessie's bodice and pulled the poor thin fabric away from her heaving breasts, on he tore until her whole front and belly were displayed then in finality her under skirts he tore down, her belly bulged and below like the coat of a black rat her fur led the way to her cleft.

"Off the bed woman, this trollop has need of it," Trelawney ordered Celia from the bed and as she stood aside she wrapped his jacket tightly around herself hiding her nakedness.

"I bid a penny." said old Sid Stainforth through his toothless gums.

"No, I shall not allow of this bidding now form an orderly line, she has plenty for everyone," Trelawney announced, "You, Piddock, and then you Forthhampton, then the Weeks brothers, pray begin."

Trelawney moved to stand behind Celia, and they watched entranced as Piddock climbed to the bed and made to mount Bessie.

"No" she squealed, "Tis unwashed, I shall be diseased."

"Then wash it for him,"  cried Harry Weeks.

"In yer gob" added his brother Andrew.

"Oooommph." cried Bessie as Piddock used the opportunity of Bessie opening her mouth to speak to insert his manhood deep inside her oral cavity almost to her throat.

"I'll have first poke then" James Forthampton announced and they crowded round as his long pink penis slid gently and smoothly from sight within Bessie's pink slit, plunging deeper and deeper until his shaft and even his balls were hidden beneath the rats fur of her hairs.

Trelawney held Celia tenderly, his left arm beneath her breasts his right wandering down to her downy hair, to her hidden pink slit and then within,

She giggled, "look at the way his bottom bobs about, is it not like a rabbit."

"Hush, my love." Trelawney cautioned. "Let me savour you in silence."

Trelawney felt her urgent fingers at his breeches, the feel of the cold air upon his ass and he realised he was suddenly naked below the waist then she turned towards him stood on the tip of one toe raised her other leg high and as she did so she eased his manhood into her.

"You naughty girl." he whispered as he held her and gently began to rock her up and down his rampant shaft.

All eyes were upon Bessie as Trelawney forgot where he was and lowered his beloved to the floor among the legs of the labourers and set about the matter of pleasuring his woman in earnest, "Yes, Oh yes, Ohhhhh,|" Celia cried as the waves of passion swept over her and once again Trelawneys seed gushed within seeking out every part of her innards.

It took time for the attention to shift to the floor but in time attention became riveted upon them, even Forthampton ceased his fornication to observe as the Squire showed his love for the wench with the energy of a man half his age.

They saw the moment of passion, of relief and mavelled as Celia's face lit up with excitement and and squealed with pleasure as Trelawney movements stilled.

A great cheer went up and clapping broke out and Trelawney sheepishly pulled up his breeches and went to return to the house gently lifting Celia ready to carry her through the cheering crowd of young men to the barn door and onwards across the yard towards the kitchen entrance.

"My lord, I am done in, is there somewhere I might sleep." Celia requested.

"In my bed of course, come." Trelawney whispered and he swept Celia up in his arms and carried her from the barn. A great cheer rose, whether in laudation or relief that the master was gone mattered little.

"Three cheers for the Master," Roberts shouted but no one took any heed and the roar continued until Trelawney was well away and across to the house.

Roberts was not well liked, he was too well in with Frederick Roberts his cousin who acted as agent and did the estate accounts for the liking of many so his belittlement at Trelawneys hands and the offering of  his woman as a whore for common use was a popular choice.

Bessie knew not what awaited but with the Squire gone the men could use the old ways without fear of censure. Fred Pikestaff was first, he sat on the bed edge while his friend Gregory Black pushed Bessie towards him then as he impaled her upon himself so Gregory aimed his own lard lubricated manhood at Bessies back passage, her sinues and flesh yielded but reluctantly and he strained for the moment when he might begin to take his pleasure, then the moment came and Bessie knew she had found heaven upon earth, someone offered her his manhood to suck, her teats in turn were grasped and sucked by others and she moaned in helpless pleasure as much as she may past the invading manhood.

Bessie squealed like a pig as the juices were unleashed within her, yet far from exhaustion the thrill induced a lust and desire for the experience to repeat and repeat it did, time and again until all around lay exhausted workmen and Bessie herself lay exhausted and reclined in the bed while the flood of mens emissions soaking the bed sheets solidified around her like glue.

Trelawney woke in darkness, someone was moving around his room, he thought to strike a match but his eyes made out Celia in the gloom.

"I must go sire, I have cows to milk." she explained.

"No, I forbid it, come keep me warm," Trelawney insisted, "How shall a squire's wife milk beasts."

"Sir, it was a great kindness you did," Celia explained, "But my fairy tale  has ended and I must go sir."

"It was a selfish act, not kindness," Trelawney admitted, "But real enough, you are promised to me and you have my ring, there is an end to it wife, Mistress Trelawney, now to your duties."

Still Celia went to leave the room.

"Keep me warm wife, pray into bed." Trelawney leapt up and caught Celia around the waist  and scooped her up to pull her back to the bed.

She had only her under things on and Trelawney soon disrobed her once again and held her close.

"I must see your father this morning, and the Vicar," he insisted.

"Do I get any say in this?" she asked.

"No, do as you are bidden, we shall be married," Trelawney reminded her.

Celia was innocent but far from stupid, she knew the likes of Squire Trelawney used village girls as playthings and married their own kind, so she set her sights on becoming housekeeper and Cook, of if the squire had left her alone she would have, but as it happened Maggie the scullery maid made the break-fast and Agnes the under parlour maid had the fires lit and lamps trimmed before Celia could escape Trelawneys clutches so in this was she thwarted.

He carried her back to bed three times before she learned to humour him and only when he became hungry was she allowed to rise, she dressed in what clothing remained and Trelawney had to summon Alf the Carter to go and fetch Celia's things.

"Tell them she is to be mistress of the hall" he insisted.

Bill Manders was near beside himself with worry as the sun climbed over the moors, Celia was not returned for milking neither had a Lad come asking for her hand, and then Alf Biggins arrived.

"Celia is to be Mistress to all," he explained, "I come for her stuff."

"Mistress, to all?" Bill Manders queried.

"Squire's orders." Alf explained.

"No never, take me thence instantly." Bill  ordered and Alf agreed instantly, "her clothes got tore so us better take summat."

"Sunday best Bill," Emma suggested, "make her look respectable and perhaps he will relent."

Bill Manders saw Squire Trelawney sitting by the roadside as they approached the farm.

Trelawney smiled at his approach, "Good Morning Bill."

"Squire," Manders addressed him, "Tis not an auspicious morning, it is a sad day."

"Why, what is sad." Trelawney asked.

"My daughter, being mistress here," he exclaimed.

"Oh dear, oh dear god, you disapprove, I should have thought, I am so sorry." Trelawney apologiosed.

"Twas a whim, then, she had no offers so you said all could use her did you?" Manders enquired.

"No, Bill, no." Trelawney protested.

"All could see her naked no doubt and all used her and none wanted her?" Manders demanded his anger growing apace.

"Well yes and no," the squire confessed.

"You are evil Trelawney," Bill Manders insisted, "I shall not stay one hour longer sir, I shall be away. if I might take her, and sir, if you were not squire sir I should beat you to a pulp, sir."

"Manders I trust you brought clothes for Celia,?" Trelawney asked in a more forceful tone.

"Sunday best sir." he replied.

"Then bring them." Trelawney led through the back door and along the corridors and up the stairs.

"What is this Sir, this is your private apartment, to be sure I should not be here?" Manders declared.

"Yes Bill, this here is where Celia lays." Trelawney assured him.

Trelawney showed Manders into the bedroom and remained in the passage way as Manders  rushed to greet his daughter.

"Father! oh father, I am to be Squire Trelawney's mistress." Celia exclaimed.

"And you celebrate, did the debauchery of the last evening turn your head?" Manders asked.

"I shall say naught but that the squire is a very kind man, and Mistress will serve very well, I shall cook and keep house and." Celia insisted but she was cut off mid sentence.

Manders butted in, "Serve any man who wishes."

"Any who Squire directs," she admitted, "but why the anger, Father.?"

"My daughter a whore, my grandchildren to be bastards." he said his anger rising.

"Squire Trelawney's bastards, father, I have no desire for any man but he." she protested.

"But the others who used you last night?" he queried.

"Only John," she gained an inkling of what was suggested. "He wants me for his mistress, he talks of Marriage but we know that is impossible, so I am happy enough to share his bed, and his books and house until he finds a grand lady to marry, then I shall be cook."

Bill Manders was relieved yet hurt indeed Celia was no gentlewoman, but why had Trelawney not considered marriage, Bill shouted. "Could you come sir, if it is convenient."

Trelawney entered sheepishly, seeing Celia dressed his face fell.

"You are leaving me.?" he asked.

"Father wishes it." Celia replied.

"Am I so bad a catch as that Bill." Trelawney felt so horribly old, indeed her father was nearer his age than she.

"I don't wish my daughter to be mistress here." Bill spoke plainly.

"I thank you for your honesty," Trelawney responded sadly, "I am too old, I suppose, I should have realised, it all seemed too good." a tear dripped from his eye.  "Stay on at the farm, we shall forget this soon enough, I'll pay a dowry, she can have number three, old Annies place I shall have it mended and painted, that way she should find a good husband."

Celia looked around then fiddled with her ring then as she could not remove it she hid it quickly from her fathers gaze.

"Are you so scared that you offer the earth now where you offered hell before." Bill demanded.

"Here, steady on, I mean, hell, who ever heard that my Rose was unhappy, I am I confess old now, but I can offer far more than a farm boy,  I bow to your decision, but I cannot own that I made Rose unhappy."

"She was your wife sir, not mistress." Manders explained patiently.

"I offer marriage to your daughter, I thought she accepted me, we just need your blessing Bill." Trelawney suggested.

"Father, squires don't marry the likes of me, but I would do very well as cook or housekeeper, and be his mistress till he finds a true love."  Celia observed.

"You said you would marry me, was it in jest?" Trelawney asked again.

"In jest asmuch as your offer was insincere." Celia replied.

"It was sincere, Mr Manders," Trelawney assured him, "May I take the hand of your daughter Celia in marriage, you shall remain in your job whatever decision you take, just say if I am too old."

"I don't rightly know what to say sir, but yes, if she will accept you the by all means take her as your wife in common law." Manders replied sincerely

"No Bill, Church, I wish to make all right in the sight of god." Trelawney explained.

"If you give your word that we, Emma and I shall be able to see any grandchildren, then I am delighted sir." Bill left the room in a daze, Mistress of the Hall, not Mistress for the Hall he rushed to tell Emma.

Celia looked at John she fingered the buttons on her Sunday best suit then slid the jacket off and stacked he rest of the garments on the bedside chair. she climbed into bed naked and shivered with the cool of the sheets.

"I need you to keep me warm." she insisted and Trelawney promptly divested himself of his own clothing and joined her again.

"Perhaps we owe your father a grandchild?" he suggested as he kissed her.

"Yes I'd like that" she said as he rolled over to cover her once more.

To be continued ? or is that a good place to end?