ANNIE AND THE YOUNG MASTER
BY
BEKKI LYNN
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This book contains sexually explicit content and for ADULT AUDIENCES ONLY.
Please store your files away from the eyes of those under the age of eighteen.
This is a work of fiction. All characters participating in sexual acts are over the age of eighteen. Names, characters, places and incidents are solely the product of the author’s imagination and/or are used fictitiously, though reference may be made to actual historical events or existing locations. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events or locales is entirely coincidental.
Published by Bekki Lynn at Smashwords
First Independent Publication
Revised Edition
Original version published April 2010 within the Happy Ever After Anthology published by eXcessica
Cover Design by Bekki Lynn
All rights reserved
Copyright 2010 Bekki Lynn
Chapter One
Devastated, Lillian Basford stared at the whitewashed door. She tried the knob, but the door wouldn’t open. She banged on it. “Father, let me in! Tell me how I wronged!” No one came to let her inside.
Saddened, she walked down the path and a ways from the house. Veering off, she went into the garden her mother had loved so much. Lillian sat on a bench for what seemed like hours, wondering why her words angered her father. Didn’t he understand her love was the highest of all his daughters?
She looked around, but no one came for her. The sun was going down and the early summer evening air started to cool. Surely, she wouldn’t be left out in the night. Gazing upward, stars appeared one-by-one in the darkening sky and tears streamed down her cheeks. “Mama, help me see my wrong,” she prayed.
Uncontrolled sobs burst from her as she lie with her arms wrapped around her. Soon the night closed in around her and she closed her eyes with hopes of hearing footsteps approach. Maybe one of her sisters would sneak from the house and bring her in.
“Miss Lillian, Miss Lillian,” a lilting voice came to her.
Opening her eyes, she saw Celia, a servant, standing over her. She must have fallen asleep for her not to hear the woman approach. Lillian sat up asking, “My father wishes to see me?”
“No, miss. He wishes me to show you to the gate before it’s bolted.”
“But…Ceila, what have I done?”
“I don’t know, it’s his orders.”
Lillian nodded then followed the woman to the gate. With a glance back at the house, she asked, “What am I supposed to do? Where am I to go?”
“I do not know. Get on now.”
She walked through the entrance to the house, fear welling up in her when she heard the bolt of the gate behind her. Daring one more question, she asked, “May I have a cloak, something to keep me warm?”
“I’m to give you nothing,” she replied then headed back to the house.
Trudging along the dirt road, her eyes darted around with every rustling sound of the forest. The wild beat of her heart, the soft pad of her shoes on the dirt road all seemed louder in the dark. She feared she’d drown out the sounds of danger approaching.
A growl pierced the silent night. She screamed and turned tail, running back to the bolted gate. Breathing hard, she rattled it and tried to reach through the slates to move the bolt. “Help! Help me, please!”
Lillian slunk down near the stone pillar holding the gate upright, distraught and frightened. She huddled against the stone, taking little comfort in the sun’s warmth it held. Watching the space around her, she hoped nothing dared come near.
* * * *
At first light, Lillian awakened, surprised she’d slept. Letting her eyes focus as she took in her surroundings, she pulled herself up. The gate remained bolted and the property off limits due to the ferocious wire with barbed knots strung around it.
Hard reality set in. She’d been barred from her home–dead to them. Lillian turned away and walked along at a slow pace, trying to think. She could work, but who would hire the daughter of a prominent barrister to serve and clean for them. Some would think it a joke while others wouldn’t dare go against her father. Her belly grumbled, coupling her worry about finding a place who’d take her on.
Weary and sure she’d walked miles, she found a stump to rest on. Wiping moisture from her brow, she studied the rushes off in the nearby ren. She wondered if they hid a stream. The land was somewhat barren and seemed safe enough. She walked with purpose and did find water.
Cupping her hands, Lillian tasted the water. It was good. She drank until thirst left hunger then stood and saw the hem of her dress muddied. This gave her an idea. Reaching down in the muck, she grabbed a handful and splattered the dress. When she finished, she worried the style of the dress, maybe the fabric would still give away her stand. Sighing, she set her mind to think how to get around it.
Lillian studied the rushes with her mind working fast. She could weave a covering, but she needed something with a sharp edge and looked along the water's edge. A ways along the water, she found a flat, sharp-edged stone to cut the stems of the tall weeds. She set to work until the pile seemed large enough.
Once she’d made herself a resemblance of a cloak with a hood to cover her light disheveled hair, she went along the road until it split. She took to her left, a route she’d never been as it went away from the town of Milltown where her father worked.
The sun came higher and warmed her through the cloak, but she daren’t stop to remove it and risk no work. On she went, even when hunger pained her belly and her feet begged for rest.
Past a grouping of trees a field of black currents beckoned her. Unable to resist, she dared to do the punishable. She left the road, making her way through the brush grown up along the road.
With her stomach grumbling at the sight of the plump dark fruit, Lillian plucked one and tasted. Sweetness filled her mouth. “Mmmm.” Taking the bunch, she walked back toward the road and sat among the tall grasses. She savored each morsel until the sound of horses hooves pounding the packed dirt road came near. She stilled, certain her cloak would keep her hidden if one should look her direction. The carriage passed her by.
“Whoa,” a male voice said.
Closing her eyes, she feared he owned the field and would have her jailed. Careful not to move, she listened. From the single sound of boots slapping the hardened dirt, she knew he’d jumped down. She held her breath as he came closer.
“Pilfering fruit from the vine, are we?”
His voice directly behind her startled her, but she didn’t turn.
“Come up here,” he said, grabbing her by the shoulders.
She rose, facing him as his hands insisted. Before her stood the man who spent a fortnight in her dreams. Lowering her head from his view, she remained silent.
“Why are you wearing such a garment?” His hands came up and moved the hood from her head, revealing what must look a tangled mass of haze.
Lillian swallowed the embarrassment of being less than presentable. “I’ve no other,” she said with a meekness his presence caused.
She let her eyes meet his when silence seemed to linger from him. Samuel Wadkins studied her eyes, her face with his deep gray eyes. Shivers swept through her as snippets of her dreams swam before her. His hands gentle on her, making her feel warm, special–like a woman. His words soft and loving as his face closed the distance between them. She always woke before the touch of his lips.
Samuel wiped his finger along her bottom lip then licked the juice from it, his tongue moving slow up to the tip. Tingles twirled in her belly.
“Mmm, I wonder…”
His young, smooth face became taught with strained…she wasn’t sure what, but she sensed no fear for herself.
Fingers grazed her cheeks. “Your skin is soft like silkweed,” he murmured.
“It is your touch that is smooth and tender.” Lillian’s heart drummed within her. How he could not hear, she did not know.
He reached for her hands and turned her palms up, caressing them with his. She wavered on her feet as fire seared through her veins.
“Tender flesh. I think you’re not a homeless waft, nor a worker.”
She yanked her hands back, wishing she’d considered her under worked flesh. “Please, sir. You’re being too familiar.”
“Not yet, but I feel…”
Before he finished, his arms were about her and his mouth was on hers, moving, tasting her lips and left while shock held her still. Fingers kneaded through the cloak, relaxing her. She dared to rest her hands on his waist while her mouth succumbed to his, even opening to him when he attempted to slip his tongue between her lips.
He teased her into playing and she became the lover she wanted to be for him. Letting her hands move up and wind around his neck, she slipped her fingers into his dark hair, enjoying the flavor of coffee and cinnamon as she mirrored his movements, kissing him with equal need, hunger.
Her knees bent as he lowered her, coming down to lay over her as she opened to see him. He watched her with eyes darkened by his need, his face drawn with what she also wanted. Waiting for him to guide her into what was new, a niggling voice said she was behaving unladylike. It didn’t override what the unfinished dreams left her wanting. She wanted to know him as her heart ached for him to know her. She felt her dress rise and her pantaloon pushed down. She searched his eyes, willing to give him what she’d been told was sacred to man she’d marry.
“I feel as I know you and don’t. Please, tell me your name,” he requested, his voice more gravelly than before.
Lillian caught herself before she told him her given name. He might associate it with the name of her father. Rather, she told him her second name. “Ann.”
Chapter Two
Samuel caressed her most intimate place and she arched into him, enjoying the feel of his fingers against sensitive flesh. “Touch me, Ann. Know my cock wants you,” he whispered and placed her hand on the flap of his trousers.
Despite the crude reference, she found him harder than a cob of corn and her mother’s words came back to her. Men want with ease, but we must be the barer of wit and hold them off. Reaching up, she caressed the side of his face. “We should not be doing this. Someone could come along.” His fingers plunged inside her. “Oh,” she moaned. “Such wonder, pleasure.”
“Your pussy wants me as I want?”
“Deeply.” He moved in and out of her…pussy…with a steady rhythm, controlling her body as it moved with him. Her eyes fluttered closed as she gripped his upper arm somehow wanting it more for the hearing of the words she’d only heard from the men who worked for her father. “I should…shall not stop you.”
Lips brushed her brow and his breath lingered over her mouth. “I’ve never felt such a burden of need. I can not prolong.”
He withdrew and she watched him undo his belt and lower his trousers. His length protruded large and purple. Excitement beneath hesitation had her searching his eyes. She needed to see caring in his eyes. Samuel moved to kneel between her thighs, and it was there with intense passion. He grasped his shaft, moved it over her folds and pushed into her. “Oh, God! Stop!” she cried, as it seemed part of her ripped and his body set against her.
“I’m sorry,” he croaked.
“Mama didn’t tell me it’d hurt so,” she said, feeling foolish.
He covered her face with kisses, wiping the tears with his lips. “I didn’t mean to cause you pain, but it will go and pleasure will revive.”
She nodded, trusting him without question. He groped beneath her cloak, finding her breast. His warm hand was as adept at drawing her thoughts from the hurt as his lips were pulling her deep within the heat of his mouth.
Lillian’s thighs began to relax and her hips tilted into him. Slow and easy, he began to move, swallowing her moans as renewed fire flamed between their loins. She found her body matching his as he hovered on his hands. Her heart melted and fell the rest of the way in love with the man she felt connected to from that first look a fortnight ago.
“Oh,” she panted when a current much like the rolling creek after a hard rain snaked through her midsection.
“Hold on to me, Annie,” he mumbled.
She grabbed his shoulders, feeling him tremble while he rocked into her with quickness and force.
“Mmm, oh, mmm,” he moaned.
The energy, his pleasure, carried her into uncontrollable convulsions of spiraling euphoria she’d never dreamed possible. He followed her with his own shudders, jerking before collapsing on her, their bodies quaking with tremors. There were no words known to her to describe the happiness her body yielded. Holding him to her, she breathed deep to catch her wind and kissed his head.
“I’ve never known a woman to lose herself so,” he spoke into her neck. “Never have I…so fast. I want more of you.” His lips trailed along her neck.
“Samuel,” she moaned.
“You know who I am?” He rose, looking down into her face.
“I do.”
“Where do I find you on my return from town?”
Panic filled her. For the moment, she’d forgotten. She had no place. He could not look for her. With her hands, she pushed at him. “You must be on your way.”
“I am late,” he admitted as he pushed himself up. “Where do I find you?”
“You mustn’t think of me. It would not do for you.”
“I beg to differ. I want to see you again.”
Flattered, she watched him pull his britches up and realized she needed to put herself back together. Scrambling to put her clothing right, she sucked in her breath at the soreness she felt.
“The Hammond’s are over the hill. Go beg to work for the stolen fruit.”
“Yes, sir,” she whispered, feeling as if she’d been put in her place beneath him. Will he now boast to his friends how he bedded a servant on the side of the road? She didn’t want to think that of him, but she’d heard how men would talk. Even of untruths to be truths.
He returned to his carriage and settled in with the reins in hand. Before he flicked to move the horse along, he looked back at her. “If they don’t have you jailed or work, I’ll pay and you can work it off for me.” His face lit up with a smile aimed at her much like the one he’d beamed at her sisters on that heart-felled day.
When she stared after him, long after he’d gone from her sight, a sigh escaped. “Not exactly how I wanted us to be Samuel Wadkins.” She wiped her face, put her hood back in place and turned away, determined not to let her heart turn at what truth she didn’t know. There were other matters to be concerned with. Turning away, she walked on, hating the moisture dampening her undergarment. She much wanted fresh clothing as well as to bathe.
Once over the hill, Lillian saw a grand white house with shutters of polished coal. Walking up the lane, she prayed those tending the grounds wouldn’t turn her about. She rounded the house and knocked on the kitchen door. An elderly woman answered.
“Are you in need of a maid?”
“No!”
The woman started to shut the door. “Please, I need to repay for fruit I staved off my hunger with.”
Old, bluish eyes looked her over. “Your age.”
“Barely eighteen, ma’am.”
“You can stay the morning and scrub pots.”
Without a word, Lillian followed her into the small, darkened room. Only lanterns gave off light for the tasks tended. Near the sink, pots and other dishes were stacked high. She filled the washbasin from the pump and for the duration of the meal preparation and serving of, she scraped, scrubbed and washed until there were none left.
She looked around and found herself alone. Not daring to be so forward to wander the house to gain permission to go, she slipped out the door with no destination on the horizon.
Trudging along the road with her head lowered, she fought the desperate need to return to her home to plead her father’s forgiveness.
“Hey! Wait! Girl! Cap ‘o Rushes, wait!”
Lillian turned around when she realized the girl called for her. “Yes?”
“The misses want to see you.”
“Why?”
“No question the misses, just do as asked.”
“All right.” She returned with the girl and followed her to the parlor.
The red-haired woman set her embroidery aside, casting her eyes on her. “What is your name? Where did you come from?”
“I’ve been wandering with no place to go.” It was not a lie, but she could not reveal where she hailed out of respect for her father. “Lil is my name.”
The woman nodded. “I’ve been informed of your honesty and you work hard. Our staff is full, but you have work until I place you elsewhere.”
“Thank you, ma’am.”
“Remove that horrid cover-up and let me see you.”
“I mustn’t. My dress is not presentable.”
“Have Mable find you something.”
“Thank you, ma’am.”
Lillian retraced her steps back to the kitchen where she’d been given the task of readying beans for the pot. It wasn’t unknown to her since her father’s cook had allowed her time and taught her to keep her busy.
The young girl came into the room, giggling. Mable quickly shushed her and pointed to the basket of potatoes waiting for peeling.
“Yes, grandmother,” she said as she sat. “Master Wadkins came by asking for Ann. Misses told him no one by that name here. He wanted to see all staff and she wouldn’t disrupt her household for she knows all the names.”
Lillian squelched the pleasure of Samuel remembering her. Although, it’d do him no good to take up with a servant she’d now become. Again, since she’d seen the woman called Callie rubbing her protruding belly, she prayed his seed didn’t do it’s intended.
“Would you be the Ann, he’s looking for?” asked the granddaughter.
“I’m called Lil,” she answered. Concentrating on the task, she forced Samuel from her mind.
“I’m Emma. I’m learning to fill Callie’s place for when she has her baby.”
Lillian nodded, realizing how in the short hours she’d been there, she felt at home. No one talked over her as her sisters had done. No one sent her from the room because she was deemed too young or in the way.
Weeks, two months worth, passed and Lillian heard no further word of Samuel’s search for his Ann. She figured he moved on to another girl, maybe three or more by now. It saddened her to think him such a womanizer. She worked hard and slept sound, except when dreams of her and Samuel woke her with fire of longing and wetness between her thighs. The creek cooled her on these nights, but it hadn’t removed the ache of knowing her prayers hadn’t been answered. Samuel need not be troubled with knowing, nor would she tell who fathered her child.
Lillian sighed as she dried and dressed to start her day. In the kitchen, she set to work amongst the excited chatter of the kitchen. The annual harvest celebration the Wadkins held seemed to be all they could talk of. This would have been her first year to attend the three-day event.