by Smith, Skye
Britta ruffled his hair and then lifted Robby off his lap and trotted back up stairs. She slipped back into the bedroom, which now was steeped in the heady aromas of kief smoke and lust and sex . She took Robby through to the nursery and got him ready for a nap. While she was there she changed into some of her own, very modest clothes and then returned to the bedroom to see if Lydia was still all right.
Lydia was more than all right. The men were tiring, but Lydia wanted more. They had moved to the bed and most of the bed's covers were now on the floor. Anyone under the window would be getting an earful of the sounds of absolute erotic joy.
Again Britta left the room and went to the kitchen to see if there was any lemonade already made up. She brought a jug of it on a tray with some glasses, and used her key to unlock the liquor cabinet and she put a bottle of sipping rum on the tray as well. She remembered that her mother had always been very thirsty after being pleasured by two men.
This time when she entered the room the three of them were laying on their backs on the bed trying to cool off. She put the tray on the table by the bed, and poured four lemonades. Lydia rolled over towards the edge of the bed to grab one. Her skin was glistening with sweat. Her whole body was flushed pink. Her face was glowing and looked as young as the face of a teen.
"That was fantastic. Nothing I have ever done felt even half so good as that did." Lydia took a long drink and then passed the glass to Red. She passed another to her husband. Then she crawled over to him and started caressing him.
"No more," Robert said. "I am done. I am more than done. I may never get it up again."
Sanity returned with the cooling drink, and Red became very aware of what had just happened. Here he was, naked and spent in bed with a married couple. This could turn very bad for him, very, very bad. He decided to stay very quiet.
"The bath tub is still full and would cool you," Britta mentioned. It was exactly the right thing to say. The three hoisted their glasses, while Lydia poured some rum into them, and then the three of them moved to the bath tub. They giggled like teenage girls as they all tried to stand in it at the same time. This meant that they all had to lean into each other and support each other.
"Britta," Lydia said between laughs and giggles, "be a good girl and pour water over us."
She obliged them by dragging the dresser stool over to the tub and then used the bucket to take water up high and pour it slowly over the three of them.
Lydia was kissing one man, then the other. Deep, sensuous kisses. "Thank you, thank you, thank you," was all that she could think of saying between kisses.
Later, when they were drying each other, the wanton Lydia asked, "When can we do this again?"
The men gave each other a hard look. They had both been officers in the war. When armies marched there was always a shortage of women amongst the camp followers. The sharing of women was commonplace and nothing new to them. Lydia's reaction to being shared was quite normal. They well knew that it took two men to push a woman to such heights of sexual ecstasy.
"Think before you speak, Red," said Robert. "This woman is my wife. You have just cuckolded me. If that became common gossip, the men of this valley would expect me to kill you. If they found out and I let you live, I would become a laughing stock. I think it safer that we all agree that this never happened, and that it will never happen again. It is one of those things that we will smile about to each other when we are old."
"Agreed, that is for the best." said Red in relief, "but what of ..." and he pointed towards Britta.
Britta stared at them, one at a time. "So long as I am not violated, I will keep your secret," she finally said.
"Go away, girl," said Robert with a wave of his hand. "Tell the kitchen that Red will be staying for dinner." He never took his eyes from Lydia. Her skin was glowing with youth and health and beauty and vitality.
Britta was slow to move because she also was staring at Lydia. She was magnificent, standing naked between the two spent men, and still wanting more. Her head was high, her breasts swollen, her skin shining. Britta said a silent prayer to the moon goddess Freyja, for surely this woman had touched the goddess today.
* * * * *
* * * * *
MAYA’S AURA - the Redemptioner by Skye Smith
Chapter 13 - The Breach
"Maya, wake up Maya," Nana said over and over. The girl had been telling her of her latest crystal dream, or at least the parts that she remembered, but then she had suddenly had gone into a trance. "Oh dear, I fear that these dreams are taking over your mind."
Maya opened her eyes, and said softly. "Some Prosecco might help." She nodded her thanks as Nana passed her a glass of the bubbly white wine of Venice.
"Do you want to go on dear," asked Nana. These latest dreams seem more like a series of nightmares. Poor Britta to have lived through such turmoil."
"Nightmares? Far from it," said Maya as she sipped the cool bubbly. "I just had the most wonderfully erotic dream. So real, so visual. Lydia Caldwell was a very comely woman, and such a classy slut. As for Britta, well I have seen the poverty she knew in England, living in rags and in hovels and always hungry. I doubt she thought of her time with the Caldwells is a nightmare. She is living in a grand house with servants. She wears silks instead of rags. Her main duty is to watch over a delightful little boy."
"I suppose," Nana thought some more. "Putting aside that she was indentured, and her virtue in peril, yes, when seen in perspective perhaps it is not such a nightmare."
"And what really is the worst case for her. Oh dear, she teases one of the men too much and gets laid. Oh darn. I can't wait for that dream, though I can't see it topping the one I just had."
"So you don't mind dreaming some more."
"Mind," replied Maya. "I am on the edge of finding out the mystery of the Caldwells. Is any of this mentioned in her diaries."
"No, she wrote her diaries much later in life," Nana admitted.
"Then let me dream some more," said Maya and made herself comfortable sitting cross legged on the Persian prayer rug that had been fading for years in the sunbeams through the window.
* * * * *
* * * * *
The hot summer weather continued even though the days were getting short and the evenings mercifully cooler. Britta felt free to wear clothes other than the Puritan smocks, for both Robert and Red were being more respectful to her. Red was often a guest in the heat of the day. Too often Britta's training in book-keeping in the library was interrupted by Lydia, where she continued her tryst with Red while Britta sat on the balcony as lookout.
In the library, Britta had discovered a hand-written book of recipes for tasty snacks and tasty drinks that must have been composed by Robert's first wife Ellen. Since she had the recipes, and a larder full of spices, and teas, and coffee and cocoa, she began to make evening treats for Robert and Lydia. They became something to look forward to.
Some recipes were simple and elegant, like coffee with beaten cream, or cocoa with hot milk and ground Guinea spice. Others were more complicated and included the use of Indian tea, especially the flower buds. These often had unexpected consequences, such as silly laughter, or great hunger, or Lydia pulling off her clothes and pulling Robert up to bed. It was difficult to believe that the Indian tea was the same plant that rough rope was made from.
Britta tried to ignore the awful risks that the Red and Lydia were taking. Since the excuse for Red being upstairs in the library was that he was teaching her writing and numbers, she did learn a lot, despite the lessons being interrupted by Lydia's carnal desires.
* * * * *
One day Britta had to shake them out of their passion and tell them that they no longer had a watcher, because Lucy was calling for her to attend the birthing of a black child.
"This child is being born out of season," explained Lucy as they walked between the slave cabins. "The goddess brings the young to all creatures in the spring, so that is why we breed the women in the summer. Why sh
ould we fight the wisdom of the Goddess. This woman has been humping the village lads for sugar money. That is why she is out of season. It is not her first child so it should be an easy birth."
Britta was carrying Lucy's birthing pack. "May I do it then? It will be my first with hands on."
"Are your fingernails short and clean?" asked Lucy. "I've no time for fancy women. You show me long fingernails and I'll show you a useless tit." She stopped and looked at Britta's hands. "Humph, If you do well today then you can do all of them. You will soon better my skill. You have the hands of a midwife. Small and with long fingers." She showed Britta her own hands. They were big with fat fingers. The hands of a farmer.
The birthing went well. The mother knew enough to finish the birthing on all fours, rather than lying on her back, and she had already been stretched by other babies and so the head of this one slipped out easily. Britta now understood what Lucy meant about her hands. She was able to use them to guide the head and then help with the shoulders. Britta's mother had often told her that being a midwife was the best and the worst of work. The end result was either joyous or tragic. This time it was joyous.
While she was drawing the baby out she tried not to think of the three women looking on. They would all know more about birthing than she, but she could not think of that. She had to concentrate on the baby and the mother. "Relax, try to breathe normally. We are almost free of you and another push may do damage." She reached forward and rubbed the mothers belly soothingly. "Smile, breath, close your eyes and relax."
"A boy," Lucy said once it came, "and a pretty one too. Not misshapen from the birthing. You did well Britta. You do have magic hands."
Britta had experienced the most wonderful feeling when she forced the baby to take his first breath. Now, however, she felt the exhaustion from holding her position and the muscle control and the stress, but she wore a smile from ear to ear. She started to back away, but she was stopped by Lucy.
"No you don't, honey. You wanted to do it. You do it all. That includes the cleanup. You won't always have this much experienced help around you."
Eventually, with baby and mother clean and together, Britta started to clean herself up. She looked at the bonding and sighed, and sent a prayer of thanks to Freyja.
The mother looked at her and said, "I will call him Britta after you."
"But Britta is a girl's name. Bret is the boy's name. Welcome to the world Bret." And suddenly she felt a deep depression. Her precious Bret was already a slave.
* * * * *
As the summer wore on, Jon's face returned to its normal good looks, and he was no longer required to service the women, as that season was now over. Many of those he had serviced were experiencing morning sickness, though these strong working women were not showing bellies yet.
Instead he filled his hours by working alongside Beth with the cattle. His Frisian ancestors were famous for their dairy cattle and for their horses. He had decided to learn those skills. Beth was the best one to teach him such things.
"Come on, little sugar," Beth said. "The valley farms just rotated bulls, and our new one is not yet a gentleman."
They took a slight detour to walk in the shade of the trees that ran along the river. "There is something moving in the grass over there," Jon said and pointed.
"Ignore them unless you hear a call for help, little sugar." replied Beth, "That is just one of the younger women earning some extra sugar money from one of the lads from the village. Lucy and Robert never walk this way, on purpose mind, so that they don't have to know about it. The women ask me to walk this way occasionally, just in case the lads don't behave themselves." She physically pulled Jon onto a different track. "Rude to stare, little sugar."
"I suppose it is to be expected," nodded Jon, "They need men to pleasure them."
"Haaahhh, fool," hooted Beth. "You don't think we depend on men to pleasure us do you. The only thing we need from men is their seed, but extra money is always welcome."
They walked out of the shade into the brilliance of the sun and climbed over the split log fence into the bull paddock. "We need to get him into that chute. Go over the other side and we will herd him from both sides at once."
Jon looked at the great beast. He was young, perhaps only two or three, and his horns were long and sharp. "But he looks dangerous. Look at those horns."
"Like I said, he is not yet a gentleman. That’s why I carry this saw."
"But doesn't he need the horns to protect the herd?" asked Jon.
"They's no wolves about here any more. The only thing he will do with them horns is injure my cows. The only horn that bull needs is the one between his legs."
They circled behind the bull and sure enough he started walking away from them. Eventually they had him near the entrance to the chute, but there was no way he was going in. When Jon came too close behind him, he kicked out and started to get ornery with his horns.
Jon felt so small compared to the size of the bull. Actually he felt so small compared to the size of Beth. He watched as Beth walked up beside the rear flank of the beast and then without warning threw her heavy, muscled hips sideways into him. The bull's rear was knocked violently sideways and his rear legs lost their balance and he sat sideways on the ground. When he pulled forward to stand up again, his head and shoulders entered the chute, and then Beth kicked him hard in the ass and he leaped forward into the chute.
Jon slid the poles into place behind the bull, and then helped Beth to trap the giant head so she could saw the horns off.
"Come look see." she said, "never cut them too short. Keep your eye peeled for any blood. If you ever see blood then stop immediately and start again further along the horn."
When they finally got the bull backed out of the chute, he went after Beth, head low, full charge. Despite her size and weight, she had the muscles to be light on her feet. At the last minute she danced sideways and swung her hip into his fore flank. He went down on that leg, saved himself and retreated to the far side of the paddock. He stared at them as they walked away.
"I learned long ago that a fight doesn't have to end in bloodshed. If you keep pushing them to keep them off balance, eventually they come to their senses and retreat without going for blood. It's much the same with men."
* * * * *
They were just getting back to the great house to look for snacks and a cool drink, when a cart careened into the yard with a young blond lad fighting the reins to stop the horse and yelling, "Help! Help!"
Beth danced forward and grabbed the bridle of the mare and pulled the head of the beast downward with all of her weight. The cart stopped quickly though Beth was dragged a few yards. She held the mare until she was calm again. It helped that she pulled a small turnip from her apron and let her munch it.
"Help! Help!" the lad was still crying out, now to Britta and Jon. He was so relieved to be able to talk to white folks. "My sister is having a baby but my ma says that it is a breach. She wants to borrow Lucy. Oh hurry, hurry! They are trying to stop her from pushing, but we may be too late already."
Britta ran to Lucy's cabin yelling out for her. She grabbed the birthing pack and hurried the old woman along. "He say's it is a breach. They are waiting for you." As soon as they reached the cart, which Beth had now turned around, they were physically lifted aboard by Beth. Jon was about to jump in too, when Beth's strong hand pulled him back.
"Master Robert is away, so you are the white guy in charge right now. You cannot leave the farm," Beth told him. "I will go with them to keep your sister safe." With that she climbed up onto the driver's bench and pushed the lad along it out of her way and grabbed the reins and the whip from him. She had that cart moving at full speed before they even reached the gate. Britta and Lucy were screaming in the back as they tried to hold on, but she never slowed until she reached the lad's farm house.
The speeding mare was totally under Beth's control. She pulled the cart up and stopped short not a yard from the porch where the men of the
family were standing and talking. All three hundred pounds of her leaped from the cart and landed like a cat beside the mare to hold her still.
The men just stood staring at them from the porch. Britta hopped down and helped Lucy down, and then grabbed the birthing pack. The men still stood there, useless. A tall man came forward and blocked their way to the porch. "I'll not have my child come to this world into the hands of a nigger and a harlot."
Britta looked down at her skirt. She had not taken the time to change into Puritan drab. Though she was covered neck to ankle, she was colorful and hatless. She stepped forwards and said soothingly, "If it is your wife's first, and it is a breach, and it goes wrong, then she may be barren for the rest of her life. Surely you would not wish that on her? On you?"
Beth left the mare with the lad, and walked to the porch. When she stepped up, the whole porch rattled. She returned the hard stares of the men. "This man must be the town fool. Missy Britta has lovely blonde hair. How can she be a nigger." With that she slammed her huge hips back and forth and sent men flying in both directions. "Men, they're always in the way." She opened the door and ushered the two midwives through, then blocked the doorway behind them.
The men regained their feet and rushed towards her. Beth said, "This is not the place to fight. Anyone want to go to the barn with me?" The men pulled the expectant father away from her and sat him down to wait. "Well then," she said and put her hands under her breasts and lifted them, "anyone want to go to the barn for a bit of the other. I mean, while I'm here anyway."
A teen put up his hand, but the older man beside him pulled it down for him, and then clipped him across the back of the head.
Inside the house there were a half a dozen women standing about, but they parted without comment. As soon as Britta saw the birthing mother, she started yelling out orders, the main one being, "Help her off her back and onto her hands and knees."
The woman in charge said, "this is how we do it in a civilized house."