It wasn't the boy so much as the place. Not the body, but where he worked. Not the cock specifically, but the dirt, and dust, and the lack of finery.

It's not as though I didn't have other options.

Mother had taken me aside early in the piece and explained extraordinarily bluntly what was, and wasn't acceptable. In short, it was this: Don't get caught. In two ways. Don't let anyone see you, unless they are directly involved, and don't get pregnant, unless you are going to get married to someone, very, very fast.

She went on to explain that there was a family history of high interest levels where the act was concerned, and that her mother had a similar conversation with her. She made it apparent that there were two sets of rules. One set for outsiders, all of whom thought we were very proper ladies. We were in public, in formal settings, with our husbands and families. Another set was for behind closed doors, for occasions which we could later deny ever happened if necessary.

It was an aberration on my part though, to prefer the stable doors to those of the house, and the dirty stable-boys to the gentlemen who seemed to flock to our estate for various quite legitimate reasons.

The first time, I was, as you might expect, somewhat nervous. Mother had discussed this with me also, with a plainness that was not at all the norm, even for her, and had told me all I needed to know about how to act, about how to indicate an interest, about how to lure my conquest to the point where he thought he was taking control. If he thought he was in charge, Mother stressed, he was much less likely to talk afterwards, at least to anyone of importance. Mother shocked me by discussing other matters such as dalliance with other girls, and activities for one who is alone, but that's a whole different story.

She warned me that no matter my level of interest, the first episode was unlikely to be ideal, and that I should choose someone experienced in the love arts as a partner, in order to receive tuition, so to speak. I disappointed her there. Jacob was as inexperienced as myself, and ill-informed as well.

In fact I did nothing to plan the encounter, took no precautions to prevent detection, and worst of all, completely forgot Mothers instruction with regard to appropriate times in my cycle to avoid becoming with child. Indeed, the entire episode was impromptu, improvised, and, well, glorious.

I had been riding with my sister that morning. Steady rain had kept us and our horses indoors for a few days, and the mounts weren't exactly manageable. We were attempting to keep them together, and had practised a few jumps in the field behind the house, but her horse seemed uninterested in physical activity, whereas Luther and I were wanting to extend ourselves, and use up some of the pent up energy. I guess that was my downfall, but not right then.

My sister gave up in disgust eventually, and headed back to the stables, promising to get someone else to exercise the horse while she took a bath. Luther and I headed for the hills, separating ourselves from the house as quickly as possible, my excitement spurring him somehow, until the wind was blowing through my hair, and I realised that I wasn't really dressed for this sort of ride, with the cold wind whipping through me.

I slowed Luther to a trot, and turned him back toward a stand of trees behind the work-sheds, intending to get out of the wind as soon as I could, but by the time we reached the trees, I realised that I needed to get back to the stables, get out of these riding clothes, and get warm.

Once I arrived at the stables, it was apparent that my sister had disappeared for what now seemed a very appropriate hot bath, and my thoughts were on offloading Luther to the staff, and joining her in the large tub. We'd taken to sharing a bath of late, after a hiatus of a few years, and we discussed boys mostly, ignoring the mutters from the servants supplying hot water, flicking bubbles at each other.

No one was around in the stable to assist my dismount from Luther, and I was at first annoyed, and called out loudly to raise some assistance. Just as I had given up, and was climbing down from the horse alone, Jacob, one of the stable hands, came tearing in the door, a bucket in each hand, a worried look on his face. As he covered the space between the doorway and Luther, his eyes on me, he tripped over a wayward rope, and crashed to the dirt floor. Both buckets tore themselves from his hands, and flew through the air, throwing liquid in all directions, though one bucket seemed to have aimed itself rather well, and I was instantly drenched to the skin.

I acted without thinking. Turning on the terrified Jacob, I questioned his intelligence, his devotion, his family history (about which I knew a thing or two, I might add) and his ability to walk in a straight line. As this invective flew from my mouth, he turned and ran to get me a blanket, and I started tearing off the soaking cold clothes. Before I stopped to think, I was standing there in my undergarments, my proper clothing in a sodden heap on the dirt, and Jacob had returned with a clean but rough rug. He was staring and speechless, wondering how he was supposed to deal with the young mistress half naked in his stable.

My anger began to drain, perhaps removed along with the clothing, and I realised I had an opportunity here. Forgetting modesty, or care, I turned away from Jacob, carefully unlaced the remainder of my clothing, and threw it to the ground. As I grabbed the blanket from the shocked boy, I smiled at him. Suddenly I realised that he was soaking wet too, and wearing much thinner clothing that I had been. He must have been freezing.

Summoning the imperious tone of command that Mother had taught me, I spoke with him sternly, giving him little choice but to obey. "Take them off, Jacob. Then come over here."

"But Miss Lucinda..."

"Hurry up Jacob, before you freeze."

He did. I was weirdly proud of myself. He stood there and removed his peasant clothing, right down to his shorts. He hesitated then.

"Mistress, I'll get in serious trouble."

"Don't be ridiculous. Get them off!"

"Yes, Miss."

I was a little stunned when he did. I had never seen a naked man before, and even though Jacob was young, he didn't lack for anything under those pants, and the rest of him was nothing to sneeze at either. Summoning the rest of my rapidly diminishing courage, I opened the prickly blanket, and dragged him into it, and pressed his cold body to mine, wrapping us both tightly together, our faces close, our bodies touching in various places as yet unfamiliar to me.

Jacob still wasn't saying anything, but he wasn't trying to get away either. I had noticed some indication of his interest prior to wrapping him in the blanket, and I was fairly sure I could feel the same interest pressing against me now. His hands were held flat against my lower back, and things were warming up in the blanket, fast.

"Jacob, do you want me to let you go?"

"Ahhh... no, Miss."

"Lucy. You can't call me Miss like this."

"Yes, Miss... Lucy. It's Jake, Miss. No one calls me Jacob, except you and Miss Beatrice."

"It's a deal, Jake, so long as you call me Lucy. Just for now, mind. Not in public."

"Absolutely not, ... Lucy."

"Listen, standing here is nice, but is there anywhere..."

"The straw pile, Miss."

"Lucy."

"Lucy. The straw in the loft is clean, mostly. And soft."

"The loft then. You first." I held the blanket open briefly, and he shot away from me, his endowment pointing the way while I watched his bare posterior jiggle up the ladder to the loft, pleased with my somewhat impromptu choice.

As soon as he disappeared at the top of the steps, I whipped the blanket under one arm, and followed him. I thought briefly about the chance of someone coming into the stable and spotting me climbing the ladder, but realised that I didn't have a hope of coming up with reasonable explanation, so I'd best just hurry up.

Jake was right about the straw. A large pile of the stuff was thrown haphazardly in one corner, and it was compressed in the middle, which led me to believe that I wasn't the first girl to find herself up here with a stable-hand.

"Jake, have you been here before?" I asked, wrapping myself up again in the blanket as he stared at me.

"Oh no, Miss. Not me. Umm... it does get used though, Miss."

"It's Lucy. Neither of us have any clothes on. There's no need for formality."

"Sorry... Lucy. Some of the men bring girls up here, but I never have."

"Jake, is this your first time?"

"Ahhh... yes."

"Mine too."

"Really?"

"Really. So calm down. We can teach each other."

"Oh." That was the last thing he said for a while, as I approached him again, wrapping the blanket around the both of us, and we fell to the straw.

I'd like to say it was instinctively good, but it wasn't, at least not at first. Jake took almost no time to ruin that opportunity. We fell with him beneath me, and my hands slid down the front of his body as his took a firm hold of my breasts.

I found his shaft, rigid and hot, and it felt just as Mother said it would. Curiously soft and pliable despite the rigidity. I wrapped my hand around the skin of it, and stroked, just to see what it felt like. The penis jumped, Jake gasped, and though I could see nothing, I could feel the explosion as he lost control and sprayed me carelessly with his hot seed.

I had to stop him apologising by firmly planting my lips on his, and he ceased objecting quite rapidly. I knew he would be ready again fairly soon, and this time he would be more calm, and perhaps able to complete the job more satisfactorily.

Jake's contentment with kissing did not last a great deal of time, and then he took me in his arms and turned me over on my back. We were both warm by this time so I didn't object at all when he pulled back the blankets, and proceeded to explore my body with his fingers.

I loved the gentle way he caressed my face, and the much more assertive way he kneaded my breasts. He was entranced by my erect nipples, and loved the way I jumped when he tweaked them.

His hands found their way down my sides, and across the base of my stomach, then down over my hips to the dark thatch of hair between my legs. He looked at me then, as if to ask permission, and I parted my knees in invitation, knowing that I was exposing the wet pinkness between my thighs.

He'd obviously been told some things, or had made it this far before, despite his earlier confession, because he knew what he was doing, it seemed.

His fingers slowly worked their way over and around the thatch, then up and down the ticklish part of my skin just outside the pubic lips. I must have been blushing awfully when his fingertips found their way to the inside, and caressed me much more intimately. Where his fingers were now, only mine had been before. A part of my mind was amused to remember that I had only done that the night before, but it seemed a lifetime ago.

Fingers dipped in my plentiful moisture, scooped some of it, and slid up and down my cleft. I groaned, and realised I had my own fingers on my nipples now, tweaking them as Jake had done.

I thrust my hips at his fingers, unable to voice my need, and he slid first one and then two fingers deep inside me, taking advantage of the lubrication I had supplied. As his fingers slid in and out I knew that I would be able to climax like this if I wanted to, but I could do that any time. I wanted something else today.

I reached down until my hands met his, and reluctantly pulled his fingers from their work. As I beckoned him wordlessly his body slid up mine again, until our mouths were together. I put my head beside his for a moment, and informed him that he needed to complete the agreed assignment. I used words I should not have known, and certainly should never have conveyed to the staff. Jake understood fully.

The boy was about my size, but a lot stronger than I. His recovery was full, his erection was impressive, and his body was poised above me.

With his knees between my legs, he positioned himself, the tip of him at my entrance, and he looked at me for approval before pressing himself carefully to my body.

He need not have worried. I might not have had possession of an actual penis in the past, but my hairbrush handle was thoroughly familiar with my intimate places. It would be difficult to say where it had seen the most action; brushing back my tresses in preparation for bed, or thrusting between my thighs in anticipation of eventual sleep.

The tip of him was large and hot, dribbling slightly. I cared about nothing more than to have him inside me, and I lifted my hips to encourage him. I felt him then, as I could not see a great deal. The girth of him spread me in a way of which the hairbrush was not capable. I could tell the texture and the outline of him as he slid slowly down, slippery but tight, and I looked up to see his expression. His eyes were open and he was staring at me. As he lowered himself to the limit of his abilities, and filled me wonderfully, he grinned, then lowered his face and kissed me gently.

"Mistress, do you hurt?"

"No, Jacob. I was prepared for this. Do not worry."

"I can move?"

"I insist."

He did. He lifted slowly and thrust against me, gently the first time, and then with more energy. His erection withdrew almost totally from me before returning to fill me again. Lift and lower. It became a sort of ritual, a chant. His body slid from mine and back again relentlessly. Jake and I both grunted with pleasure at each thrust.

Eventually, he forgot I was his mistress. I forgot he worked in the stable. Nothing mattered but the repetitive thump of his hardness between my thighs, and the growing, glowing tingle that he built in me.

Finally, even he was unimportant. Only the stimulation mattered. Only the release. I assisted events as I had before, with my fingertips cruelly gaining attention from my hard nipples.

I moved, in the end, realising it wasn't quite right, and that movement finished the larger orchestration in the nicest possible way. Jacob jumped, my skin now catching his in exactly the right way. His thrust moved him forward slightly, and the upper side of his erection slid in such a way as to excite me much more directly.

He thrust, harder and faster. I groaned, grabbed his posterior, and pulled him towards me as my body betrayed my control, and I climaxed around him.

A dim part of my mind realised, as I trembled and whimpered, that this was wonderfully superior to the hairbrush method. I shook beneath Jacob, arching my back without intent, clawing at his skin with my fingernails, and that was as much as the stable-boy was capable of handling. Without a word, he too found release, deep within my thighs, in my hottest, wettest, most desperate place, exactly where I wanted him.

We lay together, hot and spent beneath the scratchy blanket, and I could feel him changing as his erection subsided within me. I knew then that this was a feeling I wanted to be much more familiar with. I kissed him, and held him close.

Eventually we rolled apart, both hot and perhaps a little cautious. I asked Jake to let me take a proper look at him, and he shyly replied that I was, after all, the Mistress. I stopped him there and made sure he knew that here and now that wasn't the case. I was a woman, and he was to thank for that.

He whispered that if that was the case then he must now be a man, and that I knew who was to blame. He threw back the blanket and allowed me a proper look. I took some time to look him over, and the surprised him by returning the favour. I had not realised prior to this, but I liked him looking at me.

When his inspection was complete, I was tempted to begin the exercise again, but caution was now a stronger force than desire, and I let sense prevail. I made Jake climb down and retrieve our wet clothing, and then bring it to me.

I dressed, most uncomfortably, and climbed to the floor of the stable, just in time for my sister to walk through the door, clean and dry, to look for me.

"Lucy, what on earth happened to you?"

"The stable-hand, Sister, is what happened."

"You are all wet."

"You have no idea. The idiot boy tripped up and drenched me."

"Are you well?"

"Oh, yes. In fact, I rather enjoyed it."

"You need a bath, Lucy."

"Indeed I do."