Master Werner

Christine knew who it had to be approaching. Who else but the handsome Master of the House could it be? At least she knew who she desperately hoped it would be.

"Hello?" Her tentative greeting sounded small in the emptiness of the stables. There was no answer, but from the dark, a broad-shouldered silhouette materialized. Christine's heart pounded fiercely against her ribs as she climbed awkwardly to her feet. She silently thanked the Lord for the darkness that hid both the fierce flush on her cheeks and the way the soaked work-shirt was molded against her breasts.

"Were you able to finish up your washing?" The Verderer's rich baritone sent a frisson through Christine's core, and she wondered what it was about this man that caused this feminine reaction.

"Yes, Master Werner." Compared to his deep voice hers sounded timid and small, "I've just rinsed out the last bit." Christine's father reminded her time and time again to project confidence when she spoke, but it seemed impossible standing alone in the darkness wearing nothing but a damp, over-sized shirt. She turned to hang the undergarment from the line when she realized that the Verderer had moved silently to her side.

"I can help hang that," he said as he plucked the frilly leggings from her hands. The man was so close that she could smell the earthiness of his scent; it had a hint of the forest mixed with a musky aroma that was all male. She was deeply embarrassed to have any man handling her intimate apparel, but other than wrestling for the scrap of linen, she had little option but to let him drape the item over the line next to the others. He had changed out of the green quilted tunic with the embroidered Forester's coat of arms and wore a simple pale linen shirt much like the one that was plastered to her wet skin.

Christine wished she could see the Verderer's clear blue eyes, but in the dim light she could barely make out the shape of his face. At least he wouldn't be able to -

The thought was wiped from her mind when his hand caught her arm just above the elbow and he pulled her close.

"I should never have kissed you this afternoon." The Verderer's voice came out as a growl and Christine bit her lower lip between her teeth worried that she had angered the man somehow. His other hand reached behind her head where his fingers wormed their way into her dark wavy hair. "Now, all I can think about is kissing you again." Christine felt the contradictory emotions of relief and alarm, but before she could find an appropriate response, her head was tilted back, and his mouth once again covered her lips.

"Mmmm." Christine moaned softly, and perhaps encouraged by her response, his tongue slipped past her teeth and was exploring deep within her small mouth. Surprised by the sudden intrusion Christine could do nothing but cling to the Verderer's arms as he continued the bold kiss. As big and strong as the man was, he would easily have his way with someone as petite as her, but even if she could have pulled free, she doubted that she would have. The kiss finally ended with her panting heavily and swaying precariously on her bare feet as Werner's hands settled on her hips to steady her.

"Damn, girl." He muttered as he noticed for the first time just how wet her shirt was. "Did you wash this old rag too?" His palm pressed the damp linen to her belly exploring her soft curves in the blackness. Once again, before she could find any words that seemed at all appropriate to the situation, she felt the Verderer's rough hands moving upwards along her slight body. They roamed over the swell of her belly to the full curves of her breasts where he seemed to pause in a silent reassessment. "I have to stop calling you 'girl', Evelyn, because -" his hands cupped her and squeezed gently, "these are the tits of a full-grown woman."

Again, Christine was torn between conflicting responses to the Verderer's reaction to her curves. As petite as she was, men often judged her to be much younger than she actually age, and she felt a surge of pride that this man recognized her as a woman. At the same time, her upbringing made her want to scream in protest. Who was this man, a commoner at that, to grope her breasts like a farmer evaluating a nanny-goat and render judgement on her maturity?

When his fingers slipped through the 'V' neck of the loose shirt and suddenly he was cupping her bare flesh in his palm, Christine no longer cared who the man was or how wrong this whole encounter was. She just wanted him to continue in any way he pleased. Her nipple, already stiff and hard, throbbed as his calloused thumb ran back and forth over the peak several times with just the right amount of pressure to make her arch upwards and press her flesh into his hand shamelessly. Apparently, this was the final straw for the Verderer too.

"I have to have you." His groan was a surrender, a promise, an adulation and a threat all at the same time and it never even occurred to Christine to deny him what he had come for. When his hands found the hem of the wet shirt, she lifted her arms demurely over her head allowing the man to uncover every last inch of her naked body. It may have been too dark for the Verderer to take in the beauty of her youthful figure, but that did not stop him from using his other senses.

First his hands and then his mouth explored her creamy flesh, nuzzling the softness of her throat and then down to the damp valley between her breasts. Christine's eager moans and gasps of delight were all the skilled lover needed to guide his **** on her long-preserved virtue. By the time the Verderer sucked one of her nipples into his mouth and gently nibbled on the puckered teat Christine thought she had experienced more sinful pleasure than even the most skilled courtesan in the King Solomon's palace, but that was before his fingers pressed between her silky thighs and found the place that was most private of all.

"Oh, please." Was all she could muster when his thick fingers curled up and between her folds. It could have been a plea to stop, or a demand that he finishes what he started, but it didn't really matter what Christine intended, because the Verderer shushed her with another long kiss even as his fingers found the pearl hidden deep in the petals and began teasing the sensitive nub. "Uhhgh, ooghh, oghgh" her soft moans were in rhythm with his rubbing fingers, and she felt a heat that she had never before experienced begin to build in her loins. It took a few more minutes of work, but between the Verderer's teething of her nipples and the steady caressing of her sex Christine could no longer hold back the sinfulness that was consuming her from within. "Oh ... oh ... Ohh … OHHHG, Oh Lord forgive me!"

Clinging to the man's neck, Christine jerked in one spasm after another as her insides melted and flowed from her sex and down her thighs.

"Come here, Evelyn." The Verderer words were a sharp command, as he led her firmly into a nearby stall that was mostly piled high with fragrant hay. He left her leaning against a wall as he laid out a blanket on a thick layer of the freshly cut grass and then stripped away his remaining clothing. The darkness of the stall spared Christine the sight of his long erection twitching with need as drops of pre-cum dripped from the tip, but she knew enough about what men expected from women that she had no doubts about how this would end.

"Please," She whispered as he lowered her to the makeshift bed, "I've never been with a man." She didn't want to sound silly, but she had heard that the first union could be painful for the maid. "Please be gentle."