I have searched the house high and low, and I have found letters. I have found letters from Catherine's brother arranging for his shamed daughter to travel to England with her maid, to have a child, and to return back across the ocean to continue the reputation of the Cain family. For Catherine was the sister of Alexandra's father, and she had the same name. So the exiled Catherine has raised a Cain. And I am that son and the true heir.
And there has been a betrayal, and there shall be a reckoning.
I have a ticket for the ocean crossing, and I will leave this house tomorrow. I will miss the house and its grounds. The remaining staff have been good to me, and even the damned cat has been less hostile these few months since Catherine's death. I have not seen the ravaged voiced old man since that strange night in the library, but there is something flickering on the edge of my mind that makes no sense to me. Or if there is sense, it is only insanity. I look at the circling cat and its eyes, its gaze, the way it holds my eyes and I think... but I don't know what I think. Madness lies on that long path, and I dare not go there.
I leave this house tomorrow, so this night I will away to the village to say my farewells to the maids there, those hearty strumpets in whose arms I learned what little I know of women. They were an awakening for me, from when I first discovered my rising cock and then they discovered it, and we played and tugged upon each other, and then sank into each other, wetness and kisses, hotness and laughter. And we are older now, and we have grown up together. So I must make my farewells to these three girls who have made me, who turned me from a boy into a man.
Lucy of the long fair hair, straight to her waist. She is tall, slender, but with a boyish arse and narrow hips and long legs. But she is undeniably a woman, her breasts high, full and round. She favours blouses with little buttons down the front that stretch and strain with the bounty of her breasts, and she walks tall and proud, her bosoms a front of her. She is a playful wench, blue eyed and forever laughing, thrusting her tits at the world. "Put the girls away, Lucy my love," the other girls will say, but Lucy is willful, and she won't! The boys never mind, and the wench likes to play.
Molly of the long body, long waisted, her breasts not as bounteous as young Lucy's, but nicely shaped, and a lovely cleft of cleavage. She is green eyed, high cheeked, her strawberry blonde hair cut short, wafts of hair forever escaping her bonnet. She is not so tall as Luce, and her legs not so long. But she likes a high pair of heels on her pretty feet, so they tighten her calves and tauten her rounded bum. She has taken to wearing a green leather dress these recent days, with a new fangled zipper all the way up the front, from the very hem all the way over the centre of her sweetly rounded belly, up over a pert tit, and the zipper stops right at the top, at her shoulder. I have imagined taking that zipper in my teeth and standing up straight, and the leather would fall aside from her curves. But she pushes me away, and then takes my hand and we go for a long walk up the hill to a luncheon cafe and then back down. She teases, does Molly, she is a tease.
And then Jenny. Little curvaceous Jenny, only just five feet tall, but oh what breasts are on this young wench, both my hands can only just hold each one. She will lie on her bed, her foot raised and resting on a shelf on the wall, her little legs splayed wide and her dress falling between her lovely thighs, but all hiding herself from my eyes. And she was the first one I fucked, her red little cunt stretching along my length, and I don't know where she put me, for when we lay naked belly to belly, the top of my prick when against her rounded belly, the top of my prick was higher than the button in the middle of her. She had some magic place inside her, I think, that could swallow up all of my long cock.
And her little hands, both hands would grab my shaft one on top of the other, and her hands and fingers were small, and still the head of my prick would be beyond her fingers, and her red lips would kiss the top of me, and her wicked little tongue would swirl around the head of me. She would pierce the end of my cock with the pointed tip of her tongue. And then look up at me, her brown eyes wide and not so innocent. "My God, you are a pest, a sweet little pest, how can I go to my books when you hold me so?" I would cry. And laughing, she would bob once more on the tip of my cock, a touch of my spend on her lips.
These three were happy to share me with themselves, and they are just as fond of each other as they are fond of me. Many a time I would lie with one girl, one arm around her shoulder and idly teasing a tit or a nipple, tweaked and erect, my other hand toying with silken hair and glistening lips at the base of a curved belly; and we would delight in watching the other pair going at each other. Sometimes they would be slow and gentle with each other, slowly moving upon the bed and lying one upon the other head to head, their kisses on each other's mouths, their hands on each other's fair breasts, plump and full, lean and hard.
And other times the fury would be upon them, and their lips and tongues would plunge into the sexes between their legs, and their fingers in their bum holes and cunnies, high squeals of pleasure ringing through the room. And usually their heat would rouse me and my girl again, and she would bob her mouth on my prick, or sit upon me, or I would slide on top of her and into her sweet cunt. And our cries would join the voices of the other two, and the room would heat with our scent and excitement. We were young, that we were, and discovering ourselves and each other, those three girls and I. But I thought that some ageing and loss of innocence was now in my life, and this night was to be a farewell of sorts.
So I entered into the tavern and found long haired Lucy there, serving behind the counter. I placed my coin on the counter, "mead for me, Luce, hot mead, and bring up a jug of it for later."