Lady Fitzwilliam 2 The Shave

One of the first improvements I decided to install at Heaton was the large copper tub for the men of my staff. I am fully cognisant of the fact that working men wash themselves in an impromptu manner, whether it is a dunk in the lake or a splash under the pump, but I am a stickler for hygiene and so I was intent on establishing a rule of cleanliness. Therefore the bath.

With a kitchen far greater in dimensions than is necessary for a household of this size, I had the copper tub, large enough for three people at a time, to be installed by the kitchen's second fire, which I considered would be convenient for heating water to transfer to the tub. The fact that the tub would be near a roaring fire I concluded would mean a daily bath would be no discomfort for my boys even during colder weather. Hark how I already refer to the young men of my employ as 'my boys'.

It was no mean feat to struggle the bath down to the kitchen and required the forces of three of my young men to achieve it while I oversaw their efforts with Bentley at my side. I noticed that Bentley would stand with extreme proximity to me at moments like this, his hand often brushing mine but all in such a way as I could read it as simple carelessness. Perhaps he assumed I would disapprove of such familiarity -- which, in faith, I should -- but the reality of the situation was that his every touch caused electricity in my body. My belly would flutter and I would feel a sensation of melting in my privy place.

As we stood, sparking off each other, we watched young Smythe and two of his companions struggle down a winding stone staircase, perfectly convenient for the usual delivering of foodstuffs but trickier for descending a large copper tub. The young men sweated profusely, their hair becoming stuck to their foreheads, their shirts becoming beautifully stuck to their bodies. At this point, you will remember, I had inspected the body of Smythe -- a beautiful, almost hairless, golden young body -- but was saving as a treat the discovery of the other young men.

With the tub finally heaved and rolled into position, the young men stood back, wiping their brows and looking with satisfaction at a job well done. 'You may go find refreshment,' said Bentley to the exhausted lads. 'Except you, Stephenson. You will remain to fill the pot on the fire from the kitchen pump...'

Stephenson, a dark-haired fellow of some two and twenty, with a slight moustache, which I couldn't decide whether I would allow or not and eyes so deeply sunken it was hard to read them, nodded obediently and trotted off with a pair of jugs to fill them at the pump, a task he repeated until the pot above the fire was half full.

'Do not overfill the pot,' said Bentley, 'or you will never be able to remove it from its hook. Think on, boy.' To which instruction the lad merely nodded.

'Now you may seek refreshment,' said Bentley, not unkindly. 'But be sure to return to us immediately.' While Stephenson ran off to find more cold water, this time for his own satisfaction, Bentley and I spoke casually about the bath, how it was a good thing, a fine example to working boys of how important hygiene was and how Bentley had already secured a range of soaps and oils for the bath. As I had been left more than enough money to see me out my years, I had given Bentley a prodigious household budget to spend on making the household happy and the atmosphere conducive to my full enjoyment. Therefore the bath.

When Stephenson returned, Bentley bid him to fill the tub -- carefully! -- with the hot water from the fire, adding cold water from the pump until the temperature was suitable for bathing.

'And now, so as to demonstrate this bath,' said Benson, 'I'm sure my lady would like to undress you, Stephenson and see you avail yourself of this luxury.'

'Yes, sir,' was all Stephenson had to say, presenting himself to me meekly to remove his clothing, which I did with alacrity, stripping off his sweaty muslin shirt, taking off his shoes -- I do rather like a fine-turned foot on a young man -- pulling off his stockings and finally, undoing his breeches and allowing them to fall.

'Look at me, boy, while I perform this service,' I said to Stephenson, who mumbled an apologetic sound and turned those deep-set eyes towards mine. What mystery they conveyed! Such darkness. Such secrecy. Such privacy, even in a young man whose privacy I was thoroughly assaulting. And looking in his eyes, I grasped the edges of his undergarments and dipped slightly so that they fell, albeit with obstacle.

Standing back, I saw that young Stephenson was fully erect despite the fact that I had not so much as brushed against his manhood. I heard Bentley chuckle.

'I think we have a young man every bit disposed for my lady's touch before us,' he said mirthfully to me. 'I have never seen such readiness.'

The boy blushed deep at the feeling that he was being mocked for his tumescence and so I reassured him by saying, 'Well, I think that Stephenson does himself great credit. There can be no greater compliment to a lady than to see such excitement at the very proximity of her. I applaud you, Stephenson.'

'Thank you, my lady,' he said, still looking me in the eye, his hands behind his back, his penis pointing directly at me. I perused him for a moment and then heard Bentley say, 'Check the water, boy, to see if it is of a temperature.'

Stephenson turned, leaned over the bath to display strong white buttocks and a line of hair up the crease in his behind. From where I stood, I could see up underneath this young beauty to his balls bobbing between his legs. If his member hadn't stiffened so, I would also have sight of that.

Turning back around, he nodded to Bentley and said, 'The temperature is good, sir.' I realised I was in a state of heightened excitement as the very calling of Bentley 'sir' created a stirring that I could not explain.

'Then step in,' said Bentley. I realised that this young man had probably never been in an actual tub before and so it was with a trepidation that I saw him put in first a toe, then a foot, then the other foot until he was standing with the water up to his knees.

'Now sit,' said Bentley, a little exasperated as if he were dealing with a simple child. The boy sat and, from the melting expression on his lovely face, was enjoying the sensation of warm water on his body, on that still stiff penis, on his balls and on those white buttocks. Then, handing me the soap with a saucy smirk, Bentley said, 'Maybe my lady would like to demonstrate her particular hygiene methods...'

I understood what he was suggesting and was more than willing to instruct the boy in intimate cleanliness. Putting my hands in the bath, I foamed the soap and began to apply the foam to his chest, to his shoulders, to his neck... He was still looking me deep in the face, concerned that I had not cancelled the instruction. I decided to leave it uncancelled.

'Now, stand, boy,' I said, having washed the young man's torso and back and hair and face and, using a copper cup, rinsed him. He stood so his still erect penis was at face level. And it was a beautiful penis: thick at the base, with black hair around it and balls -- one obviously bigger than the other (I was learning so much about male anatomy after all these years!) -- hanging away from him. I could see from the corner of my eye Bentley watching me appreciate the body of this young man.

I made more foam with the soap and reaching forward smeared it first over the boy's buttocks, then his balls, then the pubic hair... the penis, which I realised I had never seen except hard grew harder yet until I could detect an actual twitching. I soaped the head of it and was rewarded with some light groaning, then used the copper cup to rinse it until it was glistening and slick.

'Do you know,' I said to Bentley, 'I'm not sure I approve of so much pubic hair on someone in my employ...'

Stephenson's face took on a look of panic at the idea that he could somehow be dismissed on such a whim. 'Please, my lady,' he said, rather boldly, thought I, 'I would be happy for my lady to trim, cut or shave any hair from my body that she found necessary.'

With that Bentley left us, while I soaped and cleansed this lovely young lad's penis and balls, reaching up under to circle his anus with my finger. I was beginning to enjoy the sight of my elderly lady hands on the perfect skin of these young men and the urgent breathing they adopted as my hands explored them. I could almost sense Stephenson's need to touch me, hold me, but that was obviously entirely out of the question. I may have allowed Bentley to hold my head as he thrust his penis into my mouth on that first occasion, but a young lad such as this would need explicit invitation before ever daring to entertain the thought of touching my person.

Within moments, Bentley had returned with some fine-turned scissors, used for snipping at hair, and a long razor, the like of which I had once seen in my husband's reticule.

'Let us get this boy to your standards, my lady,' said Bentley, holding out the scissors. I held them to Stephenson's foamed-up pubic hair and felt a little gasp and a stiffening, as if to move would be to endanger this most delicate part of his anatomy. The penis, however, lost none of its vivacity and bounced in my face even as I wielded this dangerous implement.

In moments, I was snipping away at the bush around this young lad's penis, taking the hair shorter and shorter and liking more and more the sight it afforded me the shorter I went.

'I think maybe my lady would like to see how Stephenson looks denuded of all hair,' said Bentley, watching over my shoulder. 'If my lady would care for a demonstration...'

I stood back and let Bentley approach the lad, whose penis, I noticed, deflated. Making foam by rubbing the soap between his hands, Bentley handed the foam to Stephenson and, with a glance downward from his eyes, instructed him to lather it on his pubic area. He did so. Then taking the blade, Bentley laid it against what remained of the lad's pubic hair and in one swipe, it was gone.

'Would you like to try, my lady?' said Bentley, handing me the razor. 'If you stretch the skin a little, you'll find you have better results.'

Clearly terrified of this blade in the vicinity of his most private parts, Stephenson's penis shrank, shrank almost as if to hide within his body. I took the shrinking softness in my hand and, holding it first this direction and then that, swiped the blade carefully across his body, ever so carefully, until all the hair had been removed. I took some of the oil Bentley had brought and, coating my hands with it, lavished the area I had shaved with it, upon which Stephenson's penis came back to life, growing in front of my eyes until it had regained its former priapism. If anything, it seemed harder than ever and afforded me the opportunity to attack those hairs that had evaded my original harvest.

'I also could not help but note,' I continued, looking at this beautiful shaved penis in front of me but speaking to Bentley, 'that Stephenson's backside looked as if it would benefit from a similar process.'

It was almost as if I could feel Bentley smirking behind me. 'Very well, my lady. Let us investigate,' and he almost physically lifted the naked Stephenson up by the shoulders and turned him around so he was leaning over the edge of the bath, looking away from me.

'You see!' I said to Bentley, looking at the wet black hair between the strong white buttocks of Stephenson.

'Yes, my lady. You have a very good eye,' with which he leaned forward and, taking one buttock in each hand, pulled them apart to reveal a forest of hair. Making foam with the soap, as I had watched Bentley do this moment past, I smeared the froth between Stephenson's buttocks. With Bentley pulling the buttocks far apart and ordering Stephenson to bend further over the edge of the tub, I was able to run the blade along, so carefully, so that the offending black hair fell away. I cupped water into my hand and let it fall to reveal an area smooth of all hair with a pink anus at its centre. I could not resist -- did not need to resist -- touching that smooth hole, which seemed almost to want to grant admission to my finger.

'Oh, that's much better,' I exclaimed to Bentley, looking down at my own handiwork.

'Yes, my lady,' he replied, checking for himself. 'There are so many treasures still for my lady to discover in her new household.'

Turning Stephenson, who was now denuded of all hair below the waist, around to face me, I indicated for him to sit on the rim of the tub, which afforded me a view of his hard penis, his hairless pubic area and up underneath him to the equally denuded anus. It was a beautiful sight to behold.

I turned to Bentley, who was watching me appraising this young man in his new bareness. 'You know, Bentley...' I said, over my shoulder. 'I wonder if I might commission you to discover a lady in the neighbourhood who would be able to do a similar job on my person. I feel that my privy parts would benefit from attentions of this nature.'

My own intimate areas had never been an issue to me seeing as when I married Lord FitzWilliam his attentions were very little focussed on them. But now that my life had changed and there were young men around the place, I felt that, for my own personal contentment, a more visually appealing privy area would be desirable.

'Of course, my lady,' said Bentley. 'But, if I may be so bold, my lady, there is no service I would not personally be willing to perform. If my lady should find that acceptable to her.'

My sex gave a little flutter at the very idea of Bentley doing to me what I had just done to young Stephenson and my hand, almost like an automaton, reached out towards Stephenson's member at the thought of it. I grasped his penis, then anointed it with a little of the oil that Bentley had brought with the soap, and started to manipulate it, rubbing the oil in his testicles, in the denuded pubic area, in the shaft of his penis and, finally, and to most effect, the head.

As I glided my hand over the knob of this young penis, Stephenson gave a shudder and, looking up, I could see his teeth bite his lip in rapture so I continued, moving my gentle hand over that hard flesh, watching the effect of that movement in the beautiful young man's face and his quivering lithe body. After just a couple of minutes of this exquisite torture, he said, 'Excuse me, my lady, would it please you for me to complete now?'

The look upon his face seemed to indicate that resistance would be, if not useless, then at least difficult and so I said, 'You may release, Stephenson...' at which a fountain of hot white sperm, entirely creamy slid from the eye of his penis, down my hand and onto my arm. I could feel the young man's body shuddering and had my other hand to the part under his testicles through which the molten liquid was surely pumping, such was the feeling my hand detected there.

Having determined to taste the semen of all my young employees -- I felt to taste their essence was to own them a little more -- I put my hand to my mouth and, with Stephenson's eyes still on mine (the poor lad had not dared to break this connexion), put his sperm to my mouth. How sweet it tasted! Where Bentley's had had a saltiness, this was entirely fondant, which suits my tastes entirely so I licked the entire load from my hand and arm with obvious relish.

Shame had come over the young lad, still naked on the edge of the tub, his penis now visibly deflating before me, and he broke eye contact and turned his head downward. Bentley, as professional as always, noticed this change and in order to diminish any awkwardness that could result from it, said, 'Very well, Stephenson. You have performed well for my lady. Now clean up yourself -- you have a tub before you -- and then recruit one of your colleagues to use the water, as it is still warm. They will not mind a little of your outpourings in the water... especially if you fail to mention it to them.' With this he gave me a little conspiratorial smile. Such a naughty man!

'And now my lady, if my offer of assistance was palatable to my lady, we could retire to your personal quarters and proceed with the task,' said Bentley, the smallest of smiles playing around his lips.

'An excellent idea,' I replied, regaining my feet with his aid from my position at the side of the tub. 'Please ask Sarah to join us in my rooms within this ten minutes, where I shall receive you.' It is true that I am determined to live according to my own rules at Heaton but a little propriety in terms of having a lady present at all times I felt would safeguard my reputation. Not that my reputation was at the forefront of my priorities at this point.

I regained my rooms and, after a moment or so, Sarah joined me, having come away from her task of blanching my lace and generally keeping my dresses in good repair. 'I was told by one of the... young men that I was needed, Ma'am,' she said with a perfunctory curtsey.

'Yes, Sarah,' I replied from the height of my dignity: I did not want to allow Sarah to think her opinion of anything I may do would have any impact upon me. 'Bentley is coming to perform a personal service for me and I thought it best to have you present.'

A lascivious look briefly crossed the old woman's face before she checked herself and, returning to her usual formality, replied, 'Of course, my lady. I will sit here with a little bit of sewing work and you will not even know I am present.'

That situation seemed acceptable to me and Sarah immediately took a stool on the far side of my bed to the window, while I took my chair at my dressing table, the one that looked out over the grounds towards the trees and waited for the knock at my door, a knock which came within moments.

'Yes, Bentley,' I said as he came in.

'I have brought some articles that will assist me in the job at hand,' he said with a smile that was difficult to read. On a tray he was carrying I could see a bowl of water, clearly warm from the wisp of steam that was rising from it, the razor that we had but presently used on young Stephenson, a smaller bowl of hard soap and a small tub of what looked like balm or ointment. There was also a soft-bristle brush of the kind the late Lord FitzWilliam had used for shaving.

Spotting Sarah at her needlework, he gave a little jump but, looking at me, saw my close-eyed nod and realised that she was there at my behest and was welcome to stay.

'As far as positions are concerned, my lady,' he said, 'I think this seat would be ideal, especially if I arrange these two little stools by the front legs for my lady's feet...' He had brought a pair of stepping stools, which I use to climb into my prodigious high bed, towards the chair and put them either side. Kneeling in front of me, he took one foot in his hands and put it on the first stool, then the other for the other stool, which, of course meant, he was now kneeling between my outstretched legs.

'Is that quite comfortable for my lady?' he enquired to which I replied that it was.

With his tray of requisites on the floor in front of him, slightly under my chair, he took the hem of my gown and simply said, 'With my lady's permission...' and lifted it to my waist. He then took my petticoats and lifted them in a similar fashion until they were in my lap. Now before him were my widened thighs in fine linen stockings that stopped just above my knee and undergarments, which, without ceremony, he caught by the hem and, requiring me to lift myself from the chair temporarily, pull down, catching my knees together so they could slide down onto one ankle.

My privy parts had never been looked at with any interest in my life and I must own that I was concerned that such a sight might not be pleasing to any man but, by the expression on Bentley's beautiful young face, there was much to be admired under my skirt. He took the soft-bristle brush, dipped it in the warm water and ran it over the entire area around my most private place. The feeling was so delicious I bethought for a moment I may not be equal to it and may lose my senses but such was the delicacy of Bentley that I remained conscious to enjoy the experience.