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...'
