In the 1800s...

"I am sure I will...", the man said somewhat serious, somewhat mockingly. He coughed up a bit, and then turned his back to Norelli in order to spit at the ground underneath their carriage. "...'Xcuse me, Miss...", he said as he coughed up again, this time harder.

"I'm called Stout, miss. Ernest Stout.", he introduced himself after taking a piece of fabric to cover hims mouth. His attack had finally passed, and he was getting his breathing back to normal, it's sound rugged and painful. His eyes started to watch Norelli's curves with great attention. Mr. Stout loved a taller woman, he smiled to himself.

'Mother could fix that cough for you sir,' Norelli said with a concern that might have been unnoticed due to her near constant smirk. It often led her to trouble as a child, but as a woman it did her much better. Just flirtateous enough to give the impression of interest to all she encountered, which came in handy in dealing with men and women alike. With a glance back at the house, she smiled broadly and said, 'I know not what keeps Elisabetha but perhaps Mother would make you some of her famous herb broth. There is usually a bit on the fire I'm sure she'd not mind helpinga man of service such as yourself.'

But at the moment her mother lay on all fours in the short hallway of her childhoood home with the son of the man who owned it. But Norelli did not know that as she looked from a distance, could not hear how her mother moaned as the young white boy, almost as much her brother as Bast, pummeled her rear.

'That's it my Jamie....mmmm oh heavens yes...take me like the ma you are,' Suella gasped, her words barely heard over the smack of his pelvis against her round ass. She could not believe the type of lover young James. A fast learner and very eager to please coupled with the vigors of youth made him almost perfect. Almost, but even that pesky issue of relation had begun to evaporate from her feelings for him. 'Come now my Jamie,' she moaned as she thrust back against him. 'Come now my baby before it is too late.'

Mr. Stout had stood quiet at first while he tried to manage his coughing. The man, at least ten years older than Norelli, took a handkerchief towards his mouth, concealing his struggle. And then, he offered the young girl a smile, where both amusement and lust mingled with each other. His eyes washed over her for. Norelli's words had brought the hint of a promise she could not keep, a promise that her mother could have some interest in the charioteer...

...but there was only one man in her mother's mind. And it was not her current partner, but the boy that had grown under her skirts pretty much like her own son, birthed form her own womb, a womb that he had been covering into his seed.

"S-Su... Suella..."

James delved into the deepest of forbidden arts of sexuality as he sodomized his governess, the woman that had brought him up with love, affection, and now prostated herself for him. The young man had laid both his hands at the woman's shoulders, steadying his pace while pulling her whole body against his groin. Groans escaped his mouth as he kept pummeling her behind, spreading her ass with his vigorous invasions.

"A-Almost... Almost..."

But it was too late. Suella wanted them to climax together, she herself had never enjoyed the pleasure of an anal orgasm and thought to feel him spill inside her canal would make the experience that much better. But she could not hold on any longer, with an almost animalistic grunt, Suella force her back against his chest. Her hands grabbed his and pushed them down her hips towards the tender fleshe between her thighs. 'Oh my Jamie...what you've done to me...ooooo...' And with a mumble of his name she squirted her loveliness all over their fingers. In an act of sinful passion Suella pushed her soiled fingers back to stroke his his cock, making his intrusions that much more pleasurably slick.

Meanwhile, her youngest daughter, Suella's little jezabel, eyed the driver and the smile playing at his eyes. 'Or perhaps you'd prefer show me the cab. Perhaps you are a duty first sort, a man whose business is paramount over minor physical discomfort.' All the while, Norelli moved towards the door, closer to Mr. Stout. 'Perhaps you would rather return on your own time to receive the pleasures of Mother's products' With a sly wink, the young honey skinned women motioned toward the cab door. He would not get more than peek she decided as she look upon him, her dark eyes roaming the man salaciously. This little tryst would be much more fun played out over time.

He could not stop it. James humping was sped up forward tenfold as he rammed his thick hardness against her rear. Her ass would be left gaping and sore when it was all over, and the young man knew that he was bringing her much, much joy - as much pleasure as he felt himself. "Oooh... S-Suella...", he groaned wildly as he felt his balls tickling. Her moans of delight helped bring him to the brink of an orgasm, as he bashed against her once, twice, three times before hilting and groaning loudy. A groan that would be heard on the outside, as he unloaded all of his balls into his governess' behind, pouring the thick seed into her backside.

All the while, Mr Stout considered Norelli's words. There was something amiss here... why would this delicious, young woman talk to him like that. "Why, yes, Miss.", he said in a slightly dismissive way, although his eyes glittered with the promise she had let lingering on her words. Slowly, he turned to open the cab's door, showing her it's luxuous compartment. Stout offered Norelli a hand to help her getting in. "Please, Miss, allow me to help..."

Norelli took the man's offered hand with a slight bow and smiled as she climbed up into the cab. It seemed the Mister had spared no expense in ordering the carriage. The girls had not expected such plush surrounding to take them to the Apprenticeship Ball, the annual feast for the peasant class. Most in attendence would be arriving on foot, but Norelli and Elisabetha would be the talk of the Ball when they stepped from the cab. 'Well sir this is a most luxurious decor, fit for a Queen. My guess is that you were not informed of lesser born cargo you would be transporting this evening for even your refreshments are stocked with expensive champagne and spirits. Perhaps you would partake in a toast with me Mr. Stout?'

She heard the muffled groan from her home and looked through the small window on the side of cab. Norelli knew what that sound may have meant but thought herself mistaken since she knew who remained inside. Her mother and young James, and therewas no way that either of them would make such a noise.

'Shhhh my Jamie,' Suella said with a giggle as she work herself off his cock. She gasped as his still throbbing head popped from her rim and she felt his seed seep from her insides. 'I'm sure someone has heard your cries of passion and may come investigate. It's best we get presentable don't you think my love.' With a soft kiss to his forehead, Suella rose before him. 'And besides it is time you washed for dinner...and no Jamie I will not help you.' The last she said with a laugh and a rub of his head before she left him to get dressed.

"Aww, Autie!", he complained playfully as he pulled his governess for one last, passionate and warm kiss before letting her go. But James was still a young man, and his almost-pubescent drive to mate a woman would soone demand itself of him. The young man took upon his clothes, dressing himself as he could before walking off Sabastian's room. He looked behind him, and there were a lot of cum-stains on the unpolished wooden floor. Poor Bastian. He would have quite a shock once he learned he was exchanging the son for his mother.

"Why miss...", Mr Stout started with a brutish smile, trying his best to look pleasant. On the outside, Stout himself had heard the sudden noise, but discarded it with a meaningul smile towards Norelli. "Mr. Cavanaugh ordered the best couch the Company had, and that it should be fully furnished.", he told her as he slowly climbed the couch, for now leaving the door opened. The older man took upon a bottle of Champagne, showing it to Norelli. "What would you prefeer then, young Lady? The soft champagne or something stronger?", he said with a meaningful wink of his eye.

Outside, James tried to prowl the shadows as he went out form the front door. Noticing the Couch that would take the girls to their ball, and noticing the open door, he took care to walk the shadows back to his House, knowing that it would be bad to be spotted. As he was getting to the house's door, however, he jumped over the bushes, covering himself. There were footsteps coming towards the door, and his father, John, opened it, someone coming after him.

'Well sir,' Norelli said with a smile. 'Being the daughter of a maid, the only champagne I have ever had the priviledge of trying was the pilfered waste left by the Mister's guests. Flat swill really. But even so, I like my drinks like I like my men, hard and strong.' The last she said with a wink, then shifted her light brown eyes to the decanter of of dark brown liquid. Scotch, brandy or whiskey, it wouldn't matter, Norelli was not nearly as delicate as she looked.

'Is that for us,' Elizabetha squealed as her eyes set on the ornate carriage at the end of the drive. She could not believe how lovely it was, more so, she could not believe the Mister had done so much. As far as Misters went, John Cavanaugh treated was probably one of the best, but this was almost too much. Betha had to fight to keep her arms from grabbing him about the shoulder and pulling him into a long deep kiss. Instead she gave a simple, 'You are much too kind sir,' and her most formal curtsy. As she raised her eyes to his, she silently hoped that he may let her repay his kindness upon her return.

The mother watch with a broad smile her girls, now women, depart for the ball where she hoped they would both find respectable mates. It wasn't so much the eldest that worried her for Betha had always been of responsible mind. Her Nore on the other hand, she was her father's child. A free spirit and a dreamer, but just as much wanton and wilfull. Suella could only imagine what the girl might be putting that poor driver through.

Mr Stout had just poured Norelly a glass filled with a thicker, dark-brown fluid. It was a stronger beverage than the champagne, but still soft enough to flow downthroat like water, way smoother than the beer that Stout was used to have. After all, he was merely the choffer of the Coach Company but he still took the chance to take a sip of the strong drink whenever possible.

"Hard and strong, eh?", he smiled knowingly towards Norelli. Stout offered her the glass while he poured one for himself, oblivious that Elizabetha and Mr. Cavanaugh himself were slowly walking towards the coach. "I'd say I prefeer it like my women. Soft, scented and inebriating." With that last word, he laid a hand carefully above Norelli's right knee, as he sat right before her.

Outside, John smiled to see the glee into his young Betha's eyes. The feeling to push her closer against his frame was enormous as well, but he could not yeld to that passion. Not now. He was giving her away once more, and with luck she would not return home tonight, being taken by a worthy lover. But John really prayed that his little, sweet Elizabetha returned to him once more, alone, and needy for his caresses.

He was about to kiss her a last time, as he could not see the Couch, as he noticed Suella standing just inside her house, on the window. Good Suella. It had been her to ease his suffering once his wife had passed away, but after some time the governess had lost interest into welcoming her between her legs. Probably because she was pregnant of the young man Sabastian at that time.

"Elizabetha, this is the least I can do for you both. I owe my word to your Mother... and you.", he said as he kissed her hand, chaste and proper before he heard some words coming from inside the Couch.

And the young woman nearly swooned as his lips touched her knuckles softly, but she dare not show it in the open air. 'Well sir I am forever grateful,' Elisabetha said with a bow, not wanting to let go his hand.

'Thank you Mister!' Norelli shouted from inside, raising her glass to him as she poked her head out of the cab. With her other hand she pulled her sister inside, knowing that she would have much rather stay at home with him. 'Come now Betha we mustn't be late. I wish to arrive as everyone else does so that we may see the envy on all their faces.' And with a smile at the Mister, Betha allowed herself be yanked inside the cab. 'Mr. Stout this is my lovely sister Elisabetha, much older, more rational of our brood. Betha this is Mr. Stout our most courteous driver.' The last she said with a wink at the man whose hand still remained on her thigh. 'Mr. Stout please, a glass of champagne for my delicate sister so she may be as free and confident as I once we arrive.'

Suella beamed as the girls climbed inside and the carriage drove away. If only she could have convinced her Bast to go as well, for he was of apprentice age and should have been in attendence. At least now she understood his reluctance to find a willing girl to share his life with. It was a more rough touch that he desired and there was a part of her that could not blame him. She thought to go find him, if he did not return before dinner, to reassure the young man of her love and appologize for the shock of the discovery of his transgressions with James, her James.

And he would not return, for he believed himself disowned from his mother's love. Shamed, young Sabastian cowered sobbing in the dark of the smithy shop, hoping that his Master might take pity on him and allow him stay the night. Even if he would not lay hands on him this evening, Sabastian hoped he would not turn him away

With a welcoming smile Mr Stout received Elizabetha into the couch, taking off his had respectfully as she entered. Now this girl was a woman, having flesh and ever a little bit of fat in all the right places a man could wish her too. Taking his time to silently uncork the softer beverage and pour it a glass for the newcomer, he smiled to the both of the girls as he emptied his own glass with a loud gulp.

"If you'd excuse me, young ladies, but I got a schedule to abide.", he said offering a meaningful wink towards Norelli, and stepped out of the couch. It was probably for the best that he should not make any more advancing towards her bare the occasional flirt. It would be terrible for Stout if any complains were filled against him.

Closing the door, and lifting the short stairs that lead upwards, he walked towards the conductor's seat, climbing atop the carriage and picking his long, terrible whip. Standing over the seat, he waved the massive whip around over his head as lashed it against the horses. Suddenly the couch advanced, taking off into the night.

On another place, far from the Cavanaugh's House, an old man laid down his hammer for the day. Walking around his smithy, he heard something. It was someone... sobbing? He could not understand, but a shiver went down his back. Taking upon the oil lantern and lighting it, Lázlo the Blacksmith found out his apprentice covering in a dark corner of the place.

"What are... Is that you, Bastian?", the polish asked. The old man was at least a little bit older than Mr. John. "What are you doing here? It's late, I'm closing the shop."

'I know Làzlo but I could think of no where else to go,' Sabastian tried to say as he barrelled head long into the smith's strong chest. He could always find solace in the warm embrace of his Mastersmith. The young man had long since idealized the seemingly hard man from the first time Nathan took him to the shop, though the reasoning did not become clear until he was much older. It was not the grisly tools or the lure of danger that lurked in every corner of the smithy but the kindness behind the man's eyes and the strength held in his brawny arms. 'I fear I have truly done it this time...she hates me...she hates me,' he cried as he gripped the slightly smaller man without regard for the smith's need for air in his lungs.

And he could not blame her if she had disowned him for the shame his misdealings had brought to her, and his sisters. His sisters. The thought of them only served to deepen his sorrow as he recalled their evenings plans, and the possibilty that he may have ruined them.

If he would have remained at home for a few moments more young Sabastian would have known how misguided his feelings were. He would have seen the sad understanding in his mothers eyes as she set the table for dinner, the gentle acceptance of his sisters. He would have seen how excited they were to be off for the evening and perhapsthey might have convinced him to come along.

And perhaps he might have witnessed the way Norelli moved about the crowded dancehall, making acquaintances as only she could, with men and women alike. How she danced with nearly every man in attendance, accepting invitations for nights on the town with a few. But one held her attention more than others and it was with him that she spent most of the evening.

More over he would have seen the civil disinterest exhibited by his eldest sister. How she danced with no one but made pleasant conversation with all who ventured her way. And of all of Suella's brood Sabastian would have known the source of Elizabetha's reluctance as no one else could. For they both had given their hearts to one's who could not accept them and just as she would have convinced Bast to join them, he would have convinced her to stay. But alas neither could occur and after only two bells, Elizabetha found the driver and bid him take her home.

“What have you done, Bastian?”, Làzlo the Smith asked as he hugged Sabastian. The polish was a humble, old man whose wife had passed away just a couple of years before. And yet, sometimes, Bastian could see him crying silently as he polished and cared for his tools. He could never remember her name, some unpronounceable Slavic name that although weird, also sounded beautiful.

And coupled with that, Làzlo still needed to find release. After so many months since his last encounter with the expensive Madame Lilliam, the smith needed someone to ease his loins and empty his nuts. The young man would do nicely. “Don’t be sad, Bastian. I’m sure she still loves you. She must care for you as much as I do.”, he told the taller man as he held him tight as well, his hands slowly snaking down Bastian’s back in order to caress and fondle with his behind.

“Come, Bastian. You remember how much you like this…”, the smith started to knead the younger man’s behind, his large, callous palms bearing a strength that even Bastian could not match with his youth. Years of taming the metal had made Làzlo quite the brawled, his arms thick with muscle. “It will take your mind off things.”

At the same time, a young daring man had been monopolizing Norelli from all. The young man was called Roger, and his sun-burned face was ever smilling, his flirtacious mood winning the lithe and elegant girl to his side. For a moment, he thought that Norelli would never come to dance with him, considering that Roger was a short man, and in many ways unattractive. However, as he lead her dancing around, she could notice how her sister started to wander outside, calling for the ever vigilant Mr. Stout.

Sabastian felt the man's drifting embrace and welcomed it, for no matter how powerful he was Lazlo had always been gentle during their tender moments. And he was right, he could easily take his mind off of the turmoil he believed wait for him at home.

'You are ever kind Lázlo,' he said with his head on the smaller man's shoulder. Sabastian hand to slouch a little which made their bulges brush against each other. No sooner than he felth those strong hands on his backside did the apprentice feel a stirring in his loins. 'But first I must ask...would it be alright if I slept in the backroom. Whether she loves me still or not I would much rather see Mother in the morning...well after work I mean,' he added with a smile, already feeling a bit better about things. Without waiting for an answer sabastian left to the shack the man called home that lay behind the smithy, and by the time he stepped outside. His erection was already tenting in his trousers.

Almost at the same moment did Elizabetha step into the carriage set out for home. She offered Mr. Stout an additional tip for taking her but he would hear nothing of it, simply mumbled something about being sorry she didn't have.a good time. She didn't bother to correct him, thinking that would be take too much time away from her and her Mister. He was alll she could think of at the moment, and as the carriage drew nearere to the. Cavanaugh estate Elizabetha pulled off her stockings an bloomers. Again to save time, and she wished not to soak up the juices that exuded from her center as she thought of him. Betha hoped that by the time she arrived her mother had already resigned to bed so the main house may be empty.

Norelli on the other hand was having quite the lovely time with a not so lovely man named Roger and his personality more than made up for his lack of physical appeal. He was full of laughs and always with an easy smile, however awkward it seemed and Norelli with draw to him. As much a a free spirit like her could have been, but still their chemistry was undeniable as he moved her about th dance floor. She found herself hoping that he invite her to town on evening, and that was rare for her.

Lazlo was kind enough to have him earning back some of the time Sabastian surely needed to waste. However, he would collect a lot from the boy's frailty, a reward that he loved and that stirred his groin.

"Sure, sure, Bast... jsut be sure to make me sleep happily, and you can even go for her before work, if you want to.", the smithy said as he entered the humble shack that he called home. Taking a candle and lighting it, the smaller man smiled as he lead the younger, taller, broad man around the plain dwelling down the back room where he usually just deployed discarded tools and orders to deliver or waiting collecting.

There was a stool before a worn out bed. As the smith sat down upon the stool, he motioned for Sabastian to get to the bed, patting over it meaningfully, as he always did to entice the young man to come closer. "Get on your fours, Bast.", he told him unceremoniously, already unleashing his belt around his stained trousers.

However, back at the Cavanaugh Estate, John had just dined with his son, lonely and quietly. The subject about James' bethroded had arose again, as the young master's father declared simply that she would be coming to their Estate tomorrow to meet and properly spend some time with his son. But James was not really looking forward to meet this Beatrix. She seemed to be gorgeous, or so John remained telling him, insistently.

When finally John retired early as usual, it was time for James to play... and seek out his beloved governess. As he wandered around the dark house quietly, he slowly entered the kitchen, seeking the woman of his life. Outside, Mr. Stout was just guiding the couch within the Estate's courtyard. He was back so very soon. Had something happened? Still, it was not his bussiness. He needed to have Suella in his arms once more.

Roger laughted. He could not really believe his trust as this elegant, lithe and utterly beautiful woman stood with him, instead of discarding him like any other, as he hoped she would do. No. Norelli had instead been with him so far. What... what is this was to be his lucky night, after all?

"Lady...", Roger started as he guided her out of the busy and crowded dancing floor and back toward the table they had separated just for the both of them, in the shadows of the room. "... Do you have plans for the evening?"

It was Lázlo who showed Sabastian what he truly desired some months ago. It was not the pleasure of moist warmth around his manhood, but the elation that came with being utterly full. With his rough fingers or his driving girth young Bast did not care as long as Lázlo gave him the pleasure of his seed. And this night, as he slowly undressed and assumed the position the Mastersmith enjoyed most, Sabastian made a silent promise to just as he was asked. He would make him happy as his apprentice, doing all his wife would not when she lived, making his pleasure paramount.

And as the youngest of Suella's brood worked to please his Master so to did the eldest. In the darkness, Elizabetha crept into the main house and up the service stairs to the master suite where her Mister slept soundly behind canopy curtains of his huge bed. The marital bed he had once shared with his wife, and with her mother after, but now it was she who wished to keep his bed linens warm. Quietly she stripped down to her slip and peeked inside, finding him on his back and a tent at his groin. Elizabetha licked her lips at the sight of it and quickly got down to nothing, tossing her slip aside as she stepped up onto the platform that surrounded the canopied bed. Slowly se climbed inside the curtain and to the foot of the bed where she knelt between his outstretched legs. 'Mister,' she cooed sing songily as she rubbed his thighs. Again she called him until he stirred awake and she smiled at him. 'You wished to see me upon my return, sir, so here I am.'

And as for the matriarch of the servant family, Suella did not see the return of her oldest, so busy in her own kitchen preparing for the next days meals. No matter the what new fangled equipment the Mister installed into the main house, Suella always prefered her own rustic kitchen. The heat of her woodburning stove and the perfectly seasoned utensils she had kept from her own mother made cooking in her own home that much more enjoyable. And let's not forget in her own home Suella had the right to cook in what little attire she desired as she did now. Her feet bare, Suella wore a simple shift dress that barely concealed her wide rump or the generousness of her bust as she prepared stock for the next day. And as she stirred, so too did her loins as she thought of her earlier activities that evening with James, her Jamie. And in so thinking her mind meandered to the unpleasant conversation between father and son at the dinner table. She was coming and Suella found herself unexplicably jealous of the girl, sight unseen. She hoped that James had been truthful abou his post wedding plans for she found herself wanting him never to leave her.

John had slipped deep into his sleep at the dark room. There was only one small light coming into the room from the moonlight as it was very dark already, and the town lights near his property were all blown. He started to stirr as he felt something heavy climbing down his bed. Could it be... And it was. Although it was almost complete darkness within the Canopy, and Betha's skin did not helped much, he could see the delicious cinnamon girl coming to be between his stirring legs.

"There you are, sweetie.", he told her with a satisfacted voice, taking his hand to reach out for his sheets. There was a tent down his groin, barely covering his manhood. Carefully, he held the sheer in place for now, taking a hand towards the beautiful Elizabetha's face, brushing his long, nodous fingers alongside her soft face. "I was growing worried...", he told her playfully as he blinked in the darkness. The night was quite warm, so he was only wearing the sheet and nothing more, the covers had been carefully laid upon the couch that sat on his room. "...I trust you took care of your sister?"

Downstairs and on the other house, another scene of depraved debauchery was about to happen, for his son was hunting a woman for himself as well. After all, it was ironic that as John laid with Suella's daughter, the governess would be hounded his his own child. He had been carefully expecting the right moment to approach Suella and ask if he could resume their love as they had done in the afternoon. Betha was back. Norelli had not come along, probably finding herself an adequate suitor in the Town. And Bastian... Bast had not appeared. James slowly entered the kitchen, making no noise whatsoever. The only light was that coming from within the bowels of the stove, and the oil lantern burning on the table besides, where the woman did her art.

'She needs little help in that sir,' Betha said as she dipped her face inhis hand, savoring his touch. She looked up at him and smiled as she continued. 'There were no fewer than 8 suitors at our table the entire evening. And let's not forget she had already won the watchful attention of the driver, worry not Mister Norelli will and always shall be taken care of.' She wanted to lay beside him, to have him caress her soft skin, normal she might have waited his invitation. But not tonight though, Elisabetha moved to lay on her back beside him, her thick thighs spread and softness glistened in the moonlight. She hoped he could see, could feel how much she longed for him inside her.

'Has Bast returned?' She asked in a rush, all of a sudden remembering how he had left. Had she been alone she might have gone to look for him, to make sure he was alright. She had not heard James as she snuck upstairs so perhaps he could have been out with him. Either way it would be a matter sorted out later, for at the moment she rubbed at her own pearl, teasing it between fingers. 'Nevermind that...mmmm...you were worried of me.'

And Elizabetha had no reason to worry of her younger brother for he was in his favorite, most compromising position with the one person in the world he thought understood him most. Young Sabastian cooed a little as he reached back and spread his firm cheeks, his round rump waving in the air. He was in the best hands as far as Bast was concerned, he had been given good counsel and now his earthy needs were being thoroughly satisfied. He could have asked for nothing more.

John had been smiling quietly as he felt his lover approach and climb over the bed, slowly sliding besides his laying form. Mister John have had many women in this bed, all of wish he loved so very much. First, his wife, to whom he grieved lonf as a widower. The mother of his son and heir, young James. Then, Suella herself. The mother of his current lover. Suella had been a steamy affair with long nights of pleasure, but she had been more a way to take his mind out of the grief and pain he still felt for his wife.

Betha had been a little girl at that time. Since ever John had come occasionally to corner the governess of his house and ease his manly needs into her - and she eagerly accepted his visits. Perhaps not longing for them, for only a handful of times Suella had come for him willing, but every time he had caught her as she washed the clothes she had been quick to comply and to kneel and bend over.

"I've missed you, Betha.", he told her as he rolled over the bed and brough her to lie as well, his lips trailing over her arm as he started to peck from her elbow up to her neck, slowly, teasefully.

They shared love. It was so different than the sensual release Bastian even now offered to Lazlo. The smith had taken his hands to grip tightly against the younger man's waist, positioning his hardness right before his ass. An ass he had pounded every since he had met the apprentice, even before he had come to work for him, the young boy had been his slut. And some rumoured, not only his. Some said that the owner of the Inn, the Black Curtain, also enjoyed Bast's caresses.