Early on a spring morning, the air is cool and a fog has descended on the valley below our farmland. I can’t see the rooftops or clocktower that normally would be a part of the familiar backdrop. However, I can see the sheep grazing on the hillside and Timothy, the shepherd, is roaming with them and the farm’s two border collies. I head towards the dilapidated wooden barn in the distance. I am eager to visit the newborn lambs and give them a bottle. The barn is quiet, aside from the horses shuffling in their stalls and munching their feed. I walk past the Appaloosa, Chutney, and the Shetland pony, Phillip. My shoes crunch against the dirt and discarded hay.
To my right is the door to the storage closet which is normally open. I approach the door to grab a bottle for the lambs when I hear a strange noise coming from inside. I put my ear to the door and a hand on the metal knob, ready to open it and investigate. However, the noise is distinctly female. At first I think someone is crying, so rather than burst in, I peek through a crack in the shabby boards. It looks like Marnie, one of the local peasant girls. She is bent over a table, moving back and forth, gripping the sides tightly. I blink and shift my gaze to the left. My heart skips a beat. Benjamin is standing behind Marnie, pants down around his ankles, thrusting into her from behind. Marnie’s skirt is bunched up over her back and the pale, freckled skin of her thighs is exposed. Her beige cotton bloomers are wrapped around her knees. Marnie is crying in pain and pleasure from Ben’s enthusiastic motions. He grabs her hands from the table and pulls them behind her, crossing them at the wrists. Her face is forced down on the surface, her rosy cheek pressing hard against the wood. She moans, her hair up in a bun with loose locks drenched in sweat stuck to her neck. I can’t see Ben’s face, but he is breathing heavily. Marnie cries out and begs for Ben to continue. He changes his grip and holds her wrists with one hand, moving the other to her crotch and rubbing her pussy through the drapes of the skirt.
I pull my face away from the crack, heart beating faster now. I don’t know what to do. I’ve seen Ben kiss other women. I’ve seen him hold a new beau’s hand as they walk across the courtyard. I’ve seen him dance with many upper class women in the dining hall. In our youth, we even discussed our sexual escapades in excruciating detail with one another. However, I have never seen him in the act of fucking. I feel a pit in my stomach. The pang and ache of jealousy. And yet, I also feel warmth between my legs. The tingle of arousal happening against my will. I squat down and peak through a larger crack in the door.
Ben is more audible now, grunting with his thrusts as Marnie’s cries become higher pitched. He is rubbing her clit roughly through her skirt and she is obviously enjoying the sensation. My gut involuntarily retracts, but I feel a trickle beginning to make its way down my vaginal lips. I cannot tear my eyes away from the scene. Marnie is now pushing back against Ben’s thighs as he thrusts. She groans with the movement, eyes shut, mouth open. The table is creaking under the weight and force of their fucking.
Suddenly, Ben releases Marnie’s wrists, grabs her by the shoulders, and stands her on her feet. He turns her to face him, then takes two steps backwards and sits down on a sack of grain. Ben tells Marnie to get her on her knees in front of him. She obeys. Without needing further instruction, Marnie puts her hands around his heavy, slightly pulsing cock, and begins to bow her head. Ben leans back against the wall and spreads his legs further apart. His foreskin is pulled back, exposing his swollen pink mushroom. Marnie puts her lusty mouth around his cock and begins motioning up and down, rather quickly. Ben grabs her face and slows her motions to his liking. He thrusts his hips up slightly when her mouth has taken in all she can muster. After what feels like an eternity, hands still on her face, Ben directs her faster again, the sloppy sounds of her saliva and cock sucking becoming louder. She moans with her mouth full and puts her hands on the ground, letting Ben thrust her face up and down on his cock. She gags a little, but Ben is almost finished. He stops and pushes her face down a little longer this time and his body twitches as he expells his load down her throat. Marnie comes up for air, a strand of saliva and sperm connecting her lips to his throbbing penis for a moment.
Marnie looks expectantly at Ben, hoping for something more. He pulls himself up and brings his pants to his waist. He reaches out to grab Marnie’s face by the chin, kisses her, and puts his hat on. I am still crouched down in front of the door when I realize he is going to open the damned door at any moment. I stand up hurriedly and hike up my skirt to run around the corner as fast as I can. I lean against Chutney’s stall, out of sight and try to keep my breathing quiet. The storage closet handle jangles and the door swings open. Ben steps out and walks quickly down the center aisle of the barn to his favorite mare, a chestnut Arabian named Jupiter. He takes Jupiter out of her stall and begins to saddle her up. I take a deep breath, compose myself, and attempt to stealthily walk out of the barn, hoping he won’t take notice.
The next day Marnie and I are alone in the washroom. The maids have dropped off the pile of dirty bedding for us to clean. Marnie turns to me with a huge smile on her face.
“I have a secret to tell you, but you must promise not to repeat it to anyone, not even Timothy.”
Timothy and I have tea most days and it’s a little known secret that we have been more than friendly on a few occasions. Mostly when we have been given an opportunity to drink at the pub in town.
“I give you my word, Marnie, but please only tell me if it is something I absolutely must know,” I reply, suspecting this is about what happened in the barn.
Marnie proceeds, “Mr. Ben and I have been having a roll in the hay now and again, quite literally!” She looks me directly in the eyes. “I think I’m falling in love! I have no idea what to do with myself when I’m around him. I feel like Cinderella; plucked from a shack and on my way to the ball in a pumpkin carriage.”
I feel sorry for Marnie. Ben is kind and handsome, but relentlessly lustful and it will not end well for Marnie if she doesn’t recognize that he will soon be the master of this house. I say as much, omitting my own personal relationship with Ben.
She replies, “You’re just jealous it’s me and not you. You’ve been friends with Mr. Ben since you were kids and he never wanted you.”
“Oh, Marnie, please. Yes, it’s true Ben and I grew up together, but we play very different parts in this life. He is going to be the lord of this estate. He is destined to marry a lady of equal caliber. That’s just the way things are.”
Marnie turns on her heel, stomps to the metal tub full of soap and water, and begins to scrub, huffy and disappointed in my unwillingness to go along with her fantasy.
Source: reddit.com/r/eroticliterature/comments/owr5r5/little_haven_part_ii_mf_voyer