Sins of the Daughters

"You must remain very quiet and very still," she murmured as she piled hay upon the doe and when it was completely covered, she gently laid a sack of sand over the pile of hay to aid in its camouflage.

Grace quickly left the barn, closing the door behind her. Isaac looked up from his tracking to see Grace standing outside the barn. A smile came over the miller's oldest son. He had strong legs and shoulders from carrying heavy sacks of milled grains. Their eye locked upon each other. She was smitten by his endearing cockeyed smirk. She acknowledge with a coy smile. The young man in the white shirt and tan breeches began to cross the dale to meet her. When he stopped before her and tipped his tricorne hat to reveal his thatch of brown hair.

"Good day, Mistress Talcott."

"Good day, Master Keyes. Beautiful day."

"Yes, yes it is," he replied admiring Graces shapely form before his eyes returned to her hazel grey eyes. "Will you be coming to the harvest home?"

"Yes," she replied excitedly. "You can find me in the church market selling roasted chestnuts."

He stepped in to her space and asked, "Perhaps I can court you?"

Grace blushed and shyly replied, "Perhaps. If my father permits."

He stepped closer, causing her to back up until her back was against the barn door. She gazed at his chest from his loose linen shirt.

"Perhaps a kiss?"

The breath hitched in her throat. "That is too brash."

Her loins began to tingle as they do when her sister touches her in that special way. With the stalk of his long rifle planted on the ground, he said, "I must confess, I hunt these woods in hopes of catching a glimpse of you."

He pressed his chest against her breasts and leaned his face into the hair above her shoulders and murmured, "I have great affection for you, Grace. Always have."

In a rushed whisper, she replied, "I have affections for you as well."

Her knees began to shake and buckle as he lowered his head to kiss her gentle skin. His lips lingered, grazing her neck with such tenderness, that Grace believed she would swoon. Though her hands pressed against chest, she felt powerless to resist, but she longed to know the touch of a man and feel that orgasmic pleasure she receives from her sister's hand.

"Don't," she said, weakly pushing against him. "Someone may spy us."

But he continued to press her against the door until the unlatched door squeaked open from their weight. Together, they backed her into the shadowy barn. Grace glanced over at the doe still hidden in the hay and willed it to remain quiet and still before shutting the door behind her. Isaac leaned his long rifle against the wall and allowed Grace tugged at him further into the shadows. She pulled Isaac to the far side of clean hay and kissed him. He wrapped his arms around her waist and pulled her closer until his chest pressed her bosom up and nearly out of dress' bodice. She felt his hardened manhood beneath his woolen breeches as his hands fumbled over her hips.

Grace was caught in a euphoria. She returned his touches with a shaky kiss. His hands cupped her bottom and he instinctively opened her stance. His buried his head into her cleavage making her hands runover his silky hair before his lips returned to hers once more. She felt his hand bump against her loins as he unbuttoned his breeches to take out his hard manhood.

He leaned back and with twitching lips said, "Lift your skirts."

He waited for her to obey; his eyes focused on her skirt. Grace slowly gathered her skirt in her hands and lifted her hem. He watched her knees come into view and the skin of her naked thighs before she let it fall. His hand shot out to grab her hand. He pulled it towards his genitals.

"Touch it," he softly said, wrapping her hand around his hard cock. "Touch it."

Her fingers wrapped around his out stretched staff, his tongue pressed into her mouth, and she felt herself spinning like no other feeling before. She held and squeezed it and Isaac sighed with from the pleasure of a woman touching his most private flesh.

He buried his face in her soft hair. With a raspy voice he said, "You're so pretty, Grace."

His lifted her skirt and plunged his cock between her closed thighs where stroked in and out of a surprised Grace. Then he closed his eyes and moaned, and she felt spurts of his hot seed between her thighs. She was confused by the look on his face as he looked as if he were in pain. But his face softened and he relaxed against her as his wetness spread between her thighs. It was seeping down her leg when he she pushed him back and let her dress fall to the ground. He staggered back with a silly grin on his face while he shamefully shoving his spent member into his breeches.

"You should leave," she said, opening the barn door.

He smoothed his hair, placed his hat back onto his head and picked up his long rifle and, after sticking his head outside to look around, he left the barn.

"Good day, Mistress Grace."

She nodded and with that, he left and returned to the woods. Grace waited awhile before going over to the deer to remove the hay from her head.

"It'd be best that you remain here a little while. I'll come back and set you free. Rest. You're safe. And from now on, if you smell a man, you need to hide or run as fast as you can until you smell him no more."

The deer remained nestled in the hay as Grace left the barn. She was straightening her bodice when she looked out to her house to see a man standing outside the back door speaking to Constance. He had a roan horse and the oiled cloak of a post rider. The man handed Constance a leather packet. She in turn handed him a coin at which time he tipped his hat and left, mounting his horse before trotting to the travelers' road. Grace picked up her basket of chestnuts and strolled home, entering the house to see her sister in the parlor mending a well-worn undergarment.

"I gathered the most beautiful chestnuts. After tithing to the church, they should fetch enough to buy next year's stockings."

"Good."

Grace poured herself a cup of water and sat on the chair across from Constance. "Who was that man?"

"What man?"

"The man who just left. The rider."

Constance's eyes remained on her stitching.

"Constance? I saw you give him a coin. Why? And where did you get it?"

The elder sister stopped her stitching and let out a sigh. "He brings good news which I cannot say now. Don't tell father. It's a surprise." She set down her stitching and said, "Come, now, help me prepare dinner. Roasted duck and pease pudding."

Constance rose from her chair and as she passed, she stopped to sniff at her sister. Her nose wrinkled from a pungent aroma emanating from her sister's gown. "Go wash up. You smell foul as if you've been rolling in the pigsty all day."

Grace rose and hung her head before scurrying away.

Late that afternoon, Shepard Talcott turned off the travelers' road on his way off when he heard his neighbor braying out his name.

"Reverend Talcott?! Reverend Talcott!!"

Talcott turned to see Mistress Billingsley toddling towards him from her house near the road. He stopped out of respect though he loathed the portly woman as she was the region's biggest gossiper. Her house, situated upon the main road, provided her a view of his property which was a blessing and a curse.

He tipped his hat and said, "Good day, Mistress Billingsley. How are you this day?"

She caught up with him, out of breath, and looked up at him with her keen grey eyes before dabbing her moist brow with a handkerchief. "I'm well, thank you. I wanted you to know about the happenings going on in your home today."

His heart began to beat hard. "What happenings?"

"Well, your eldest daughter met a man at the door. And Isaac Keyes, Jedediah Keyes' son, left your barn. He had a rifle but no game. Then, your youngest daughter left the barn and, well, she had hay on her skirts as though she had rolled in it. I'm sure it's all innocent; a post rider, a hunter tracking his deer. But it's rather unseemly that two young women receive gentlemen visitors without a chaperone or in the presence of their father."

"Yes, Mistress Billingsley, I quite agree. I will speak to them. And I would greatly appreciate it if you do not speak of it again -- to anyone. Remember, Proverbs 4:24, 'Keep your mouth free of perversity; keep corrupt talk far from your lips.'" With a tip of his hat, he said, "Good day" and strode away.

Mistress Billingsley stood there flabbergasted by the reverend's admonition and uttered obscenities before trundling back to her house.

Reverend Talcott knew this tale of indiscretion would get back to the village. The entire village would soon know of the Talcott sisters and the men who visit when their father is not at home. The reverend's temper grew with each step of his plodding horse. How could they disgrace him like that? They know the damage rumors can cause. How many men have been snuffling around his daughters while he is away? When he opened the barn door, he reared back in surprise as a deer bolted forth from the shadows. He watched the creature on those nimble legs spring away until it disappeared in the forest's brush. and into the forest. He wondered if this was Grace's doing. She was as obsessed with making pets out of wild creatures. Was it a propensity of Katherine's women? Couldn't be. Constance had no issue at snaring, killing, and cooking wild animals. The good reverend led his horse to the barn, went through the motions of securing the beast and his tack. By the time he opened his front door, the good reverend was furious. Constance appeared from the kitchen wiping her hands in a dish cloth.

"Good day, father."

"Where is your sister?"

Constance eyes shifted to the stairs.

The reverend's voice boomed through the house. "Grace! Grace! Come down here!"

The patter of little heels clunked across the floor boards as Grace hurried down the stairs. She looked more frightened than bewildered.

They stood in the parlor, hands clasped and heads down as the imposing man stood before them like the edge of a blustering storm. He calmy asked, "Who visited the house today?"

Constance answered, "No one, father."

"Mistress Billingsley informed me that she saw two men coming and going from our property and that each man spoke to one sister or another."

Constance replied, "Mistress Billingsley makes tales with her tongue. She is jealous of our youth."

He turned to Grace and said, "She said that she saw a boy leaving the barn and that you followed covered in hay. And why was there a deer in the barn?"

Grace stammered before Constance spoke up. "It was a deer and not a boy who Mistress Billingsley saw near the barn. Sweet Grace was hiding it from a hunter. You know how she loves God's creatures."

Reverend Talcott stared at her trying to determine the truth. Grace couldn't look him in the eye, and Constance, ever quick in tongue. He retreated into the refuge of study lest he find a steady willow sapling and whip them like beasts.

A sullen cloud hung over the table as the Talcotts ate their dinner, and as they neared the end of their meal, the reverend spoke.

"Because you two continue to lie by omission, I have decided that you will not go to the harvest home."

Grace stopped eating. It was as though she heard her death sentence. She looked at her father. He watched as tears welled in in her eyes. Ever defiant Constance stared at him with malice.

"I will not have people talking about my daughters as though they were common tavern misses. Therefore, your only public outings are with me to church. I will arrange at match you to your futures husbands. I know what is best for my daughters."

Grace dropped her utensils. Her chair scraped against the floor as she suddenly stood to flee the room, her heels tromping up the stair in her flight. Constance quietly stood to retrieve her sister's plate and hers and left the room for the kitchen.

That night, while Constance braided Grace's hair, the elder sister said, "Isaac Keyes is a handsome young man."

Grace looked surprised.

"Yes, I saw him leave the barn."

"I promised him a stroll at harvest home. Now it will never happen."

Defeated, Grace's shoulders collapsed shoulders. She hung her head. She muttered, "I'm being punished for my wickedness. Constance?"

"Yes?"

The younger sister lifted her saddened face and whispered, "I fear I'm no longer a virgin."

Constance's eyes widened. She whispered, "Did he penetrate you....between your legs?"

"Yes."

"From whence you bleed?"

"No, right here," she said knifing her between her thighs. "And I touched it. His manhood."

Constance sighed in relief and finished her braid which she tied with a scrap of fabric. "You're still a virgin. Only when he fornicates with you will you be deflowered."

"How do I know if I'd been deflowered?"

"You will bleed for a little while. Did you bleed?"

"No. But he expelled his seed between my legs."

"It is of no matter. You are still a virgin, but don't ever tell anyone of this encounter. You'll be labeled a slattern and will never find a suitable husband."

Constance finished her braid and put on her night cap before crawling under the covers. She kissed Grace's forehead before blowing out the candle before resting her head and happily smiled in the dark and whispered, "I promise you, sister, everything will work out for the best."

There was a chill in the early morning air when Grace began her chore of collecting the rugs to hang on the clothes line to beat the dust from them. Their father had left for the village. Constance placed a woolen bonnet over her head and tied it's ribbons under her chin. She tied the strings of a pocket around her woolen dress and packed it with her digging knife before fastening her cloak and pulling on her gloves. She stepped outside into the dank gray day to see Grace taking her frustrations out upon the parlor rug.

She cheerfully chirped, "I'm going into the woods. I'll find some witherod and sassafras root and make you an afternoon tea. Wouldn't that be nice? It'll lift your spirits."

Grace didn't answer as she whacked the old wool rug, sending dust floating in the cold air.

"I'll be back late afternoon. Have fresh water boiling when I return."

Grace said not a word as she beat the stubborn rug. Constance pouted that her sister was still angry about her punishment. None the less, Constance took the familiar route into the western forest of large ash trees. She'd been tramping around this forest for ten years now, having made a trail to her favorite spots. She was content to be in her own world under the expanse of high boughs thick with bright yellow leaves that blocked out the dull grey sky. The leaves drifted down with such beauty at the slightest movement of air or fowl. This natural magnificence was her royal hall. Free of corsets and binding stays, Constance smiled in sheer delight and twirled on the carpet of yellow leaves before heading to where the sassafras tree grows.

The sound of trickling water of Bowmans Creek was a marker for Constance and she followed the sound, picking her way through waist high berry bushes before carefully making her way down a staircase of packed mud and rocks packed into the exposed roots of an old hickory tree before stepping onto the rocky river bed of a shallow creek narrowed from the lack of rain. She walked to the creek's edge to scoop a handful of icy water into her mouth and wondered at the beauty around her. The birds chirped near and far in the tall trees. She across the creek to spot the sprouting clusters of white flowers growing from mud in the crevice of log. She lifted her skirt to cross where she and Grace had placed a bridge of rocks and picked a handful sticky white clusters before shoving them into her pocket. With the witherod collected, she walked upstream to where the old sassafras tree grows. It was easy to spot with its orange and red leaves aflame. She scaled the natural levee to where the tree stood and sat on a boulder collect her breath. Constance looked around tree's root for saplings and upon finding one, she grasped it and with all of her might, pulled and twisted until the sapling's root broke free. She took it back down to the creek where she rinsed off the dirt before drying it the hem of her skirt and placing it in her pocket. She was about to leave when spotted the cluster of brown mushrooms growing at the base of a rotting tree. The drunk man mushrooms. What do they do? What really happens? She walked along pebbly shoreline to the tree and picked the curious fungus to wash in the clear water. Then she nibbled on one and then another before sitting on a rock and waited. Before long, her stomach began to roil and growl, and she got up to fetch water from the creek but didn't make it. Doubling over in intense pain, she vomited the chewed up mushroom along with the morning porridge. She vomited again time before collapsing onto the pebbly ground. Dizzy and worn, she crawled to the creek to lap up water like a beast. And when she had her fill of water, she looked up and realized the echoes of chirping birds had all but gone away. She beheld the sight of falling leaves suspended in the air. She stood to pluck one from mid-air and look upon it to see it's life pulse dwindle and fade. What had she done? Had she broken time? Was she going to die? As she gathered her foggy thoughts, she felt as though she was being watched. She slowly looked up at the far embankment and gasped in horror. A huge black wolf with hellfire eyes stood atop it. It sniffed the air to catch her scent before licking its heavy muzzle lips.

Constance's mouth opened but the scream wouldn't come forth. She fell back upon her backside and scrambled away crab-like from the water's edge. Her eyes never left the beast, stalking her along the ledge, until she finally righted herself to run across the creek to the other high creek bank. Her fingers clawed at the grit and her worn shoes slipped and slid in the ruts of the muddy levee in her mad struggle up the embankment. Her heart was beating at a rate she'd never experienced before. She could hear her own breathing and nothing else, and when she reached the top, she stood up and looked back to see the wolf was no longer there. She scanned the woods where it once stood. It had completely disappeared. Feeling somewhat relieved, she turned and bumped right into a man standing before her. The tall man was well-dressed and clean, not a woodsman at all. She looked up from his shirt and coat to see his face, but it was obscured by the shadows of his wide brimmed hat. So surprised was she that she took a step backward, slipped on dew slick leaves, and tumbled down the embankment in a whir of leaves and twigs. Shaken from her fall, she sat up. An unworldly heartbeat pulsed in her ears. When she opened her eyes to see the Dark Gentleman standing a few feet away from her. How can his clothes be unsullied and his shoes with big brass buckles so clean after following her down the wall of earth? She plunged her hand into her pocket to take out her knife and pointed it at him as she scooted away.

"You keep away from me! Keep away!"

He strode towards her and kicked the knife from her hand. She looked at the man with shadows for a face as he reached down to grab her by waist and flipped her onto her hands and knees with an unworldly strength. Her mind whirled; the world seemed fade away as though she was slowly vanishing from it. She tried to scramble from his grasp but his grip was something she couldn't break. She stopped struggling when a leather gloved hand grasped her throat to hold her prone. Her eyes, now wide with fright, darted around the majestic landscape. Cool air hit her thighs as he lifted her petticoats. And when he released her waist and chin, she remained held in place by an invisible force. Her muscles jerked when his claw like fingernails scraped up her thighs and still Constance couldn't utter a sound. She felt his face nuzzle her exposed backside. He sniffed her before his nose went into her as he licked her most sensitive spot. Persistent with his licking, her knees left the ground as he licked her with his ravishing tongue. Constance's mind was a jumble of thoughts as processed these new sensations and still, she could not utter a word. It was as though a rag had been stuffed down her throat; she could breathe but her scream was a guttural bestial grunt devoid of any recognition of being human. He continued his intimacies before he stopped. He leaned over her. His lips nuzzling the back of her ear caused her to tremble.