Elizabeth had spent seven days at the manor and found the staff agreeable save for Ned, whose gaze lingered too long and too low whenever she passed. Lord Stokes had spoken kindly during their brief encounters, inquiring after her family with genuine interest. Friday morning Mrs. Harper sent her upstairs with his breakfast tray and instructions to tidy the room. Receiving no answer to her knock, she stepped inside believing it empty. She moved about her work in silence until a cough from the adjoining chamber startled her upright. Lord Stokes stood watching, the sight of her bent form having stirred feelings long dormant, this beautiful creature the most exquisite female he had ever seen. Confusion clouded his face as he studied her fine features, his attention drifting briefly to the generous curve of her bosom before he checked the impulse. He was at least thrice his age and surely too old for these thoughts. Sunlight slanted through the tall windows, illuminating dust that swirled around her skirts while she swept beneath the bed. The motion drew his eye to the line of her back and the way the fabric shaped itself to her figure, the view of her buttocks and legs stirring arousal in him. When he cleared his throat she turned, cheeks coloring as she offered a quick apology and curtsy. His eyes lingered on her breasts again for a moment, the sight arousing him, before he lifted it again to meet her eyes, the words he meant to speak caught between want and conscience.

Finally he managed a quiet thanks for her tidying, his voice low and measured as he crossed to the table and pretended to sort through a stack of letters. Elizabeth murmured her acknowledgment and returned to her tasks, the soft rustle of her short skirt and the bend of her waist filling the room with quiet motion. Lord Stokes kept his eyes on the papers yet stole glances at the sway of her hips, the way her bodice strained with each reach, each stretch. His cock thickened involuntarily against the fabric of his trousers, a slow insistent pressure that he made no move to ease, though the temptation gnawed at him. He stayed at the table, feigning absorption in correspondence while heat built low in his belly.

When she came to clear the breakfast tray, she leaned across the polished wood to gather the dishes, and the neckline of her blouse gaped open to reveal the pale swell of her breasts, the shadowed cleft between them. His erection strained visibly now, tenting in his lap, and her gaze flicked there by accident. She froze for a heartbeat, eyes wide at the unfamiliar sight of a man's hardened length pressing upward, curiosity flickering across her innocent face even as color flooded her cheeks. He cleared his throat again and looked away, but the air between them had thickened with unspoken tension.

Later that afternoon Mrs. Harper dispatched her to the stables for a fresh bundle of kindling. Ned was there alone, his bold stare already stripping her bare as she stepped inside the dim, hay-scented space. She bent over the pile of kindling and started to load handfuls into her basket. Ned drank in the sight of her raised shapely hips as his member stiffened. She was a handsome wench and he was determined to have her. He sidled up behind her as she worked and with a quick jerk of his hand he freed his cock from his breeches, thick and erect. He quietly placed its monstrous length on her shoulder as she kneeled over the woodpile and asked in a rough whisper if she would like to touch it. Elizabeth gasped, mortified at the blunt display and the predatory heat in his eyes, but also intrigued at the sight of its size and girth. She had never seen anything like it and it gave her confused feelings - repulsion for its owner but a strange excitement that she had not experienced before. She grabbed her basket and turned and fled back toward the house, her heart hammering.

She slipped through the servants' entrance and found Mary already in their shared quarters, the older maid's eyes widening at the sight of her flushed face and trembling hands. Elizabeth collapsed onto the narrow bed and poured out the raw confession in a shaky whisper, describing Ned's sudden exposure and the thick, angry length he'd thrust toward her, the fear twisting with an unwanted flicker of curiosity that left her stomach tight. Mary listened with a sympathetic grimace, offering a quick hug and muttered warnings about keeping clear of the footman, but the words barely registered as Elizabeth lay back once the lamps were doused, the day's images refusing to fade.

In the dark she could not stop the visions of the men's cocks entering her thoughts, one tented hotly within Lord Stokes' fine trousers and the other huge, red, and pulsing in the stable shadows. Their memory stirred a new, insistent sensation low in her loins, something delicious and aching like an itch she had no name for, and she hugged the pillow between her legs, clenching her thighs tight around the soft bulk while her hips shifted in restless little rolls. Heat bloomed there, damp and secret, until the feeling slowly ebbed and she drifted into uneasy sleep, her breath still quick against the linen.

A few days later she returned to clean Lord Stokes' chamber, and this time he opened the door himself, welcoming her in with a low voice that made her pulse quicken. She felt his gaze following her every bend and stretch, the weight of his hungry stare bringing back that same dull throb between her thighs. When she approached the table where he sat she noticed once again the huge erection straining against his trousers once more; he made no effort to hide it, instead murmuring, "I'm afraid you are responsible for my excitement, my dear. I'm terribly sorry as I'm sure a girl of your upbringing has not been exposed to such things."

Elizabeth blushed deeply but stared, transfixed, mute and when he asked if she would like to see it she nodded. He stood and his fingers worked the buttons free on his trousers, the fabric falling away so his long thick cock sprang upward, heavy and veined.

He motioned her closer. "Touch it if you'd like" he said. She kneeled before him so it was at eye level. She studied it closely, noticing how the head was purple and burnished and the shaft was veined and muscular. She noticed that a sticky fluid was leaking from the aperture at its tip. She reached out nervously, fingertips brushing the hot, silken skin before wrapping around the rigid shaft, stroking uncertainly as his breath caught. Her loins were on fire with a heat she had never experienced. She felt a trickle of juice run down her thigh as she continued her experimentation. The unfamiliar weight of his huge cock throbbed in her palm, as she clumsily explored its length with gentle strokes. Within moments his hips jerked, a low groan escaping him as thick pulses of release spilled over her fingers, his years of restraint ending in a swift, shuddering climax that left him gripping the arms of his chair. Elizabeth was amazed at the torrent of fluid that erupted from the end of his cock, careful to avoid her maid outfit from being covered in it.

She quickly stood up and went about cleaning the pool of cum from the table where the majority had spurted. Lord Stoke disappeared into the antechamber while she cleaned up, embarrassed by the encounter with such a sweet young thing.

Elizabeth finished wiping away the last traces of Lord Stokes' release from the polished table, her fingers trembling as the sticky residue clung to the cloth. The manor felt quieter than usual as she carried the tray downstairs, but her thoughts refused to settle. Every step sent a faint twitch through her loins, the memory of his thick cock pulsing in her hand replaying itself unbidden. The heat of his skin, the way that purple head had leaked that strange clear fluid, the sudden rush of hot seed erupting over her fingers—it all lingered like a brand. By the time she reached the servants' hall her cheeks burned, and Ned's leering glance across the room only sharpened the restless ache between her thighs.

That night, long after the lamps were extinguished and Mary's breathing had grown slow and even in the next bed, Elizabeth lay awake in the narrow cot. The darkness amplified every sensation as she replayed the encounter again and again: the rigid length of him, the surprising softness of the shaft beneath her tentative strokes, the wet warmth that had spurted so powerfully from its tip. Her loins throbbed insistently now, a slick warmth gathering that no amount of pressing her thighs together could ease. The pillow offered no relief this time. Drawn by some nameless compulsion, her hand slipped beneath her nightdress, fingertips brushing the soft curls at the apex of her legs before parting the swollen folds of her pussy. She found the sensitive bud there already slick and throbbing, and a soft gasp escaped

Innocence lost at the manor