John Proctor was a busy man. Between his homestead, and the farming that went with it, and the tavern that he had a financial stake in, he had little time for nonsense, and with almost more children then he could count between his first marriage, with his departed Martha, the first Elizabeth, and on his third marriage now, he and this Elizabeth were well on their way to filling their spacious home.

Seven hundred acres belonged to the Proctor's just to the south of the village of Salem, and John spent most of his time in the fields, but ever since the birth of little Elisha he found himself being needed more frequently. His wife had lost a lot of blood in that labor, and hadn't quite recovered. She'd aways had a constitution, that wasn't as strong as that of either of his previous wives, but she was a good woman, and he did his best to be patient with her as she struggled to meet all of her duties in the home.

It was his daughter Martha who had recommended that perhaps he should bring in some outside help. She had been helping with the Tavern, along with the oldest of his children. The money that came in was enough to support them, and the farm besides, but John believed in waking up at dawn, and working until long after the sun had tucked in for the night.

The girl they had brought in to help with the needs of the house had been a charity case. Her parents, murdered by savages. Having nothing to sustain her but her relationship to the Reverend Samuel Parris and his family. The idea of having an extra set of hands around the house for work had been appealing to Elizabeth, and more so when she had learned of the losses that had troubled the child.

At 15, Abigail Williams had moved into the cellar, and into the employment of the Proctor home. The girl had given him no trouble, for her first few months, and it wasn't until his wife had mentioned the girl talking back to him, and he had decided to take the punishment into his own hands, that he had even been alone with her.

It had started as a small thing. Elizabeth had called for a cup of tea, as she fed the baby, and after asking three times with no response, she had been forced to get the tea herself, before tracking down the Williams girl. She had been laying in the hayloft, shirking her duties, and though she had immediately apologized for her mistake, and gone back to her duties, his wife had still decided to mention it, after supper that day.

The dishes washed, the Williams girl had gone back to the hayloft. The chill of the early fall air wasn't enough to keep her from her favorite location. There had been plenty of times that she had slept out in that hayloft. Gazing up at the sky as much as she could, through a hole in the roof. Elizabeth had found her there, oversleeping now and then, and he wondered if that were the case for the mornings mistake, as he studied what he could see of her from the door of the barn.

If she noticed that he had entered, it did not prevent her from continuing a motion that he could not quite see from the angle near the door, and with purposeful, but quiet steps he loped his way through the barn, and to the ladder that led to the top of the hayloft portion, and he climbed. Freezing in shock at the sight displayed before him.

The Williams girl was doing some exploration, beneath her skirt. Her under things pushed aside. Her fingers delving deep into herself, arching her back and moaning in response to the feeling of it. He froze staring at her, his hands gripping onto the sides of the ladder as he froze, watching her.

It didn't take long for Abigail to notice him at the hayloft. He had hoped she would stop, but his presence only seemed to push her to further levels of debauchery. Throwing her bonnet off, her long dark curls a wicked halo around her face, as she moaned his name, thrashing wantonly as she brought herself to the brink of pleasure and past it.

All of the color had drained from him as he had stared, transfixed. But as the shock of it began to fade away, his irritation grew. If he were honest, he would have to admit to other parts of him growing as well, but his focus was on punishing the girl. Managing with some difficulty. "You are to get dressed. Instantly."

Her smile had greeted him, as she let the remainder of her chemise slide away so he could catch a glimpse of one of her newly blossoming breasts. Unmarked by the sagging, or lines that came with Motherhood. She couldn't have looked less like Elizabeth if she had tried. He caught his breath, staring at the appealing pink nub of her nipple, and without remembering climbing the last of the ladder he found himself above her, his hands tightening in her dark curls. After pulling her to his feet, he hissed against her ear.

"I will whip you for this. We do not allow wanton strumpets in our home. When I am done whipping you for this, I will whip you again for shirking in your duties!"

A moan had greeted him, and he stood puzzled. Not understanding the motivations of the girl at all. They were easier recognized when her hand had gone to tighten around the erection he had only vaguely been aware of above the buzzing and heat in his head. He followed the up and down motion of her hand, before grabbing his hands around her wrists, and pushing her hard into the wall of the hayloft.

Without knowing how it had happened, their lips were upon each other. Their tongues encircling in a lewd dance. He crushed his body against hers, and she had struggled with his belt.

At the last moment before she had freed him from the prison of his belt, his hands prevented her. Managing with some difficulty.

"If you ever do anything like this again, I will tell your Uncle about your wicked ways, girl!"

The giggle that had been her initial response had surprised him, more then angered him, in the moment, but remembering the sweet bell like sound of it, left him irritated and bothered. In many ways.

She had licked her lips before responding as he held onto her wrists to prevent any further exploration.

"John, why would you do that? Why do that, when you could have me right here? I've been touching myself for months, after supper every night, thinking of you. "

Her bright green eyes had looked up to him from under the veil of her unreasonably long lashes. And he let out a hiss of air as he exhaled.

" This will never again be discussed!"

She had tilted her head and given him a triumphant smile.

"You have all ready kissed me, John Proctor. We are only delaying the inevitable. We have no need to discuss anything. The questions I want answered don't require any words. How would it feel to have you inside of me? "

Her voice had been tremulous, but heady too. She had been certain he would succumb to her charms, and in a way, he certainly had. He had kissed her once. And not pushed her away nearly as quickly as he should have when her touch had crossed far past that of employee and employer.

He had fled from the barn, leaving her half dressed, and hungry with desire. He had walked a half mile, to the little lake that was on the far side of his property. It had been an uncomfortable journey. His need straining against his trousers the entire way. When he was certain he was along, he had released his engorgement, and now with a slow and vice like grip he was stroking himself, considering all that had happened today, and the sinfulness of the nature of his thoughts, of his actions.

Yet all the same, he found his bliss and cried out "Abigail!" under his breath, as the seed of life spilled forth from him, a couple drips landing on his trousers and the rest on the ground at his feet. He stepped back far enough away not to worry about landing on his mess, repositioning himself in his trousers and leaning against the base of the white willow tree that had been present for his foray into lustful thoughts and auctions. Catching his breath, and glancing upward through the many pointing fingers, limbs and branches of the tree, all accusing him, as he peered to the sky, the constellations peering down.

Unsuspecting inside the house, Elizabeth tended to tucking the children into their beds, and helping them with their prayers, blissfully unaware of the turmoil that had begun, and the way it would destroy them all.