I had put up a token protest as my host's nephew left me in the charge of well-endowed and quite fetching Negress named Naomi, but in truth, I must admit to being quite pleased with the situation, although my shock at the suggestion was genuine and sincere. I had not had a woman bathe me since I was but a lad or six or seven.
A claw-foot steel tub had been set aside in a room all its own. The servants had already drawn up enough hot water to cover my legs and Naomi had added a concoction of herbs and oils. The homeopathic exhalations of bay, lavender, and other medicinal ingredients set about soothing my anxiety almost immediately upon entering the well-lit room.
As Naomi helped me into the luxurious cauldron, I marveled at the casual wealth my senior partner possessed and displayed. The round room where I took my bath, for example, was constructed of rough hewn cedar with ornate hooks for clothing and shelves for towels. Most impressive were the many windows that provided a panorama of the fields of Avalon and the rolling hills beyond that. There were windows set in the ceiling rafters, also, letting in daylight.
One could, conceivably, easily become lost watching the clouds stroll by as the warmth of the water loosened and soothed tense muscles.
In my case, however, my eyes were drawn ever back to the Negress who attended me. Her gentle hands had never seen hard work or lye soap; her fingernails filed to perfection. She hummed as she scrubbed my back with a soft brush. I grew aroused under her administrations, but I did not hide myself, for she was just a slave and not a few of the statuary of Mr. Herne's collection were tastelessly vulgar. I doubted very much I could truly offend her.
"May I rinse the dust from your hair, Mr. Penrod?" She said politely and with a musical lilt to her voice. Her voice was cultured and as nearly intoxicating as well-aged sherry. I nodded and warm water suddenly cascaded gently down upon my head.
I prepared myself, instinctively, for the fine tooth comb my mother would have used on me at that point, but instead, Naomi's fine fingers began to massage my scalp. I gasped, slightly, for the touch was far more intimate than I truly expected. Yet, the part of a man that is a beast had expected and wished for contact much more intimate and intense.
"T-t-that," I sputtered, trying to sound casual and succeeding only in part, I suspect, "That feels... very nice."
"Thank you." The enchanting creature said as she began to work a lotion into my hair. "Mr. Herne likes to have his guests treated to as many Earthly delights as he has discovered from his travels across Europe and Asia."
A small dark boy brought in another bucket of water and removed two of the empty buckets. I could hear him tramp down the back stairway with them as they scraped occasionally against the narrow walls. "I wonder why Mr. Herne did not build this room on the ground floor?" That was a question for Mr. Herne, of course, but I found myself needing to hear the girl's voice again.
"My master likes the view," she said with a purr in her voice. I glanced at her, letting my eyes slide down the gentle slope of her neck to the dark and tempting cleavage exposed by her loose blouse as she bent over to wipe some lather from my forehead.
"Indeed," I said and looked away as she smiled with a rueful look in her eyes and a glance to my own engorged member.
I was flattered and a man did, indeed, have needs, but I was a guest in Avalon and I had never bedded a black woman. I did not desire to reduce myself to the role of a randy buck, yet, there was always a part of even the most Christian of men that is still just a beast.
"If you would but lean back, sir," my dark temptress purred as she allowed her sponge to soak up more of my still warm bathwater. I complied and watched nervously as she reached between my legs. With a squeeze of the sponge, warm liquid fell upon my cod. My manhood twitched with anticipation and my hands slapped tightly on the edges of the tub.
The sponge went into the water and the gentle wake of its submersion rippled against loosened sack of flesh nestled beneath my stiffened, sinful member. I forced myself to close my eyes because I could not bring myself to ask her to stop. I was conflicted, for I loved my wife and I would not give in to sin so easily, but my wife was far away and moments with her like this seemed so very long ago.
Then the warm moist sponge was climbing my phallus with strokes to alternated upwards and downwards. Under her gentle ministrations, my ball sack tightened slowly. I took measured breathes and she seemed to forget I was still in the room with her and my betraying member. Naomi began to hum again even as I struggled with myself. Like manna from heaven, I was unwilling to question the will of God, which had brought me to this pass.
God would forgive, I knew.
She stopped for a moment and my heart thudded with disappointment, but my mind gracefully accepted the relief. She was just a slave after all, I told myself. A white man's penis could have no more attraction for her than white woman would have for a Negro's.
Yet. When I opened my eyes ever so slightly, it was to see her pour a measure of oil into my bathwater, onto her left hand, and then upon my well-cleaned rod.
She massaged the flesh between my legs gently for several minutes as I sat there, still and uncomplaining. It was all I could do not to beg for more. It was all I could do not to command her to stop. She pulled down my foreskin with a sure grip despite the oil present and stroked away nearly invisible semgma with a small hand clothe from beneath the crown of flesh that stood suddenly exposed.
The desire to kiss her now was strong. I longed to take her into my arms and throw all that I had worked for away. And to sin, yes. I could think of little but sin under her expert care.
It was at that moment Jared returned to us, tapping on the door stepping inside with hardly a pause. Discretion is not often a virtue of youth, however Naomi slipped gears easily enough. She urged me forward, head down, and I eagerly complied. A bucket of cool water rained down on my head slowly, rinsing both the lotions from my hair and the urgency of my loins.