Forty Two
Six months have passed and I labor to rotate the capstan while Miss Lucinda exits the back porch and proceeds to stoke a coal fire. Remnants of the tools of a blacksmith’s shop bring the blaze to amazing hot. I note shards of iron are being heated to a glowing red. As the fire builds I am pleasantly surprised when Miss Lucinda removes her blouse, for the first time fully exposing to my gaze a surprisingly brawny chest, with broad shoulders and rippling muscles easily supporting firm and massive mammary glands. As she holds various metal bits to the flames, my concern rises. Despite the stimulating display of feminine charms, fright overtakes. I fear a branding. After all, I endeavor as one would work as a piece of livestock, and on more than one occasion Miss Lucinda has express
