Charity Begins

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Charity Begins

Charles was a lowly cordwainer (a cobbler in modern terms). A religious man whose wife died during the plague outbreak in 1665. He lived in an isolated community in Essex, with his only daughter Charity.

Age and failing eyesight meant that he could no longer make much of a living. He worried about his

daughter who, having reached the age of 18 was still unmarried. His concerns were mainly because he had maintained her sheltered upbringing, deliberately keeping her away from other people — especially young men. The exception being the Pastor and his wife, who they usually saw on Sundays at the small building that served as a church for the local community.

Realising that he could no longer support both himself and Charity, Charles came up with an idea and at the next church meeting, he approached the Pastor.

“Pastor Smith, as you know, I’m getting old and my hands are tired and weak. I am unable to do as much as I used to, and my income is poor nowadays. I am a frugal man and I can survive on truly little, but I fear for my daughter Charity. She is a good girl, a hard worker and carries out all the household duties that her Mother used to do. I wonder… would it be asking too much if you could see your way to providing a roof over her head? She could work for her food and lodging, so you would not have to pay her. I’m sure that your wife would welcome such able help around the house.”

“Well William, I can understand your troubles. How old are you now? Sixty-two?”

“Sixty-seven Summers, this June Pastor. I feel fortunate that my father taught me to count when I was young, so that I could keep track as the years went by. People said he was foolish to do so, as I only need to count two shoes!” he joked.

“It’s not surprising then that your body is struggling. Not many men make it to your age. As for your daughter, well, I had been thinking that Elizabeth could do with a little help. I had been thinking about a young woman to come in occasionally, but a permanent addition to our household? I will have to think about that. I will let you know next Sunday.”

William had not mentioned his idea to Charity yet, but he knew that he would have to broach the subject soon, because if the Pastor agreed, she might well not be accompanying him home in seven days’ time. He prayed that the Pastor would agree, because he knew that Charity would be safe and looked after under their protection. She would be in a Christian environment, far from the temptations of the young farm hands in the area. But he just could not find the right time to explain his plan.

One week later, Charles’ prayers were answered when Pastor Smith confirmed his agreement to take Charity as a household servant and to continue her religious education. But now he had to explain to his daughter. She was waiting for him outside.

“Charity, I am old. I am tired and I can no longer earn enough to keep us both.”

“Oh! Father!” She was taken by surprise by this sudden admission. She had realised that her father was struggling but had hoped that God would help find a way to improve their situation.

“Ever since your Mother passed — bless her soul — all I have ever wanted to do is to provide for and protect you. I can no longer do this, so I have made a decision.”

Charity knew that he was about to tell her something that would change her life and she dreaded what she was going to hear.

“I have spoken to the Pastor and he has agreed to take you into his home as a servant, to help his wife in her daily duties. He has agreed to continue your religious education. I know that you will work hard and earn your keep. I know that you will be a good girl and make me proud.”

“Oh, Father! Are you sure? How will you manage without me?”

“I need very little child and I’m sure that I can earn just enough to feed myself.”

“But Father…”

“No “buts” my dear. I am afraid it must happen. I took the liberty of bringing your things with us today.”

Charity had wondered why her father had brought the sack with him. It was not exceptionally large — she only had three shifts and two changes of clothes and she was already wearing her best set.

“Ah Charity my dear. Are you ready to accompany us home?” The Pastor stood just behind her, his wife alongside him. She was a mousy, but pleasant woman. Her kindness shone through her dowdy appearance.

“Come along Charity, there is much to be done and we want to get you settled. Then I can begin to teach you your duties.”

Charity shed a single tear as she bade her father farewell, but more followed as she walked the short distance to the Pastor’s house.

It was not a large property. The garden had been mostly given over to the growing of vegetables for the table and fruit. Of course, these were all seasonal, so Elizabeth was adept at preserving produce for use during the Winter months.

Once inside, Charity could see that the main room was dominated by the large Eskort Kız fireplace. In the centre was an oak table with bench seats on opposite sides. The floor was smooth stone and had clearly been scrubbed regularly

The Pastor’s wife explained, “This is the room in which we live, eat and pray.” She pointed to the steep steps in the corner, which led up to a simple door. “That is where Pastor Smith and I sleep.”

She turned and pointed, “That is the door that leads to the garden. This other door,” again she pointed. “Will be your room.” She walked across and unlatched it.

The ceiling was low and the room small, made even smaller by the shelves opposite the bed, stacked with jars, bottles and food. Clearly, this was originally purposed as a pantry. Just beyond the bed, there was another, smaller door. Elizabeth opened this and showed Charity the Scullery.

This was to be her home from now on.


Charity was a handsome looking young woman and both Parson and Mrs Smith could understand Charles’ concerns for her welfare. The Pastor had promised to maintain her religious studies, but his work (both parochial and physical) meant that he could only spare the necessary time at the end

of the day. So, while his wife retired up the tiny staircase to bed, He would sit with Charity in prayer and in religious discussion.

Of course, as this was the end of the day, and Charity was expected to rise early to clear the fireplace and re-light it, she would ready herself for bed first. As for most people of the time, when a woman retired to bed, she wore her shift, the same one that she had been wearing throughout the day. She had three of the garments, two were worn alternately, with the third — and best — reserved for Sunday alone.

It was possibly a week after Charity had started work at the Smith’s house that, she was gradually given additional duties, one of which was to “put the fire to bed”.

The fireplace and fire were arguably the most important part of any household. It provided warmth in cold weather, dried damp clothing hung in front of it and was the source of heat for cooking and baking. Charity understood that being given this responsibility was a true sign of trust.

So, on this evening, as Pastor Smith waited patiently, Charity crossed to the fireplace, hefted the large log that had been placed to the side and rolled it onto the embers. The fire had been allowed to burn down, so as not to waste fuel. The sleeper log would not burn easily, but would maintain an element of heat and, in the morning, would enable a rapid re-ignition of the fire.

Pastor Smith watched Charity at work. They had a single candle for light to add to the glow of the fire. But when she rolled the log on, that light faded rapidly.

Then, as Charity moved back away from the fire, she passed in front of the candle. Momentarily, her

body was outlined through the thin linen material of her shift. The Pastor saw this and found it necessary to keep his eyes averted afterwards to prevent himself from staring at the region of her breasts.

Distracted, they talked for a while and he asked her if she had any sins to confess.

“I’m not sure Pastor Smith. Because, perhaps, something that I do is a sin, and yet I do not know it?”

The Pastor smiled, “Child, you show wisdom beyond your years, to question yourself in this way. Perhaps we should pray that you receive guidance from above.”

They had been sitting at the wooden table on a bench facing each other, having moved the candle between them. Charity moved towards the fireplace and knelt in front of the simple wooden cross that hung above it. She began her devotions

Pastor Smith watched her as she silently gave prayer. Now that she was facing away from him

he could allow his eyes to roam more freely, without fear of being espied. Charity’s firm straight back showed the well-defined bones of her spine through the shift. As his eyes descended, they reached her posterior. She was sitting on the heels of her feet, with the toes pointing back toward him. For some reason, seeing the soles of her feet in this way he found sinfully arousing. Then, once she had finished her prayer, she began to get to her feet. The material of her shift hugged her buttocks as she rose on one knee and bent to stand.

The Pastor cleared his throat and said, “You had better retire to your bed now child. I will sit here for a while longer. You may take the candle with you.”

The reality was that his erection would have been self-evident if he were to rise from the bench just now.


The result of the evening prayer session was that the Pastor went to bed in a needful mood. Elizabeth, his wife, was already in bed, but still awake, awaiting her husband.

He undressed quickly by the dim moonlight coming through the single, small window, but left his shirt on — this was what a man wore in bed, in the same way that the women wore their shift.

He climbed under the covers, grateful that she had already warmed the bed.

“Wife, I find myself in need of you this evening,” he whispered.

Elizabeth was used to her husband’s occasional “needs” and was well used to them — even though they had failed to produce a child of their own. After all, it was her wifely duty was it not? She would never admit such a thing to her husband, but… she quite liked it when he “needed” her.

Pastor Smith tugged up Elizabeth’s shift until it was around her waist. He then pulled up his shirt and moved across. She spread her legs as he climbed between them. Then thrilled as the back of his hand touched her as he presented the head of his penis to her womanhood. He pushed, then repositioned, and pushed again. This time, he gained entry and, slowly, penetrated to his full length.

The Pastor was not forceful or rough, but he needed release quickly, so he was soon slapping his hips against his wife’s body. His urgency and power were intoxicating to her and she began to experience sensations that were unfamiliar. Then, all too quickly for Elizabeth, he began jerking spasmodically and she knew he was about deposit his issue within her.


The Pastor’s teaching sessions with Charity continued each evening and the result for him was pretty much the same. She walked around in a thin shift and he was acutely aware that this was all that covered her youthful nakedness. Each time he had to send her to bed before he could rise from his seated position. His erections were powerful, and he had to hold it as he walked, lest the movements against his clothing became too much to bear. Elizabeth was called upon to do her wifely duty each night.

Finally, she had to say something, “Husband, please be gentle I beseech you, for I am a little

tender from your attentions of late. I know it is my wifely duty and I am keen to satisfy you, and happy to suffer if I must, but I fear you may not be aware.”

The Pastor understood and felt guilty. He had never spoken to Elizabeth about the actions between a man and his wife before, but his own needs outweighed his sense of propriety for once.

“I understand my dear. It would be callous of me not to take account of your feelings and thereby cause you discomfiture. But…perhaps there is a way…”

Elizabeth was naïve when she married, not knowing anything about what a man and woman did in bed. Her Mother had informed her in only the vaguest of terms what was expected. Her new husband, the Pastor, was fortunately both gentle and understanding.

“What do you mean?” she asked.

He coughed to clear his throat, “Please be assured my dear that I would never dare to mention such indelicacies for fear of shocking you, if it wasn’t that I have the need and you are somewhat indisposed.”

After a pause, he continued, “A man can achieve issue by means other than union.”

“Oh,” was all she could say.

“I will only explain such things if you are prepared to hear them. If you are not, then please speak out now and we shall never give them voice again.”

“Husband, I can tell this is difficult for you, but rest assured, as your loyal and loving wife I will do all that is necessary.”

“Good. And perhaps I should never have doubted that you would respond in that way.”

They were both lying beneath the bed covers. He pulled up his shirt to his waist and turned on his side towards her. He took hold of her hand and drew it downwards.

“This may shock you, so please be prepared. I am going to place your hand on my manhood. If at any time you feel uncomfortable with this, you must say so at once.”

He brought her hand to his penis and wrapped her fingers around it. She gasped and stiffened in shock. It was so big and hard and hot! With his hand clasping hers, there was no way that she could take it away — although after her initial reaction, that was the last thing she wanted to do.

Elizabeth felt the blood pulsing through her husband’s rod. Fascinated, she hardly even noticed as he began to move her hand up and down the shaft. She learned quickly what he wanted and continued when he took his hand away from hers. She lay on her right side and as she worked, her husband stroked up and down her covered arm. He wished just then that he could be feeling her naked flesh. The thought made him groan and his wife stopped her motions, wondering if she had hurt him.

“Don’t stop. Don’t stop!” he gasped. So, she continued.

The Pastor’s hand fell from her shoulder and alighted on her left breast. This time she gasped, as he squeezed. That shock was overwhelmed by the sudden jerking movements that came from her husband, accompanied by the wet stickiness that suddenly erupted, seemingly everywhere. She knew what this liquid was but was shocked at how much of it there was. Afterwards, she had to feel her way to the washstand to fetch a cloth with which to mop up. By the time she had finished, her husband was gently snoring. Elizabeth lay awake for some time, feeling awed by what had just happened.


Charity became an invaluable member of the household within a noticeably short time and Elizabeth found that she was both a quick and able learner, as well as being thorough and hard working. One day, while watching her sweeping the floor, she asked if she was happy.

“Oh yes, Mistress! I am happy here. I get to see my Father at church each week and he seems to be well. But, well, if I am not being too bold, this has become my home now.”

“And do you find the Pastor’s lessons helpful?”

“Oh, yes! He is a wise man. He explains passages of the bible that have long confused me. And he makes me think how the teachings therein relate to my own life. I find it wonderful!”

Elizabeth was impressed both by her enthusiasm and devotion to her husband’s teachings. Of course, she herself had known of his wisdom for the many years that they had been married.

Later that evening, she found the opportunity to speak with her husband while Charity was fetching wood from the store outside. “Husband, you have made a great impression upon our young maidservant. She enthuses about your lessons and you now have a most loyal follower. But…perhaps, please forgive me if I suggest this, but perhaps you should be wary that she becomes infatuated with you?”

The Pastor smiled — an exceedingly rare sight indeed — and replied, “I know the bible, I know men, yet I know little about women. For that I will always be grateful that I have you to guide me. I shall — as you suggest — be careful.”


That evening, the pastor found his moral strength sorely tested. For some reason, Charity’s nipples appeared to be erect and he found himself unable to take his eyes from her breasts. His erection, hidden from her by the table between them was painful now and, try as he might, he could not dissuade himself from dropping his hand beneath the table and squeezing it. He did not rub it, but the constant pressure brought him close to climax. He took his hand away to prevent this happening, but even then, he nearly released into his breeches.

The Pastor only just kept track of what Charity was saying to him, “I find myself experiencing some odd thoughts. Particularly on Sunday after church when the young farm hands walk by. They make comments and laugh with each other and gaze back at me. I…I feel…that I want to be noticed by them. Is that a sin?”

Unable to make coherent thought, he said, “What do you think, child?”

Believing that the Pastor was testing her, Charity thought hard before answering.

“Perhaps, if I desire such attention, or encourage it, then that could be deemed a sin? I do not believe I have been guilty of either of these things. But…I feel happy when…they regard me. I…do not know why. Is it a sin to be happy in this way?”

Pastor Smith watched Charity as she struggled with the problem. Knowing he had to give an answer, he said the first thing that came to him, “It cannot be a sin to be merely happy. Indeed, many might live their lives better if they felt this way. But…these young men…well, they look at you in a way that is not seemly. Their thoughts and intentions are far from pure. I encourage you to avoid them as best you can, for they will only despoil your purity.”

“Oh! Pastor Smith! I did not realise that they were viewing me with anything other than friendliness! I surely must pray for forgiveness and atone, for I must in some way have been to blame, for causing them to act in such a way.”

“Prayer will always help in any situation.”

Charity arose from the tale and walked around it towards the fire. The Pastor remained seated, one arm across his lap to hide his embarrassment.

The young woman knelt in front of the cross with her hands clenched in her lap and her eyes closed. She opened them again.

“I feel…I feel that I must prostrate myself.” And, so saying, put her hands on the floor and moved her knees backwards until she could lie flat on her stomach. She moved her arms outwards, to create the shape of the cross.

Meanwhile, the Pastor was in serious trouble. In the past he had found her kneeling in prayer to be arousing. Now, already tumescent, he was confronted by her shift lifting as she laid down, revealing not only her calves, but also the backs of her knees, which were slightly apart. His eyes wandered up her legs to her posterior, which was moving gently as she breathed. The material was caught in the cleft, outlining her ample, yet firm buttocks. He had the urge to place his hands on them, to push the clothing up out of the way and see her nakedness. But…just as he was about to lose control, his over-loaded libido caused his cock to explode. It seemed to continue spraying and spewing within his breeches for minutes (although, it was probably only seconds).

The Pastor’s breathing was just about under control when Charity completed her devotions. She stood and bade the Pastor goodnight. He watched her depart, imagining that she was naked before his eyes.


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