Daughter of the Revolution. -  Abby discovers sex for the first time. Listen to the Podcast at Steamy Stories.  Chapter 01 The sound of ringing steel echoed through the barn along with the gasping of two people laboring for breath. Abigail Durham and her father George sparred with their practice swords, sweating and panting as they danced and dodged each others thrusts. George cried out in surprise when his 18 year old daughter parried his stroke and tapped his forearm with her blade. “I’ve finally marked you, Father!” she cried in victory and he smiled at her sheepishly. He was so proud of his beautiful protégée. Abby was his only child and she was the light of his life. Her mother had died three years ago of consumption and he still mourned her daily. Abby had always been a sort of tomboy and eagerly took to learning marksmanship as well as swordsmanship, of which she excelled like no other person he knew except himself. An exceedingly rare thing in the late 1700’s for a woman to be interested in to be sure, but he paid it no mind. Since she could walk he’d taken her on hunts with him, along with long trips on the road to visit cities scattered through the colony of Virginia as he conducted his business of growing and marketing tobacco. The Revolutionary War was closing in on them rapidly and being a man of action and quite well educated, he predicted a long and bloody road in their future. Since his wife had died he’d poured his heart and soul into preparing for the rough days ahead. With Abby’s assistance he’d scouted out several small limestone caves within several miles of their plantation and staged provisions in case they were forced to abandon their home and hearth. Chief among their treasured items was gunpowder, bullets for their firearms, and foodstuffs such as beans, rice, and smoke preserved meats. They also had clothing, bedding, and various tools they may need for the future scattered throughout their various caches. He’d even gone so far as to draw up detailed maps and demanded Abby commit the locations to memory. Just before his wife had died, his brother William had moved in with them to help out with the plantation. George saw it as a gift because William’s wife, Rose, was quite a bit younger than him and closer to Abby’s age than his own. In fact she’d been 21 years old to Abby’s 15 at the time. She was quite instrumental in raising Abby into a promising young lady over the last three years. As a result, Abby could be right at home with the highest of the local society, not giving the least impression that she could outshoot and out sword fight any man she might happen upon. The rumble of far off cannon fire seemed to draw closer every day, increasing George’s anxiety for the safety of his family and his beloved workers who labored in his fields. He had learned a great deal of compassion from his wife and as a result treated his slaves far better than most owners. His plantation home was small and modest by the day’s standards, simply because he chose to invest in decent housing for his slaves. In fact, the slave cabins were nicer by far than most white folk’s homes in the area, garnering some jealousy to say the least. The title “Master” was forbidden to be spoken. He was simply “Mr Durham” to his workers while Abby was referred to as “Missy” and she was beloved by them all. “Can we go another round?” Abby asked happily, pleased that she’d scored a hit on her father. “I’d love to dear, but I think I it’s nearly dinner time. Go get cleaned up and we’ll meet in the dining room.” “Yes, Papa.” She kissed him sweetly on his cheek and set off for the house while he watched her departing figure with a worried frown. He wasn’t normally a man to harp on his feelings, but deep in his gut he knew bad things were on the not so distant horizon. When Abby reached the house, her quadroon maid, June, had a tub of hot water ready for her. “Have you been fighting with your Pappy again?” June asked teasingly. “Ye