Chapter 2

My second kink, I told you I have three kinks didn’t I? is my sister. I fancy her. I’m in lust with her. Her body anyway. I want to have sex with her. I want to screw her, fuck her brains out, play with her body. Unfortunately she doesn’t like me. She doesn’t know I fancy her and want her; she just doesn’t like me. She doesn’t hate me. Not any more. She did when she was much younger. Back then she seriously resented me. She had been an only child until she was seven and a half. Then she had a baby brother who took all the attention she had been getting.

Her resentment had faded over the years, so that now she was twenty-three and working, not a very exciting job, but working, she just ignored me. She still lived at home as she couldn’t afford to even rent locally, but for the most part she lived her own life and only rarely interacted with me or even with our parents. To be honest, she had only come out on my birthday trip because her on-again off-again boyfriend had been busy and Mum had twisted her arm. Not physically you understand.

So that evening, after I got home from school, I was both surprised and quietly pleased to find Joanne in the kitchen as I walked in.

“Oh, hi Jo,” I said. She glanced at me but said nothing. I shrugged and got my buttie-box out of my bag and put it by the sink for washing. I’d go and get changed then come and sort that out, as well as tea, afterwards. It was my job to prepare tea in the evenings, a job I actually quite enjoyed. I watched her discreetly for a couple of seconds, then went to get changed.

When I came down again she was still in the kitchen, sorting out a pile of washing. She did her own washing, but still used the family machine and usually put other stuff in at the same time. “Shirt,” she snapped at me as I walked back into the kitchen.

“It was clean on this morning,” I told her. “And I had a shower after games this afternoon, so it’ll do for a couple more days yet.”

She shrugged. Her boobs moved quite delightfully in my opinion under her tight shirt. She switched the machine on, then went back to her room, taking the rest of her stuff with her. I wondered whether she would be back shortly, but her bedroom door shut with a finality that suggested otherwise. I shrugged, disappointed but not surprised.

I had never seen my sister naked, never expected to. But I did want to. I had seen her in her swimmys and her bikini; and once or twice I’d accidentally seen her in bra and knickers. She had a figure I lusted over. She could be really nice and lovely, but more often she was just cool. But that body! And since Dad had already said he wouldn’t take her as a concubine, my hopes were raised just slightly above zero that maybe she would be mine.

As I got myself a mug of tea, the movement in the front-loading washing machine caught my eye. I watched it idly for a few moments, not really paying attention, just letting the regular movement catch my eyes and relax me while I thought about the day. For a moment, a pair of her pale blue knickers appeared at the front, before being whisked away again. I smiled, suddenly remembering back to my CAP test. It was the only thing I could now remember about it, that somehow a pair of knickers was involved. Though how and why I could no longer remember.

That’s where my third kink came in. At the time of my CAP test I had borrowed that very pair of knickers and had been wearing them. About once a month, sometimes more often, sometimes less, I borrowed a pair from either Mum or Joanne, and would wear them all day or all night. The softer, silkier fabrics always got me so turned on doing it and my wanks felt so much better. Yet I didn’t fancy Mum in the slightest. She was nice, but no way was she a MILF.

I was as sure as I could be that I hadn’t told the CAP tester that that was what I did, was doing, but the very fact that I could remember something about a pair of knickers, just not those ones, scared me a little. Made me think that maybe, just maybe, I had said something, or that I had somehow been found out.

I frowned, worried. Who reviewed the CAP tests? Surely they weren’t fully automatic? Someone must have seen or heard. I finished up in the kitchen and hurried out.

Three Saturday’s later, Dad stopped me as I was about to head out to town and the cinema for the afternoon. At least, that was what I had told him I would be doing. In fact I was just going to be hanging around the town centre with a couple of my mates.

“Have you got a few minutes Toby?”

I had a quick panic as I was wearing a pair of Mum’s soft knickers that day. The first time I had worn any since the CAP test.

I nodded slowly. “What’s up? I was going to meet Craig and Alex and go to the pics.”

He smiled and pulled me into the living room and sat me down. This slightly surprised me as that room was almost only used in the evenings, after our evening meal, to gather, talk and maybe watch TV.

“Have you thought about your concubines?”

“What?”

“At some point you will have to pick four girls or women, to take as your concubines if you are picked up by the Federation. Confederation.”

“Uh. Oh. Yes. I suppose so.”

“Have you given it any thought?”

“Not really, no.” I had of course thought about taking both Mrs Clarke and Joanne, but knew that both were none-starters. First off, I suspected my sister would probably rather top herself than come with me, and second off Mrs Clarke would be a sponsor, not a concubine. Even if she wasn’t, she would never come with me. I was both too young and not good enough at maths. If she went with any student, it would be with one of the others, someone she could respect because they were good enough for her. No, both my two fancies were exactly that. Just fancies. Daydreams.

I shook them out of my head. “No. No thoughts.”

I must have sounded slightly down as he just smiled. “Don’t worry Toby, it’s not that bad.”

“I thought you chose at the pick-up. That’s what I’ve always been told.”

“And you can really believe the people who told you that?” Dad asked with a chuckle.

“Well, no, maybe not.”

“That might indeed happen if you get caught up in a pickup you aren’t expecting, but I’ve been doing some digging, and have found out we can create a pick-up. Not pre-empt one exactly, but sort of pre-order one.”

“How?”

“We have to get a number of sponsors together, sponsors who have arranged all their concubines in advance. We then tell them where we are going to be, and when, and they arrange to pick us all up quick and neat and tidy.”

“Oh. Are you trying to do that?”

He nodded slowly. “I’ve been told I need ten sponsors minimum. With you I would have seven. I need to find three more. Four if you’re not interested.

“Okay. Yeah. Why not. So when would it all be?”

“Not for a while yet. You need, we both need to find our concubines. Four each. Well, three for me as I want to take your mum. I think I’ve found my other three, but I really need to confirm it before I make any hard decisions.”

“What about Jo?” I asked, curious as to how he would react if I suggested taking her.

“She’ll be safe. A friend of Hillary’s has said he would like to take her, and she’s agreed.”

“Oh.”

I think Dad must have seen or heard my disappointment as he frowned at me. “You would not have been taking her,” he said sternly. “That would be just plain immoral and nasty. I hope you weren’t expecting to take her?”

Fortunately for me I could tell the truth. “No,” I said softly, “I wasn’t expecting to take her.”

He frowned at me. “But you wanted to, didn’t you?”

“Sort of. Maybe.”

“Hmm.” He frowned at me. “Well put her right out of your mind.”

“I already had.”

He stared at me for a moment longer. “Are there any girls in your school who you know would be a concubine?”

“Only three for certain, and one of those I wouldn’t choose in a month of Sundays.”

“Not if she were the only choice?”

I actually shuddered, and Dad laughed at my reaction. “What about the others?”

I shrugged. “Maybe. One’s okay but she would probably want to go with someone else. The other?” I shrugged and shook my head.

“Any older women?”

I must have blushed or reacted in some way, because he smiled slightly. “Who? A teacher?” His eyebrows went up as he saw my reaction, even though I tried my hardest not react. “Which one?”

I just shook my head. I could feel my face burning.

He laughed. “Actually, I think I can guess which one. Mrs Clarke by any chance?”

“No, no,” I gasped, my voice hitting a momentary squeak in my panic.

Dad just laughed even harder. “All right love, I won’t tease you any more.” He paused and his face went serious. “Let’s pretend, just for the moment, that it is Mrs Clarke.”

I started to shake my head, but he held up one finger. “Just pretend.”

“Mrs Smith,” I said.

“What? There is no ... Oh,” he smiled. “All right, let’s call her Mrs Smith. But in your head, you have to be thinking about the right person.”

“All right. What about her?”

“Would you take her if you could?”

I shrugged. “Don’t know.”

“Think about it. Think about her. Your ‘Mrs Smith’, if she was available as a concubine, would you want to take her?”

“She wouldn’t be a concubine,” I said. “She’d be like you and me.”

“A sponsor?”

I nodded.

“Okay, so you think she’s a sponsor. But if she were a concubine, would you want to take her? Would you like to take her?”

I thought for a minute. “Yeah. Maybe.”

He nodded. “Okay. If there was a choice between her and some of the other girls or teachers that you know have a CAP score that means they would be concubines, how high up would she come?”

I thought about everyone who I knew had a CAP card. “Probably top, maybe two. I can take four people so she would be in the top two.”

Dad nodded slowly.

“Now think about all the girls in your school. Apart from any you know have a sponsor’s score, how many might you be interested in? At least in thinking about? Don’t worry if you don’t know whether they have a CAP card, just think about the person.”

I thought, and began counting off in my head. Becky Miller. Robyn Taylor. Sharon Walker. Leah Walters. Hannah Robertson. Jackie Robinson. I started counting, twitching my fingers discreetly as I thought of names. Six so far. Janet somebody, wasn’t sure her surname: Sladen? Slavin? Something like that anyway. Taylor and Grace; they seemed to be close friends but I didn’t know their surnames. Sandra somebody with the stunning long red hair. Andrea Ledbetter. Stephanie Wilson. No, Watson. No, something else. Walters maybe? I couldn’t remember. Em Shoreditch. Didn’t know whether that was Emma or Emily. Or even something else. I started thinking slightly further afield than my own year, year thirteen. That blonde girl in the lower sixth, year twelve. And her two friends. That brunette from, I think, the fifth form, year eleven. Now she was pretty. Shame I didn’t know her name. I wasn’t really aware of any of the younger pupils. There probably would be some in year ten, and in theory there might be a few in year nine, the thirteen and fourteen year-olds, but it was too early in the year for there to be many. I sighed softly. I could think of a few pretty girls, but as I didn’t even know for certain if some of them were old enough I dismissed them. I quickly came up with a list in my head of about twenty girls, not that I knew, or was certain of all their names, some I only knew by sight. All of them pretty girls, none of them that I actively disliked for any reason.

“Maybe a couple of dozen,” I said “At most.”

Dad nodded slowly. “And would your Mrs Smith still be in the top two?”

I thought about it for only a moment. “Yeah. I think so.”

He nodded. “Have you included any girls or women that you know outside of school?”

“I don’t really know any.” I didn’t know any of Joanne’s friends, and I’d never been a member of the boy scouts or similar.

“Noooo,” said Dad slowly, drawing the word out as he thought.

He just sat, deep in thought for a long while, but when I started to get up and leave him to it, he waved me back into my seat.

“If I could find a few for you, would you consider them?”

“Who?”

“I don’t know yet. I’d like to get my assistant and her kids out. I wouldn’t be taking them, but maybe you could. The people, the sponsors, I have already got together, I think between us, have enough with probably no spares. I’ve been wracking my brains who I could find for you, if you couldn’t find anyone yourself.”

“Oh. Well I’ll have a look, but not many people have bothered taking the CAP test at all.”

“We should have done what the Americans did and made taking the CAP test mandatory. It might still happen, the government want it, but MP’s are in almost open revolt over it; and other related issues, so I’m not holding out much hope at the moment.”

I nodded, but didn’t say anything.

Dad gave a big sigh. “All right lad, off you go. Have a think about who you might like to take. Please. And I’ll do the same as well.”

I nodded and left quickly.

I thought about it for a couple of days. That Wednesday, just after lunch when we were about to go into physics, I approached one of the lads in the class. I knew he had a seven plus CAP score. We weren’t friends, but neither were we enemies. We simply didn’t move in the same circles. Physics and maths were the only classes we shared, plus form and therefore general studies. I had an idea he was doing German and French as his other two primary subjects.

“Bondy?” His name was Steven Bond, but everyone called him Bondy.

He looked at me. “Simply?”

My surname is Simpson, and it usually got shortened to Simple or Simply. Occasionally I might even get called Homer, but that was rare. Sometimes I got upset or annoyed, but I had grown a reasonably thick skin about it, so I let it pass.

“You got over seven on your CAP, didn’t you?”

“So?”

“My dad reckons I should be starting to look for people who could be a concubine. Have you started?”

“I’ve finished. Almost.”

“You’ve got your four?” I asked, startled.

“Keep your voice down you twat.”

I glanced around but no one appeared to be taking any notice of us. “Sorry. You’ve got your four?” I repeated, this time much softer, almost whispering.

“Got three, and I know who I want for my fourth. Just don’t know how to ask her.”

“Oh. Erm. Who have you got? Who are you trying for?”

It was his turn to soften his voice. “I got the girl next door to me. She’s three years older than me and her boyfriend, ex-boyfriend, has said he can only take two and she’s not good enough.”

“What a lovely guy,” I said sardonically.

Bondy just nodded. “She told him to get lost. I’m taking my baby sister. I don’t really want to, but Mum said I had to.”

I frowned. Why did your mum say that?”

“Cos Mum’s going with my dad and my elder sister, so they can’t take my younger one. He only gets two. I get four so I have to take Selena. The brats are going with Mum and Dad though.” I happened to know that ‘the brats’ were his younger twin brothers, aged about nine. Selena was fourteen. She had turned fourteen about two weeks before I turned seventeen.

“Okay.”

Bondy looked at me speculatively. “Are you taking your sister?” I happened to know that Bondy quite liked Joanne.

I shook my head. “I’d have been quite happy to take her, but she’s going with one of Mum’s friends.”

“Oh well. If you had, we could have swapped.”

I smiled, but it wouldn’t have happened, I didn’t want his kid sister any more than he did. “So who else? And who are you hoping to take?”

“The third is the daughter of a friend of Dad’s. She’s okay. She’s my age. She’s nice enough I guess.”

“But?”

He shrugged. “Not who I would have chosen if I’d had a free choice, but she was all that was left of the group.”

“Oh?” I frowned, slightly confused, but Bondy didn’t bother answering the unspoken question.

“The one I want,” he paused. “Look. You absolutely cannot tell anyone. If anyone finds out I’ll break your neck. Understand?”

“Er. Sure.” Bondy looked quite menacing, even frightening. “Who is it?”

“Well, it’s not a done deal yet, but I’m pretty certain it’ll happen.”

“What? Who?”

He leaned closer to me and whispered softly, “Mrs Clarke.”

“What?” My voice was obviously louder than either of us wanted, but a quick glance around told us that no one had noticed. Or cared.”

“Mrs Clarke?” I hissed.

He nodded.

“You can’t.” I stated.

“Well you’re not gonna get her,” he said furiously. “You? You’ve no chance. You’re thick as pigshit. Everyone knows she’s giving you easy stuff to do.”

“That’s not what I meant,” I said angrily. “I know I’m not taking her. That wasn’t what I meant.”

“What do you mean? Do you know something I don’t?”

“She’s a sponsor,” I hissed. “She will be taking other people.”

Bondy looked totally shocked. “But she can’t be,” he muttered staring at me, his face going slightly grey. “She’s a woman.”

“Yes, so?”

“Only men can be sponsors.”

“Knob-’ead,” I said, scathingly, “Talulah Evans is a sponsor. Didn’t you see she had a score above 6·5?”

Bondy gathered himself and laughed, shaking his head knowingly. “Doesn’t matter,” he said loftily. “Didn’t you know, girls can get a ten but will still be concubines? I told you. Only boys, men, can be sponsors, and only girls can be concubines.”

“How do you work that out?” I asked scornfully.

“My dad got a 6·1, my mum got a 6·7, and my dad is taking my mum. Don’t you see? All the score is, is how powerful you’ll be. If you’re a man you’re a sponsor, if you’re a woman you’re a concubine.”

“Your mum is taking your dad. Not the other way around,” I said as scathingly as he had been moments earlier. “Under 6·5 is concubine. Over is sponsor. Your mum is the sponsor, your dad is the concubine. Go ask any of the teachers. Look it up on the internet. Hell, go into a CAP testing place and ask.” There was one not far from the school. I knew because some of the parents were protesting about it, saying it shouldn’t be that close to a school.

Bondy shook his head, but I could see a bit of uncertainty in his eyes. “No. You’re wrong,” he wailed softly.

“Sorry,” I said. “But it’s you that’s wrong.” My utter certainty was just starting to overcome his. Particularly as his certainty was, I suspected, based solely upon wishful thinking and desire. Desire, in this instance, for Mrs Clarke.

“Fuck off,” he said coarsely, furiously. “You’re just being an arse.”

“Fuckin’ arse yourself. Maybe I should tell people what you think. You’ll be the laughing stock of the year.”

He grabbed me. “I told you not to tell anyone about her.”

“Oh I won’t,” I said, laughing. “I’ll tell them what you said about scores. And about women only being concubines.”

“Oh.” He frowned, then relaxed again. “Well since I’m right and you’re wrong, go ahead, tell people, you’ll just prove you’re an even bigger arse.”

I yanked myself out of his grip. “Fine,” I said.

I went looking for Talulah Evans. I wasn’t sure where she would be as she wasn’t in any of the same classes as me except for general studies. Ah. I grinned. GS was the last subject today, and Bondy was in my form group, so he was in the same GS class as well. Bondy had been away the first few days of the school term, he and his family hadn’t got back from holiday until the Tuesday after term started, so he had started on the Wednesday.

I knew exactly what I was going to do.

After physics was maths. Bondy was in that class as well. He steered clear of me, but I noticed him staring at Mrs Clarke a few times. Mind you, so did I.

I hurried to the last lesson. I wanted to talk to Talulah before Bondy had chance.

I spotted her walking in with a couple of her friends. Jaquie and Hannah were both girls I half fancied, and that I had named to my father. Talulah was a slim brunette, not very tall, but with a huge outgoing personality that sometimes I found obnoxious, and at other times absolutely fascinating. She was actually a very pretty, incredibly sexy, girl and the blonde and/or red streaks in her hair really made her stand out. Normally I would have been slightly in awe of her, but I was desperate and this was enough to overcome my normal awkwardness with her.

“Hey, Evans?”

She looked at me and frowned. “What do you want, Simple?”

“Look, you’re a sponsor, right?”

“And I suppose you want to be my concubine?” she asked slightly condescendingly.

I pulled out my card and showed it to her.

“Oh. You’ve got a higher score than I have.”

“Yes. We’re both sponsors. Neither is going to be the other’s concubine.”

“Okay, so what do you want?”

“You need to know that Bondy is claiming that only boys can be sponsors, and only girls can be concubines.”

She frowned. “But he knows I have a sponsors score.”

I shook my head. “He thinks it doesn’t count ‘cos you’re a girl.”

“I’m going to trash him,” she said coldly. She nodded to me and stalked off.

Talulah was one of the queen bees in the school. She had been for a couple of years, but of course now she was in the final year, she had that much more ‘power’ and influence. There was one other girl who wanted that power in the same year but Talulah had her beat most of the time. The only other ‘queen bees’ were in lower years, so they had, relatively speaking, a lot less power or influence.

I had seen one of Talulah’s trashings a couple of years earlier when the only influence she had was within the year. It had been horrible and the boy in question had gone from being a popular boy to a scared shadow of himself within three weeks. He had never recovered while in school, and had left at age sixteen to go to the local tech college, rather than stay on and do his A-levels in the sixth form.

I ran after her. “Don’t be too harsh on him,” I said. “It’s probably something his dad told him.” I explained about his parents score, and what he had been told.

She looked at me frostily. “He still needs to be punished.”

“Maybe, but don’t do what you did to Caterham. Do it quieter. Make him think you’re about to go public. Make him know you could, but aren’t going to because, well, make up your own reason. You’ll have power over him, but no one’ll know quite why.”

“All right. Maybe I will.” She frowned. “What do you get out of it?”

I shook my head. “Nothing. He just pissed me off. He told me I was lying.”

“Oh.”

“I was going to ask the GS teacher if he knew how it worked.”

She looked at me for a moment then smiled broadly at me. God she was beautiful. “No. Don’t” Her smile turned ever so slightly malicious. “I know how I’m going to play this. I’m going to get him to trash himself.”

“Oh?” She just shook her head and hurried over to a few of the other girls in the class.

A few minutes later Bondy walked into the classroom with three girls hanging around him. I was puzzled and glanced at Talulah. She had a slightly mocking smile on her face. This I wanted to see. I hadn’t a clue how it was going to pan out, but I was fascinated.

“All right, settle down,” came the wearied voice of Mr Stevas, our primary GS teacher. We would have others through the year, but he was the one we would have the most, at least once every week.

“Sir?”

“Yes Mr Bond?”

“Sir? Do you know how the CAP scores work sir?”

“If you are asking how do you get any particular score, then no. I doubt anyone does.”

“No sir. What I meant was, after you’ve been tested, and got a score, afterwards, what does it mean?”

“It doesn’t mean anything,” Mr Stevas said, slightly puzzled and leaning on the word ‘mean’. “It’s just a score.”

“So the actual score doesn’t matter?”

“Well, yes and no.”

Bondy flashed me a supercilious look. He thought he was going in for the kill. “So it’s not the score that determines whether you’ll be a sponsor or a concubine is it? It’s whether you are a male or a female?”

Mr Stevas gave a huge sigh. “Who told you that Mr Bond?”

“What do you mean sir?”

“Who told you that pile of junk?”

“Sir?”

“It is the score, and nothing else, that determines your status. If you have less than 6·5 you will be a concubine. Male or female. If you have a score greater than that, you will be a sponsor. Is that clear?”

“But, but,” started Bondy, looking totally shocked. He paused. “Yes sir.”

Mr Stevas looked at him closely, frowning in puzzlement. “Who told you that son?” he asked quietly.

“My dad, sir.”

“Oh?”

“He told me he’s taking my mum because she’s a female. He has a 6·1 and she has a 6·7.”

“It’s your mother that’s the sponsor in your family,” Mr Stevas said softly. “What’s your score?”

“7·2 sir.”

“So you’re a sponsor as well. Well done son. But as a sponsor, if you’re collected, you’ll have little to do with your parents any more, you will have your own extended family.”

“Yes sir,” whispered Bondy.

Mr Stevas looked around the room. “What you’ve all just witnessed is what happens when lies are promoted over truth. Someone got a lower score than they probably expected, then lied to cover the fact. Unfortunately that lie has come back to bite the person he lied to. Just remember, lies can hurt. They can come back to bite you, but they can also hurt other people very badly.”

He looked around the room, making sure that he caught the eye of everyone in the class. “If I find out that Mr Bond here has been subjected to any bullying or pranking, or anything as a result of this, the whole class, with the exception of Mr Bond, will be in detention. Do I make myself clear?”

Everyone nodded, with a few, murmured, yesses.

“I said, did I make myself clear?” He demanded.

“Yes sir,” everyone responded.

He nodded. “Good,” he said calmly. And the lesson proceeded.

Afterwards I approached Bondy as he tried to slink out.

“Sorry Bondy,” I said. “I told Talulah. I don’t know what she did, but she set you up.”

Bondy turned hurt eyes to me. “You could have warned me.”

“You pissed me off. You called me a liar.”

He opened his mouth to say something, then just closed it again. His eyes went behind me and opened wide. I saw a touch of fear appear in them. I turned to see Talulah, without her usual gaggle of followers, approaching.

“I’m so sorry Bondy,” she said softly.

“Why did you do that?” he asked, hurt.

“Because you annoyed me. I was going to trash you but Sim ... Simpson stopped me.” I knew she had been about to call me Simple, but had changed it at the last moment.

Bondy looked at me, a mute thank you in his eyes. But there was also another appeal in his eyes. He was asking if I had told Talulah about Mrs Clarke. I gave a tight shake of my head.

Talulah wasn’t stupid though, and saw the exchange. “What?” she asked. Then frowned. “Did you think you were going to take me?” she started, her ire getting up again.

“No, god no.” I said. Bondy also babbled his ‘no’ as well.

“No. That’s not what it was about,” I said. “He just told me that he was hoping to get someone, and I promised not to tell anyone.”

“Not even me?”

“You weren’t the person he was hoping to get.”

“So who is it?”

“I promised not to tell.”

She stared at Bondy who started to wilt. “It wasn’t you, honest.”

“If it wasn’t me, than who was it? Maybe I can help.”

“You can’t. She’s also a sponsor.”

Talulah frowned. “But I’m the only girl in the school with a sponsor score.”

“So far as we know, anyway,” I said.

“Oh,” said Talulah, suddenly looking at Bondy. “You mean you’re after a boy?”

“No,” he said, irritation very evident on his face and in his voice. “I don’t mean I want a bloke. I mean I wanted a female, other than you, who it turns out is a sponsor?”

“But there isn’t any more in the school.”

I saw my out. “Never said she was.”

“Oh. Oh. She doesn’t go to this school?”

“Exactly,” I jumped in before Bondy could reply. Well, it was technically true, if you defined ‘going to school’ as being a pupil at the school, not a teacher who worked here.

“Oh okay.” And just like that, she dropped her interrogation.

“So have you chosen your possible concubines?” I asked her.

Her face darkened, “Yes. I know who I’ve got to take,” she muttered.

“Oh,” said Bondy. “Have you been told to take people you don’t want to as well?”

She just looked at him. “Is that what’s happened to you too?”

“I’ve got to take my baby sister.”

She looked at me. “You?”

I shook my head. “I don’t have anyone yet, but Dad said he’s going to sort it out. I don’t want him to sort it out.”

She nodded. “That’s what happened to me,” she said. She looked almost ready to cry.

“Oh no,” whispered Bondy. “Who?”

“My father.”

“Your father ... oh!” His voice went suddenly even softer. “Your father is coming as your concubine?”

She nodded, clearly very unhappy.

“Who told you that?”

“He did.”

“But...” I started.

“He’s been raping me since I was nearly twelve,” she whispered, not looking at us.