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Message-ID: <31159asstr$993834604@assm.asstr-mirror.org>
From: "Pedro Vila" <pedrovila@dark.summer>
NNTP-Posting-Date: Fri, 29 Jun 2001 02:15:45 PDT
Subject: {ASSM} "The Replacement" pt4 (ped, n/c, abuse, no sex, slow)
Date: Fri, 29 Jun 2001 13:10:04 -0400
Path: assm.asstr-mirror.org!not-for-mail
Approved: <assm@asstr-mirror.org>
Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories.moderated,alt.sex.stories
Followup-To: alt.sex.stories.d

This is a work of pure fiction.
It involves a subject matter
that most of the world finds
disgusting and shoudn't be
posted on A.S.S.M.

If you are one of those
readers, then please STOP NOW!

If you are under 18, the same applies.

If it is illegal to read of these things
where you live, you are also to leave.

Hell, you should just leave anyway!


________________________________

    "THE REPLACEMENT" part4
     by Pedro Vila


  The next day was like the first. Heather woke up and her surroundings made
her remember everything. There were no clothes left for her and she had to
pee. She went into the toilet and then ventured slowly into the kitchen.
  Mr. Stafford wasn't there. Heather took the time to look out the windows
of the kitchen. The property was surrounded by a wooden fence, and she could
see over it as poor looking peasants walked about on the other side.
  From the window by the table, she could see the whole street some yards
away with lots of people walking around. With a start, Heather realized that
everybody could see her when she was on that table. Wouldn't somebody try to
stop it? Did somebody call the police?
  This could never happen back home. But she was not back home. These people
probably didn't think it was wrong to beat children here. Something about
Mr. Staffords words last night came back to her. They hurt their women here,
in a terrible way.
  Oh god. Heather wished she could run home. She was in hell. She had taken
everything for granted and she felt remorse for the trouble she had given
her mother. Heather felt like she was being punished for being such a bad
child.
  Her father had to kill this mans family and they all had to pay for it
now. If only her mother knew what was going on.
  "You'd better get started." Mr. Stafford said from the doorway.
  Heather jumped and said, "Yes, sir." On the counter, eggs and bread had
been laid out. She went to work cutting the bread for french toast,
something she did know how to make. It went fairly easy for her and she
brought Mr. Stafford his plate with pride remembering to bring syrup from
the pantry.
  Mr. Stafford was indeed impressed. "You could have just made eggs, but
this is much nicer." Heather smiled. She was proud of herself for having
done well. Then she caught herself. What was she thinking? She should have
spit in his food.
  Mr. Stafford finished and said, "Go make some more, only I would like
coffee with it this time." Heather cursed to herself. She'd forgotten the
coffee.
  She took his plate and brought it back after a bit with a pot of coffee
for him as well.
  "You take your place on the table while I eat, now." he told her.
  Heather was afraid of being on that table, but if she got on it when he
told her, maybe he wouldn't have to hit her again. She kneeled like before
and watched.
  Mr. Stafford speared two slices and held them up for her. Heather hungerly
tried to grab at them but he pulled them back and motion to her panties with
his eyes. Heather felt her face flush. He was going to make her eat from her
own crotch again.
  Her stomach growled loudly, and broken, she gave in and pulled her front
open for the two slices of syrupy food. They ran syrup into her panties and
some even went to her bottom crack and she would have to wash the again in
the toilet.
  He pulled her hand away and the elastic snapped shut, squishing the slimy
feeling bread against her private. Then he told her, "Next time remember the
coffee. Now stay here and eat for me." Heather knew now to obey, but she
still hesitated.
  She looked out the window, suddenly conscious that people may be watching.
Nobody had been looking in. Everybody just kept passing by. One man, walking
with a small woman who's head stayed down, looked in but he didn't stop.
  "I want you to eat, Heather. You are going to need your strength for your
chores, as well as you are still a growing child." Heather turned back to
Mr. Stafford. He said, "Eat." again.
  Heather felt her eyebrows knitting as she reached into her panties and
pulled out the now distorted french toast slices. They started to come apart
in her hands and she tried to shove the pieces in before they dropped to the
table. A small bite fell anyway and when she had swallowed, Mr. Stafford
pointed to it. Heather tried to pick it up with her fingers, but it was too
hard to grab without it falling apart.
  "You may eat off of the table, it is clean." he told her. Heather looked
at him, confused, and he pointed to his tongue once. He wanted her to lick
it off!
  Heather felt he was playing some sick game with her as she bent down to
lap to piece off the table. It still wouldn't come up and she ended up
trying to suck the piece up with her lips pressed to it. Her hair was in the
way and she held it back on each side as her mouth made small slurping
noises against the wood. She looked up at him and he motioned with his hands
to lick it clean. Heather scowled as she let out her tongue fully to lap
hard against the table, getting the spill off as quickly as she could.
  When she had done, Mr. Stafford pointed to another drop a foot behind the
first. heather backed up and bent down to lap at it. Then she realized that
it had dropped off of her panties underneath her. She looked at Mr. Stafford
quickly and he was still watching her.
  Heather closed her eyes and licked it up with a couple of laps. She
scowled as she swallowed. Mr. Stafford then spoke again. "That is all until
dinner. I suggest you eat the rest of what I gave you for nourishment."
Heather was about to ask what and checked her panties for anything she may
have missed, but then saw all of the syrup in there. Surely he didn't mean
that?
  "But, that's my underwear." she pleaded.
  Mr. Stafford's look grew dark and he said with restraint, "You washed them
properly, I hope."
  Heather could only nod faintly and she tried to scoop out syrup with her
fingers.
  Mr. Stafford looked no better. "Take them off and suck the food off of
them." he said to her like he was explaining to an idiot. Heather could now
feel another punishment coming and she stood on her knees to pull them off.
She caught herself before they touched the table and was slower and more
careful after that.
  Then she held them up before her and looked at them with unease. They were
pretty clean except for the dark syrup parts, and most of that was above
were her private was. She took a deep breath and put it to her mouth. Not
much came off and Heather ended up putting the whole stained part in to
rinse with her spit then suck everything down. It didn't make her gag like
she thought it would and she was still pretty hungry despite her now
constant feeling of hopelessness in her belly.
  When they were as free of the syrup as they would get she went to put them
back on and then stopped when she remembered that her crotch was still
sticky. Hoping he didn't notice she started to slide them up again but a
shake of his head told her she had been caught.
  Heather shrugged and looked pained when they were off. How could she reach
there? She seemed to ask. Mr. Stafford pointed to the panties one more time
and she looked at them. They were damp from her sucking and then she
understood how. Heather wiped herself with the damp panties until she
thought she was less sticky. But looking at them, she saw that she now had
syrup on them again.
  Heather looked at Mr. Stafford and without prompting from him, started to
suck her panties clean once more. She told herself that she would make every
effort to keep the toilet, her panties, and herself as clean as she could
while she was here.
  When she had tasted nothing but cotton, she stopped and looked at them.
Except for a little discoloration, they looked pretty clean now. Heather
then burped and felt a little sickly. She put the feelings aside and
proceeded to don her panties again. Mr. Stafford did not stop her.
  They felt wet against her sensitive areas and Heather looked out of the
window once more. Nobody had stopped to watch.
  "I expect you to clean up the dishes first, then you are to clean the
toilet once more for your own use later. When I am satisfied with that, you
will clean your own room." Heather waited on the table for his dismissal,
wondering why she was going along with his cruel game.
  "You may start." he said. Heather slid off the table sideways and walked
to the sink, refusing to look back at him. There weren't too many dishes and
just for good measure, she wiped the counter before he might tell her to
lick it also.
  Heather still felt very naked even though it was still quite warm. She
approached Mr. Stafford and hoped she wouldn't anger him. "Excuse me, sir?"
  His gaze gave away nothing. "What?"
  "Sir, will I get my clothes back soon?" Heather tried her best to look non
threatening.
  Mr. Stafford sighed and said, "Well, that might not be so easy." Heather
waited hoping it wasn't out of line. He continued, "It seems somebody has
stolen them from the local cleaners. An investigation is underway, but I
wouldn't get my hopes up." When Heather's eyes started to water, he went on.
"You couldn't wear them around here anyway. You would be robbed and possibly
worse in minute outside. If we leave the house, I will give you the proper
garb for this region. Right now, you wear what you have on only until I say
otherwise, understood?"
  Heather could only nod sadly and she was about to step away when she
stopped to wait for his cue. He waved her on and she padded towards the
bathroom, hoping he wouldn't see her cry any more.
  The toilet was still clean from yesterday, but Heather cleaned it all the
same in case he made her taste it again. Then she went to her own room,
funny how she thought of it as hers now, and started to clean it as best as
she could. The bed had clean sheets and a single blanket and pillow and she
didn't find any replacement sheets anywhere, so she left them and just made
the bed.
  The room hadn't been lived in for many years and Heather got pretty dirty
again from tackling it all at once. Wiping her dirty arm across her sweaty
brow, she took a last look and went to the bathroom to wash up. Mr. Stafford
met her in the hall and Heather stood still waiting for a command.
  "I would like you to clean the hall and then my room before cleaning up
for dinner." Heather waited for a dismissal again and then kneeled down to
wet and scrub the hall floor as well.
  It took longer since much of the wood had lost it's coating and was now
ground in with dirt. It was very hard work and Heather sweated the most yet.
It seemed like it was a hundred degrees when she was done.
  Then she went into Mr. Stafford's room and was surprised at how well
decorated it was. It looked like something from a catalog. Heather also
found it was fairly clean already and looking down, thought she was too
dirty to even be in there. She backed out and went into the bathroom to
clean herself up first.
  Heather was shocked at how dark her skin was with dirt. She was covered in
a sheen of sweat and there was so much dirt and dust stuck to her that it
almost looked like a thin coat of mud. Her clothes, what little she was
wearing, were also wet and darkened. Drips from her sweat started to drop
onto the floor.
  Heather kneeled by the toilet and went to work on herself. She didn't
bother with her underwear, but just wiped herself off quickly so she could
go back and complete her task.
  Heather then dusted and vacuumed Mr. Staffords bedroom as deeply as she
could. She saw a picture frame on the shelf. Heather stopped to look at it.
It showed a younger, happier Mr. Stafford next to a young girl, maybe
fourteen. Who was she? Another kid he duped into coming here?
  "That was my wife." Mr. Stafford said from the doorway. Heather was
startled and almost dropped the picture. He had a bad habit of showing up
like that. Heather made a note to herself to keep an eye out for him more.
He approached her and lifted the picture out of her hand and set it back on
the counter. "That was taken just after we were married." Heather saw a tear
fall down his cheek and he turned away.
  She felt a pang of sympathy. He really seemed to love her. "I'm sorry."
she said softly.
  He turned to her again. "Your done. Clean yourself up." and he waved her
out while he looked at the picture some more.

  Dinner was easier this time. Heather had a sheet with instructions on how
to prepare it and what to use. When she had Mr. Stafford's plate ready, she
got on the table and kneeled like he told her to and waited for him to
finish.
  When he was done, he got up and brought a plate over for Heather. She was
relieved that he didn't pour it into her panties but he did scrape it onto
the table itself. She used no utensils, he gave her none, and was glad she
had cleaned up as well as she did anyway. He sat and watched her eat.
  Heather was starving and had everything down before she knew it. Mr.
Stafford told her to clean the table and she bent down to lick it clean.
When she was done, she looked at him for approval. He said, "You didn't have
to lick it that time, you had enough to eat there. But Since you were so
willing, You will lick the table clean from now on."
  Heather was stunned. Why did she do that? Now she would always have to
lick it. She was angry with herself for being stupid.
  "Now, I'd like you to draw me a bath. Use all the hot water you can. Go."
Heather scrambled off and into the bathroom. The water didn't get very hot
and she decided to just run it without the cold. When it was halfway full,
she walked back to tell Mr. Stafford that it was ready.
  He followed her into the bathroom and then stood there. "Undress me." he
said. Heather felt afraid to undress him while she wore so little. "Go on.
Start with my shirt and work your way down."
  Heather unbuttoned his shirt and sleeves. His chest was hairy and his skin
looked dark as well. Looking up, she noticed he did look darker in the face
too. She'd never noticed it before. He didn't seem foreign to her.
  Then she had him down to his socks and shorts. She did the socks first and
stopped at the shorts. Would he get an erection right then and rape her?
Heather never thought about sex and adult men around her before. This was
something that made her feel very vulnerable right then.
  Mr. Stafford put his hands on his hips and looked peeved. Heather looked
away and just pulled them down quickly. Out of the corner of her eye, she
looked and saw a normal looking penis, like in any book from biology. It
wasn't huge or writhing around like a tentacle. It just hung there. She
looked then and realized she'd never seen one live before so close. It had a
rounded head on it and some wrinkles below the head with course hair at the
base.
  Mr. Stafford turned and stepped into the bath. He lay there for a moment
and finally said, "Now you may wash me." Heather swayed a little. Now he
wanted her to touch his naked body. What if he got excited and tried to pull
her in with him? Then she thought that he wouldn't. He didn't make any
ovatures about sex so far.
  Heather still didn't understand any of this and finally stepped forward to
wash his body with a sponge he'd held up for her. She ran it everywhere and
he made no moves. She saved his genitals for last and reached in to wipe the
sponge over them. He grunted and glared at her. "You be gentle with that
area." he said, angerly.
  Heather closed her eyes tight and said, "I'm sorry, sir." He didn't hit
her and she opened them again. He was standing up and, without being asked,
she handed him a towel. He didn't dry himself off and Heather figured that
she was to do that also.
  It went a little better and she was a little less afraid of his naked
body.
  "Now you may be excused for the rest of the night. You should use that
time to sleep." He left for his room and shut the door.
  Heather stood there and watched it. He didn't come back out.
  She went to her own room and got into her bed. She lay thinking and was
soon crying again.

-- 
Pursuant to the Berne Convention, this work is copyright with all rights
reserved by its author unless explicitly indicated.
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