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Date: Mon, 19 Jul 2004 05:18:09 +0000
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The Replacement (ped, rape, bond, beating, preg)
By Pedro Vila
Note: All people and events in this story are entirely fictitious.
HEADLINE
MAN KILLS TWO ON HIGHWAY
(AP) Two fatalities occurred last
night on a rural road. Mr.
John Doe of anyville was driving
well over the legal limit when
his vehicle swerved into the oncoming traffic and collided with
another car, killing both
occupants. The victims were a
mother and her 3 year old girl
whose names are being withheld
pending notification of the father.
Mr. Doe Is being held by police
and the district attorney says
they're going to press charges
of manslaughter against him.
Mr. Doe also has a wife and
Daughter.
Heather was the one who answered the door when Mr. Stafford appeared in
person. She looked at the man before her and felt great sorrow and
sympathy. After all, it was her father who had killed his family.
Looking up at him finally, she saw his own gentle sorrow and she almost
hugged him. She held back at the last minute thinking it would end up
being the wrong thing to do.
He saw her lurch and back up again and said, "I understand dear. It
must be hard on you too." Heather felt warmed by his words and smiled, not
knowing what to do next. "Is your mother home, Heather?" She was surprised
he knew her name at first, but remembered that the story had been in the
headlines a few times before her father was sent to prison for a few years.
Heather simply nodded and opened the door to let Mr. Stafford in. He
walked softly to the couch she pointed to and left to fetch her mother.
Mr. Stafford sat and waited.
Heathers Told mom about who was here and followed behind as she rushed
out greet Mr. Stafford in shock. Heather sat on the chair across from him
as her mother fussed and apologized repeatedly to him.
He took it all smiling painfully. Then the room fell into an
uncomfortable silence.
Then he finally told them why he was there. Heather listened as he
talked about his loss and how hard it was being on him. A feeling of great
injustice filled the room as he described the emptiness where he once had
people depending on him.
Heather and her mother both understood. It had been hard for them as
well. The legal fees ate up all there cash reserves and now there was no
money coming in.
Heather was also being tormented in school. A hard time for a nine year
old girl.
She had stopped listening to the adults talking when she was startled by
her mother loudly saying, "Are you serious?"
"Yes." Mr. Stafford said. "Just for a little while. To help us both?"
Heather asked, "What?"
Her mother turned to her and remarked, "Oh, aren't you listening? This
isn't the time to play your games." Heather felt that tension again.
Things weren't easy anymore. "He asked if he could help take care of us.
He doesn't have a family anymore." She turned back to Mr. Stafford and
shook her head. "It really has been difficult. I can't leave her alone
and I have to work now. She hasn't been easy to deal with lately." Mother
patted her knee kindly but Heather didn't react.
Mr. Stafford spoke up excitedly, "I could... Oh, no. That would be
too much." He broke off then.
"What is it. We owe you so much for what you've lost and still your
kind enough to want to help." Mother said.
"Well...." Mr. Stafford hesitated. Both females leaned forward,
encouraging him to go on. They both wanted to help this gentle man. He
looked resigned and went ahead and said it. "Heather could stay with me
for a month, or even a week for that matter. I have lots of room now and
I
could use some help with the daily chores."
Mother and daughter both sat back, surprised. "Just for a little while.
Until I can get used to living alone, you understand?"
Mother then said, "Yes. That would be a good idea." Heather turned to
her mother in shock. She would have to go to this guys house and do
chores?!
"But mom!" she exclaimed.
Mr. Stafford sighed and got up to leave. He seemed deeply hurt and
trying to hide it. Heather felt overwhelming guilt just then and then her
mother leveled a hard stare at her.
"Wait!" Heathers mother said. "She'll go with you and she'll stay as
long as it takes to help. This will be good for her."
Mr. Stafford waited though for Heather's answer. Heather finally said,
"I'll go."
Mr. Stafford took her hand and shook it and said, "Thank you." Heather
felt better then. They went to pack a bag and she took summer clothes
fitting the weather. Mother gave her some cash, not much, and a phone card
to call in an emergency. Then they went out to Mr. Stafford's car, a
modest hatch back.
They said their good byes and gave mother the phone number and address
in case, and drove off. There were no tears.
They only went around the block when Mr. Stafford pulled over and said,
"I don't feel right leaving like this. I think I should give your mother
some money to help her along." They drove back to the house. Heather's
mother had already gone inside. "I'll just be a minute, okay?" Heather
nodded and then, on an impulse, thrust the money mom gave her into his
hand. It didn't feel right to take it when she knew mother would need it
more right now.
Mr. Stafford smiled and walked in and knocked. They went in the house
and Heather sat and watched the door.
Finally, Mr. Stafford came out and shut the door behind him. He got in
and they drove off.
His house was smart and only a little unkempt. They both worked on
cleaning the living room and then he sent her to do the bathroom while he
cleaned out a room for her. It did seem really empty to her.
At the end of the day, Mr. Stafford asked her to help him in the
kitchen. They both made spaghetti and Heather felt like this was something
she could do.
Then Heather went to unpack and call her mom. She got the machine and
remembered that her mother would probably be working then. She didn't
leave a message.
As she went to brush her teeth in a night gown she was startled to bump
into Mr. Stafford as he walk out of the bathroom. Heather felt modesty
and wanted to run.
Mr. Stafford knelt to her eye level and said, "You are a wonderful help
to me. Thank you again." and hugged her before she knew what to do. He
hugged her tightly and she kind of put her arms around his shoulders
loosely. Then he let go and said goodnight as he walked to his bedroom.
Then he turned and asked, "Would you like to go with me tomorrow and see
where we used to live? It's to help me say good bye."
Heather nodded and smiled.
The next day, Mr. Stafford told Heather to take along personal items
for a quick airplane flight. Heather was surprised and asked, "We're going
on an airplane?"
"I'll pay for the tickets. Don't worry. Have you ever been on a plane
before?" Heather shook her head. "Well, this ought to be a treat for you.
I have to go and get some affairs in order. You don't mind, do you?"
Heather grinned. She'd never been on an airplane and really wanted to
go. The airport was so big and she just kept looking up as she let Mr.
Stafford lead her around. She'd never seen such a busy place before.
Then they were getting on a plane and Heather just kept looking at all
the different types of people. It was like a dream for her but then she
turned to Mr. Stafford and exclaimed, "I Forgot to call mom."
He looked troubled and said, "I'm sorry. There's no phone here. Can it
wait until we land?"
"I guess." and Heather then tried to concentrate on the music headphones
on the seat rest. There was some weird stations but then she found a pop
station and zoned out on it.
A meal came and, thought she didn't know what it was, she loved that she
could be eating it up in the air. She felt like a rich girl. When she
awoke, it was dark outside the plane and she didn't know how long she'd
been out.
She shook Mr. Stafford awake and he looked up at her. "We missed our
stop." she whispered, concerned.
He looked out the window and said, "No. It's just a long trip. We're
almost there." and then the plane started to tilt down for descent.
Heather was scared now. She had no idea where they were.
She looked around. Everybody seemed to look strange to her now.
Dressed differently and a little darker. She looked back at Mr. Stafford
again and he held her hand and said, "You'll be okay. I'll be there at all
times." He winked but Heather didn't feel any better. She was along way
from home and she didn't really know this man too well.
There was nothing she could do and she just hoped to ride it out and go
home soon.
Then they were on the ground and everybody spoke a different language.
She couldn't read any of the signs and didn't even know what part of the
world they were from. She stayed close to Mr. Stafford. She felt very
tiny.
Then they were through customs and outside. It was hot and noisy. Mr.
Stafford flagged a car with a normal looking number on it and they got in.
He talked with the driver in the same nonsense and they drove into the
night.
It was a long drive and even though it was hot, Heather shivered. She
sat in a daze and watched the dark landscape turn to forest and the roads
get bumpier. It seemed like hours and she was very sore and tired.
Then, They were there. It looked like a small house in the middle of a
village. They got out and Mr. Stafford squared the fare. The driver said
something harsh sounding and smiled at Heather, laughing. It gave her the
creeps.
Mr. Stafford led her inside and he told her that they would sleep since
everything was closed at this hour. He showed her to a room with bare
walls and a bare bed, showed her the bathroom and then excused himself to
sleep. She had no bed clothes with her because she didn't know they'd be
sleeping anywhere.
She ended up sleeping in her underwear.
The next morning, She awoke to find her clothes gone. All that was
there was socks and her toothbrush.
Heather pulled the thin blanket from the bed and wrapped it around
herself. Slowly, she ventured out of the bare room and into the hall. It
was in the kitchen that she found Mr. Stafford sitting at the table,
waiting.
"It's about time. I've been waiting for over an hour for you." he said.
"Where are my clothes?" Heather asked, not wanting to know the answer.
"Being washed. You smelled after that long trip." He got up and
approached her. "You need to help me with the house here. We need to
clean it, but first I'll help you make breakfast."
He started pulling out a pan and turned to look at her. Heather stared
back, lost. Mr. Stafford glared at her and then went to the cupboard.
"The pantry is here. There's a small icebox behind that cupboard door
there. Well?"
"I thought we were going to say good bye to a house or something. Can't
we just hurry up and go home?" Heather felt some panic, but kept it under
check.
"This is the house, and your my replacement. You help me with this
house. You clean, cook, and any other chores I need you with." He was very
stern with her and his presence was strong on her.
"You.. you want me to be a replacement?" she asked weakly.
"Yes. You replace my wife now." He was very different now. Not gentle.
"And loose the blanket too."
Heather stared at Mr. Stafford's cold gaze. He had brought her to
someplace far from home and where they speak a different language and now
he had taken away her clothes and told her that she was now the replacement
for his dead wife.
This was too much for a nine year old girl to grasp. Heather thought
frantically for understanding, something that would reassure her that it
was just a misunderstanding and she could go home soon after doing a few
chores for him. Yes, that must be what he meant. He needed somebody to
replace his wife's duties until he could cope again.
But then why did he want her to just wear her underwear? He said her
clothes just needed to be washed, but why couldn't she wear the blanket
until then? Heather asked him that out loud.
"Because you'll ruin it by dragging it around like that, and I don't
want to have to wash it too when you start your cleaning." His voice was
firm and commanding. Nothing like the gentle man she just met yesterday.
Heather stood under his intense glare until she finally gave in and went
back to the bedroom to put it back.
Leaving the bedroom, she felt naked and held herself even though it was
very warm inside. The sun was shining brightly outside as well and Heather
wished she was paying more attention at the airport. She had no idea where
in the world she was.
Mr. Stafford nodded as she reentered the kitchen clad only in a cotton
sleeveless undershirt, panties, and ankle high socks. Looking at the
pantry cupboard, she didn't recognize anything except a box with a picture
of pancakes on them. Heather had made those before and took it out. Mr.
Stafford pointed at a cup on the table by him and it took a moment to
understand that he wanted coffee too. She must have looked confused
because he then pointed to the pantry again.
It took too long for heather to figure out how to make breakfast without
his help and he gave her none. He did however, look more and more
displeased as time went on. This pressed Heather to quicken and finally
she had a plate in front of him and poured him coffee as well.
She sat down and felt conscious of her semi nakedness again. She then
realized she'd made nothing for herself.
Heather got up to cook again but Mr. Stafford stopped her. "You took
much too long. You have to do better than that if you want to eat too.
Now you must get started on cleaning my house." Heather was about to
protest but something about his eyes told her to shut up. "You will find
your cleaning supplies under the bathroom sink. You can start there." Then
he dismissed her with a wave of his hand.
Heather was suddenly ignored and this made her a little bolder.
"I want to call my mom first." she demanded. Suddenly, Heather was
shrinking away from his suddenly turned eyes on her. He looked like he was
ready to explode, then he took a deep breath and regained control.
"There are no phones in this village. Do you want to drive to one
looking like that?" His voice was precise. Heather couldn't think of an
argument. She looked around at the room and everything seemed alien and
primitive. Mr. Stafford was the only thing familiar now. He was the only
way back for her.
Heather hung her head and went to do what she was told.
The bathroom was simple. A sink, a small cabinet under the window, a
bathtub, and a old looking toilet. It wasn't too dirty but it looked
brownish everywhere.
In the cabinet were a bucket, some brushes, gloves, a bottle of
something that looked like something from under a sink, and a bag in back
with some ropes falling out of it. Heather looked in the bag and saw some
leather short, fat belts in there also along with some longer straps of it.
Something about what was in the bag puzzled Heather.
She started by cleaning the tub, it was harder work than she thought and
she found that too much of what was in the bottle left stains in the bath
that wouldn't scrub out. Heather was careful with it afterwards.
Then she did the sink and mirror, thinking about the bag now and then.
What was it about that bag?
Heather then caught sight of herself in the dirty mirror. She stopped
and stared. She looked very different suddenly. Where before, she had
been growing independent, now she felt small and helpless. She looked
small and helpless wearing nothing but her underwear with her strait hair
falling down to her small shoulders making her head seem to big for her
body.
The eyes did it the most. See had always saw herself as a strong girl,
even when dad got arrested, but now she had eyes like a dear just before
you hit it. This shook her and she turned to look at the cabinet again.
Something in there was feeling like a fire alarm to her.
Heather jumped when Mr. Stafford walked in on her. He said nothing but
stood in front of the toilet as he opened his trousers and pulled out his
penis in front of her. Heather gasped and took a step back.
Mr. Stafford said, "Come now. You seen a human body before. You have
one too so we're even." Then he turned to her and held her gaze. Heather
unconsciously looked to the stains in the bathtub and looked back to see
him turn to it.
She felt regret even before he screwed up his face in anger. "Is that
what I think it is?" He finished and didn't bother to zip up, but turned
to
touch the stains in the tub. He was livid when he turned back to her. "Do
you know how hard it is to get a bathtub around here?! This one is ruined
now!"
Heather tried to defend herself. "It was an accident. I couldn't
read...."
"Silence!!" He ordered. His voice was so loud it stunned her. Heather
tried to swallow but her throat was dry. Mr. Stafford took a deep breath
and barely held his temper. "There is a bag in that cabinet. Bring it!"
then he left and Heather waited too long. His head peeked around the door
and bellowed, "NOW!!"
Heather jumped and reached for the bag, stuffing ropes back in as they
fell in her scramble to follow him.
He was waiting by the kitchen table for her. "Sit there and don't
move." he commanded, pointing at the table top. Heather scrambled to get
her short knee up to the top and it felt really solid under her. She
kneeled with her hands on her lap and watch Mr. Stafford disappear under
the table in four different places.
The he stood up again and ordered, "Lay on your belly." Heather's blood
drained out of her face. What was he going to do? Was he going to kill
her? "Now! Or it'll go harder on you." She understood he wasn't going to
kill her then, but she still didn't know what was going to happen as she
laid down with her arms in to her chest.
He walked behind her and she was afraid to look, so she didn't. At
least until her grabbed her ankle from behind and pulled it sideways.
Heather yelped and thought she sounded like a puppy for an odd moment.
Something tight went around her ankle and then Mr. Stafford was hold
the other one on the other side. Heather was in shock at what was
happening to her She felt exposed like that and helpless to even move.
Then her arm was yanked out and she saw, in a daze, Mr. Stafford
buckling one of the short belts over her wrist. It was like something
she'd seen in an old movie at a hospital for crazies. Then heather was
stretched out ankle to wrist across the long part of the table.
"Please... please don't' hurt me." she stammered in a weak voice.
"You think I shouldn't punish you? No. This will make you a better
wife." Then he held out a leather strap and she knew what he was going to
do.
"Oh, no." Heather started to cry tears with her words. She started by
repeating,. "Please." in a begging voice even before her pulled her
panties down and whipped the strap across her small, white bottom."
Heather was sobbing like a baby when he finished. She couldn't remember
how many time he'd hit her and didn't even remember him freeing her limbs.
He held her and she cried with her arms across her chest, not looking at
him. He forced her to look up at his face and it was softer than before,
forgiving, as he looked down at her wet, red face.
"Your done. Take a moment to calm yourself before you get started
again, okay?" he told her.
With her face screwed up from crying, she nodded. He petted her head a
moment then let go, stepping back. Then he left the room and Heather was
left standing there in this horrible place with her butt throbbing. She
pulled up her panties and gently slid them over her burning cheeks and
wiped her arm across her nose before it ran into her mouth.
Heather walked dazed back to the bathroom and looked at the tub again.
She was still letting loose sobs now and then as she went to cleaning where
she left off before.
She felt broken and afraid.
Heather was finally done with the bathroom and sat for a while, afraid
to look for Mr. Stafford again. Her bottom ached so she kneeled on the
floor, feeling weak.
Already, home felt a million miles away and a long time ago. She
reflected on everything that had happened to her. It wasn't fair! It
wasn't her fault her father killed the guys family. Why did he have to
make her pay for it? Heather found a spark of herself from before and felt
a little better. She tried to think logically.
If he was making her clean a house somewhere out of the United States,
then he must have planned this. He already had tickets for the plane and
she blindly went along with this stranger. If she could just find a phone,
she could call somebody for help. Her dad couldn't do anything but her mom
would try or die trying.
Then she remembered him coming back out of the house and closing the
door behind him. And mom wasn't there when she called. Heather felt
herself go white when she remembered that she didn't leave a message.
Oh, god, Heather thought.
What if he did something to her mother? She looked out through the
bathroom door and felt a deep chill run down her body. She was in trouble.
Another thought occurred to her, He would get mad if he caught her not
working.
Heather got up quickly and rushed out the door with the bucket in her
hand. She stopped in the hall and didn't know what to do next.
"You took your time." Mr. Stafford said from behind her. Heather
jumped back from him and stood against the dark walnut wall. "Don't let me
catch you slacking off again."
"No, sir." Heather said instantly. Sir?! Where did that come from?
Heather thought.
But Mr. Stafford nodded approval and Heather remembered to call him
that again. "You may now do the living room." Heather nodded and slinked
along the far wall from him to get there. "I would ruin anything in there,
if I were you." She shook her head and scrambled from him.
A broom sat in the corner. Heather set the bucket down and picked up
the broom to sweep with.
She felt sweaty and dirty from the dust sticking to her damp body. It
was warmer here than she was used to. She finally moved the bucket to
sweep the last part of the room and saw a faint ring from where it just
sat.
Heather was in panic. If he saw that he would whip her again. She bent
down to rub at it with her fingers. But it was stained lighter then the
rest of the floor. It would disappear though and she hovered over it,
locked in fear.
Then a drop of sweat dripped off of her forehead and hit the lightened
part of the floor. The drop darkened the wood close enough to almost
match. Quickly, she wiped her head and rubbed her sweat into the floor. It
took allot, the floor kept absorbing the moister and she got more from her
bare sides and belly between her top and panties.
She was just about satisfied when Mr. Stafford came in and said,
"Problem?"
"No. No, sir." She got up and refused to look at the floor. He held
her gaze and she held perfectly still, not looking away from his eyes. He
did not look away from her eyes either and she felt like he was seeing deep
into her and she would be caught and beaten again any moment.
Finally, he said, "You need to clean up for dinner now." Heather felt
her stomach inside and realized that she was starved. "Come with me." and
he led her back to the bathroom.
Standing over the toilet he asked, "How well did you clean this?"
"I...." She didn't know how to answer.
"Is it clean enough for you to drink the water?" he asked firmly. "If I
made you take a drink from there, would you?"
"No." she shook her head and cringed, afraid. "No, sir. I'm sorry.
I'm sorry, I'll clean it better." Heather started to ramble, knowing he was
going to hurt her again.
"Okay. You told me the truth and you didn't know. I'll let you slide
this time." Heather felt an uneasy calm then. "But you will clean it right
after dinner.
"And since you are not clean enough to cook for me, I'll have to do it."
He turned. "Come." and left the room. Heather followed.
In the kitchen, he pointed to the table and said, "On the table again."
Heather shook her head and was ready to run screaming. "I'm not going to
punish you, but I want you where I can see you if I'm to make dinner for
us. Get on!"
Heather scrambled onto the table again. She was terrified and shaking.
Her bottom hurt still and she ended up kneeling like before. Then Mr.
Stafford went to the stove and started to make something to eat. Heather
couldn't see what he was doing and sat there quietly while sounds came from
the cooking area.
Then Mr. Stafford came back with a plate for himself and sat in front
of her to eat. Heather looked back at the stove and couldn't see another
plate for her.
"You eat when I'm done." he said and started to dig in.
She didn't recognize anything on his plate but was so hungry that she
didn't care.
He took his time and would look her up and down from time to time while
he ate.
Then he stood and told her to stand on her knees. She did and hoped it
would be her turn to eat next. He reached onto his plate and picked up a
good sized chunk of meat that looked like barbecued chicken and held it up.
Heather almost grabbed for it then stopped herself. Mr. Stafford nodded
approval again and, with his other hand, pulled the elastic of her panties
quickly and stuffed the sauce covered piece of meat down to her crotch. It
was warm and slimy and heather gasped at the sensation. He had caught her
unready and she was totally flustered.
"That, you may eat." he simply said.
Heather looked down at her now staining panties in shock and back at him
again. her mouth was wide open. He was expecting her to eat it now that
it had touched her private part.
"The longer you leave it there, the cold it will be when you finally
eat. You are not leaving this table until you have finished, understand?"
He scolded. Then softer, "Wasting food is considered a crime here."
The meat between her legs was beginning to feel strangely hot and
Heather pulled it out with two fingers. She looked at it unsurely and felt
a little queasy at the thought of eating it. But a stern stare from Mr.
Stafford prodded her into taking a bite.
Heather chewed a little and coughed. It was very spicy and her tongue
was beginning to burn. Her privates were feeling a little burn too. She
coughed again and rasped, "Water." Her eyes started watering as well.
"Yes, your not used to it here yet. Okay, you may use mine if you ask
me properly." he told her.
Heather tried to swallow the flames and said as best as she could,
"Please, sir, may I have some water?" then coughed some more.
Mr. Stafford smiled, pleased, and handed her the water. Heather
chugged it down hard. She suddenly felt very dehydrated. The glass was
empty in no time. He shook his head and motioned for her to finish eating.
Heather mouth trembled and she took a much smaller bite this time. It was
a little easier and soon she was finished.
Her mouth burned and her private part burned and she was told to finish
with the toilet. Heather had no choice but to go back and clean it again.
Mr. Stafford stood over her and watched ever move.
When she felt it was as clean as she could ever get it, she looked up to
him, waiting.
"Do you think it is clean enough now?" he asked. Heather nodded.
"Prove it for me."
This was the part she deep down knew was coming. Haltingly, she bent
her head down to the bowl water and dipped her tongue into it with her eyes
clamped tightly shut, holding her hair away from it with her hands.
"Good." Mr. Stafford said as she lifted her head again. "Since you
ruined the tub, this is the water you will use to clean yourself up with,
including your garments." He pointed to the cabinet. "There is a rag in
there you can use. It's clean, I assure you." Heather shifted her legs
again because of the burning in her private area. "You might want to start
with your nether regions."
Heather was left alone there kneeling by the toilet. She felt dirty and
a little sickened and now she had to use the toilet water to clean herself
up with.
Why was Mr. Stafford being so cruel? This was some sort of sick game
to get back at his losing his own family, she thought.
Tears started to well up in her eyes again and Heather gave in and
dipped the washcloth in the toilet water. At least she knew it was clean.
Since he had left her there alone, she went ahead and stripped out of her
undershirt and panties, but left her socks on. Heather decided to wash
them last after wiping herself off as best as she could.
When the water started to look murky, she flushed and finished by
cleaning her sauce covered crotch. All that was left was what little
clothes she had left. The shirt came clean easily, but the panties were
darkened and wouldn't come clean no matter how hard she rinsed them.
Heather looked to the bottle from the cabinet, the one that stained the
tub, and thought better than to use it. She looked at the sink and saw a
bar of soap and grabbed it instead.
It was a bit of work, but the panties started to come clean after the
third rinse with the soap. She rung them out over the toilet bowl and
didn't know where to hang them to dry. She didn't want to go naked, but
they were still pretty wet.
"There is a hook behind the door." Mr. Stafford said from the doorway,
startling Heather suddenly. "You can hang them up to dry there while you
clean up the mess you've just made." Then he was gone again. Heather
didn't even have time to cover herself.
She waited a moment and when he didn't return, she hung the
undergarments up where he told her to and started to clean the dirty water
drops around the toilet.
When she had finished, her panties were mostly dry and the top just a
little less so, so she put them on and ventured out to the living room.
Mr. Stafford was there reading a magazine. Heather noticed that it was
in English and longed for home even though she'd been here for only a day.
Mr. Stafford put down the magazine and looked Heather up and down. She
felt naked in her skin right then and crossed her legs and arms in
embarrassment.
"Okay, Heather. This must have been a difficult first day for you." he
said. Heather nodded. Mr. Stafford continued, "You have made some pretty
big mistakes today and I'm not pleased. Not pleased at all. First I want
you to stand strait right now. Stop fidgeting. Arms down at your sides,
back strait, head high, and your weight on both legs." Heather tried to
comply as best as she could. She felt her damp undershirt stick to her
body, revealing everything underneath.
Mr. Stafford got up and circled around her. Heather started to follow
him with her head but he barked, "Eyes strait!" at her. He lifted her
right foot up behind her and looked at the dirty sock bottom. "Not good."
was all he said to her. Then he sat in front of her once more and held her
gaze completely. "First of all, you should have washed your socks as well.
Second, I know about the stain on the floor over there." Heather gasped,
afraid he was going to whip her again right then. "Third, you did not wash
the dishes after dinner, though I am aware that I told you to do the
bathroom first so your excused from that. Finally, You took much to long
on some of your chores and because of that, your own room hasn't been
cleaned at all today."
Heather felt humiliated. Here she had been force to do things that she
would never had even though about before yesterday and now he was telling
her that she wasn't even good enough to do that. She felt her lower lip
begin to quiver.
"Now, don't get upset. You did many things right also. For one, you
called me 'Sir' without being prompted. For another, you gave me very
little backtalk like my first wife when we moved in here. You did what you
were told as best as you thought, which is remarkable seeing as your a
pampered American." Heather's mouth dropped a moment at the last words.
She never thought she had that great of a life, not like most of the kids
in her school. Her father didn't make very much money and she didn't get
to have things like her friends did.
Here was different. She hadn't seen much of the outside, but she had
the feeling she was in a poorer country. And that thing about his first
wife talking back to him made her uneasy too. Was she also a kidnap
victim, lured here to be a slave?
Heather understood the moment she thought 'slave'. She was his slave
here and it probably would be the only thing she'll ever know from then on.
Heather started to bawl uncontrollably. Mr. Stafford waited for her to
get it out of her system as she stood there, racking with emotion. It only
took five minutes to run it's course and then, Mr. Stafford asked, "Are
you done now?" Heather nodded.
"You are not as bad off as you think here, contrary to what you might be
imagining. Most of the women here have had their genitalia burned off or
sown shut to keep them in line. Most have been taken violently from their
homes at much the age you are now." Heather's eye went wide. She
remembered hearing about abuses to women in other countries but it never
sunk in like it was right now. She wished she had paid more attention back
then.
Heather finally spoke. "Sir?"
Mr. Stafford leaned back and said, "Yes. You may speak." Heather
couldn't believe she was asking permission to speak from him.
"Sir? Will I ever go home again? Or are you going to kill me?" The
question disturbed her more than she thought it would and another round of
held back sobs gushed forth.
Mr. Stafford waited again until she had calmed down and then answered
her question. "that was a very stupid question. Do you think I kidnapped
you? Your mother and I had an agreement, remember? When you have finished
your duties to me, you may then go home if you wish. Okay?"
Heather nodded. She felt a little less threatened after his words.
"How long?" was all she could think of to ask.
"Ah, well, that will depend on you." he only said. "Now I want you to
wash the dishes before getting some sleep. Tomorrow will be much more work
than today was." Mr. Stafford picked up his magazine and held it, waiting
for Heather to leave.
Heather didn't though. Finally, she started to whine. "It's not fair.
You can't treat me like this. I wanna go home. Please stop. You're a
mean man you are... a...." heather shrunk back in fear as an angry Mr.
Stafford got up and grabbed her wrist as he started to drag her to the
kitchen.
He flung her to the table and ordered her on to it. Heather coward onto
the floor, fully engulfed in tears. Mr. Stafford snapped the leather
strap and yelled, "Onto the table now!!! The longer you take, the worse it
will be!! Up, NOW!!!"
Heather was in terror and could barely move as she tried to climb up the
side. Her crying weakened her too much and Mr. Stafford finally grabbed a
hold of her hair and dragged her up on top. Heather was bawling
uncontrollably again and could offer little defense as her limbs were bound
to the bonds on each end of the solid wood table. Then, Mr. Stafford
dragged her undershirt up as well as her panties down and laid into her
backside with the strap.
She lost track of everything again and only became aware after he lifted
her sobbing body off of the table top to hold her. Heather was devastated
over the way her life had suddenly changed and held Mr. Stafford for
comfort, glad he was not hitting her still. As her senses returned, she
found herself repeating, "I'm sorry. I'm sorry." and he held her with a
feeling of care she found she desperately needed right then.
She felt ashamed for some reason and it was from someplace she didn't
know she had inside of her.
After she calmed down a bit, Mr. Stafford said, "You should clean
yourself up before finishing the dishes." He turned her towards the
bathroom and shoved her gently. Heather went like she was told and took
her washcloth and wetted it in the toilet bowl to run over her face.
She didn't realize until she'd almost finished that she had just done
this disgusting thing without being ordered to. She went to the mirror,
now much cleaner thanks to her, and examined her backside. There weren't
as many red marks as she though there would be. She only counted seven in
all and remembered that he had whipped her before.
Why did it seem like so many before? Heather realized that she'd been
blacking out during her punishments and it wasn't as bad as she remembered.
She told herself to stay alert next time. Maybe it would go quicker if she
didn't freak out like she was doing.
Back to the kitchen, Mr. Stafford wasn't there and she quickly went to
wash the dishes as best as she could. Funny, she would have done anything
to get out of it back home. Satisfied that she'd done her best job with
them, Heather went back out to the living room and stood in front of Mr.
Stafford like he'd told her to before.
"Sir." she said, waiting.
"Yes, Heather?"
"They're done now. May I go to bed?"
"You may go to your room after I examine your backside. Turn around."
Heather turned for him and closed her eyes as her pulled down her
panties part way then lifted her shirt. Suddenly, she felt his hand on her
back and it was cold and wet. She was afraid of what he was going to do,
but then her welts started to feel cooler. He was treating her wounds with
something.
Heather sighed with relief and a little less tense. When he had done,
he pulled her panties back up and turned her to him. Heather said, "Thank
you, sir."
"You may now go to your room. I expect breakfast tomorrow first thing,
understand?"
"Yes, sir." she answered and left him.
In her room, she wrapped the blanket around herself and cried. She
didn't know when she fell asleep.
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. Stafford's 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
hungrily 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. Stafford's 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 overtures 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, angrily.
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.
HEADLINE:
WOMAN FOUND DEAD
DAUGHTER MISSING
(AP) A woman was found strangled
in her home when police responded
to a missing persons report filed
by the husband, who is serving time
in jail for a manslaughter charge.
The 9 year old daughter is currently
missing and has not been seen by
friends or family members for several
days. Police are looking into a
possible kidnapping and residents
are encouraged to look out for a
cont. page 12
The next day was just as hard and Heather was still getting dirty
despite her constant cleaning. Mr. Stafford had been laying out
instructions for different meals in English and she did not anger him in
anyway. He didn't feed her down her underwear, but she was still eating on
the bare table without a plate.
Heather bathed him after washing herself off at the toilet, which she
was making an extra effort to keep sanitary for her own use. He didn't
make any moves on her and it was becoming less stressful to be touching a
full grown naked man all over.
She still cried herself to sleep that night, this time because she was
having a hard time remembering what it was like back home.
Her fourth day was a nightmare.
Mr. Stafford told her she was to clean up the shed out in the yard and
he provided her with an old brown, torn dress to go out in the sunlight
with along with an old pair of shoes. He also, however, give her a leather
dog collar that he demanded she wear around her neck at all times outside.
Heather weakly protested thinking it was just a cruel trick, but a glance
to the table made her comply.
He helped her strap it on and calmly explained, "This is for your own
safety. Without it, somebody can take you as unclaimed property and I
would have no legal recourse to get you back with. You understand?"
Heather didn't. The yard was fenced in and she could see somebody trying
to climb it before they would get her.
Still, the thought that she was property gave her chills and she wasn't
keen on the idea of being out there alone. Would somebody really try and
grab her?
Mr. Stafford seemed to be getting impatient with her and she stepped
out into the bright sun and was momentarily blinded. After an adjustment,
she made her way to the shed and felt herself again as the feeling of
wearing clothes gave her some confidence.
The shed was darker inside and there was no light except for the window
facing the house. Dust started to stir and it made her sneeze. Heather
opened the door and started to sweep quickly to empty the dirt out. Then
she stood there coughing and tried to catch her breath. When the dust
cleared, she swept slower and the shed started to feel real hot inside.
Heather was sweating in no time.
Then she was to clean the layers of dust from the shelves too. It took
hours and she was dry and parched from the heat and dust. A jug of
something heavy almost slipped out of her hands as she tried to put it back
on the shelf and the cap wasn't on tightly. It turned out to be some dark
motor oil and it ran down her arms and then dripped off of her elbows and
on to her dirty dress and lower legs.
Heather looked down at herself and was shocked to see that her legs were
almost black with dirt. It wasn't the oil though, she could see were it
had left lines down to her shoes. No, her legs were almost black from the
dust and dirt sticking to her sweat. She wiped sweat from her brow with
her arm and stopped in shock as she realized that she'd just wiped black
oil onto her face. How many times had she done that?
In panic, Heather felt like she was having a hard time breathing. She
had more work to do too. She thought, I could take the collar off while
I'm in here. Just so I don't choke.
There was a pocket and she slipped it in. It was better.
Heather then started on the window. It was caked with dirt. You almost
couldn't see anything through it. She wasn't given water to clean here,
but instead a razor on a handle for scraping. It was sharp and though it
was hard work, it cleaned the window off fairly quickly.
The window was still very dirty. Heather found that most of it was on
the outside. She peeked around outside and didn't know what she was
looking for. Timidly, she stepped out and around until she found the
window. She worked with her back to the fence and had most of it scraped
off when she cut her finger on a small piece of cracked glass. Her finger
hurt and it was too dirty to put in her mouth.
She sat on her ankles and held it, hoping it would stop.
Somebody yelled by the fence.
Heather turned and saw a dark, angry looking man pointing to her and
yelling. She froze only for a second and then got up to walk quickly back
to the house. Then she remembered the collar and took it out to try and
put it back on. The yelling man was now running around to the front gate
and still yelling. Heather got to the door first and shut it just as he
started to pound on it.
She still couldn't get the collar on though.
The pounding and yelling brought Mr. Stafford there instantly. He saw
her trying to secure the collar and his face screwed up in fury. Heather
started to cry and babble. He held her up and put the collar on her
roughly, and a little to tightly, and then flung her to the table and
opened the door for the yelling man outside.
The man made strait for Heather and she shrank back in terror. Mr.
Stafford held him back though, and heated words followed.
Heather understood none of it but could tell the mans fury was on her
directly at all times. When the man appeared to calm down a little, Mr.
Stafford let his arm go. Only the man got past him and started to slap
Heather on the face. Two missed, but one landed smack on the cheek and
Heather was momentarily stunned.
When her senses came back, the men were talking a little more calmly,
though still heated. Mr. Stafford was not holding the other man back now
and he didn't try to hit her again.
Mr. Stafford then turned to Heather and ordered, "On the table! NOW!!"
Heather was scared out of her wits, but got on as quickly as she could.
Something inside told her that Mr. Stafford was preferable to this other
man.
She was then belted down to the table like before, but much tighter and
she had very little room to wiggle. Then her dress was pulled all the way
up over her head as well as her undershirt. Then the panties were pulled
all the way off as well and hung over her toes., held there by the buckles.
Then the whipping started. She tried to stay conscious of it all but
lost count at thirteen. This was much harder too, and Mr. Stafford aimed
at her from the top of her back to her calves.
When he stopped finally, the man stated to yell again and Mr. Stafford
turned her onto her back. Heather was feeling the pains from her back
touching the wooden table and only became aware that she was exposed fully
in front just as the strap came down on her belly, hard.
Heather felt herself jerk uncontrollably as she was whipped from her
chest to her knees. The last few swings hit her smack dab on her private
and she screamed so loudly that Mr. Stafford had to stop and hold her
mouth.
She must have blacked out then because all she remembered next was Mr.
Stafford standing over her and sponging her clean gently. She was still
tied down on the table, but the angry man was now gone.
She looked at Mr. Stafford and whispered, "I'm sorry." in a choked
voice.
"I know you are." he said with some regret. "You should have kept the
collar on. That man came to claim you as his own. Pretty young girls such
as yourself are scarce around here, understand.?"
"I..." Heather felt so dry that she couldn't speak. Mr. Stafford held
a freshly soaked sponge of water over her mouth and let it drip into her.
Heather never felt water taste so good in her life. There was a calm about
her too. She had endured the worst of it and came through.
"I would have never hit you so hard. I had to do it to prove you were
my property." Heather wanted to say sorry again, but the property part
still upset her. Mr. Stafford rolled her onto her belly and washed her
gently.
Her wounds were stinging but the washing felt nice. She didn't try to
fight the bonds, but lay there totally in his hands.
After what seemed like an eternity, he undid her and helped her up. She
was naked and looking down at her legs, covered with red stripes. She
looked back at the table, It was covered in dirt and little smears of
blood. She turn back to him with sadness.
"Go clean yourself up first, then you can clean the table." He motioned
her away, and Heather padded gently to her toilet to wash the underwear he
handed her.
She was emotionally numb as she washed her body with her washcloth and
then her underwear. Heather didn't cry. She didn't even feel like
herself. She removed the collar and didn't notice she could breathe better.
Then it sunk in. She was thankful that she was still here. Suddenly,
this place wasn't the worst place she could be. Not by a long shot.
Heather looked around the bathroom. It didn't seem so foreign now.
Once the table was clean, he let her clean it with a sponge, Heather
started on their dinner and kneeled on the very table she had been brutally
whipped on only hours before. She watched Mr. Stafford eat his meal and
then she ate from the table from the same spot.
When she was done and had licked her place clean, Mr. Stafford leaned
back and said, "We should talk now that you've settled in."
Heather stayed kneeling and felt like a good dog awaiting instruction
from her master. It wasn't as ugly feeling as she thought it would be.
"First. That man who wanted to claim you will be back. He will bring
the local councilmen and try to claim that I am not treating you correctly.
He is right too." Mr. Stafford took another breath. "The only way I can
keep him from taking you is for you to be my wife. That means I should
beat you everyday. It also means that you can't be a virgin when they show
up.
"They will all examine you to see if you are. You are, I take it?"
Heather was frozen by his words. "A virgin?. You are a virgin, is that
correct?" Then Heather snapped out of it and nodded fast.
"I see." Mr. Stafford thought for a moment. "Well, that will have to
be rectified. Which brings me to my next point." Heather felt the world
tilt when he said the next point. "Your number one chore here is to
replace my child. When you bare me another daughter like the one I lost,
then you may go home again."
Heather was about to pass out. The room was in chaos for her. This man
had brought her here, not to clean for him, but to get pregnant by him.
But she was only nine years old! How could he?
Heather found the courage to speak finally. "But I'm not old enough to
get pregnant."
Mr. Stafford smiled. "You would be surprised. Your young, it's true,
but your chances of getting pregnant go up if you are sexually active."
Heather was about to shake her head, but he stopped her. "Would you rather
stay until you feel you are old enough? The quicker you do this, the
quicker you can go home again."
Heather bit her lip. That was her worst fear about him. That he would
try to rape her. But she saw no choice if she was to get back home. Home!
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