Farm Sale

Synopsis

Sold at a sale of farm equipment, Paulie believes she’ll be a sex slave to the family. It doesn’t work out that way.

Farm Sale

by obohobo

Warnings

Please take note!

The text in this story contains erotic material and is expressly written for adults only.

If you are underage or offended by such material, or if viewing this file is illegal in your locality, then leave, close or delete this file-story now.

This is a work of fiction, any resemblance to persons living, dead or otherwise is purely coincidental. The ideas and thoughts that follow are pure fantasies. In real life, at the very least they would be unpleasant and probably illegal. Fantasies are like that; daydreams where we can contemplate and imagine the sensations without suffering or inflicting the pain, despair or humiliation.

“GET OUT!” I screamed. Dad noisily entered my bedroom, slamming the door loudly against the wardrobe. The crash reverberated in my head, a head still sore and groggy from the night’s drinking but, before I knew what was happening, the thin blanket and sheet zipped from the bed and sailed across the room leaving my near naked body completely exposed. “GET OUT!” I screamed again, “GET OUT YOU FUCKING PERVERT, what the hell do you mean by coming into my room? Shit, it’s only 7:30!” Completely ignoring my protests, he grabbed my arm and dragged me to the bathroom and stood in the doorway.

“MUM!” I yelled knowing she never got up later than 6:30. She didn’t appear, but I didn’t have time to think about it.

“It’s no use calling your mother Paulie, we’ve both had a gut full of your behaviour. You’ve fifteen minutes to piss, shit, wash and dress. Don’t worry about make-up, just get yourself clean so you can eat breakfast before we leave. We’ve put up with your bloody nonsense long enough and from today, you’re out of here.” You’re old enough now to look after yourself. I stared at him in horror and barely took in his words but there was no mistaking the anger and bitterness in his voice.

“You’re throwing me out…?”

“Sort of.” He thrust me towards the toilet and growled, “Get on with it, I’ve to be at the sale field before ten.” For a girl of my age, I’m no weakling, farm work had seen to that, but I certainly wasn’t a match for father and I knew I would be the one hurt if I tried to thwart him unless I had an escape route. He didn’t give me a chance.

A little over an hour later, sitting on the grass with my hands tied behind my back and fastened to an ancient iron plough, my midriff bare except for ‘1,000 guineas’ scrawled across it in felt tip pen, I had time to contemplate the events that led to my being there.

I hated the isolation of living on a farm with our nearest neighbours half a mile away, and they were an elderly couple that didn’t have kids. Our road or lane as we referred to it, not much more than a track really, only went as far as Gill Farm at the foothills of the mountains, nearly a mile further on. We were the middle farm of the three on the lane and a mile from the ‘main road’, still only a B class road, with the nearest small town twelve miles to the west. Each school day I had to walk the mile to the main road and get the special bus to the school in town and with only the one bus back, I couldn’t attend any of the after school clubs unless I could arrange a lift. Only rarely would Mum and Dad take time off to collect me and there were always farm chores when I got in. We never seemed to have much money either, and being canny farmers, were loath to spend it on school events and outings they believed to be frivolous. I never went on foreign trips or even to a couple of field trips. All this and the manual farm work I was supposed to do, caused a great deal or resentment and rebelliousness in me and I frequently vociferously made my views known and either refused to do the work or did it so slovenly, someone had to do it again. Dad spanked me a couple of times and used his belt once but next morning I complained to one of the teachers who informed the authorities and they almost took me away from the farm. Somehow Dad convinced them that it wouldn’t happen again but I knew that he believed they’d made a big mistake because my behaviour worsened and they then had little control over me.

I had a few friends. Janie Keats lived on the main road and her mother was more cooperative in being a taxi service. Occasionally I was able to get a lift home with her but she didn’t like driving down our narrow farm road in the dark, especially with sheep wandering along or asleep on the tarmac, so she dropped me off at the junction and I had to walk the rest of the way. I wasn’t short of boyfriends either, at least not when they realised I wasn’t shy and there were a number of places on the farm where we could indulge in illicit sex, at least we could when the weather was dry.

My sixteenth birthday fell on Wednesday July 9^th but we decided to celebrate on the following Friday because Graham, my boyfriend at the time, worked midweek evenings at the local pub. School had finished for the year so a dozen of us gathered at the bowling alley and after a couple of hours, went to the Colin’s house in town because his parents were away. By midnight, only six remained and only Graham was near sober. I know at least two boys fucked me and I almost fell asleep in the car when Graham drove Janie and me home. By then it was past 3 a.m. The walk along the farm lane in the light rain sobered me up a little and I remember deliberately trying to disturb my parents by making as much noise as I could when entered the house but they must have already decided to throw me out because they didn’t even shout or swear at me. Throwing my wet things on the floor, I crawled into bed and thus my near nakedness when Dad rudely woke me.

A few months ago, an architect came and viewed our old wooden clad barn. We didn’t use it much these days because it was in need of repair and we’d had a modern metal clad structure to replace it. The architect sort to turn it into an upper class dwelling and eventually obtained the necessary planning permission and Dad sold it to him. The price he got more than paid for the new barn but I didn’t see any of the money. I didn’t even get a new pair of jeans out of it. Perhaps if I’d been nicer to them, I would have but it wasn’t in my nature to beg for things.

As long as I can remember, Dad has been a collector, in his words, or a hoarder, in mother’s words, of old farm machinery that he stored in the barn. Steam engine bits, gas engines, old binders and balers, wooden hay rakes and many other items including the iron plough from the 1920’s that I was tied to. With nowhere now to store them, Dad decided to sell the lot and through a network of clubs and farm organisations, advertised the sale and auction. He certainly didn’t advertise me! At that time I figured it was all a bit of a joke with him trying to get his own back on me. “You can’t sell me, I’m not an animal or a slave. You’ll bloody-well end up in prison if you do.” He just grinned, “We’ll see, Paulie, we’ll fucking see,” he smiled at my protest. His unconcern worried me but by then people started arriving and my humiliation began.

“Is she being sold with the plough Bert?”

“I’ll split the lot if you wish, you can buy the plough separately,” Dad answered.

Two boys came and felt my tits and I swore at them. “We’re allowed to touch everything else that’s on sale.”

“If you haven’t the money to pay for her, leave her alone,” Dad yelled at them.

“I thought only horses were sold for guineas these days?” a woman in riding gear said to her companion.

“Maybe she’s for a different sort of riding.” They both laughed.

Midday came and I was hot, tired and pissed off at being the butt of many jokes. With increasing ill temper, I swore and cursed those who came near but in the main, they were all working men and laughed or came back with a comment of their own. About that time a middle-aged couple stood in front of me and for a long time spoke quietly together and then called Dad over. “Will you take pounds for her, not guineas?” the woman asked.

“I might be tempted unless I get a better offer and you pay cash.” I burst into tears. Dad really intended to sell me.

“Look dear,” the man said to his wife, “They’re now going to auction that little stationary engine I want so can I leave you to see if she’ll be suitable and negotiate a price? Here take my wallet, there should be enough cash if necessary and I can pay for the engine by cheque.” Once more my sale looked a distinct possibility. For a while she talked with Dad out of my hearing and left me to ponder on my situation. Would I be worse off than at home? Would they want me for sex? To be kept as their whore? Or just to do menial work? Fortunately, by then most of the attention was focussed on the auction.

“What’s your name girl?” The woman knelt and spoke sharply but quietly.

“Paulie, Pauline Meadows.” I glared at her.

“Well, Paulie Meadows, if I employ you, then you will need to speak with more respect. What work have you done?”

“None, except a bit of farm work, ma’am.” I said ‘ma’am’ as sarcastically as I could and was rewarded with a flicker of anger in her eyes.

“It sounds as if your life with us might be painful, at least to start with. You’re a well built girl, full breasts and obviously don’t might flaunting them, can I presume you are not a virgin?”

“So you do want a whore! Aren’t you woman enough for him?”

“You’ll pay for that later.” She asked more questions but I refused to answer.

“Are there any accessories with this item?” she asked Dad

“Two suitcases and a bag in my truck.” Mother must have packed them while I ate breakfast. I wondered why she didn’t come down or respond to my appeals for her assistance; they really had planned to sell me.

“You can’t buy me! I’m not a slave or an animal!”

“I’m not buying you Paulie, I’m buying a thousand hours of work from you but you’ll have to add your board and lodging to that so you’ll be with us for quite a time, especially if you only work a few hours each day. I’ll take her Mr. Meadows, can you help me get her into the van please?” I could only cry and watch her stand, and count the money from her husband’s wallet and place it in Dad’s hand. Whatever euphemisms they used, I’d been sold. What lay ahead I couldn’t even guess.

“Peter, I would like you to meet Paulie… Peter, will you please look away from that screen for two minutes while I introduce your new governess.”

“Just a minute mother…” He hadn’t taken in what she said but the way his fingers flashed over the keys fascinated me. Line after line of code appeared. Three taps of the return key and the whole lot scrolled, seemingly endlessly to the top of the screen. He turned towards us but his head kept returning to the computer screen.

“Peter this is Pauline Meadows, Paulie. Paulie meet our son Peter Durrant. As you can see I didn’t exaggerate when I said he was a genius with computers. Peter, Paulie is here as your governess. Her job is to look after you and make sure you eat and sleep properly and the computer is turned off at 10:30. If she fails, then she gets her bottom well and truly warmed and we’ll do it in front of you so that you can see the pain you’ve caused her. She will share your bedroom and teach you how to treat a woman. You will also take her out, not just for walks, but to the cinema and to parties. She’s here to educate your social life.”

He showed no signs of having taken in any of this, Turning to the screen again and seeing the scrolling had stopped, he tapped a few keys and it started again.

I stared at the thin, gangly, pasty-faced boy and found it hard to realise that he was older than me by three years and a few months. “Hi Peter.” My greeting was answered by a mumbled, “Hi,” and his attention returned to the screen.

“Did you eat anything while we were gone Peter?” his mother asked. Another inconsequential mutter. “I thought not. Bring him downstairs in half an hour, Paulie. You know what to expect if you fail. This is the first test of your authority.”

Judith had indeed explained it to me as we sat in the van waiting for Thomas, her husband, to buy the engine and get it loaded. “Seeing you virtually offered for sale seemed like an answer to my prayers and when I spoke to your father and learned of your rebellious behaviour, I translated that to bossy behaviour. You wanted your own way. You wanted to be in a position of authority; a boss lady. With us, you won’t be top dog, but you will be partway up the ladder.” At the time, I hadn’t a clue what she was on about and asked for a drink although with my hands still tied behind my back, I didn’t know how I would drink it but I half hoped that they would be freed. No such luck but she did produce a flask of coffee and held the cup to my lips.

“I have a nineteen year old son, nearly twenty actually, who has more brains than sense, and I mean that literally. He has an extremely high IQ and does things with computers and maths that even the best teachers at his school cannot keep up with but with his brain so active, he finds it very difficult for mundane things like eating, sleeping and generally looking after his body. I don’t have the time to look after him and he doesn’t take much notice of what I say. As far as we know, he’s never had a girlfriend but he does masturbate, or at least I’ve found the residue on the sheets and in his pyjamas, but whether he images a boy or a girl, again we have no idea.”

“So you want me to be his fucking whore!”

“Be more careful with your language Paulie. We do not speak like that in our household and it could well get you into trouble.” From the tone of her voice I knew the trouble might well be inflicted on my arse. “No I don’t really want you to be a whore although sex will be part of it. Perhaps the best title for your position that I can think of is that of ‘Social Governess’. You will live in the same room and make sure he eats at the proper time, washes himself and gets a decent night’s sleep. We’ll also want you to take him out and meet others of similar age… and what to do in bed with a girl. I’m sure he won’t even try to have sex with you, so it will be up to you to force yourself on him. He’s equipped normally in the man department so you shouldn’t have any trouble, except that you will have to make the running.”

Never having heard of anything remotely similar, I hardly comprehended what she expected me to do but the noise of men loading the van gave me a little time to think about it. Thomas opened the door, “I’ve got to water the weeds and pay my cheque to Bert and then we can be off.”

“I need to go too,” I whispered to Judith.

“Okay, it will be a while before we get another chance but don’t think about trying to escape. You’ve no money; almost no clothes and your parents won’t let you back in their house. With us you’ll have a roof over your head and food in your stomach.”

“And a sore arse!”

“Maybe.”

My wrists were finally untied but she kept hold of my hand as we walked towards the bushes. Dad hadn’t thought to set up a latrine for the sale so everyone that needed to pee found a secluded spot. Judith bopped down in sight of me and was at my side and holding my hand when I finished. Thomas hadn’t returned so our conversation resumed.

“I gather your work on the farm hasn’t always been up to scratch, with us, if you fail in a task, Thomas or I will spank you. For a start it will only be a hand or slipper spanking but if we think you really aren’t making the effort or rebelling against us, then we’ll find a belt or a switch and we’ll keep you out of sight until any marks have gone.” After going over my duties again and answering a few of my questions, Thomas arrived and we set off for a county over two hundred miles from where I’d lived my whole life. I’d leave the rolling hills and mountains of Shropshire for the flat marshes of rural Essex. During the journey I learned they were businessmen farmers owning several large farms but all the work was contracted out. Thomas only went on the land for the shooting and Judith for her horse riding school. They were obviously far richer than my family so I decided to stick with the situation at least for the time being. I wondered if I would actually get paid, or if Dad had really sold me as a slave. There was also the question of whether they would or could actually spank me. Judith on her own would find it very difficult to get my pants down but if Thomas was there and perhaps her son too, I doubted if I could prevent it.

Judith left us and after watching Peter for a short while, I explored the neighbouring rooms. His bedroom, and now mine, with a connecting bathroom was adjacent to the computer study. It looked like it was only for our use and not the whole household. After quickly washing my face and trying to remove the price from my belly but only managing to blur the writing a little, I opened my cases and bag now lying on the bed, and changed my tee shirt but left my shorts on. The bedroom clock showed 5:55; the meal was at 6:00. Not wishing to tempt them to spank me or get myself into a fight after only a few hours, I rushed into the computer room. “Come on Peter, dinner time.” He completely ignored me. Leaning over, I touched one of the keys and immediately the screen went crazy and then blank.

“You bitch! You could have undone my last few hours work.”

“Good, then perhaps you will take notice of me in the future. And watch your language.” My first taste of the power I now had?

“Perhaps I’ll watch while father pastes your bottom good and hard. That will teach you a lesson. I only have to sit here…” He didn’t finish the sentence because I dragged him out of his chair and half carried him down the stairs. His shanky body proved no match for my farm work muscles.

“You just made it in time Paulie but perhaps next time you might get him to wash first,” Judith commented.

“Well he’s going to have a bath before I’m sleeping with him.” I emphasised the point by wrinkling my nose.

“I don’t know how you managed to get hold of her, but you can send her back where she came from. Already she’s messed up hours of work and I’ve no use for a bully of a girl.”

“She has at least got some reaction from you. Normally you say nothing at the dinner table.” Thomas commented.

Because we’d only arrived a short while before dinner, the meal was largely leftovers of cold meat and vegetables but not having eaten since breakfast I tucked in and soon cleared my plate. Peter picked at his smaller portion. “Eat your food properly or you’ll never be strong enough to stop me bullying you.” The others smiled; Peter glared but finished the meal.

“Now can I get back to my work and see how much damage you’ve done?”

“After you and I have a little private conversation.” I took him into the bedroom away from the computer and started on him. I was beginning to enjoy being boss lady. “Let me make this quite clear, I am forced to be here, I am forced to live with you away from my home. You may be Mr. Brainbox but if my arse gets walloped because of it, then I’m going to make shit sure, that you suffer too. Understood?” Looking rather frightened, he nodded. “This evening, you can work from now until 8:30, then you’ll have a bath and we’ll go to bed. Understood?” Again he nodded but then requested I give him a little warning before the time was up. “Before you go next door, show me where I can store my clothes and stuff.”

“You’re not going to be in here when I…”

“Jesus, you’re a living skeleton!” I’d virtually dragged him from the computer again but this time he’d heeded my warning to save his work.

I laughed at his embarrassment and like a mother, undressed him. When I saw his spindly arms and legs and his protruding ribs, angrily I made the comment. It only served to frighten him and tried to back away but I wasn’t having that and turned him around; he was all skin and bones with no meat at all. Of course I looked at his flaccid, limp prick. Judith was right, in that it was about normal in size but I wondered if it ever got hard. After helping him into the bath, I decided I might as well join him; it might elicit a response if he saw me naked. What actually provoked a reaction, and not one in the genital region, was the price still showing clearly on my body.

“Did they actually buy you?” I could tell he was shocked. “That’s illegal.”

“Yeah, they figured a way round it if anyone asked. Dad couldn’t handle me any more so he put me up for sale with a load of old farm stuff. So here I am, miles from what was home, looking after you and it seems like I don’t get paid, at least until I’ve worked enough hours to pay off the price they paid for me. Now sit up so I can get in too.” Sitting face to face, with the taps at my back, I had to lean forward, which thrust my tits in front of his nose. Still no movement from his prick that I could see, so picking up a sponge, I forced him to lean forward to wash his back until my tits physically contacted his face but his response was not what I expected. His body began to shake and it took me a little while to realise that it was fear. He was afraid of me. Me, or women in general, I wondered?

I suppose some innate motherly instinct urged me to clasp him to my body. Tears flowed silently down his cheeks and his face infused with red, probably from the embarrassment of being held by a young girl. I was in charge though and if I couldn’t control him enough to get him to eat and sleep properly, he would waste away and die or end up in hospital and Judith and Thomas would have to face the music. My mind keyed in on that fact and while I cuddled him, a plan began to take shape; an audacious plan but if it came off, the threat of punishments would be lifted. I would really be in charge. Gradually his shaking ceased and we relaxed. “Peter,” I said quietly, “You’ll be seeing me naked a lot from now on and I will see you too. We’re going to be sleeping together and before long, we should be fucking. It doesn’t hurt and there’s nothing to be afraid of and just so that we get to know each other’s bodies, I’m going to wash you and then you will do the same for me and you can try and get that price tag off. That’ll take some doing, the sod used a permanent marker pen.”

“Alcohol.”

“What?”

“Alcohol. Meths or isopropanol, that will get it off,” he whispered, “If the hot water doesn’t get it off, Dad will have some in the workshop.”

Fortunately that wasn’t necessary. Soaking in the hot water sweated most of it from my skin. We dried each other, he treating me like a delicate china doll, me treating him delicately too because the hot water had wrinkled his skin and several places on his arse, chafe sores were starting to form. I did rub his prick and it even hardened a little but it hardly rose to half-mast.

“Can I go back on the computer now, only for an hour.”

“No, you’re coming with me.”

“What’s the meaning of…?” Judith started as I burst into the lounge where she sat watching TV. I didn’t give her a chance to berate me but immediately went into attack mode.

“Have you seen your son lately?” Disregarding his protests I’d half carried him from the bathroom and both of us stood naked in front of his mother. Clearly the sight shocked her but I continued my verbal assault. “Have a good look now, not just at his prick but at his emaciated body, his arms and his legs. Look at his arse and see the sores that are forming. The only time I’ve seen anyone looking like this was in a World War II documentary at school when they liberated some concentration camp! This is neglect and he ought to go to hospital for proper treatment but I know you would be in real trouble if he did and it would cause him a lot of unnecessary agro.” Peter looked as though he wanted to crawl into a hole.

“I didn’t know… he’s an adult…”

“He’s your son, for God’s sake. You know what he’s like and never checked on him? That’s neglect. If it was one of your horses, the RSPCA would have prosecuted you and you’d have ended up in prison and banned from keeping animals for life but because he is your son, your flesh and blood, and over eighteen you wash your hands of him.”

“I got you to look after him…”

“That was pure chance so don’t give me that fucking shit! Had I not come things would have carried on until he collapsed and maybe died. Your only worry then would have been the autopsy report!”

“That’s not fair, I love Peter…”

“So when was the last time you spoke to him, had a conversation? When was the last time you held him? Gave him a hug?”

“I don’t think it would be appropriate for a mother to hug her adult son…”

“So it’s appropriate to bloody-well let him starve himself to death? Out of sight and out of your hair?” My voice had risen with my anger but I knew I had the aces.

“Paulie, please, I’m tired. Leave mother alone, it was my fault.” Peter spoke almost for the first time and looked about ready to fall.

Gathering him in my arms again, I couldn’t resist a parting salvo. “We’ll talk about this in the morning but remember I am not a slave and you can remove the threat of any punishments, or maybe it will you over my lap.” Swiftly before she could retaliate, I took Peter back to our bedroom and put cream on his sores. At first he cringed when I touched him but gradually he relaxed a little and I expected it would take some time before I gained his trust especially when I was in governess mode. While I felt pleased with the result of my confrontation with Judith, I knew that she could still make life difficult for me but thought I had the whip hand, at least for the moment. Peter was strangely silent on the matter but then looked at me.

“No, you’re not going into the computer room.” I forestalled his request, “You’re worn out and I’m still suffering from last night’s party and being thrown out of bed this morning. We’re both going to bed now and don’t even think about wearing pyjamas.” Pushing him to the side of the bed nearest the wall so he’d have to clamber over me to get to his beloved computer, I wrapped my arms around him and gave him a goodnight kiss. Again the fear showed in his eyes and I knew I’d have to take things slowly if he wasn’t to go completely berserk. Maybe my outburst downstairs added to his fear of me.

I awoke to find him carefully climbing over me. Sunshine came through the curtains and I clearly saw Peter had an erection. Laughing, I made a grab for it but he eluded me and headed for the bathroom. It had gone down by the time he returned. “That was very rude of you,” I chided him. He looked perplexed and then downcast when I went on, “You lie in bed with a nice hard prick and you didn’t offer it to me. Then you come back in and it’s all soft again. I hope you didn’t wank yourself in there.” Blushing, he shook his head. “What time’s breakfast?”

“I don’t eat breakfast. Can I get on with my work now… please Governess?”

Having a decent night’s sleep must have cheered him up. “I’m having breakfast so you’re having breakfast. We need to build your body strength up. Have a wash, find a clean shirt and trousers and then you can have half an hour on your computer while I get ready and I don’t want any hassle when I come in to collect you. Understood?”

“I’ll never get anything done with all your interruptions,” he complained and he complained again when I went in but when I put my hand near the keyboard, he quickly saved his work and grumpily allowed me to usher him downstairs.

“It’s Sunday.” He stated the obvious when I asked why no one was about. “Father’s probably tinkering with that old engine he bought, Mother will still be abed. Now can I get back to work…Governess?” I knew he was taunting me by sarcastically using my unwanted title but I didn’t rise to it. I didn’t wish to increase his fear of me but I also wanted to be prepared when Judith and Thomas made an appearance.

“No, we’ll cook our own.” He had no idea where things were but they weren’t hard to find and soon I had a pot of tea on the table, cereals in bowls and bacon sizzling in the pan. He didn’t eat a full breakfast but at least he had some. The smell of bacon cooking brought Judith down and Thomas in from his workshop and we all sat around the table nervously chatting and avoiding the real issue. I noticed Peter getting agitated and when I looked his way he asked, “May I get down please… Governess?”

“Yes you may and I won’t disturb you until I bring coffee in at 10:30. Afterwards you can take me on a tour of this place. We won’t go far, but I’ll need you to show me where I can start digging a tunnel to make my escape.”

“The ground here is heavy clay so I guess you’ll be here a while,” Thomas laughed but Peter gave me a sour look.

When he left Thomas left too, leaving me alone with Judith. “Paulie, I really didn’t know he was a thin as that. I only ever see his face and then only for short periods. I work odd hours at the Riding School and leave him to see after himself. That seemed to be what he wanted and when asked, he always said he’d made himself something.” For once I tried to keep my temper under control but reaffirmed my belief that she’d neglected him and to my surprise, she almost, but not quite, agreed. She went on, “You never were a slave Paulie but at the time it seemed a nice pretence. I suppose you could walk out now, but where would you go? Here you have a job, although we cannot pay you much, but you have a place to sleep and your food. The money we paid to your father was just an agency fee.” That’s how they got around buying me. “You seem to be able to control Peter far better than I ever did so that is a plus and I hope you will continue to do so and gradually build up his strength.” She was trying to worm her way out of her responsibility, she knew it and I knew it, but I let it go for the moment.

I discussed Peter’s fear of women, it turned out it wasn’t just me, but went back to the early years of his childhood when the school put him several classes ahead of his age group and the older children bullied him, the girls being especially cruel. “We didn’t find out for over a year and by then the damage was done,” Judith informed me. “If you can, be firm but don’t bully him. I’ve let him get away with things for years now but maybe this governess thing will work. Don’t worry, you won’t have to dig a tunnel or plan a mass break out but I do hope you’ll stay and see how things work out. Now, tell me, how did things go in bed last night?”

“Damn, damn, damn, where the hell is the mistake?” Peter fumed when I entered the room with coffee and biscuits.

“What’s wrong?” I asked innocently and looked at the two screens he’d set side by side, one had text and the other animated pictures.

“You wouldn’t understand…and you’re not taking me away from here till I fix it.”

“Now you just listen to me Mr. Brainbox, I may not be in your league when it comes to cleverness but I was in the top 20% of my year and could have been higher if I’d bothered to do the work so I’m not some dumb bimbo and I don’t expect to be treated like one. If you have that much brain-power, you can explain to me what you are doing in words that I can understand. Secondly, yes, I am taking you away from here when you’ve drunk your coffee and eaten the biscuits. I’m here for a reason, you may not like it but I’m in charge of you, not the other way round. Now tell me what you are doing and then close it down.”

I saw the hate in his eyes and for the moment I’m sure he debated the wisdom of defying me. “Close it Peter and slide your chair over here and have your coffee and a chocolate biscuit.” He did so grumbling that he’d never finish the programme at this rate. Again I asked what he was doing.

“A game, an intellectual game where you have to solve a puzzle before going on to the next stage but it keeps looping back instead of moving on.”

“Is the game intended for the super intellectual or the likes of me?”

“Anyone from 12 years upward.”

“So I will be able to test it?” He nodded still disgruntled and having to stop. “You must have had similar set-backs before, did it do any good to curse the screen and keep bashing away at the keyboard?”

“Sometimes…”

“At other times it came to you later?” He just nodded, obviously understanding my thinking. “Drink up, we’re going for a walk, it’s a nice day.” Before we set out, I gave him a hug, “Treat the break as a mini-holiday to refresh your mind.”

We didn’t go far before he became tired so we lay on the grass side-by-side and I held his hand, more for his reassurance than any physical contact. “Look at the clouds, look at the shapes in them and relax, and maybe the answer will come to you.”

Ten minutes later he shot upright, “I’ve got it, you were right! Please can we go back now?” Whatever he did solved the problem and I had little difficulty in getting him down for lunch.

Sunday lunch and only the two of us there, brought my thoughts back to home, where Mum would always have a roast dinner for us and often other members of our family. A tear trickled unbidden down my face and he must have noticed because he asked what was wrong. When I told him he awkwardly said, “You are part of this family now. Seems your other family didn’t want you.” I wasn’t sure this family wanted me either but I embraced him and this time, he held me. A little of his fear had left him.

10:15 p.m. Judith and Thomas arrived home and I greeted them, “I expected you back in time to cook supper.”

“It’s dinner in this part of the country you bumkin. You could have got something from the freezer and cooked it yourself. Judith’s slurred her words and she walked unsteadily.

“I did but it would have been polite to let a bumkin know beforehand. I thought the idea was to put Peter on a regular meal regime.”

“That imbecile wouldn’t know if he missed a meal or not.” The noise of a bedroom door shutting alerted us to Peter having overheard the remark.

“You’re the one who raised him,” I hissed and fled up the stairs. He’d gone into the computer room and pushed a chair under the doorknob. Probably I could, with Thomas’s help, have forced the door but I didn’t want to if I could help it. His parents followed me and Judith started yelling until her husband told her bluntly to shut up and turning to me, apologised for not letting me know they wouldn’t be home for dinner.

“You taking her side now Thomas… are you? … trying to be nice so you can get into her knickers.”

“Could be.” He said it as a joke but I knew he would act on it, given half a chance.

“Take her away Mr. Durrant please and let me try to talk to Peter. I’ll call you if I need help.”

“If you call him it will be to your bed you bitch.”

“Watch your language Mrs. Durrant… but by then Thomas was leading her to their bedroom and I spoke through the door to Peter.

“Peter, open the door please. I’m the only one here now. Your mother is dead drunk and doesn’t know what she is saying. We only met a short while ago but already I know you are a genius but one who is afraid of women. You’re not afraid of me though because you know I care for you even if I don’t let you do everything you want. Open the door for me please and we can talk about it…” Eventually I heard the scraping of the chair and the door opened. Tears rolled down his face as I gathered him in my arms and slowly shepherded him to our bedroom. For a while neither of us said a word as he shed tears over my blouse. Gradually his crying eased. “Time for a shower Peter, then we’ll turn in and you can talk then if you wish, if not we’ll cuddle until we drop off to sleep.”

Sleep did not come easily for either of us. Peter’s was troubled by strange dreams and I kept thinking how once again, I had antagonised my employer (if she could be called that) and wondered what revenge she would take. 4:30 a.m. and the light was already streaming through the curtains. I think Peter must have wakened me trying to get out of bed but this time I pulled him on top of me and didn’t let him get away. His prick was firm and hard as I gently massaged it and, almost without him being aware of what I was doing, allowed it to slide in to my wet opening.

“Fuck me Petey, fuck me. You know what to do.” At first his movements were small and very tentative but slowly he gained confidence and when I thrust back at him, his movements became steadier and stronger. So much so, that I came long before he did and surprisingly, I enjoyed the experience. He did too and after another cuddle, we dozed off.

I can’t say I loved Petey (I’d started calling him that earlier) but I was fond of him, more though, as a mother for her son. Strange when he was older than me and up till then, I didn’t appear to have any motherly instincts. Certainly the sex we had wasn’t a motherly relationship. Perhaps I also felt that my role was to be his protector and fight off the wicked Judith and as a nursemaid to restore his health.

We saw Thomas briefly at breakfast and he apologised again for the previous evening. I said that it wasn’t his fault but the reminder upset Petey for a while. Judith didn’t appear until I made coffee at mid-morning break and then we hardly spoke because I took Petey outside afterwards for a short break and to make sure he got a little exercise and some fresh air.

Judith made lunch and we sat around the table making desultory conversation without saying anything important. Petey sat very close to me eying his mother with suspicion but she didn’t react in any way until at the end of the meal she asked, “Can you leave Peter for an hour or so Paulie? I have to get some food from the supermarket and thought you might want some things.”

“Can we get back by three-thirty so I can make sure this naughty boy takes a break and has a walk?” I’d a shrewd suspicion we’d do more than shop. “I should also see a doctor to renew my prescription for contraceptive pills.” Petey blushed and I caught a knowing look in Judith’s eye.

The signposts only gave the names of local villages but I tried to memorise them as we drove in silence, each waiting for the other to make the first move. After a couple of miles she pulled into a shallow lay-by and switched off the engine but it took a minute or two of thought before she spoke.

“Last night when you criticised me for not letting you know we wouldn’t be home for dinner, and again when Thomas hinted that he would try and have sex with you, I could easily have thrown out and left you to fend for yourself on the streets. Only Thomas taking me away prevented it and I think he would have made sure you didn’t leave anyway. Early this morning we talked about it and pointed out what you had achieved with Peter in the short time you’ve been with us, and how you’d handled the aftermath of what I said to him. I know I’ll have to apologise but I cannot see it doing any good. He won’t believe I didn’t mean what I said. Can you convince him of that?”

“I very much doubt it. He believes what you said in your drunken state, was more truthful than platitudes spoken sober. In many ways I agree with him. I know I’ve said things when I’ve been drunk and they were usually the truth or at least a coloured version of the truth. The only way to convince him is by your actions. Until now, he seems to have been treated like a freak and left on his own to get on and do what he likes without regard to his mental and physical health. I don’t know how much I can do in either respect but I seem to be gaining his trust and am making a little progress.”

“You are and that’s why I am willing to let you stay, provided you keep out of my husband’s trousers. The other reason for stopping here is to say I’m sorry for not letting you know of our arrangements last night and for calling you a bumkin. You needed to know in advance that you had to prepare a meal and I was being spiteful in keeping the information to myself. You certainly didn’t deserve the denigrating term either. Can we call a truce in our little war?” I accepted her apology and offer of a truce but still felt she gave them unwillingly and she still wanted the situation where I was the slave she’d bought.

We talked for another half-hour about my previous life and hers but the doubts I had as to the genuineness of her words persisted. We visited the shopping centre where she allowed me to purchase items for myself and for Petey and made an appointment for me to visit the family planning clinic in two days time. Thomas took me but I insisted on Petey coming as well. Neither of them wanted that for different reasons. However, I realised Thomas was far more concerned about his son’s welfare than his wife but again the excuse was that running the farms took all his time and he left his wife to look after things in the house, including Peter.

Judith apologised to him three days after our conversation but it couldn’t have been much of an apology. She nipped in to see him when I went to the kitchen to make mid-morning coffee and was gone before I took it upstairs. Peter just said when I returned, “Mother’s been in and said she was sorry for her remark.” He never mentioned again.

After a week, Petey’s health had improved noticeably. He gained several pounds, seemed less tired and was able to joke with me although with his parents, he was more reserved. My computer curfew times still irked him but I refused to alter them. It rained hard one morning after our coffee break so we couldn’t go out and I suggested he set up one of his old computers (still more modern than the one we used for farm work at home) for my use. After some debate, he agreed but I would only have an Internet connection when he could supervise it and I wasn’t to use it when he was working. I thought I could get round that if I proved I could use it and not disturb him. At least I could access my webmail account and I emailed Janie Keats to let her know where I was and a little about the situation I was in. Next day her reply asked if I wanted the authorities to intervene but I said that I was better off here than at home.

Petey, like most men I suppose, once he found a willing woman, wanted to fuck at least night and morning even if the effort puffed him out. We tried it in various ways and our relationship grew steadily closer, whereas his relationship with his mother never improved and if anything it deteriorated. With me, she still kept a façade of friendliness but with an aloof detachment and an undercurrent of spitefulness that I tried not to provoke.

As part of his rehabilitation, I took Petey to the cinema in town one afternoon. Half a mile from the farm the road was on a rural bus route with two buses in each direction each weekday. By allowing him to work all morning, we caught the lunchtime bus into town, saw the film and went to a café for something to eat and then to kill time before the bus left for home, we sat in the park and cuddled and kissed like several other young couples. I knew then that my feelings for him were more than those of a governess and thought he had similar feelings for me although neither of us expressed our thoughts on the matter. That he seemed to be overcoming his nervousness at being in public also pleased me but I wondered how he would get on if he went out alone.

Nothing untoward happened until one Sunday when I’d been there a little over a month. The weather turned very warm and I didn’t want to stay cooped up inside. Petey now close to finishing his game and eager to continue doing whatever it was he did to it, Judith away at the riding school and Thomas I presumed in the barn workshop tinkering with his engines, left me on my own. Wandering outside and hearing the distinctive ‘chuff, puff, puff, puff,’ of a steam engine I peered inside the barn. Thomas had fired up his little traction engine and out of curiosity, I went in and chatted about it and some of the other engines he had. Of course, he flirted and several of his remarks had double meanings but I brushed them aside. Because of the heat, I’d worn shorts and a thin blouse and left the top button undone. With my sweating, my black bra showed clearly through the fabric and no doubt Thomas found it provocative, but he kept his hands to himself. “Come back again and I’ll show you some of the other things I have that you might be interested in,” he called when I left. I replied by blowing his a kiss.

Next thing I knew, a tremendous pain, a line of fire burnt its way across my back, quickly followed by three more and one across my tits when I turned screaming to face my assailant. I fell to the ground. Judith stood there, riding crop in hand ready to wield it again. With a voice full of hate and anger on her face she yelled, “You bitch, you little whore, I warned you to keep away from my husband.” A kick in my stomach caused me to curl into a ball. Vaguely I remember Thomas pulling his wife away and seeing blood on my blouse before I passed out. Petey held me when I came round and I noticed blood on his shirt too. “Lie still in case there are any internal injuries, Paulie. Don’t talk, the ambulance is on its way and father’s taken mother into the house.” His lips touched mine. Tears rolled down my face from the intense pain but I felt safe in his arms.

“We didn’t do anything; only talked about his engines.” I hoped he’d believe me.

“Of course, I believe you, Paulie. In any case Dad was still in his greasy overalls and you’re clean. I love you, we’ll get away from this place when you’ve recovered.” In spite of my pain, I tried to smile and we kissed again. The paramedics removed the tattered remains of my blouse and put large dressings on my cuts. An awful lot of blood spread over my body but they assured me the cuts were not deep and I probably wouldn’t be scarred. Peter came with me in the ambulance and inwardly I smiled at the thought that he’d torn himself away from his computer to be with me.

Of course the whole sordid affair soon became public knowledge. The doctors reported a non-accidental injury, the police became involved and so did the press. One splashed the lurid headline, “Girl sold as sex slave and whipped.” Judith was arrested and detained for several days, my parents and Peter and Thomas were questioned at some length and when two days later, they released me from hospital, the police put me in a refuge house. I still had dressings over the cuts but painkillers kept my suffering down. When he brought fresh clothing to the hospital for me he police refused Peter entry to my bedside and I told me not to contact anyone from either family but that only inflamed my rebelliousness. Petey got a message to me though Janie and after a week, I managed to get to a payphone and contact him on his mobile and arranged to meet in town. He looked gaunt and weary and I guessed he’d returned to his old ways of not eating or sleeping properly. The worry over me didn’t help either.

“Have you finished the game now that you don’t have a governess interrupting you all the time?” I asked.

“No, I’ve been trying to find a place for us to live.” That shook me. “I can’t continue to live there with a mother who even if she is not put in prison, thinks I’m some sort of imbecilic freak and is blaming me for what happened. “If you were a normal boy, I would never have bought the bitch,” he imitated his mother’s voice. I really want you back with me Paulie, I love you and I think you love me to.”

“I do Petey but how are we going to afford a place of our own? I’ve no money apart from a few pounds I got from a victim support fund. Will the police stop us? They told me not to even see you.”

“Money’s not a real problem. I had a legacy when I became eighteen and I’m making money from an earlier computer game I did and I hope the new game will be as successful. The police never arrested me or charged me with any offence and that was largely your doing. You insisted to them that you seduced me and not the other way round so they have no grounds for keeping us apart. I checked. It may not be what they want, but they cannot stop us. Would you like to see the place I’ve found? It’s small and needs decorating but it’s closer to the exchange so I’ll get a faster broadband connection.”

I had to smile and guessed that was the deciding factor in his choice of place. “If your governess allows you to spend time on it!”

Finis