      "The Replacement"
       Pedro Vila

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

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

 


]


         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! She hadn't thought about it all day. The memory came back like a barking dog that startles you near a fence.
  "They will be back very soon." Heather snapped back to right there. They would be back to try and take her for that other man, and then she would never see home again in her life. That meant she would have to have sex with Mr. Stafford quickly. Right away!
  She felt her body sway. Her heart was pounding right through her chest. Her knees felt like they would give out any second.
  Heather's voice was barely audible. "I'm scared." she said.
  "I know. This isn't how we were to start." Mr. Stafford set her on the table again. "Are you ready? Lay down now." 
  He helped lay Heather onto her back and then secured her arms and legs like before when she was whipped. Heather felt herself tremble all over as Mr. Stafford pulled her underwear up to her wrists and down to her ankles.
  She felt sweat drip down her ribs even though she felt like shivering. Then he was on the table and on all fours over her. He was naked and his penis was large and pointing strait at her face. She couldn't watch any more and closed her eyes as her then lowered himself onto her small body.
  She felt a warm, slimy pole slide between her legs and up to her private where it then pushed against her bone. Mr. Stafford adjusted himself and the pole slipped down a bit and she felt it enter her private area inside. It felt much too large and the beginnings of a new pain down there made their presence known.
  It started to hurt badly and Heather tried to grimace as she felt his large hands grab ahold of her arms and push the huge pole into her deeper. She could tell that it was going to really hurt and she started to say, "No. Please stop. I can't do this."
  Mr. Stafford put his hand over her mouth and held her tighter with his other arm. Heather felt like she was suffocating. The he thrusted himself hard up into her and Heather felt herself rip somewhere inside.
  The pain became visual and blinding points of light seared into her sight as the massive intrusion into her body stretched her in ways she never thought possible. Her eyes felt a sudden rush of water as tears streamed down her burning cheeks as she screamed into Mr. Stafford's hand.
  Heather felt like a bus had been driven into her body and was about to park into her heaving chest. Then she felt her torn insides sting as Mr. Stafford pulled himself out of her and she was thankful that it was over.
  Mr. Stafford stopped and thrusted back into her, though. There wasn't a ripping feeling this time, but she was still acutely aware of where it registered before as he drove himself back into her fully.
  Now she became more conscious of how stretched she was becoming inside and thought it was still extremely painful, the worst of it was around her entrance. Heather could no longer cry anymore. She was so racked with sobs that her lungs could not coordinate enough to breath in.
  Mr. Stafford pulled out yet again and this time, Heather knew she was about to be impaled once more. She gasped as much air as she could and then he plunged into her tiny body again.
  All of her pains were coming together as a large ache from her hands to her toes. Her insides hurt deeply but she also found that her wrists and ankles hurt from trying to pull on her tight bonds. Her lungs ached from trying to breath and her face hurt from it contortions.
  The man on her felt much larger to her now and he started to get a rhythm going into her. Heather was dully aware of her making huffing noises with each thrust and realized his hand was no longer covering her mouth anymore.
  Time stood still. Her pains became dull and her awareness dimmed. She could almost see herself being raped from across the room. She saw herself stretched out naked on the table with red stripes up and down her body and a grotesque look on her face. Mr. Stafford was supporting himself with his knees and elbows so as not to relax his full weight on her while his bare butt made thrusting motions into the much smaller child that was her. She thought from across the room, that was nice of him not to crush me.
  Then he made a final thrust and his own body seemed to quiver. Heather found herself back in her own body as a new sensation that felt like strings being pulled around inside tickling her obscenely.
  Heather remembered her biology and thought that it must be the sperm entering her. That was how babies were made. It felt strange and scary and she felt it again, this time more like a hot liquid being pumped into her. It made her stop crying for a moment.
  Then there was no movement and it gave her more time to come to grips with what it was like to have a man inside of her. People liked this stuff? It was horrible feeling. This was the most personal place anyone else could touch and Mr. Stafford forced his way there against her will.
  She felt a shame and humiliation like nothing ever before.
  The pounding on the door startled Mr. Stafford more then it startled her. Right then, she couldn't care about the world. He pulled out of her gently and she felt like it left a gaping hole in her. Before getting off of her, he put her collar on her neck and told her right to her face, "You should be safe now." Then the pounding grew stronger.
  Safe?! What was safe about her life here? This evil man treated her worse than a dog, and he had the gall to tell her she was safe?
  Mr. Stafford had opened the door and the angry man from before had come in with three other people, two older men and a woman behind them. The woman looked down only and nobody spoke to her. Heather was still stretched out naked on the table and was only partially able to see what was going on. Her feeling of nakedness and vulnerability was growing but she could hardly move around as she tried to struggle loose.
  Now she cared about what would happen. The dread that it could be worse than it was made her little heart beat hard through her ribs as they protruded and showed over her thin and exposed skin.
  The angry man started to talk first, fast and with frustration. The older of his friends listened and nodded.
  Mr. Stafford interrupted and sounded calmer. Both kept gesturing to her. Heather wished she knew what they were saying.
  They talked like that for a while and Heather caught the woman's eye for only a second, then the woman looked down quickly. Heather saw pain and fear in the woman's eyes. She also glimpsed a collar around her neck as well.
  Finally, the older man spoke. He sounded like some religious witch doctor or something and his voice sounded old and chanting.
  Then Mr. Stafford walked to her and leaned close to her face. He said, "The councleman is going to ask you some questions. Where you go will depend on what you answer to him." Heather started to panic. "Remember what I've told you before." and he straitened up and waved the older man to her.
  Heather wanted to cry again but she had no tears left.
  As the older councleman got closer, Heather could see that he looked extremely old and he was wearing a strange looking pendant. He smelled old to and he spoke to her in a slow, broken English.
  "What is your name, child?" he asked.
  "H... Heather.... Sir." she added just in time.
  "You are English?"
  "No... no, sir. I am an American." Heather stopped struggling. She felt less threatened by this man.
  The old man turned and said something to the other younger man, but Heather didn't have a clue as to what. He turned back to her. "You are with child?"
  What? He was asking if she was pregnant. She was still a kid. How could she be pregnant? "Um.... No. No, not yet." She added that last part, remembering what Mr. Stafford had told her and hoping it would keep her away from the angry man who wanted her.
  The old man sighed and nodded with his eyes closed. Then he asked one more question, and it had an air of seriousness to it. "How much did he pay for you?"
  Property! She was property and they were asking her price! Heather thought hard out of fear. What would keep her away from the other man who would surely beat her worse and never let her go? Mr. Stafford had given her mom money, but wait, it was HER money he gave mom. She bit her lip and then it came to her, the right answer.
  "My father killed his family in a car accident. I am their replacement."
  The old man drew a sharp intake of breath and straitened up quickly. He turned and made a pronouncement to the group with his hands in the air. The other old man said an "Ahh" and they started to turn and go. Heather felt enormous relief but the angry man said something else and pointed to her.
  He repeated it and the group looked at her again. Heather wanted to cringe. She wanted to run away from this nightmare. She wanted to die before being given to someone else.
  The whole group approached her this time and Mr. Stafford unbound one of her legs and pulled it away painfully. They all bent in and examined her most private area. Heather scowled and clamped her eyes shut tightly. Then her leg was brought back and buckled up again.
  She opened her eyes and everyone was now looking at her face. Heather tried to crawl out of her skin.
  The older man again spoke to her. "Tell the truth, child. Do you enjoy making babies?"
  Did she enjoy making babies?! What kind of stupid question was that? Did she enjoy being beaten and raped by perverts? Heather almost yelled her answer. "NO!" and started to sob, dryly.
  The old man didn't like being yelled at, but his reaction told her it was the right answer. He turned to Mr. Stafford and said something foreign again and Mr. Stafford nodded gravely.   
  Her legs were unbuckled again and Heather thought they were going to give her to the nasty man anyway. But instead, the older men held them widely and strongly apart and Heather was exposed more then the last time.
  Mr. Stafford then stood in the middle with the strap and Heather looked up and pleaded with him. "No, Please." she sobbed. "Please. I'll do anything. Please don't. Plea...." Then the strap cracked hard across her private and her body arched up terribly. Her mouth formed a silent scream and the strap came down once again. The men were struggling to hold on to her as Mr. Stafford followed each blow with another on her most intimate and sensitive body part.
  Heather again fogged over and wasn't aware of when it stopped or when they let her go. She laid there with her now very weak legs still wide apart with her ankles out over the edge of the table.
  Mr. Stafford was seeing the other men out and the angry man looked peeved and defeated. He tried one last time to call attention to Heather but was ignored, then the door shut and Heather and Mr. Stafford were alone once more.
  He inbound her arms and pulled her to him. She held him and cried everything out in his arms.
  She didn't remember going to sleep.

  Heather awoke in her room.
  She lay there for a moment wondering where she was. Her body ached and then the previous night came flooding back to her. Heather pulled the blanket to herself tightly and curled up into a ball.
  She wanted to die. Strange men had argued over her like she was a piece of meat and she was tied to that awful table, naked. And she was beaten! More than once! More memories assaulted her senses.
  And something else, too.
  Oh, god, she thought. I was raped!
  Heather couldn't control herself. Her body racked with violent shivers and sobs. She felt someone try to hold her and she was almost in his arms when she realized who it was. Heather pushed back from him sobbing, "No. No, don't touch me." The man tried to hold her and it almost became a wrestling match.
  Finally, Mr. Stafford slapped her face once. Heather was stunned and looked at him for a second, gaping. The look on his face made her shrink away, but she stopped trying to fight.
  "You will get a hold of yourself." he said. "Like it or not, you are better off here then out there right now. Unless you would rather go with Koelee." Heather didn't understand. Mr. Stafford explained. "Koelee is the man who demanded you belong to him yesterday, remember?"
  Heather remembered the angry man at once. She got the chills. She shook her head quickly.
  "Then we understand one another." Mr. Stafford then let her go and she shrank back against the wall beside the bed. "Do not worry about him. You will stay with me and I will let no one take you away. Koelee is frustrated because he cannot find a wife. He is a petty man and will undoubtedly try to find a way to take you from me."
  Mr. Stafford relaxed his face some. "How do you feel?"
  Heather couldn't talk, her throat was so tight. She swallowed and tried again. "I hurt." It sounded squeaky.
  "Yes. I can imagine. You were not ready and your foolish lack of your collar forced the worst on you too soon." He sighed with regret. "I didn't want to destroy you. I did promise you that one day you will return home. But you are now going to have to accept some things I was hoping to avoid with you, if you were to return in one piece.
  "First off, when any of the locals are watching, I may have to beat you for no justifiable reason. If they thought I was being lax with you, then you may be removed to someone who will surely hurt you badly. It is the way here.
  "Second, You are not to look like you enjoy having sex. I can see from your face that that won't be a problem. Still, I must warn you that if you appear to like it, you will be hanged. That would make getting you home difficult.
  "Third, you will have to do everything in your power to provide me with a girl child. If you harm yourself or do anything to prevent my getting what you owe me, I will sell you and it will not be a pretty life for you then." Mr. Stafford stood up.
  Heather's mouth was hanging as far open as her shock at her situation would allow. "You should get yourself cleaned up as well as your garments. You still have work to do and I am hungry." Then he left for the kitchen.
  Heather was afraid to follow him. She was afraid to stay by herself. Despite everything that had just happened to her, she had to go on with her chores. Maybe if she worked hard she wouldn't think about anything.
  She sat up and found out that she was still naked, but looking around, she didn't see anything for her to wear. She started to pull the blanket to cover herself with but then remembered that she was not allowed.
  Defeated, she padded out into the house naked. She could not let her own arms go and hugged herself compulsively, In the bathroom, she found her panties and undershirt draped on the sink and decided to pee first. The urine hurt where she must have been hit and it was difficult to finish. She flushed and got up to retrieve her underwear.
  Then she saw herself in the mirror. It was her welted body that caught her eye. She turned this way and that to see all the damage, but she was afraid to look between her legs. She noticed the collar around her neck and tugged at it. Then she saw her own eyes in the mirror.
  With embarrassment, she turned away. She couldn't look at herself after what had happened. Heather went right to her toilet and started to clean her panties and undershirt. She put them on while still wet and realized that they had not been on her since she had been a virgin. She felt different and worthless now.
  Heather entered the kitchen and Mr. Stafford was waiting at the table. He indicated the counter and Heather saw everything laid out for her. She felt enormously sad as she fixed their breakfast robotically. Then she brought Mr. Stafford's portion to him and got on the table like she was supposed to.
  She focused only on Mr. Stafford's food and tried not to think about what had happened to her last night on this very table.
  When Mr. Stafford had finished he brought a plate of food for heather and dumped it on the table. Heather ate numbly and licked the table clean where her food had been dumped. A small voice inside her said that the table hadn't been cleaned since she was beaten and raped on the very spot she had licked, but she tucked it away deeply and refused to think about it.
  Then Mr. Stafford leaned back and Heather knew he was going to tell her things again. She wasn't to plug her ears. She stayed kneeling and waited instead.
  "I want you to stay away from all the windows today. You should clean as best as you can around them but I fear souls outside who are watching us today, and they will want me to continue punishing you." Heather said nothing. Mr. Stafford went on, "I would like to give you a few days before I am forced to hurt you again."
  Heather spoke softly. "Why?" and then a hastily added, "Sir?"
  Mr. Stafford thought for a moment. "You are a smart child, you've shown that last night during your inquisition, so I'll tell you. This is a very religious country. They believe that it was women who committed the first sin and that mankind has been punished for it ever since. It is the way to redeem ourselves to our creator. Women must never be allowed to cause mankind to go astray again."
  "Do you believe it too?" Heather asked, and then, "Sir?"
  "Yes I do, a little. I think there is some truth to that, but I'm not near as fanatical as many here. Of course, I've been in your country for a while. That may have corrupted me. Some of the locals are thinking just that in my lax treatment of you too."
  Mr. Stafford got up. "Come. I need to treat your wounds, lest the get infected while your cleaning."
  He led her to the bathroom and took out a small bottle from the cabinet. "Strip." he commanded and Heather complied. Then he used almost a quarter bottle covering her body with it. Heather was disgusted when he rubbed her private area with it but that passed quickly and he had moved on.
  The solution had a healing effect on her and it actually felt good where she hurt before.
  "Wipe that smile off of your face." Mr. Stafford ordered. "That kind of look can get us both into real trouble, though I'd say you a lot more than me."
  When they had finished, he told Heather her chores and she set out to do them, taking care to stay away from any window in the house.
  The house was slowly becoming cleaner and she wasn't near as dirty as her previous cleaning jobs. She was however, still covered in sweat afterwards.
  Then it was time for supper and she washed herself thoroughly before entering the kitchen.
  Dinner was prepared and she watched him from the table first and ate on it herself after. They didn't talk except for a goodnight before being dismissed. Then she was alone again in her room.
  Heather didn't cry.

  The next few days went pretty much the same, with Heather doing jobs and staying away from windows. She made no mistakes and was not beaten. Nobody came to the house to demand that she be punished either.
  But it wasn't too long before Mr. Stafford informed her that he was going to start breeding her then. Heather remembered the pain and despite knowing that she should get it over with, she could not bring herself to get on the table for him.
  Then she was dragged screaming onto it and though she started to cooperate, was brutally thrown on and belted down, this time belly down.
  Mr. Stafford then took the strap and hit her a few times on her back before getting on and mounting her. Heather was already crying badly and let out a soul wrenching yell as he thrusted deep into her body once again. Heather wanted to be out of her body again but she stayed where she was and took the full brunt of it.
  Mr. Stafford finished in her and she felt him deposit his seed deeply within her body. He left her crying, stretched out on the table and didn't release her until well after she'd cried herself out.
  When she was taken off the table, she was told to finish her chores and wobbled out of the room, not knowing where she was going. She didn't remember doing any chores though she did them.
  Despite her second rape, she still didn't cry herself to sleep that night.

  The next day was no better. Heather was made to scrub the floors in the kitchen and was sweaty and aching when Mr. Stafford came in and ordered her onto her table. Heather tried to stall by saying her chores weren't done but scrambled onto the table before Mr. Stafford could grab her and do it himself.
  He didn't bind her this time, but instead made her take it on all fours, with warnings about what he'd do to her if she didn't stay in that position. Heather did her best but within a few thrusts into her small body, her arms and legs started to give out. He ended up forcing her face down hard onto the table while he rammed into her bottom which he kept up and facing him.
  It was the most difficult position Heather had yet experienced. He went much deeper into her immature body that way and Heather wished she could have stayed on all fours.
  Then he finished and held her down for a while even after pulling out. "You must stay still." he told her. "You must let my seed interact with your body. Let it take hold of your egg and give me my child."
  Heather could only cry against the wooden table.

  The forth time he bred her, Heather didn't cry. She was bound to the table spread eagle, but looser than before. Mr. Stafford entered her without preamble and Heather bite her lip and grunted hard with every thrust into her body.
  This did not please Mr. Stafford, and he pulled out without finishing to whip her body. This made Heather cry and writhe on the table, and Mr. Stafford then got on and entered her pained body again.
  Afterwards he told her, "You are not to enjoy this. I'm afraid I'm going to have to punish you before every breeding attempt now." Heather felt her face contorted into an ugly frown from her beating and rape, but didn't say anything.
  There was nothing to say.

  She worked the rest of the day and then went to her room after supper. There was no breeding  that night, but Heather knew it would be soon and dreaded when it would come.
  That morning, before breakfast, Mr. Stafford had a glass of something milky brown and forced her to drink all of it. It made her gag going down and she almost threw it back up. It was like drinking mud and stick splinters.
  "Good." Mr. Stafford told her when she successfully held it down. "That will help speed up your ovulation. Soon you will be able to bare me my child."
  It was some form of medicine, she guessed. It didn't help her keep her stomach in check though, and Heather had to think random thoughts to distract her from the queezy feeling it gave her insides.
  Then she had to fix his breakfast and she kneeled on the table while he ate, hoping he would not force her to be taken by him.
  He held up a fork full of french toast and when he didn't put it down in front of her, she haltingly stood on her knees and held her panties open for him. It was better then a whipping. She let the elastic close and the syrupy egg bread ran into her aching and now open private area. It would be difficult to eat knowing what has been happening to her down there.
  She wasn't allowed to eat though. Instead, she was told to lay flat on her belly and was then belted down with her legs together and arms above her head. The squishy breakfast mashed into her panties and up her crotch. Her heart started racing in fear and sure enough, Mr. Stafford pulled her panties down to the bottom of her butt cheeks and started to whip them.
  Heather cried out with each blow and her body was forced to mash her sticky hips into the table with each one. She no longer cared about eating her food. It was some cruel thing that he did to her so she wouldn't enjoy being raped. Like that would ever be a possibility.
  Mr. Stafford then got on her back and entered her quickly. Heather cried as he thrusted into her, bringing himself to his climax and depositing his seed into her immature womb.
  Heather was again humiliated and lay sobbing, not bothering to move when he let her loose.
  "You must still eat, Heather." he told her. "I will not let you waste food. get up and eat now." She stopped crying for a moment as she looked up at him with disbelief, then cried even harder. A sound of the strap still in his hand made her quickly get up and pull her food soiled panties off and eat from them, choking down swallows between her sobs and trying not to throw up.
  Every time she thought she could feel no lower, Mr. Stafford does something to make her wish she were dead. She did her best to not think about what she was doing and swallowed the last chunks down that had fallen onto the table.
  He made her suck from them and then she was excused to start another cleaning project without washing up first.
  This time, it was behind drawers and dressers and under beds. Heather cleaned and put herself into it to take her mind off of her situation. She ended up very dirty where she was still sticky between her legs and it started to feel awful and brittle where it dried. It made her skin raw too.
  Heather worked hard and tried not to fidget while working, even though she was itching where she had been repeatedly raped and whipped. Once she had finished, she didn't ask for permission, but went strait to clean herself up at her toilet.
  While washing her panties in the bowl, Mr. Stafford came in and Heather dropped them and scrambled back away, knowing she was doing something without his permission. Mr. Stafford looked at her then stood over the bowl and proceeded to pee into it while her panties were still in the water.
  Then he zipped up his trousers and pulled the plunger on the flush. He turned to her and said, "Better get them quick." Heather hesitated a moment then scrambled back to the bowl just as the water started to disappear with the panties. Without thinking, she plunged her hand in and grabbed them just in time. "Good." Mr. Stafford said as she looked at the yellowed cotton with unease. "Wring them out before you put them on and follow me." He stood there and waited for Heather and she had no choice but to put the disgusting panties over her abuse private area.
  She followed him and felt trepidation as he led her to the kitchen. Standing there in front of him, he picked up the strap and ordered her onto the table. Heather broke down and started to plead with him. She felt, what could she lose? He was going to beat her and probably rape her again that same day. How could it get any worse?
  Mr. Stafford yelled, "Onto your table now!!" But Heather just shook her teary head and cringed back from him. He grabbed at her hair and she tried to bite at his arm, but she couldn't get a good hold with her teeth.
  He let her go then and Heather thought that she had won. Then she saw the look in his eyes and regretted it at once. Instantly, she started to say "Sorry" over and over again and he grabbed her arm with a strength she couldn't fight off.
  Heather couldn't stay on her feet as she was dragged screaming out onto the front porch of Mr. Stafford's house. It was still daylight and people were out everywhere. He motioned to a few men close by and they came up the walk quickly and helped Mr. Stafford to haul little Heather up the post of the front porch where some buckled leather cuffs were already in place. The cuffs were on the house side of the post and Heather was held to the street side and her wrists were buckled over her head and back behind the post. The same thing was done to her legs.
  Heather screamed for help from anybody in the gathering crowd but nobody understood, or if they did, weren't about to help her. Her little body felt fully exposed and thrusted forward with her arms and legs bound back behind the post. She was reduced to racking sobs once more and they didn't change much when Mr. Stafford ripped her top down the middle, opening them to expose her chest, and then ripped her panties completely off of her body.
  She could feel her ribs protrude out as her little flat chest heaved in the bright daylight. Heather was once again humiliated beyond belief.
  Then Mr. Stafford took off his belt and folded it over once, forming a loop. Standing to the side of her, he proceeded to whip her brutally in front of the entire crowd. He started with her chest and worked his way down to her upper legs. Then he aimed right for her private area and continually landed blows there until she couldn't feel anything anymore.
  When he was done, she hung her head in defeat and was only dimly aware of the applause from the crowd. Heather was numb in every way.
  She hung there until it was dark.

  She woke up in bed and it was still dark outside. She hurt everywhere, but mostly on her private area. She did recognize the smell and it was the cream that Mr. Stafford had used to heal her before.
  Heather didn't cry. She was beyond crying.
  She was wrong, there were worse things then being beaten and raped. She would never disobey Mr. Stafford again. The only way out of this and hopefully home, was to do everything he asked without question.
  This was a terrible thing to realize for her, but there was a calm about it too. Her life was completely his to do with as he pleased, yes, but he would provide for her. She would do what she was told and he would also protect her. Keep her safe from other people here. This was a whole country that must have been around for a long time. The other women here could survive it, so could she as hard as it was.
  Mr. Stafford would take good care of her like everything else he owned.
  She lay staring at the ceiling until she finally went to sleep again.

  The morning brought wakefulness, but no feelings. Heather didn't feel the fear like she had been feeling for the past few weeks. What would happen will anyway, anything she did to stop it would only bring extra unneeded pain.
  She got up and noticed she was naked. Her body was bruised and raw in her private are as well as various places including her wrists and ankles. Her only reaction to that was that she had deserved it.
  Her top, what was left of it, was hanging by it's shoulder straps on the doorknob. Her panties were nowhere to be found. Heather put the top on and it hung loosely now that the front had been totally ripped open. She held her hands together in front to keep it from slipping off and padded to the kitchen.
  Mr. Stafford was there waiting for her. "You shouldn't neglect your duties no matter what your punishment has been." he simply stated.
  Heather's was simpler. "I'm sorry, sir."
  Mr. Stafford got up and brought back another glass of muddy looking water. Heather drank it quickly and despite her resolve, choked for a few minutes. Mr. Stafford, "Hmmm"ed and sat back down to wait for his morning meal.
  Heather made it, eggs and some potato thing, and served him before kneeling on the table in front of him.
  She watched him eat and felt little fear from him. This time, Heather really looked at Mr. Stafford while he sat in front of her. Before, there was always something coloring her perception, like he had just lost his family or he that was a cruel monster who loved to torture her. All that fell away and she saw simply a man in front of her now.
  Mr. Stafford didn't look up at her while she really looked at him for the first time. He had brown hair, cut short and a little thin on top, but not by much. He wasn't built but seemed to have enough muscle to do manual labor. His eyes were a light brown with not too bushy brows above and his nose was not too large for his face but big enough and strait. His mouth, thin lipped and always closed, showed none of the expression his eyes would.
  Heather decided that he was not an ugly man like she was, until recently, seeing him. He wasn't even that tall, but dwarfed her small pre-teen frame by a good couple of feet.
  She burped and covered her mouth. The stuff he made her drink was still settling. Mr. Stafford glanced at her for a moment and decided not to make a big deal out of it.
  He had tried to do what he could when that angry man, Keehoo was it? Had tried to take her away, and he really seemed to mean it when he said she would get to go home after he got a baby out of her. He also really seemed to believe in what he was doing to her, hard on her as it was, and this felt different then piling on tasks just to make her miserable.
  Heather thought about her old home and a weird thought popped up. Nobody she was going to school with before could have taken all that she has with him. This made Heather feel... she didn't know what to feel. Proud? No, nothing like that.
  Her thoughts were interrupted by Mr. Stafford getting up and bringing a plate of food to scrape onto the table in front of her. Heather took a moment to make sure that his potion stayed down, then bent over to eat.
  When she had finished, she looked at her master, (Master? When did she start thinking like that?) and he spoke to her.
  "My home is pretty well in order now. You have done an good job, so today we will work on cleaning you now. Stay on the table until I get back."

  Mr. Stafford came back with a small pouch and a wooden pole with short rods sticking out at ninety degree angles near each end. It had ropes coming off of it too and Heather knew it was for doing something to her with.
  She took a deep breath. This was the time to see if she had really changed inside. Could she do this? She wasn't sure but stood her ground anyway.
  "Turn around." Mr. Stafford ordered her and she used a hand to pivot her back to him while still in the middle of the table. "On your knees." was the next command. Heather complied.
  Then she felt the pole placed behind her knees with the rods on the insides holding her legs wide apart. Then the short ropes on each end were tied around the front of each knee which prevented her from moving them in any way together.
  "Chest to the table." Mr. Stafford told her sternly. Heather bent down, forcing her private area between her legs to be totally exposed to him with only her bottom in the air. She bit her lip as a rope was passed around her back and tied to each end on the pole behind her knees. The rope was pulled tighter and her knees almost came to her shoulders as her chest made contact with the pole.
  This position hurt to be in already. It was made worse by Mr. Stafford then securing her arms above her head to the table end and then her ankles fixed to the other buckles opposite. It was getting hard to breathe like that.
  Heather couldn't decide if she should strain around to look or not and decided to keep her eyes forward, looking at the kitchen sink across the room. She heard him rustle some things out of the pouch and what must have been a glass or jar set on the table behind her.
  A moment of silence then something solid was pushed against her butt hole. Heather felt pain from being whipped there before and what ever it was, was dry and rough. Then with a few sideways twists, it started to pass into her and a finger shoved it in deep.
  She could feel it there inside of her at all times and it felt like it was large and scraping her inner walls. Then the sound of a lid being screwed off of a jar and suddenly fingers were touching her private area with something gooey on them. They worked around her from her clitoris to the anus and then disappeared to scoop more of the stuff on her.
  The feeling of the fingers on her private area made her realize how raw they were from the beatings and rapes and at first felt a mild heat which she thought was because of being hit there so much. Then the heat continued with an icy feeling as well and Heather realized it was the stuff he had just put on.
  It made her hurt worse, but it also made her numb a little too. The fingers worked some of the stuff inside of her private area as well. Heather made a mindless noise as fingers violated her inside and then the icy heat made it's presence known there as well.
  Heather's breathing got very heavy and her muscles controlling her private area started to clench on their own.
  A new feeling started to come over her, kind of like when she had masturbated before meeting Mr. Stafford. She could feel her blood pumping through her body faster and she became afraid. He had stopped touching her there and she felt the need to be touched still.
  Heather knew she wasn't supposed to enjoy sex and the feeling felt wrong here and tied up with him watching. Then Mr. Stafford got on the table with her. A tiny part of Heather inside was hoping he would rape her again while the stuff made her feel this way, but he straddled her front and was on the wrong side of her facing the wrong way.
  This frustrated Heather.
  "I know you are thinking sinful thoughts and you must try and push them from your mind." He suddenly told her.
  Heather strained. "I don't want to. It's the stuff you put on me." she said through clenched teeth.
  "Yes. That can't be helped." he replied. "It is to help your body change quickly to give me my child you owe me. I will help you overcome your evil thoughts."
  Mr. Stafford then brought the whip down on her bottom. Heather yelped in surprise as well as pain and he waited a moment before whipping her again.
  A second blow landed right on her private area and she felt it streak pain from one end to the other. Her nub that she remembered playing with before felt like it was growing and throbbing. A third blow landed on the nub hard and Heather felt a bolt of electricity fly through her head.
  Then the whipping started in earnest and most of the blows landed all over her butt cheeks. But ever blow that landed on her private area made her body gush with feelings she had never felt before. Heather almost started to curse when Mr. Stafford didn't whip her private area and would then strain everywhere when he did.
  She could feel something building inside of her and knew it was somehow connected with her private place. Then Mr. Stafford started to exclusively whip her nub and butt hole and she felt it rocket her into something painful and pleasurable at the same time.
  Heather wanted him to keep hitting her there and he did, harder with each stroke. Suddenly, she started to yelp louder and louder until her body screamed with her voice, making everything intense and powerful.
  Heather experienced her first orgasm during that whipping.
  When everything finally started to pass, Mr. Stafford stopped whipping her. She slumped as much as she could in her bound state and when he undid the rope around her back, her body plopped wetly to the table. Heather was covered in sweat. She lay there breathing deeply and with a strange euphoria around her.
  She had no idea what had just happened to her.
  "You have been cleansed." Mr. Stafford told her. "Your body has just purged the demons from it and god has rewarded you with the joy of being a proper woman."
  Heather felt herself throb down between her legs and knew it would be really hurting soon, but at that moment she didn't care.

  "Clean yourself off first then come to me for treatment so that you don't become infected. Then you must clean this kitchen up from the mess you have left." Mr. Stafford was telling Heather after releasing her from the table.
  Heather felt drained and didn't have the energy to even lift herself from the table top. She was still dripping from sweating over the workout she had been given as well as the heat of the climate inside and out. Her hair was plastered to her face and her legs trembled from weakness. Her eyes were stinging from salty sweat dripping into them. She felt a drop build on the end of her nose and eventually drip to the table top inches below.
  Time seemed to pass very slowly for her then. She wanted to just lay there and let her body wind down. A hand grabbed a handful of soaked hair and her head was lifted up. She focused for a short time on Mr. Stafford's face and then they unfocused again. Heather felt like she was floating on the table.
  She had no idea how long she was allowed to lay there. Eventually, her private area began to throb painfully and the sensation was enough to bring her around to fuller awareness.
  It was daylight still. Heather lifted herself to her elbows and Mr. Stafford was there waiting. He said nothing, but looked at her coldly.
  Heather started to say something, but her voice cracked and she had to start over again. "I.... I'm sorry, sir."
  "Can you move now?" he asked her. There was no fury in his voice. She couldn't move, what could he do?
  "Y... yes, sir. I'll go... clean now." Heather found that moving her legs even a little brought sharp stabs of pain up her insides. She winced and moved very slowly and carefully to slide off of the table. Then she stood for a minute until she was able to walk. Her torn top slid down one arm and she was too tired to bother pulling it up.
  Heather walked very gently to her toilet bowl and kneeled by it, shifting her position until she found the least painful way to sit. Then she dipped the washcloth into the cold water and brought it to her chest. The wet cloth dripped cold water down her front and it felt good.
  Heather liked the feeling of it against her body. She started to dip the cloth and bring it to her fully dripping wet and rubbing it over herself. She could feel her energy coming back to her. She let the cool water pool under her and gave herself a wonderful washcloth bath.
  Her skin never felt so sensitive before, even though it hurt still most everywhere, she found her awareness heightened and even a little pleasurable. Then it was time to wash her private area. It felt very hot from the beating it had taken. Heather just held the cool wet cloth to herself and gritted her teeth at the pain/pleasure she got from the touch of it.
  She was too sore to rub it at all and ended up satisfied with just a few soakings. Heather was also thirsty and after flushing, looked to see if she was being watched, then thinking it couldn't hurt bent down to drink from the cool toilet bowl.
  She was better able to move after taking care of herself and stood to go, then decided to look at herself in the mirror. She wanted to see how bad her body was beaten but instead saw her face.
  Heather looked tired. She had dark circles under her eyes which were red themselves. Her mouth was open with a tired look that showed her two large front teeth that she had grown a few years back. The collar was still there, she had forgotten about it.
  Then looking down her front, she could see red welts where she had been hit but couldn't remember which ones were there before. Stepping back she could see her hips and thighs crossed with red steaks including over her hairless mound, and newly raised red welts in a strait up and down pattern going up to her belly button and collecting at her private area. This was from her cleansing, she guessed. She didn't want to touch her raw place down there to look at the damage.
  She turned and looked at her back side. Her bottom was streaked with welts but nothing worse then anyplace else. Heather was kind of surprised at how well she was taking this. It just didn't seem as bad now as it did when she first came here. There must be something to what Mr. Stafford told her about having bad thoughts beaten out of her. She never felt anything like what she did earlier.
  Heather finally left for the kitchen and stood still for Mr. Stafford's treatment of what ever he put on her wounds. It did make her feel better. Then she was dismissed to start cleaning her mess in the kitchen, then the bathroom.
  After she was done, she was told to clean Mr. Stafford once again and she did it dutifully like the good woman she would be for him.
  Then she made him his supper and ate when it was her turn.
  Finally, she was to go to bed and she did.
  Heather lay for a while thinking. As much as it was painful for her, part of her wanted to be cleansed again. She wondered if he would do it again tomorrow. Maybe he would wait for her to heal. Would it feel even better if he didn't?
  Heather slept. She never cried once.

  Heather was allowed to heal for a few days before any more breeding attempts were made with her by Mr. Stafford.
  She was drinking his stuff every other day now and was only whipped once on the bottom while doing dishes. She didn't know why she was whipped but it wasn't real bad and she stood and took it without being tied down in any way. She ended up being proud of that.
  Then she was told to take her place on the table and was buckled down with her arms and legs fully spread apart. He whipped at her a few times on the chest and belly before climbing up on top of her. She was still very sore from the beating a few days back and it hurt pretty bad towards the end of it.
  She felt like he was rubbing her skin off of her body. This satisfied him that she wasn't enjoying it. She found afterwards that she had almost bit her own lip off and tasted a little blood in her mouth.
  It was almost a week later with no whippings or breedings when he produced a peasant like dress for her to wear in public. They were going to go to the market together. Heather was almost excited by the thought of leaving the house, but then thought about the man who wanted to take her from Mr. Stafford.
  She was worried about this and asked him to make sure she wouldn't be taken from him.
  Mr. Stafford actually smiled at her and rubbed his hand on her head. This made her feel small and helpless, and like the child that she was.
  She wore nothing under the dress which came down to her knees and was given the same shoes she used to clean out the shed with. They still had oil stains on them.
  Before leaving the house, for the first time for her, she was told not to look anybody in the eye and to keep her head down. Heather nodded and Mr. Stafford attached a leash to her collar. Instead of feeling like a dog, Heather felt reassured that she wouldn't be snatched from him.
  It wasn't a very long walk to the market gathering which was almost like a festival with some guitar music and men yelling of their wares. She was never dragged by the leash because she stayed as close to Mr. Stafford as she could. She felt very small among all these people.
  Heather did her best not to look up at anybody but also tried to sneak peeks around to see what kind of country this was. She couldn't recognize any writing or saw any familiar flags or even a car for that matter.
  Mr. Stafford bought some meat on a stick and ate it while walking. Heather didn't think he would give her any since they were out in public but he actually stopped and fed a small piece strait into her mouth. She started to say 'Thank you, sir' but a finger told her not to speak. It was still hot and kind of spicy but it was delicious.
  Heather did get to notice that only one other person had on a leash, although almost every female had on a collar. The other leashed girl was older then her, but only by a few years.
  She saw no children at all.
  Another stand had clothes and Heather was able to glance and see that there were clothes for women as well. She wondered if he would replace the panties or torn shirt for her. He stopped to look but nothing interested him much. A second glance told her they were all ugly and rough looking. She was thankful for him not making her wear something like that.
  After an hour of walking, Heather started to get sore. She had still not healed completely and the heat was making her tired. They stopped at another stand and Heather didn't bother to look up at it. She was able to sit on a bench by it and she was grateful.
  Mr. Stafford bought something there and held it down for Heather to see. It was a pretty red nightgown or something dress like. It was hanging funny and Heather wasn't sure how it was supposed to be worn. She didn't care. It was beautiful. She felt her eyes widen and she tried very hard not to grin and fling her arms around his neck to hug him. Mr. Stafford could see the joy in her face and smiled anyway. He sat next to her while she held it.
  The happy moment was cut short by a familiar face approaching them. It was the angry man who tried to steal her away. He was all smiles and Mr. Stafford pulled Heather closer to himself. Heather looked down hard and refused to look at him even though she knew he was talking to her. There were not too kind words coming from Mr. Stafford and Heather recognized the name, "Koetee".
  Koetee still was smiling and acting like there were no problems at all. He said something to Heather again and she ignored him. Her heart was racing in fear. Then he held her chin and forced her to look at him as he talked to her. Heather was glad she didn't understand the language.
  He smiled and she saw he was missing some teeth. She got the impression that he was trying to sweet talk her. She pulled her head away and looked down again. Koetee tried to grab at her face again but Mr. Stafford blocked it.
  Both men stood suddenly and Heather felt tension between them. Mr. Stafford seemed to radiate violence. Heather felt he would kill Koetee for sure. But then Koetee was all smiles again and said something before walking off.
  "That man will never learn." Mr. Stafford simply said. They walked on after they were sure Koetee was gone.
  Heather felt excitement at the present and found that she was feeling attraction to Mr. Stafford, her protector. She felt an itching between her legs and no longer felt as pained as she recently did. She was even throbbing.
  This made Heather scared. This was something she knew she wasn't supposed to feel and she was in public. If they saw her feeling this way, she would be in serious trouble.
  A tug on her leash told her that she'd been not paying attention and when Mr. Stafford turned to look he could tell what was happening to her. A glare was all he gave her and then walked her rapidly in some direction. She was hoping he was taking her home.
  They stopped instead at another stall and looking up, Heather saw that this stall sold whips. She felt her mouth drop as she suddenly turned to Mr. Stafford and he told her to chose one.
  Turning back to look, her breathing got heavy and fast as she saw many different types of whips. All of them looking very dangerous.
  There were wooden handled thick leather straps, bullwhips of all kinds, long looking whips with knots at the end, short whips with three tails, one with metal spikes along the ends, and even a few loops of chains. This was a scary stall.
  Heather was less excited now and becoming fearful. Yet, there was a part of her that remembered the cleansing. Thinking about that time and how it felt, Heather focused on a certain whip and her gut told her that she wanted it.
  She pointed to a medium sized strip of thick leather, cut to a point at the end with holes along the middle and ending with a good sized wooden handle for gripping. She thought about how it would feel hitting her nub in her private area and felt her face flush.
  Mr. Stafford nodded and paid the man for the item, then walked Heather beside the stall to a small log on posts at each end and shackles as well. He brought her to the middle of the log and picked her up and laid her belly down over it. Then he put the shackles on her ankles and walked in front of her to place more shackles on her wrists to a post a few feet in front.
  He was going to whip her right there in front of everyone in broad daylight!
  Mr. Stafford pulled her dress forward a little to clear the log and she felt her bare belly and front thighs touch the rough wood. Then the shackles were pulled tight and her legs were stretched wide apart. Her feet were no where near touching the dirt. Then the front shackles on her arms were pulled tight and Heather's chest was pulled up to hang almost strait.
  She tried to look behind her but then her dress was pulled the rest of the way over her head and she was then stretched out naked over the log. This time she could see a crowd gathering. Her heart was ready to beat out of her chest. She couldn't catch her breath.
  Heather tried to move and found she was completely secured and helpless. Her bottom clenched uncontrollably and she started to feel dizzy and thought she was going to pass out.
  Then the whip she had chosen landed on her back. The holes helped the air pass from under it and she felt it bite into her back. She let out a cry and saw red for a second. This was going to really hurt.
  Another blow landed a little farther down her back and this time she felt her blood rush through her body like a raging river. Then the blows started to come at a fairly steady interval and Mr. Stafford was working his way down her body. She became a little more used to the pain and suddenly, the thought of her beating on the table came back into her head. It hurt allot and he was soon going to be whipping her private area in front of everybody.
  She knew she had asked for this and wasn't entirely regretting it.
  The whip was starting on her tail bone then and heather felt her nub flush with blood knowing it was going to be beaten very soon. Her head started to spin.
  It was close now. The whip hit her right on her butt hole and she felt it shock up inside of her. She knew she was going to be cleansed and became anxious for it. Her upper body started to rock up and down and then the moment came when the whip hit her private area. It hurt and sent an electric shock up and down her body.
  She spasmed over the log and was hit again in the same place. Heather saw stars. Then the whip worked down to her legs and thighs. She felt the welting skin raise and knew she was really being damaged by it. She wanted the whip back on her private area to cleanse her body like before.
  Just when she didn't think she could stand it, she was hit again on her nub. Heather screamed. A feeling of the end of the world started to approach her and the whip continued to beat her private area raw.
  Heather could not believe the pain and yet she wanted it harder because there was pleasure there too. She didn't care how much she would be torn up, she had to finish.
  The whipping kept on and part of her wished it would stop before it killed her and the other part needed to keep being hit until the joy came.
  Then she felt it building finally and didn't need to be whipped anymore for it to come. He continued to beat her crotch anyway.
  The joy came. Her head pounded and she felt pure pleasure interrupted with jolts of pain as she was still whipped while she was forced into the second orgasm of her life, screaming bloody murder as the village people looked on.
  Heather was weakened by the intense reaction her body had from being beaten into an orgasm. She dropped her head down between her arms and her body jerked now and then from over stimulation of her nerves. Mr. Stafford finally stopped whipping her crotch when she could no longer scream and struggle.
  Heather was dazed and drifted in and out of the nightmare she had just experienced. Then more pain followed on her private area and a shock bolted through her body from something new. She felt sharp jolts of intense pain on her crotch and then felt something huge push deep into her body from her beaten entrance.
  It took a moment to realize that Mr. Stafford was raping her right there in front of everybody. His hands held her skinny sides and she felt the wooden handle on her right side as he still held it in the hand that was holding her waist.
  The pain, the weakening, the humiliation, and the rape all caused Heather complete misery and she began to moan. Mr. Stafford misinterpreted her moans for pleasure and let go of her side to start whipping her back once more while he pressed into her deeply.
  The contorted position she was bound in caused Mr. Stafford to enter her deeper then he'd ever been in before and he had no regard for how it hurt her inside, not to mention how much his whipping her further was doing to Heather's state of mind.
  She passed out sometime during his forced public breeding of her.


  Heather drifted in and out of fevered dreams for what seemed like an eternity. In them, she was being beaten and raped by the entire village over and over again. It was a nightmare that never ended for her and every once in a while she would wake up a little bit to see the ceiling of her bare room then drift back into that abyss of despair.
  Then suddenly, she awoke and became fully aware of her room. She lay for a second, grateful to be out of hell she had been stuck in. Then, slowly, she felt the actual pain and remembered what had happened vividly.
  Heather began to cry huge gut wrenching sobs. She was filled with the emotional pain as well as the physical and it poured from her unending. She tried to curl up to a ball but the movement brought agony on top of everything else.
  Her crying brought Mr. Stafford into the room. Heather saw him enter and cringed back against the wall. He sat on the bed next to her and she was bouncing between anger and revulsion inside. How could she have even liked this... monster? His face looked like a gargoyle to her now. Any minute he would drag her to the table and beat her again.
  Heather didn't think she would survive.
  "Are you hungry?" he asked her. Heather's insides were churning. Food didn't sound good to her at all. She said nothing. She could barely look at him.
  "Yes." he continued. "I can imagine what you must think of me right now. Believe it or not, the look on your face could have gotten you killed then. Koetee was watching for a way to get back at me. I had to do what I did to show that I had you under control."
  He beat her and raped her right there in the street with everybody watching. This was beyond anything Heather could imagined. She thought he had enjoyed it too much for it to be anything else.
  "I may have gone overboard, I admit." he conceded. "I wasn't sure what was required. Your an American. Not a popular people here." Mr. Stafford looked at Heather and saw the pain on her face, reflecting the turmoil inside. "You were out for days. You will have permanent scars. You were close to dying." He paused. "You shouldn't have had to go through that much punishment. For that, I am truly sorry."
  It was the thought of him taking her out to be whipped again that kept Heather from calling him every name she could think of. She hated him more than she had ever hated anything in her life.
  "You will need to rest for many days here. I suspend all duties for you until then. I will bring you something to eat in a moment." Mr. Stafford stood up. At the door, he said, "I did promise to let you go home after all this, I still mean that."
  Heather felt sick inside. A tiny part of her thought he had let her down somehow.

  It was over a week before she was well enough to resume her chores. The hardest parts were going to the bathroom. He had not only beaten her private area raw, but had also beaten her butt hole and this proved to be the most painful part to use when she went to the bathroom.
  He had given her multiple doses of the cream to help heal, and it was soothing even though she would never admit it to him.
  She still had the nightmares though.

  He allowed her to gradually ease into the housework slowly and even to use the bathtub now and then with bath salts. She no longer was forced to use the toilet for her personal hygiene. She was also given a torn dress to wear. It was torn because most of the stained parts were torn off. Heather recognized it as the one she was wearing when she cleaned the shed. Most of it was missing including the whole back and the skirt up to the middle of her bum.
  Eventually the nightmares faded and it was almost a month before he even strapped her to the table for a light whipping on the bottom.
  That was very scary for her and it was the memory of the village square more then the actual whipping on the table that caused her pain.
  Then she was back on the dirty potion and was soon to be bred again.
  Heather dreaded the breeding. The only memories for her were of pain and being tied down. She couldn't remember why she didn't fight being whipped that day. Why didn't she run? Anything would have been better then what she suffered. In the back of her mind, in a tiny voice, was the memory of her two orgasms but she refused to even acknowledge it. To her, being beaten and raped was worse then dying. No one in their right mind would want that for themselves.
  When it was time, Heather was unprepared for it. She promised herself that she would bolt before he could grab her but he caught her by surprise right after she'd just eaten while on the table. He stood up and was blocking any route out and she ended up laying face up on the table hoping not to make it worse by fighting when he had her cold.
  Her arms were strapped above her head and her legs were belted at the other end together before he gave her some swings with the lighter strap he used on her the very first time. He didn't hit any of the areas that were still healing but Heather didn't want to give him credit for that.
  She lay in terror while he entered her after hitting a few times lightly for effect. Heather tried to tune her mind away but the memories were worse then the event she was suffering right then. She ended up staying away from thinking and let herself feel what he was doing to her body, finding that at least she would be able to get through it this time at least. She felt the final cum from him and the stuff he was spurting into her body. She also felt is penis quiver just before and had a sense of deja-vu while he ejaculated into her.
  She was itching from her private area after he got off of her on top of the now dull throbbing going on inside of her. When he let her up finally after her body's natural defenses quit jerking her limbs, she started hurting more from where she was buckled down on the wrists and ankles. Mr. Stafford had a jar of some cream and he used it on them as well as some of her older wounds.
  They did feel better after that.
  Heather felt worn and used for the rest of the day. She felt relief at having gotten through the rough part and didn't mind doing her normal chores. As long as she was doing them, the less chance he would catch her again. Or so she hoped.
  She didn't get as dirty and she wasn't allowed to clean herself much that night. She found she wouldn't be after he had her, to keep the chances of her pregnancy higher.
  She went to bed in what was left of her dress and found that it was too uncomfortable the way it bunched and rubbed her sore skin. It seemed all right to wear when she was up, but she ended up sleeping naked anyway.

  The next time was later that week.
  Having remembered how easy it went, Heather tried to act like she did the last time hoping that it would make him go easy on her again.
  He did. Or at least it went the same until he was in her for a little while. That's when her wrists really started to burn. She was reopening her wounds there in places. It caused her to squirm much more now that most of her pain was more localized and thus more acute. Then she would bump him with her pubic bone and start another squirming fit.
  For some reason, this started to bug Mr. Stafford but instead of taking it out on her, he stopped to reposition her limbs a little.
  "You need to hold the ropes in your palms." he explained. "Turn the rope towards the inside of your wrist and hold it. This will allow you flex your body without doing further damage to yourself. Same with your feet. Have to rope come from them on the inside of your ankles. Yes, that's it. Try not to let go."
  Heather couldn't stop from jerking her body, he kept hitting raw nerves outside and in, but it was easier to pull on the rope then to twists against it. It gave her a way to express her pain. She wondered if she could end up pulling one loose.
  She lay for ten minutes again and got control of her breathing and spasms. Then he released her and treated her wrists and ankles before dismissing her.
  Thought about rinsing herself out and hoping it would keep him from getting what he wanted, but he would just keep her longer, and she wanted to go home.
  Instead she just washed her hands and went to prepare supper for him.
  She ate on the table without making a major effort to clean it's surface and Mr. Stafford didn't seem to mind. At the time, she thought to heck with it. It's not that bad.
  But eating on it later she kept thinking about what Mr. Stafford was putting in her from his own body. She hadn't really seen it yet and kept thinking it was in the food.
  She kept it down and then was dismissed for bed. She dreamed of being raped in the village street but this time was pulling the ropes like she was supposed to.

  It would be like that for a couple of months and Heather fell into a routine. Everything predictable felt safer to her, but she was still afraid of being pregnant.
  She forgot about that when she was forced to orgasm again the bad way.

  She thought it would be just another forced breeding at first but knew something was going to be different when her arms were bound together wrist to elbow behind her back. By then all she could do was watch helplessly as Mr. Stafford brought out the wooden leg spreader from before.
  Then it was the cream he claimed helped her become fertile. The stuff that had an icy burn to it. He put it directly onto her crotch without binding her to the table and she was bent over for him until he pushed the stuff inside of her with his fingers, then her knees and loose legs straitened and she was flat, face down on the table. She clenched but he was able to get something rough up inside of her butt hole anyway.
  While she lay there, feeling the cream slowly begin to work, Mr. Stafford placed roped cuffs to her ankles but she couldn't tell what the ropes were tied to.
  Heathers eyes started to tear and blink and she didn't know why. Then she felt the heat start from much deeper under her skin then before and the lump pressed at her from inside. By the time the sensation started to reach the surface of her private area, Heather was breathing heavy and her head felt a little dizzy.
  Mr. Stafford held up two whips in front of her slightly tilted vision. The smaller one he'd been using on her, and the scary handled one from the marketplace. "Which one" he asked.
  There was no way she would want him to use the huge serious one that almost killed her. But she didn't know if he'd use the one she picked either. With fear, and afraid to say, she inclined her head to the lighter one.
  Mr. Stafford didn't pull a switch on her and he used the smaller one she hoped he would. Then ankle ropes were pulled up behind her to her arms and secured to them. Heather was then flipped over and the pole inside her bent knees started to dig into her a little. With both arms under her middle back, her belly flattened and her chest stuck out as well as her front mound up higher and spread wide from the pole between her legs.
  The cream burned on. It made her get a weird itch as well as made her throb hard in a way that felt like her nub would burst open from inside pressure. He touched her there one more time to apply a dab more of cream and the touch made it feel better for a second. Then it was exposed to the air and it started to irritate her. Her hips spasmed a couple of times while she lay there, feeling the lump inside of her bottom work it's way deeper when she did.
  Then she saw Mr. Stafford get into position beside her and ready to start swinging the strap at her. She closed her eyes and waited for the first blow. It came down onto her chest just around her lower ribs. Heather's eyes jerked open and the way her shoulders lay on the table forced her head to look down upon herself and she saw him swing on her again. He was swinging lightly like he had for the last couple of months and right then it hardly hurt at all.
  She knew he was going to work his way down her body and knew it would end with him beating her private area hard. But the blows didn't hurt and her crotch was getting worse. The itching was really beginning to bug her. She wish she was facing down so she could rub against the table and scratch it.
  He worked his way to her private area finally while she squirmed around under him. It seemed to help at first but only shortly and Heather's head started to feel like it was building up pressure. He must have thought he was hurting her, but she wasn't feeling it much over what was happening to her under her skin.
  She was about to go nuts the way her private area bugged her. "Harder." she whispered, hoping he wouldn't hear her say such a stupid thing to ask for. But he did start hitting her a little harder without looking at her eyes. That seemed to keep the itching at bay for a bit and Heather didn't feel so bad for asking for it.
  But that too was short lived. If only he'd hit her just a little harder still it could feel better again. But she realized that it might still stop helping after a bit.
  The sudden truth hit her and Heather started to seriously cry because of it. He had to really beat her if this was to finish. There was no way out. That was the only thing that would stop the cream from getting worse.
  Her nose was getting runny and her face felt flush and wet as she sobbed the thing she almost couldn't bare to say. "P.. p.. please. Hit... me...." a deep breath." Hit me w... with the other.... The other whip-p."
  Mr. Stafford stopped and looked at her face. Heather felt totally ashamed as she cried under his stare. Then he nodded solemnly and reached for the nasty looking instrument.
  She closed her eyes, committed, and let the burning run through her without fighting it anymore. This would be over soon.
  He wasted no time and she felt the awful first blow just above her mound. It felt like it ripped into her for a second and then became bareable again. At least he was starting close and she would have to suffer her whole body being ripped into with the bad whip.
  The next blow landed right over her private front and she felt the powerful sting jolt her body to freeze solid. The room tilted upside down and she thought she would fall to the ceiling, but another swing snapped her out of that weird sensation and that sense of doom made it's presence felt deep inside of her.
  She couldn't concentrate on anything more than the moment and lived between each horrible beat of the whip, with the blows launching her into fits of electric light and shock.
  The sense of doom got closer and Heather saw it for what it was. She welcomed it and then she was propelled into a euphoria of pains which made her feel like she was screaming. As they finally subsided after a forever, she realized that she had been screaming. Her throat felt very raw for certain.
  She remembered why she didn't fight the second time before passing out.

  Heather didn't think she was out for very long. When she awoke, she was still on the table, although her arms and legs were unbound and stretched out. She had also been treated with the healing cream everywhere except the private area itself.
  She felt a deep throb, more like a pounding, there and could feel what was left of the lump in her butt hole breaking up. She felt weak but not too weak to lift herself up. It hurt to sit strait so she leaned to the side while she got her bearings.
  Nobody else was there with her and it was dark out. The back of her head hurt a little too. Maybe she had been laying there for a while.
  Finally, since there was nothing else to do, Heather scooted gently off of the table. Her legs felt wobbly but she'd been through that before now. She was able to walk to where her garment was and she let it slide over her head.
  Mr. Stafford was sitting in the living room, reading. He put the book down and looked at her calmly. Heather stood in front of him like she had been taught to.
  "Do you feel cleansed properly now?" he asked her. Heather nodded. "Yes. That was very enlightened of you to ask for something that your animal side would have run from. I'm impressed. Take off you outfit."
  Heather blinked before she understood that last part. Was he going to treat her or rape her? She didn't know, but since she could ask to be beaten, stripping seemed minor now.
  She stood naked in front of Mr. Stafford and he looked her little body up and down. Heather tried not to fidget. So he was looking at her naked, he'd been doing allot worse to her. This should be nothing. It was still unnerving.
  She didn't see him pull out the brighter garment until he handed it to her. It was the dress he'd bought for her at the market before the ugly ordeal.
  It brought back memories and Heather felt mixed feelings about it. It looked more comfortable then what she'd been wearing lately, and she might be able to sleep in it. She would like to have something on at night just for her dignity.
  Heather gently took it from his hand. It seemed like a collection of strings and squares of a thin cotton type of cloth. She had no idea how it was supposed to wear on her.
  Mr. Stafford saw the confusion and he leaned forward to help her with it. Heather almost shied back from him but stopped figuring he wasn't going to hurt her anymore. He had already just done that earlier.
  With his help, she had it on her slim body correctly, but it didn't feel like she was wearing it right. It was a soft light, but thick, string around the back of her neck and it ran down the sides of her chest in front of her shoulders and around the back of her lower back before coming around the front and joining below her belly, just barely above her hairless mound. On it was draped three short squares of light cloth which simple hung to cover her tiny button nipples, and her front private area as well as some of her back butt cheeks.
  Heather had the impression it was the kind of outfit a stripper would wear, or maybe a belly dancer.
  Mr. Stafford asked her to turn around for him and she felt more embarrassment with it on then if she were naked. She turned slowly and came back around to see him smiling at her.
  He was getting excited by looking at her! Heather's mouth dropped. He was a pervert! All this time she thought he was doing things to her for the reasons he had been telling her, as cruel as they were, like to bare him a child or for religious reasons.
  But to get sexually attracted to a nine year old girl.... And he had been beating her to! He probably liked doing that as well!
  Heather again felt hatred towards this... this thing who called himself a man. He had been beating and raping her here for months.
  Heather just realized something else. He had been making her orgasm while doing it.








         HEADLINE:
      KILLER CONFESSES TO BRUTAL MURDER
      (ap)A man has confessed to
      the killing and kidnap/murder
      of Heather Doe and her mother,
      Lindsy Doe Prosecuters say they
      will recommend the death penalty
      for Sancho Miguel, a migrant
      worker who was caught last month
      with a credit card stolen from
      Lindsy doe, the murdered mother.
      Miguel confessed after a 4 day
      interview with police during which
                           cont page 23




  Her life became routine again. Cleaning, cooking, bathing him, drinking his potions, and being tied down and whipped lightly before he would force his way into her tiny body and try to get her pregnant.
  Then there were the cleansings as he called them. He wouldn't rape her during those times, but he managed to bring her to those painful/pleasurable conclusions every time. He even refused to use the heavy whip, forcing her to ask for it again, further humiliating her to him.
  Heather came to feel that those times were at least about her and not him. For some reason, she knew she felt more pleasure than he did during the cleansings, despite them being accompanied by massive pain.
  The garment still felt naked to her and she didn't like the way she would sometimes catch him looking at her when she worked in front of him, but he tried to hide it anyway and even looked embarrassed himself when caught.
  She wore it to bed too.
  Heather became used to it and it never seemed to get cold even at night.

  She awoke one night from a thunderstorm and heard massive amounts of rain fall. She hadn't heard rain forever and it made her realize how long she'd been here. She had no idea what month it was. She felt lost.
  The rain kept her awake most of the night and scared her.

  Then the day came that she found blood coming from her private area. Heather was scared that the beatings had finally torn her open and she would bleed to death without a doctor or hospital. She ran to the bathroom to get toilet paper to stop it with.
  Mr. Stafford was sitting on the toilet when she came to a screeching halt at the door. She had no idea what to say. He saw the blood and actually became concerned for her.
  Then he started to laugh out loud. This angered Heather but she didn't say anything. Then he scooped her up and she felt panic, but he was dancing with her instead. She felt uncomfortable being held like that but he didn't care. Why would he be so happy that she might die?
  Then he told her. "Your having your period!" he beamed. "Soon I'll have my child."
  Heather felt relief at finding she wasn't going to die, then fear at being pregnant, then hope at being able to go home soon. Too many feelings at once. She didn't know what to feel as a whole.
  Then he put her down and when to do something with excitement. Heather needed company right then and he was all she had, so she followed him into his room.


  Mr. Stafford was marking something in a notebook and looking around his side, saw that it was a calender. She read the month.
  It read "February".
  Heather had been here for most of a year! Then he left to do something else with excitement and she was left standing there alone with the horrible truth. She had turned Ten a few months back and didn't know it.
  The shock wore off and was replaced with a deep sadness. Heather fell to the floor and cried her eyes out.

  A week after the end of her period was followed by constant breeding attempts. Heather spent a good part of each day belted to the table in various positions while Mr. Stafford ejaculated into her as often as his body would allow. Sometimes without even a whipping first.
  Heather preferred him to whip her lightly. It made her feel as if she wasn't cooperating with him as much, and she gotten pretty used to the feel so it didn't hurt much at all.
  She became pretty sore inside at the end of that week and then they went back to the normal routine.
  A few weeks later, she had another period. She didn't like the way they felt to her, in part of what they meant would be happening to her soon, and also because of sudden fits of anger or sadness. She talked back to Mr. Stafford once during those times and he slapped her face quickly. It stung and she felt shock from it before seething, but she remembered to hold her tongue afterwards.
  Then it was time to breed again and she found herself back on the table with a full grown man forcing himself deep into her person repeatedly.
  One time she woke on the table and found that she had been tied there all night. Mr. Stafford came in not to long after and raped her without even a word. His breath stunk that time and it turned her stomach.

  She waited for her next period, but it never came.
  Heather was pregnant.
  She started to worry nights about it. She was still a kid by her standards, though she knew that in many countries, girls had children when they weren't much older than her. And here she was, in one of them. And pregnant too.
  But there were no hospitals or doctors like back home. What if something went wrong and she died? Would her family even know?
  Family! She hadn't thought about them in months. Or was it longer? Why didn't her mother try to find her? Or maybe she has been. Was her father still in prison? They had given him a 46 months, but he might have gotten out early for good behavior.
  Maybe they were trying to trace her from airport records. Heather couldn't remember much of anything about her flying here at all now, and the phone card her mother had given her was long gone now. Probably used up or cancelled.
  Heather was going to have a baby. She laid with her belly showing at night to see if any changes were happening yet.
  It was Mr Stafford's baby in her. It was a little sickening to her to think about that so she'd try not to. She still hated him, but not as much now, though he should have went to jail, not her father. But then he did lose his family because of her father. But maybe he had been treating them bad as well, and they were better off dead.
  She remembered him crying over a picture.
  Heather found her emotions more confusing lately. She couldn't stop thinking about her having a baby either.

  The whippings stopped for a few months, although she was still working the house pretty hard on some days. She found she would sometimes discharge too and it would make her feel gross.
  A few mornings, she woke up sick and Mr. Stafford told her it was natural. He even rubbed her back a few nights and though she would be afraid still, found that it did make her relax. Maybe the pregnancy would make him treat her better.
  Heather noticed her belly growing slightly just under her belly button. She wondered how big she would get.

  Then one day, Mr. Stafford consulted a calender and then ordered her onto the table. Heather was shocked at that, thinking he must need to treat her for something. But when he stripped her naked and buckled her face up and spread apart, she saw him holding the small whip and didn't understand.
  He whipped her pretty hard, taking care to avoid her belly. Heather cried and squirmed. She did remember to hold onto the ropes though. Her face screwed up with sobbing, she asked him why afterwards.
  Mr. Stafford explained. "I want a girl. There is a period when the sex of the baby can be influenced and prevent a male if the mother is stressed during that period."
  "But what if you kill it?" she asked, still sobbing.
  "Would you rather carry it to full term and then have to do it all over again if it's a boy?" Heather didn't even want this one. She shook her head. "Well, then. You'll have to just go along with this, won't you?"
  Those few months were the worst.
  Sometimes, instead of beating her, he would bind her up tightly on the table in an contorted position, taking care not to pressure her womb in any way, and leave her like that for hours. It would end up being pretty painful to move after she was released from that.
  Other times, she would be forced to hold herself there on all fours while he whipped her private area, threatening to use the heavy whip if she moved. Heather would cry during the whole time.
  But the worst thing he did was give her a choice between the heavy whip or his putting his penis into her mouth and making her suck on it until he ejaculated and then making her swallow it. This really made Heather sick to her stomach, but anything was better then the heavy whip.
  But when she started to get used to him having sex with her mouth, he forced himself hard into her throat, choking her and then ejaculating right into the back of her throat and strait into her belly.
  She wouldn't let him near her face the next time and he didn't bother to tie her down for the big whip. He simply picked up one ankle and whipped at her crotch while she tried to twists free from his grip. If she put her hands between her legs, he whip at her harder and everywhere else until she was exhausted and could no longer fight. That was pretty bad, but it didn't end there.
  Heather was starting to show and she looked pretty big already because of her age and small size. Her once tiny nipples were also starting to grow and become lumps as well.
  Mr. Stafford whipped them as well and they really felt sensitive to his blows. 

  Heather hated every day during the first months of her pregnancy. She woke up with dread, spent the day in fear and terror, and went to bed miserable and in pain.
  The last things he did to her were pretty painful and almost unbearable. He had her on all fours and whipped her crotch and then got on behind her and entered her private area, but not deeply. Just enough to get his thing wet then he pulled it out and pressed it slowly into her butt hole. Heather tried to clench herself tight but he worked himself into her and it was a pain worse than any of her rapes had been. He went as deep into her as he could too.
  It was a sickening thing to feel him inside there. It felt so stretched out from his size and she thought he was almost up to her chest. He held still for a moment and then started to push and pull himself in and out of her which sent little spikes of fire up her colon.
  He ejaculated into her there, but she couldn't feel it happen.
  Then the last thing he did to her the next day was to tie her face up and spread on the table, but this time with a cloth under her. Then he held lit candles and let the wax drop onto her body from her toes to her neck, concentrating the most on her most sensitive places.
  He left her like that for most of the day, which became uncomfortable simply because she couldn't move.

  Then one day, it was over.
  Heather was getting quite a belly on her and started to have back problems from it. She couldn't believe how big the baby inside her was getting. Heather had serious concerns about it's size and giving birth to it, or her she now thought. She felt sure it was a girl not just because of Mr. Stafford, but because... well, she just knew.
  Mr. Stafford was a kidnapper, rapist, child abuser, wife beating monster to her. But the baby didn't know that. The baby hasn't done anything wrong. She wished she could take the baby with her and keep the cruel monster from getting his prize.
  That would be great!
  Heather couldn't think of any way she could make that happen.

  The last month was torture. She was too heavy to move and her belly was huge. Heather couldn't even stand up. She could see cracks in her skin from it being horribly stretched out and knew it would be that way forever.
  There was no way she could pass this baby through her private area.
  Then she started her labor and Mr. Stafford moved her to her table where her ankles were lightly buckled apart and her wrists were buckled as well, but this time with a lot of slack.
  Some towns people were there to help including a couple of women. They wiped her sweat and held her hands but nobody spoke to her. Nobody spoke any English at all in fact.
  She was in labor for almost the whole day. Heather was very weak, but she couldn't eat or sleep. It was something like the nightmares from her public beating and rape and she kept thinking it was the end of the world.
  The relief she felt when the baby finally passed through her was so satisfying that she laughed out loud and didn't care if she was beat for it.
  Nobody beat her. She was given the baby to hold and felt wonder. She had done that!
  Mr. Stafford named the baby "Shanry" with the accent on the second syllable. It was his first wife's name he said.
  He came over to where she was sitting with a baby bottle after everybody left and told her that she would be going home soon.
  "You have completed your final task now. I will book you on a flight as soon as you are able to walk." He stopped a moment and then asked the question that even Heather had thought about. "Unless you would like to stay here and raise the child with me."
  Heather thought about it for only a moment. She looked at the baby. Hell, she thought, she was still a kid herself. This place was a living hell for her. She didn't want to be stuck with a screaming baby on top of that.
  "No. I'm going home like you promised!" Then with a worry. "Will you really let me go?"
  "I would rather you stay and help me. I've grown quite fond of you, you know. But I am a man of my word." The look on her face told him she wouldn't be changing her mind. "I won't keep you."

  The flight home was almost a blur. She was taken to an airport and Heather paid attention to everything. She knew where she was finally and had been given a shirt and pair of jeans before the trip.
  Mr. Stafford didn't ride on the plane with her. He stood at the gate with little Shanry. Heather planned on really bitching him out for all the misery. She wanted to see him dead. She wanted to tell him how much she hated him. She wanted to kill him and take Shanry away to an foster home.
  But when it was time to go, the words didn't happen. She just wanted to be done with it all. No hugs or kisses. No cussing. Nothing.
  One last look at the baby she'd been forced to carry, but it didn't feel like hers anymore. It never did. She looked at it and felt more like she used to before this whole thing started.
  Heather was almost eleven now and she wanted to be a kid again.
  Mr. Stafford handed her a card and sheet of paper and then she departed. She held them without thinking about them for an hour into the flight. Then she remembered and looked.
  It was a phone card, maybe the same one, and a short letter explaining that her mother was dead but her father would be glad to see her again. It had his phone number. He was out of jail. Heather felt loss at her mother being dead but had nothing to cry. She rubbed her face to see if this was a dream and felt the collar on her neck.
  She almost couldn't rip it off fast enough.

  Heather made headlines back home. A national committee was formed to find the vile crook who had done so much damage to an innocent child. Speeches were made, international actions undertaken, and world wide searches as well.
  Nobody ever found Mr. Stafford or the child he made Heather bare him.
  Heather never got the chance to be a kid. She never could get close to her father. She blamed him for getting her into the whole mess in the first place.
  The attention died down and Heather went on with her life.
  She hated Mr. Stafford and dreamed of beating him and making him pay for his crimes.
 

________________________________



  Shanry was excited. She would be turning nine soon and her father told her about a surprise coming today to their little house near a village by the mountain. She did her chores as fast as she could.
  Her father told her how proud of her he was. She had learned English as well, since they spoke it around the house, and he had taught her from home anyway because there were no schools for her. He told her she had a good work ethic.
  An old Chevy cab pulled up to the house on the hill where they lived. A young woman got out with a suitcase and walked up unsurely to the front door.
  Shanry's father opened the door for her and they looked at each other at eye level. The young woman gasped a little at first but steeled herself for the visit.
  "Mr. Stafford." she said.
  Shanry sided with her father and looked at the woman at the door. She seemed like a strong willed and smart person. It must be her personal teacher, Shanry thought.
  Pop spoke with a smile. "Hello Heather. I'm very glad you came back." Then he turned to his daughter and said, "I'd like you to meet your mother. She's come back to live with us again."


  END




