My apologies for the long wait since my last story but I hope your patience will be rewarded. All characters in this story are over eighteen years of age.
I was twenty-three when my father sold me. I didn't realise at the time that that was what was happening. I only worked it out later. He would tell it differently, but it amounts to the same thing. To be fair, I don't blame him, and he wasn't to know the consequences of his action.
When I left school, I went to work in the local town. There was a big biscuit and cake factory there which hired girls straight from the local school. It was regular work, and my parents were grateful of the extra money coming in. Then, last year, it all fell apart. The firm went bust and the factory closed. All the workers, including me, were made jobless. The town was devastated as they were the main employer. I simply stayed at home as there was no other option.
My name is Laura and I'm twenty-three and I admit that I didn't cover myself in glory. For nearly a year I lazed about the house doing almost nothing to help out. I frittered away what meagre money I got from the state by going out and partying. I tried to ignore the fact that my mother and father both worked hard to keep their home and feed us. In the end, my father lost patience with me. And so, he sold me to the squire.
That's not exactly how he put it one night after dinner. He started by berating me for my laziness around the house, about my failure to provide for myself or to contribute to the household generally. He had, however, solved that problem.
"I've got you a job at Squire Joshua's," he informed me with a triumphant glint in his eye.
I sat quietly, shocked at the news, and confused. "But ..."
"There will be no 'buts', my girl. Its arranged and there's no saying no," he said with finality.
I glanced sideways at my mother but was greeted with a smirk. I started to realise that my bad behaviour had finally reached their breaking point and they had conspired to organise this. I opened my mouth to protest but my father stopped me by slamming the handle of his knife down on the table.
"You start in the morning," he explained, "I'm to take you there for nine o'clock. It's a live-in job so you'll need to pack a few things. And that's an end to it."
I looked from one to the other, but I could tell straight away that argument was pointless. I scowled at them both and stood up and then fled from the room. I'm sure you could have heard the slam of the door as I left several streets away. In my bedroom I flung myself onto the bed and burst into tears.
It was dark when my mother knocked on my door and then came in. I glanced at her through my tangled hair, looking for sympathy but I found none. Her face was set in an expression of determination.
"It's your own fault," she said, with a hard edge to her voice that was unfamiliar, "if you'd looked for a job, or given us some money ..."
I sat up on the side of the bed trying to look like a lost waif. Mother simply stood in the doorway; arms folded across her ample bosom.
"It's all decided. You won't need much, just a few nightclothes. Uniform's provided. Better get some sleep. Father's taking you there in the morning."
With that she left, closing the door none too quietly as she did so, and I was left with my thoughts. Could I run away? At first the idea seemed good but then practicalities kicked in. I had no money; I had spent everything I ever earned. The nearest town was over ten miles away and the buses had stopped hours ago. I felt trapped. Maybe this was my destiny. Maybe it wouldn't be so bad after all. After a few more minutes of feeling sorry for myself I became resigned to my fate.
I dragged the small suitcase down from the top of my wardrobe and then rooted through my drawers. I picked out a few sets of my best underwear and folded them neatly and put them in, leaving the best out to wear in the morning. As the job was now a foregone conclusion, I was determined to make a good impression. I put my spare nightdress in and a few toiletries and that was about it. I could add a few things in the morning. Anything I'd forgotten I was sure I could come back for later. After all, it was only a mile or so away.
I was woken up the next morning by an impatient hammering on my door. Somehow, on this most important of days, I had managed to oversleep. I scrambled out of bed and dressed as quickly as I could. Briefly I wondered if the top I had chosen was a little too revealing but decided it would have to do. it was my best and newest and I wasn't endowed with much up top anyway, so it revealed very little. I dashed downstairs where mother had organised a pot of tea and some toast. Father scowled from across the room where he was pacing up and down, continuously looking at his watch. I gobbled down a slice of toast and took a few gulps of tea before he announced that it was time to leave.
He strode rapidly through the back lanes to go the short distance to the big house, and I struggled to keep up. He only slowed down when we got to the front gate and he waited for me to catch up. Before us was a long gravel drive that curved to the right behind a row of trees, obscuring the house from view.
"Leave the talking to me. There's no need for you to speak unless spoken to and then be as polite as you can. Understood?"
I nodded and followed him as he set off along the drive. The house appeared huge and very intimidating. Although I had lived in the same place for years, this was the first time I had seen it. I know nothing about styles of architecture, I just knew it was old. I followed father as he veered off from the main drive and went to the side of the house. He stopped at a small door and rang a bell. It was opened by a woman, severely dressed in a charcoal grey business suit and a white blouse, neatly buttoned to her chin. She looked to be about forty as she looked us both up and down. Without a word she turned and walked back into the gloomy interior leaving the door swinging open. I followed Father into the house.
We managed to follow the woman thanks to brief glimpses as she swept along before us or through the click-clack of her sensible shoes as they echoed along the corridors. We caught up with her outside a grand doorway where she motioned for us to wait while she went inside. I glanced at father and he was looking even more nervous than I was. Then the huge door opened, and the woman beckoned us in.
The room was grand beyond my imagination. The ceiling was higher than the roof of our house and there seemed to be gold everywhere. Everything glittered in the bright sunlight that streamed through the enormous windows. I'm not sure how old the man was, I find it difficult to judge the age of old people. I was guessing but I thought he was around sixty. He was lounging on a long sofa and was dressed in a light grey suit. He stood up as we came in. I was made to stand in the centre of the room, my father slightly off to one side. I suddenly felt that all eyes were upon me.
The man in the suit slowly walked towards me. He stopped about six feet in front of me and, taking his time, he looked me up and down. I felt myself blush under his scrutiny. I was sure his gaze lingered at the neckline of my top. Had I chosen foolishly? Should I have worn something more chaste? But his eyes moved on, all the way to my feet and then back to my face. With slow footsteps and hands clasped behind him he circled around me, like a predator with a trapped prey. I felt my blush spreading and was shocked when he groped at my breasts, feeling for my aroused and hardened nipples. I expected and waited for a protest from my father, but he remained silent. I was relieved when he released me and walked back to the couch and sat down. While still looking at me he spoke to my father.
"Well, Thomas, looks like you've raised a pretty filly. How old is she?"
"She's just turned twenty-three, sir."
"A little older than we usually take but nevertheless I think she'll fit in quite nicely. What think you, Alice?" he said, addressing the severe woman.
"She has the right looks, sir. She'll need proper training of course."
