It wasn't so bad being a kid again... Even if it was in this hellhole.
Charlene kicked off her sandals so she could keep pace with the other children. Although technically not a child herself anymore, she was starting to enjoy her new role as "one of the kids" as she scurried around in a heated game of tag with the others. The fact that there was no work to do today made it seem more like a holiday on this warm May afternoon. Her long blonde hair whipped through the breeze as she skipped around the pasture in pursuit of her playmates.
Charlene, or "The Girl" as she was referred to by the elders here, had come to reside at this farm after a series of unfortunate events. She was bright and attractive, average height with strong, cheerleader legs and 36-C tits, but had always been considered a troubled girl by her parents and teachers. She had a strong tendency towards stubborn behavior and doing things for shock value. As far as she was concerned, they didn't know shit. They just couldn't appreciate her gifted young mind and sick sense of humor.
Anyway, who the hell were her parents to make any judgments? They worked 200 miles away and commuted every day, meaning that The Girl only saw them on weekends, if she was lucky. Her mother was an emotional basket case and her father was an emotionally abusive alcoholic. What a fine pair to label her "Fucked Up".
After a year and a half of emotional outbursts and what her shrink had noted to be "negative attention-seeking behavior", The Girl's mother, with her pathetically fragile nerves could take no more and sent her to this place, the farm of a family friend. If that's what you would call it. It wasn't much of a farm or much of a friend for that matter. The family had met the matriarch of this clan as she was going door to door trying to sell horses and cattle. They were just a bunch of inbred fucks who, for some reason or another, thought they were sitting on the secrets of the universe. However, Charlene's mother didn't seem to see that and thought it would be good for her to spend some time in the country. Great. Now they had their own little slave.
Anyway, she was 18 as of last month, so she really didn't have to have anyone take care of her. It was really quite revolting the way they treated her like a child. These assholes, including the mom, grandmother, sister and brother, had managed to expand their vocabularies a little by reading old westerns and romance novels, which apparently shot their intellects right on up to ancient Greek philosophy or some shit. And then there was the endless parade of other relatives that were constantly in and out. Most of them always eyed her suspiciously and treated her like "the latest charity case".
Whatever.
The Girl had fought a great deal to reserve her opinions about anything since her stay here, quite simply because she was just outmanned. And besides, like she was told, her little snotty attitude just needed a little adjusting. Nothing a little hard work and primitive living couldn't fix.
In breaking the human will, there usually comes a point of acceptance from those meant to be broken. The Girl was there, finally. The early mornings of milking cows, chopping wood, feeding horses, and bailing hay had indeed broken her down a notch. She was too tired most of the time to think about causing a scene about anything, or most of all, boys.
Boys. The Devil's incarnates, as her mother had led her to believe. It didn't help that the elders forbid her to have any kind of social life besides weekly 4-H meetings since she came to this shit hole. What these dumb asses didn't know was it was 4-H that led to the loss of her virginity by one of the farm boys at a weekend camp three years ago. It was at best a disappointing experience, and five minutes of her young life that she would never get back.
From that point on, The Girl preferred to masturbate than have another emotionally void session of hide the wienie with some douchebag that left her with nothing more than jizz running down the crack of her ass.
What Charlene did notice with some mixture of satisfaction and apprehension was that these older men that frequented the farm were not bashful about displaying their sexual interests in her. Of course they were displayed in crude antics such as whistles and crotch grabbing, but hey, it was attention. From men. It was nice to have your femininity validated when these old bitches were constantly telling you how lazy, stupid, and inadequate you are. Even if most of these guys were dirty and repulsive.
There was one man in particular that she was told to steer clear of. Of course this piqued her interest even more. Through research via gossip amongst the other teens, The Girl understood that this guy, or Irving, as he was called, had quite the reputation of sampling the wares of many a young girl throughout the years. It was reputed that his own nieces and daughters were among them. Her initial feeling was that he was a bag of shit and should burn in hell, but curiosity and her inner desire to constantly play with fire pushed her to do just that when he was around.
These games became the only excitement The Girl had in her life. They were her sick little secrets, taunting the wolf with sheep's blood. You know, those things that women become masters of as young girls that can just as easily be passed off as innocent behavior: really getting into that grape lolli-pop, the leisurely stretch with the pronounced arch in your back that shows off a little belly ring, the tank tops that say some cute, cheeky little phrase like "Daddy's Little Girl" when you're not wearing a bra.
The games came to a screeching halt, however, when an instance of "Irving's Going To Tickle the Piss Out of The Girl" became "Holy Shit, Irving Just Grabbed a Handful of The Girl's Snatch and Bit Her Titty." From that point on she avoided him like the Plague.
From time to time though, the hormones would still kick in and remind her that she wasn't a child. Like today. Since The Girl had gotten up this morning there was that familiar awareness in the pit of her belly that made it difficult to concentrate on much of anything, especially a stupid game of tag with a bunch of little kids. Her mind began to wander more and more, and eventually The Girl set off to find a quiet place to relieve the throbbing growing between her legs. Her sorry excuse for a bedroom was out of the question. Aside from the fact that it was the size of a truck stop restroom and had holes in the walls, the house itself was bustling with the activities of the crones who lived there and their pointless banter and gossip about who was fucking who in town.
The tack room in the barn!
Perfect. There was no sign of anybody working in there today, and the tack room was just right for disappearing off the face of the earth for a spell. Without giving it any more thought, The Girl crept off in the direction of the barn as she wiped a thin film of sweat off her brow.
The tack room was nice and cool as she opened the creaky wooden door and closed it behind her. Its stone walls and narrow window near the ceiling afforded just the right atmosphere for a moment away from the reality that was her pathetic life.
