This is a work of fiction, any resemblance to persons living, dead or otherwise is purely coincidental. The ideas and thoughts that follow are pure fantasies. In real life, at the very least they would be unpleasant and probably illegal. Fantasies are like that; daydreams where we can contemplate and imagine the sensations without suffering or inflicting the pain, despair or humiliation.
Clive. - A Gift
"Oh shit, here comes Mother and it sounds as if she's bringing a visitor. Why does she have to disturb me when I'm working? She knows I'm pushed for time to get this car put together in time for the race."
"He's probably in his workshop. We'll go straight in because he'll get annoyed if he has to stop and open the door." I didn't even look up when I heard the door open and Mother exclaim, "Clive dear, I've bought you a present. Get inside where he can see you girl."
Girl? Bought? Reluctantly I put the injector assembly carefully on the bench, turned and saw this dirty figure nervously standing, head bowed, just inside the door. "Obviously a 'paup' from one of the camps on the other side of town where mother did her charity work," I thought. "Take her away and get your money back mother, I don't want or need her. Whatever possessed you to buy her? One of your do-gooder deeds I suppose. I've enough problems with this engine if I'm to get it tuned up for the race on the weekend after next, without having to deal with the neurotic emotions of some girl."
"No Clive I'm not taking her back, she'll be better off with you, however mean you are. She's one of the paupers from Shanty Town I met when supervising the food kitchen. In any case, she's legally yours and legally your responsibility, I had all the official paperwork done at the mayor's office and we've been to the doctor's and he's taken a blood sample and given her a booster contraception shot. You should get the result of her tests on your comms screen within an hour and copies of the documents should be on there too."
"I don't want her mother. You knew that I wouldn't want a girl, attractive or not, and certainly not that dirty heap of bones and trash rag." Tears rolled down the girl's face but I ignored them. "Why didn't you ask me first?"
"Because I knew what your answer would be and because you've become too self-centred and only think of yourself and that precious hover racing car. You've no thought for other people, people who are worse off than we are. You hardly speak to me and your sister sees precious little of you these days. You've no social life at all and I despair of you ever finding a girl to marry and give me grandchildren. Now you've GOT to look after someone because if you don't and the authorities find out, you're likely to be in trouble. You should know the rules concerning the welfare of personal assistants, that's what I told them she'd be employed as, and if you don't know them, the rules are in with the other documents. She's fitted with a collar with your name and ID number so forget about the car for a bit and look after your P-A. Dinner is in an hour, get her cleaned up, and yourself too, and make sure you don't keep cook waiting. It's time you learned to care for others. Had your father still been alive, I'm sure he would have agreed with me that in the long run, this is for your own good." With that she flounced from the room leaving the girl crying and looking very forlorn and me angry and rebellious at having a chore I didn't want. "Typical of my bossy Mother," I thought, "She decides on something without consulting or worrying about the thoughts and feelings of others and yet she accuses me of the same thing. Then she brings in my father who died before I even knew him."
"Sit over there for five minutes while I finish putting this together," I snapped at the girl and indicated a chair in the corner. Five minutes became ten and then twenty as my mind wrestled with adjusting the aperture/mix ratios on the computer chip. A slight movement made me turn and I saw the girl squatting on the floor beside the chair, head bowed and tears running down her face. At first I thought she sat on the floor so as not to dirty the chair with her filthy clothes but afterwards learned she wasn't allowed to use any of the furniture at home.
"Get up girl, we've barely half an hour to get washed and find you something to wear ready for dinner. What's your name?"
"Elise Sir," she answered in a voice so low I hardly heard it.
"Well then Ell, come through into the bathroom and we'll try and wash some of the dirt and that disinfectant smell off you."
I have the whole of the ground floor of our three-storey house, including my late grandfather's large, well-equipped workshop, as my personal apartment. The other rooms on this floor, bedroom, bathroom, lounge and kitchen are all of a good size, but most of my non-college time is spent in the workshop on various engineering projects including the XJV racing hover car I'd named 'Mandy' after reading that bomber pilots in World War II named their planes. The facilities are there for me to cook a meal but normally I eat with mother and older sister and only use my kitchen for making of drinks and snacks.
"Come on Ell," I shouted, "Get those rags off, no need to be shy, as my P-A, I'll see all of you later anyway." I pressed the remote to start the shower going and began undressing. Elise removed her threadbare, patched tunic and skirt and I stood shocked beyond belief, when I saw her battered, bruised and welted skin and began to imagine the horror of her previous life. Perhaps mother did the right thing in getting her away from whomever she lived with, but why dump her on me? Surely there were agencies to take care of that sort of thing? I felt ashamed to look and her skinny, undernourished body, her small tits and worse, all the dreadful scaring that covered both sides of her young body. "Who did that to you?" I asked but she remained silent and didn't look me in the face. I decided time was too short to question her further and ordered her under the shower with me and with careful use of synthetic cleansers, managed to remove the dirt without causing her further pain. I did spend a little more time cleaning her tits and cunt than necessary but my mind remained half focussed on injectors, and half on not hurting her rather than on sex. At least the body driers didn't cause her further pain or abrade her skin like towels would.
Elise. - Bought
I knew I'd get another beating from Dad when I returned to our shack. He'd ordered me to bring him back a bowl of stew but we both knew the new rules; eat the food on the grass where the supervisors can see you eat. In a way the rule was a good one as it ensured that everyone who queued up in the free food line, ate the food and didn't have it forcibly taken away by others, something that would certainly have happened if I'd taken the food home. My feeble attempt to slip away brought a swift reprimand from the well-dressed woman in charge, who promptly forced me to sit in front of her where she could see me eat. I'd waited in line, my stomach making rude noises, for twenty minutes or so before getting the stew and I certainly wanted and needed the food but knew the consequences of not taking some for Dad. I lingered over the eating and only looked up when Dad roared, "Where's mine bitch?"
"You know the rules Sir," the woman said in her official voice, "If you would like a bowl of the stew, go to the end of the line and wait for your turn." I think he would have thumped her had she not two guards with laser stun guns, stood by her side.
"You're just a useless bitch," he turned back to me and I curled into a tight ball on the grass expecting to be kicked or hit, "You cost me more than I can afford and can't even provide me with a little food." From his slurred speech I knew he'd been on the homemade liquor. "I'd sell you if I thought someone would be daft enough to buy you. You haven't even the body to make a good whore."
Instead of the kick or a thump to my head I expected, from my curled up protective position I heard the cultured voice ask, "How much?" My mind raced. Would Dad really sell me? Would the woman buy me? Why would she?
"Don't be ridiculous man, I could get two well-trained maids for that price. 100 credits is more than enough, in fact you should pay me to take her off your hands to save yourself the cost of keeping her." For a few minutes they bargained over my worth regardless that I sat there and a crowd had gathered around us. I'm sure the woman could have easily paid the asking price but seemed to enjoy forcing Dad to agree to a lower amount. Eventually he sold me for 150 credits, which the woman paid in plastic tokens, and I've no doubt most of it will be spent on booze.
.... There is more of this story ...