Chapter 3: Rocky

"I didn't want an apprentice at all Ali, especially not a girl who has no inclination for the work but the powers that be, have forced you on me whether I like it or not. And whether you like it or not, you've got to work for me and prove yourself competent by the end of the year, otherwise I'm stuck with you for longer or you'll get sent back to the centre for another session in the machine and start your training again." Richard 'Rocky' Mansard stood and glared at me and being in a defiant mood, I glared back. At least he'd offered me the soft seat in his office.

"I can't do any work at the moment, I'm still in too much pain. You can't make me work!"

"I thought they'd explained all that to you at the prison. While you are an apprentice, I can and will punish you if you do not work or for any other misdemeanour and if that fails, I can send you back for another round on the whipping machine. For the next year or for however long it takes to complete your apprenticeship, you do exactly as you are told, at work, at home and in my bed. That at least is one of the perks I get for having to put up with you."

Ms. Blackwood had indeed gleefully explained it in great detail but I had visions of being able to twist the man around my little finger. Now I wasn't so sure that my feminine wiles would have any effect. Broad shouldered and tall, Rocky towered above me and I knew physically I would not stand a chance in any confrontation, in fact, I was more than a little afraid of him. A hand spanking from him would hurt and I shuddered to think what the pain would be like if he used a belt or cane. I would need to use a careful, gentle approach. Not one of my strong points.

"You don't really expect me to start work until I'm free of pain from my whipping. If you read the file, you'll know that only a week ago, they whipped me front and back and did it as hard as they could. You cannot possibly know the suffering I'm going through." To my amazement he pulled off his shirt and lowered the back of his trousers; his back and arse were covered with the criss-crossing scars from whipping welts.

"You'll not be scarred like this. Until last year, they used artificial canes in the whipping machine, canes that cut deep into the flesh when applied hard, and that was the only setting then. I expect mine to show until they me put in the incinerator but yours will fade before your year is up, unless you have to have them renewed. I had a week in rehab and then had to go to a master and learn this trade and he started me straightaway like I will you. Now let's get going."

We didn't actually do any work that day. The prison authorities gave him a credit note for £4,000 to buy work clothing and a basic kit of tools for me. I would have to repay the money when my yearly income rose above the £25,000 mark. The clothing had to be orange to signify to everyone that I was a prisoner on parole and that meant visiting one of the two specialist suppliers in town. I already had two changes of the light-weight orange sweat suits the prison supplied, for the times when I wasn't working, but he said I needed something stronger and an apron for work wear. Then it was a visit to a tool store to buy stuff that I had little or no idea of what they were used for but cost the earth in credits as he never bought the cheapest. "False economy," he informed me, "Good tools will last you for the rest of your life." I didn't tell him that I would only need them for the time I was forced to be with him.

The working day was over by the time we'd finished shopping. "Let's see what your cooking skills are like Alice. Make us a meal with whatever you can find in the freezer." This caused me a little worry as cooking was not one of my strong points but I'd had to do it often enough for father before he remarried. Nevertheless it was better than the stuff we had in prison and Rocky ate it without comment except that I didn't make enough.

As I sat opposite him, I wondered that he hadn't even asked to see my body or tried to fuck me. Not that we'd had any free time during the afternoon and not that I wanted to fucked, I was very sore from all the walking and carrying of stuff, but I knew he had the right to use my body whenever he chose. "Is he gay?" I asked myself but that notion was soon dispelled when I'd finished washing-up and he took me to the bedroom to put my clothing away. "Time for us to get to know each other. It's now my turn to be master and have an apprentice to use. I had to submit to my master for long enough," he announced, "First we shower."

The bathroom was spacious and tidy in a manly way. A large shower cubicle stood in one corner with the body dryer alongside, a toilet in the other corner and a washbasin in between. He pissed in front of me and I glimpsed his prick for the first time although I tried not to watch. "Get undressed, you're not going to shower with your clothes on and I'm not going to fuck you with them on either. I'm looking forward to seeing and handling those tits after seeing the way they pushed out your tunic all afternoon." By then he'd started undressing and I knew I couldn't postpone the inevitable. Tears started flowing down my face at the thought of anyone handling my swollen breasts but I unzipped my top and forced myself to do it in front of him and watched him removed his clothing. Once again I saw the scars on his back and bum and wondered what he'd done to warrant his chastisement. From the number of stripes I guessed he'd had a Hard. Was it for violence against women? Rape? He was certainly powerful enough that no woman would stand a chance against him. I certainly wouldn't.