Verse 2: The girl told the farmer

Sweet violets, sweeter than the roses,
Running all over from head to toe,
Covered all over with sweet violets.

Arms were surrounding her again -- his arms. They made Michelle feel safe and warm. And, combined with the orgasms she had just had, she felt better than she could remember ever feeling before. The strangeness of laying uncovered on a lawn in the afternoon shade and letting a man touch her so intimately was kept masked by the wonderful feelings.

But when he released her, she felt cold and lonely.

"Come on sweetheart. Let's find our clothes. We have lots to do." John moved from behind her and stood.

His body was naked, as well, and Michelle had trouble keeping her eyes off of his nakedness. He was hard, wanting her, and that reminded her of how she had felt when he touched her and how much she wanted him, as well.

Seconds, or maybe minutes later, she roused herself. "What do we have to do?" She asked in a tiny voice, only beginning to move. "Clothes?" Now she remembered that she was naked, and quickly reached to cover her pointing breasts and dripping wet vulva with her tiny hands. That was not very successful, but she felt a little less bare as she sighed and looked around for her clothes.

John had pulled his pants, boots, and shirt on by this time, and was heading back towards her carrying her clothes. When he stretched out his hands to give the pile to Michelle, she had to decide -- and quickly -- whether to keep her hands covering herself, or reach for the clothes and leave her body open to his gaze. She sighed and reached for the offered garments.

His deep blue eyes followed her motions. For a just few seconds, Michelle did not know what to do -- she should dress, but he was watching her. Another sigh, and she stood and began the process of covering the parts of her body at which he was clearly staring. She turned around, to hide her wet genitals and her stiff nippled breasts from his eyes, and bent to try and put her panties back on. His deep inhalation let her know that, bent the way she was, nothing was hidden. A blush ran from the top of her head and poured down her body. Ignoring him as well as she could, she pulled the rest of her clothes on, sitting down at the last to tie her tennis shoes. He was staring at the point where her legs, widely spread to lace up her shoes, met; she could feel how wet it was there -- surely he could see it as well through the thin shorts and the tiny panties.

"Let's go. I need you to do at least one load of laundry this afternoon. You can come back tomorrow to finish whatever you can't finish today." There was a smile on his face, but Michelle was not sure if it was from pleasure or from her embarrassment.

"What laundry?" For a moment, Michelle was confused.

Pulling his hand out of one of his pockets, Michelle saw he was holding some kind of remote control. When he pushed a few buttons, their voices (and other sounds) emerged from hidden speakers.

"I could teach you. You could learn to grow flowers. Maybe, in a little while, you could learn to grow vegetables with the flowers. Probably washing clothing would not be too hard for you."

Michelle's voice sounded as a gasp.

"Would you like me to teach you about tiny growing things? About fertility? And flowers and seeds growing?"

Another gasp, followed by a lustful moan sounded in Michelle's voice, through the speakers. "Please? Teach me? I'll do anything."

"Close your eyes, spread your legs, and breathe deeply. I will teach you, starting with laundry."

This was followed by sounds that were clearly Michelle in orgasm.

Another button was pressed, and the recording stopped. Then John continued, "You wanted to learn about laundry. I plan to teach you. If it comes right down to cases, those clothes you are wearing could stand a wash, and so could you. If you like, we can share a shower while the clothes go through a quick cycle." His smile now was clearly lustful.

A shiver went through her body as Michelle considered his words. She would have to be naked with him again. But she wasn't ready to give up control, so she fell back on an attack that had served her well before. "Wait until my Daddy hears what you did to me. He will have you in jail so fast you won't know how you got there!"

A slight lifting of his eyebrows was the only response. "Oh? You want him to hear this recording? Or would you rather learn about laundry?"

"Fine!" Now she was pissed. "But no showers. And no nudity."

The girl told the farmer that he'd better stop,
And she called her father and he called a...

"Cop a feel any time I want. I'll touch your cute butt or squeeze your sweet boobs. You didn't mind it at all when I was doing it before." They had walked away from the sensuously soft lawn and headed to the tiny house. Up on the wide porch, he showed her the washer and dryer. First, he taught her about washing clothes and let her start preparing the piles of dirty ones surrounding the machines. Now John was explaining to Michelle that, since they were lovers, he could touch her.

This caused competing reactions inside Michelle. She remembered how wonderful his hands had made her feel; she also remembered that she was an adult, educated female, and didn't want to be controlled by any man. "If you do, I will call Daddy! He will believe me when I say you raped me and you will be in big trouble, maybe even in prison. You will be sorry!"

"Do you have the laundry sorted?" Somehow, John's voice seemed normal, while hers was close to a screech. "Then, put it in the washer and start the first load."

As she bent to comply, John's fingers slid down over her tight tennis shorts and managed to streak across the space between her legs. Michelle groaned, then jumped away from his lower hand and found his upper hand pressed tightly against her breasts, pinching her hard nipples.

"That does it! I'm calling Daddy." As she dialed, Michelle noticed how hot she had gotten again; how liquid from her vagina was soaking her shorts, and how her nipples were pointing through her bra and her tee shirt. "Daddy? Please, Daddy, come out to the McGregor farm and give me a ride home? You will? Wonderful! See you soon, Daddy." Now, she smirked at John. "You will see now. Daddy will take care of you, but good!"

Incredibly, she continued with loading the machine and started the cycle. Each time she bent over for more clothes, she flushed, remembering his fingers on her. When she finished, he was standing, just watching her, and she noticed that she was panting again.

he called a
Taxi and got there before very long,
'Cause someone was doing his little girl...

"Wrong! Michelle, there is no rape! You can't send a man to prison because you changed your mind. You have not had anything to eat or drink, so you could not have been drugged. He never hit you, or pushed, or used any type of physical coercion. You don't seem to have ever said anything remotely close to 'Stop' so he could not have gone against your wishes. You have no case. Just because a man likes you and you like him, you can't throw him in jail." Mr. Anthrope was a trial lawyer, and a good one. He made a fine living keeping people out of jail, or throwing them in it. With the exception of the frustrations caused by his daughter, he had a good life. (Well, there were monetary expenses she'd caused, as well, when he'd had to buy her out of some scrape she'd gotten herself into.)

Turning to John, he continued. "I'm sorry to have caused you this trouble. I will take her home and we won't bother you any more." Now, he was waiting for the usual explosion of anger and the demand for payback; but it did not happen.

Instead, John replied in his calm voice, "Your apology is accepted. But she still promised to wash my laundry. I will expect her her no later than noon tomorrow to complete that chore." He turned to Michelle and looked deeply into her eyes. "I will come get you if you think you might need a ride."

Mr. Anthrope was more than surprised when his daughter continued staring into the farmer's eyes and responded. "Please pick me up at 10 o'clock."

John McGregor smiled at Michelle, nodded his agreement, and brushed a stray hair off of her cheek. Michelle shivered, then blushed when she saw her father staring at her. "Oh. Wear something you can get dirty; we can start on gardening then, as well."

She started to turn even more red, but not from blushing. No MAN was going to make her dig in the dirt! And she would wear whatever she wanted; her fashions would not be at the whim of a farmer with fertilizer under his fingernails. Before Michelle could say anything, John spoke, and so astounded her that she had no reply.

"If it helps any, I will formally ask you for permission to court your daughter, Mr. Anthrope. And, with your permission, I can ask her for her hand in marriage. With those formalities, there will be no further talk of rape. And she can ask for the engagement to be canceled later, if she desires. Is that agreeable?"

John looked at Mr. Anthrope, who nodded, but looked startled. When Michelle did not move, he took her hand, stared into her eyes, and ordered, "Say yes."

Michelle squeaked, "Yes!"

someone was doing his little girl
Right for a change and so that's why he said,
"If you marry her son, you're better off...

"Dead surprised. That's what I was -- dead surprised when my little girl said yes to your proposal." Mr. Anthrope was chatting with John later that day. "Of course, I was just as surprised when you proposed. Wait a moment, please." The telephone made a knocking sound as Mr. Anthrope set it down on his desk. There were footsteps receding, then returning to the phone. "I needed to check. Sometimes she or her mother will listen outside my door. And I wanted this part of our conversation to be private."

He took a deep breath. "I don't know if you are aware, but Michelle has often been in trouble. I had to make sizable donations to the first three Universities she attended so they would drop the charges. The fourth accepted so many transfer credits that she managed to finish her degree before they wanted to throw her out, as well. She doesn't drive because she was arrested for drunk driving in High School -- three times. My little girl has long been a wild child."

There was silence for a few seconds, as if he was waiting for John to say something, then he continued, but in a lower tone. "I wouldn't blame you if you wanted to cancel the engagement. It has happened before, more often that I like to recall. Once they find out how she acts, they want nothing more to do with her. I mean, she IS my daughter, and I love her, but she can be a handful sometimes. I guess she gets it from her mother."

Finally, John broke in. "I have no plans to call off the engagement. I fully intend to marry her. But I need to get her ready first."

"Get her ready? What does that mean?"

"It means that she will do what I say when I ask her. She may need some training; and it might be embarrassing for her, but I need you to back me up. Can you and your wife bring Michelle over tomorrow for her laundry lesson? I need witnesses."

"This won't hurt her, will it?" Now, he sounded like a concerned father.

"Nothing permanent. No emotional scarring, no deep bruises to her soul. But she might need a spanking before this is through. Is that all right with you? Nothing worse than a spanking, I swear. And if it works correctly, she will be much happier, after."

"Agreed. We will see you at ten o'clock tomorrow morning. My wife will be shocked to know that Michelle is learning to do laundry, and gardening."

you're better off
Single, for that's always been my belief:
Marriage will bring a man nothing but...

"Grief comes when what one needs is impossible to achieve." John was explaining to Mr. and Mrs. Anthrope his philosophy about life and love. "Joy comes when one attempts a demanding task and completes it. The difficulty is in distinguishing between what one needs and what one wants. I have decided that I no longer wish to remain single and that I want to marry Michelle. If I can get her to see that she can want the same thing, and we can work on it together, we can both have joy."

Of course, it was mostly BS, but it kept them happy for long enough for his plan to move on. Events would follow their own course after that, and, he hoped, would successfully end up where he planned for them to go. The next step was setting the trap.

Three thousand-dollar bills appeared from John's pocket and he showed them to the trio standing in front of him. "Based on a quick survey, this should be more than enough to pay for a top-of-the-line wedding outfit for Michelle."

The parents were about to object, but he continued on. "I want to do this. Of course, you two can pay for the church, the flowers, and so forth, but I want to pay for the dress. Is that all right?"

They just nodded.

Then John turned to Michelle, waving the bills in front of her eyes. When he was sure he had her attention fixated on the money, he told her, "I want you to pick out the perfect wedding outfit and pay for it with this money. That is what I want you to wear for our wedding -- the outfit you picked out yourself and paid for with this money, and nothing else. Is that agreed?"

Since she could buy a very nice wedding gown for one thousand dollars, the amount offered would pay for something she could dream of for years to come. She agreed, and quickly.