GET OUT! I screamed. Dad noisily entered my bedroom, slamming the door loudly against the wardrobe. The crash reverberated in my head, a head still sore and groggy from the night's drinking but, before I knew what was happening, the thin blanket and sheet zipped from the bed and sailed across the room leaving my near naked body completely exposed. GET OUT! I screamed again, GET OUT YOU FUCKING PERVERT, what the hell do you mean by coming into my room? Shit, it's only 7:30! Completely ignoring my protests, he grabbed my arm and dragged me to the bathroom and stood in the doorway.

MUM! I yelled knowing she never got up later than 6:30. She didn't appear, but I didn't have time to think about it.

It's no use calling your mother Paulie, we've both had a gut full of your behaviour. You've fifteen minutes to piss, shit, wash and dress. Don't worry about make-up, just get yourself clean so you can eat breakfast before we leave. We've put up with your bloody nonsense long enough and from today, you're out of here. You're old enough now to look after yourself. I stared at him in horror and barely took in his words but there was no mistaking the anger and bitterness in his voice.

You're throwing me out?

Sort of. He thrust me towards the toilet and growled, Get on with it, I've to be at the sale field before ten. For a girl of my age, I'm no weakling, farm work had seen to that, but I certainly wasn't a match for father and I knew I would be the one hurt if I tried to thwart him unless I had an escape route. He didn't give me a chance.

A little over an hour later, sitting on the grass with my hands tied behind my back and fastened to an ancient iron plough, my midriff bare except for Ô1,000 guineas' scrawled across it in felt tip pen, I had time to contemplate the events that led to my being there.

I hated the isolation of living on a farm with our nearest neighbours half a mile away, and they were an elderly couple that didn't have kids. Our road or lane as we referred to it, not much more than a track really, only went as far as Gill Farm at the foothills of the mountains, nearly a mile further on. We were the middle farm of the three on the lane and a mile from the Ômain road', still only a B class road, with the nearest small town twelve miles to the west. Each school day I had to walk the mile to the main road and get the special bus to the school in town and with only the one bus back, I couldn't attend any of the after school clubs unless I could arrange a lift. Only rarely would Mum and Dad take time off to collect me and there were always farm chores when I got in. We never seemed to have much money either, and being canny farmers, were loath to spend it on school events and outings they believed to be frivolous. I never went on foreign trips or even to a couple of field trips. All this and the manual farm work I was supposed to do, caused a great deal or resentment and rebelliousness in me and I frequently vociferously made my views known and either refused to do the work or did it so slovenly, someone had to do it again. Dad spanked me a couple of times and used his belt once but next morning I complained to one of the teachers who informed the authorities and they almost took me away from the farm. Somehow Dad convinced them that it wouldn't happen again but I knew that he believed they'd made a big mistake because my behaviour worsened and they then had little control over me.

I had a few friends. Janie Keats lived on the main road and her mother was more cooperative in being a taxi service. Occasionally I was able to get a lift home with her but she didn't like driving down our narrow farm road in the dark, especially with sheep wandering along or asleep on the tarmac, so she dropped me off at the junction and I had to walk the rest of the way. I wasn't short of boyfriends either, at least not when they realised I wasn't shy and there were a number of places on the farm where we could indulge in illicit sex, at least we could when the weather was dry.

My sixteenth birthday fell on Wednesday July 9th but we decided to celebrate on the following Friday because Graham, my boyfriend at the time, worked midweek evenings at the local pub. School had finished for the year so a dozen of us gathered at the bowling alley and after a couple of hours, went to the Colin's house in town because his parents were away. By midnight, only six remained and only Graham was near sober. I know at least two boys fucked me and I almost fell asleep in the car when Graham drove Janie and me home. By then it was past 3 a.m. The walk along the farm lane in the light rain sobered me up a little and I remember deliberately trying to disturb my parents by making as much noise as I could when entered the house but they must have already decided to throw me out because they didn't even shout or swear at me. Throwing my wet things on the floor, I crawled into bed and thus my near nakedness when Dad rudely woke me.

A few months ago, an architect came and viewed our old wooden clad barn. We didn't use it much these days because it was in need of repair and we'd had a modern metal clad structure to replace it. The architect sort to turn it into an upper class dwelling and eventually obtained the necessary planning permission and Dad sold it to him. The price he got more than paid for the new barn but I didn't see any of the money. I didn't even get a new pair of jeans out of it. Perhaps if I'd been nicer to them, I would have but it wasn't in my nature to beg for things.

As long as I can remember, Dad has been a collector, in his words, or a hoarder, in mother's words, of old farm machinery that he stored in the barn. Steam engine bits, gas engines, old binders and balers, wooden hay rakes and many other items including the iron plough from the 1920's that I was tied to. With nowhere now to store them, Dad decided to sell the lot and through a network of clubs and farm organisations, advertised the sale and auction. He certainly didn't advertise me! At that time I figured it was all a bit of a joke with him trying to get his own back on me. You can't sell me, I'm not an animal or a slave. You'll bloody-well end up in prison if you do. He just grinned, We'll see, Paulie, we'll fucking see, he smiled at my protest. His unconcern worried me but by then people started arriving and my humiliation began.

Is she being sold with the plough Bert?

I'll split the lot if you wish, you can buy the plough separately, Dad answered.

Two boys came and felt my tits and I swore at them. We're allowed to touch everything else that's on sale.

If you haven't the money to pay for her, leave her alone, Dad yelled at them.

I thought only horses were sold for guineas these days? a woman in riding gear said to her companion.

Maybe she's for a different sort of riding. They both laughed.

Midday came and I was hot, tired and pissed off at being the butt of many jokes. With increasing ill temper, I swore and cursed those who came near but in the main, they were all working men and laughed or came back with a comment of their own. About that time a middle-aged couple stood in front of me and for a long time spoke quietly together and then called Dad over. Will you take pounds for her, not guineas? the woman asked.

I might be tempted unless I get a better offer and you pay cash. I burst into tears. Dad really intended to sell me.

Look dear, the man said to his wife, They're now going to auction that little stationary engine I want so can I leave you to see if she'll be suitable and negotiate a price? Here take my wallet, there should be enough cash if necessary and I can pay for the engine by cheque. Once more my sale looked a distinct possibility. For a while she talked with Dad out of my hearing and left me to ponder on my situation. Would I be worse off than at home? Would they want me for sex? To be kept as their whore? Or just to do menial work? Fortunately, by then most of the attention was focussed on the auction.

What's your name girl? The woman knelt and spoke sharply but quietly.

Paulie, Pauline Meadows. I glared at her.

Well, Paulie Meadows, if I employ you, then you will need to speak with more respect. What work have you done?

None, except a bit of farm work, ma'am. I said Ôma'am' as sarcastically as I could and was rewarded with a flicker of anger in her eyes.

It sounds as if your life with us might be painful, at least to start with. You're a well built girl, full breasts and obviously don't might flaunting them, can I presume you are not a virgin?

So you do want a whore! Aren't you woman enough for him?

You'll pay for that later. She asked more questions but I refused to answer.

Are there any accessories with this item? she asked Dad Two suitcases and a bag in my truck. Mother must have packed them while I ate breakfast. I wondered why she didn't come down or respond to my appeals for her assistance; they really had planned to sell me.

You can't buy me! I'm not a slave or an animal!

I'm not buying you Paulie, I'm buying a thousand hours of work from you but you'll have to add your board and lodging to that so you'll be with us for quite a time, especially if you only work a few hours each day. I'll take her Mr. Meadows, can you help me get her into the van please? I could only cry and watch her stand, and count the money from her husband's wallet and place it in Dad's hand. Whatever euphemisms they used, I'd been sold. What lay ahead I couldn't even guess.

Peter, I would like you to meet Paulie Peter, will you please look away from that screen for two minutes while I introduce your new governess.

Just a minute mother He hadn't taken in what she said but the way his fingers flashed over the keys fascinated me. Line after line of code appeared. Three taps of the return key and the whole lot scrolled, seemingly endlessly to the top of the screen. He turned towards us but his head kept returning to the computer screen.

Peter this is Pauline Meadows, Paulie. Paulie meet our son Peter Durrant. As you can see I didn't exaggerate when I said he was a genius with computers. Peter, Paulie is here as your governess. Her job is to look after you and make sure you eat and sleep properly and the computer is turned off at 10:30. If she fails, then she gets her bottom well and truly warmed and we'll do it in front of you so that you can see the pain you've caused her. She will share your bedroom and teach you how to treat a woman. You will also take her out, not just for walks, but to the cinema and to parties. She's here to educate your social life.

He showed no signs of having taken in any of this, Turning to the screen again and seeing the scrolling had stopped, he tapped a few keys and it started again.

I stared at the thin, gangly, pasty-faced boy and found it hard to realise that he was older than me by three years and a few months. Hi Peter. My greeting was answered by a mumbled, Hi, and his attention returned to the screen.

Did you eat anything while we were gone Peter? his mother asked. Another inconsequential mutter. I thought not. Bring him downstairs in half an hour, Paulie. You know what to expect if you fail. This is the first test of your authority.

Judith had indeed explained it to me as we sat in the van waiting for Thomas, her husband, to buy the engine and get it loaded. Seeing you virtually offered for sale seemed like an answer to my prayers and when I spoke to your father and learned of your rebellious behaviour, I translated that to bossy behaviour. You wanted your own way. You wanted to be in a position of authority; a boss lady. With us, you won't be top dog, but you will be partway up the ladder. At the time, I hadn't a clue what she was on about and asked for a drink although with my hands still tied behind my back, I didn't know how I would drink it but I half hoped that they would be freed. No such luck but she did produce a flask of coffee and held the cup to my lips.

I have a nineteen year old son, nearly twenty actually, who has more brains than sense, and I mean that literally. He has an extremely high IQ and does things with computers and maths that even the best teachers at his school cannot keep up with but with his brain so active, he finds it very difficult for mundane things like eating, sleeping and generally looking after his body. I don't have the time to look after him and he doesn't take much notice of what I say. As far as we know, he's never had a girlfriend but he does masturbate, or at least I've found the residue on the sheets and in his pyjamas, but whether he images a boy or a girl, again we have no idea.

So you want me to be his fucking whore!

Be more careful with your language Paulie. We do not speak like that in our household and it could well get you into trouble. From the tone of her voice I knew the trouble might well be inflicted on my arse. No I don't really want you to be a whore although sex will be part of it. Perhaps the best title for your position that I can think of is that of ÔSocial Governess'. You will live in the same room and make sure he eats at the proper time, washes himself and gets a decent night's sleep. We'll also want you to take him out and meet others of similar age and what to do in bed with a girl. I'm sure he won't even try to have sex with you, so it will be up to you to force yourself on him. He's equipped normally in the man department so you shouldn't have any trouble, except that you will have to make the running.

Never having heard of anything remotely similar, I hardly comprehended what she expected me to do but the noise of men loading the van gave me a little time to think about it. Thomas opened the door, I've got to water the weeds and pay my cheque to Bert and then we can be off.

I need to go too, I whispered to Judith.

Okay, it will be a while before we get another chance but don't think about trying to escape. You've no money; almost no clothes and your parents won't let you back in their house. With us you'll have a roof over your head and food in your stomach.

And a sore arse!

Maybe.

My wrists were finally untied but she kept hold of my hand as we walked towards the bushes. Dad hadn't thought to set up a latrine for the sale so everyone that needed to pee found a secluded spot. Judith bopped down in sight of me and was at my side and holding my hand when I finished. Thomas hadn't returned so our conversation resumed.

I gather your work on the farm hasn't always been up to scratch, with us, if you fail in a task, Thomas or I will spank you. For a start it will only be a hand or slipper spanking but if we think you really aren't making the effort or rebelling against us, then we'll find a belt or a switch and we'll keep you out of sight until any marks have gone. After going over my duties again and answering a few of my questions, Thomas arrived and we set off for a county over two hundred miles from where I'd lived my whole life. I'd leave the rolling hills and mountains of Shropshire for the flat marshes of rural Essex. During the journey I learned they were businessmen farmers owning several large farms but all the work was contracted out. Thomas only went on the land for the shooting and Judith for her horse riding school. They were obviously far richer than my family so I decided to stick with the situation at least for the time being. I wondered if I would actually get paid, or if Dad had really sold me as a slave. There was also the question of whether they would or could actually spank me. Judith on her own would find it very difficult to get my pants down but if Thomas was there and perhaps her son too, I doubted if I could prevent it.

Judith left us and after watching Peter for a short while, I explored the neighbouring rooms. His bedroom, and now mine, with a connecting bathroom was adjacent to the computer study. It looked like it was only for our use and not the whole household. After quickly washing my face and trying to remove the price from my belly but only managing to blur the writing a little, I opened my cases and bag now lying on the bed, and changed my tee shirt but left my shorts on. The bedroom clock showed 5:55; the meal was at 6:00. Not wishing to tempt them to spank me or get myself into a fight after only a few hours, I rushed into the computer room. Come on Peter, dinner time. He completely ignored me. Leaning over, I touched one of the keys and immediately the screen went crazy and then blank.

You bitch! You could have undone my last few hours work.

Good, then perhaps you will take notice of me in the future. And watch your language. My first taste of the power I now had?

Perhaps I'll watch while father pastes your bottom good and hard. That will teach you a lesson. I only have to sit here He didn't finish the sentence because I dragged him out of his chair and half carried him down the stairs. His shanky body proved no match for my farm work muscles.

You just made it in time Paulie but perhaps next time you might get him to wash first, Judith commented.

Well he's going to have a bath before I'm sleeping with him. I emphasised the point by wrinkling my nose.

I don't know how you managed to get hold of her, but you can send her back where she came from. Already she's messed up hours of work and I've no use for a bully of a girl.

She has at least got some reaction from you. Normally you say nothing at the dinner table. Thomas commented.

Because we'd only arrived a short while before dinner, the meal was largely leftovers of cold meat and vegetables but not having eaten since breakfast I tucked in and soon cleared my plate. Peter picked at his smaller portion. Eat your food properly or you'll never be strong enough to stop me bullying you. The others smiled; Peter glared but finished the meal.

Now can I get back to my work and see how much damage you've done?

After you and I have a little private conversation. I took him into the bedroom away from the computer and started on him. I was beginning to enjoy being boss lady. Let me make this quite clear, I am forced to be here, I am forced to live with you away from my home. You may be Mr. Brainbox but if my arse gets walloped because of it, then I'm going to make shit sure, that you suffer too. Understood? Looking rather frightened, he nodded. This evening, you can work from now until 8:30, then you'll have a bath and we'll go to bed. Understood? Again he nodded but then requested I give him a little warning before the time was up. Before you go next door, show me where I can store my clothes and stuff.

You're not going to be in here when I Jesus, you're a living skeleton! I'd virtually dragged him from the computer again but this time he'd heeded my warning to save his work.

I laughed at his embarrassment and like a mother, undressed him. When I saw his spindly arms and legs and his protruding ribs, angrily I made the comment. It only served to frighten him and tried to back away but I wasn't having that and turned him around; he was all skin and bones with no meat at all. Of course I looked at his flaccid, limp prick. Judith was right, in that it was about normal in size but I wondered if it ever got hard. After helping him into the bath, I decided I might as well join him; it might elicit a response if he saw me naked. What actually provoked a reaction, and not one in the genital region, was the price still showing clearly on my body.

Did they actually buy you? I could tell he was shocked. That's illegal.

Yeah, they figured a way round it if anyone asked. Dad couldn't handle me any more so he put me up for sale with a load of old farm stuff. So here I am, miles from what was home, looking after you and it seems like I don't get paid, at least until I've worked enough hours to pay off the price they paid for me. Now sit up so I can get in too. Sitting face to face, with the taps at my back, I had to lean forward, which thrust my tits in front of his nose. Still no movement from his prick that I could see, so picking up a sponge, I forced him to lean forward to wash his back until my tits physically contacted his face but his response was not what I expected. His body began to shake and it took me a little while to realise that it was fear. He was afraid of me. Me, or women in general, I wondered?

I suppose some innate motherly instinct urged me to clasp him to my body. Tears flowed silently down his cheeks and his face infused with red, probably from the embarrassment of being held by a young girl. I was in charge though and if I couldn't control him enough to get him to eat and sleep properly, he would waste away and die or end up in hospital and Judith and Thomas would have to face the music. My mind keyed in on that fact and while I cuddled him, a plan began to take shape; an audacious plan but if it came off, the threat of punishments would be lifted. I would really be in charge. Gradually his shaking ceased and we relaxed. Peter, I said quietly, You'll be seeing me naked a lot from now on and I will see you too. We're going to be sleeping together and before long, we should be fucking. It doesn't hurt and there's nothing to be afraid of and just so that we get to know each other's bodies, I'm going to wash you and then you will do the same for me and you can try and get that price tag off. That'll take some doing, the sod used a permanent marker pen.

Alcohol.

What?

Alcohol. Meths or isopropanol, that will get it off, he whispered, If the hot water doesn't get it off, Dad will have some in the workshop.

Fortunately that wasn't necessary. Soaking in the hot water sweated most of it from my skin. We dried each other, he treating me like a delicate china doll, me treating him delicately too because the hot water had wrinkled his skin and several places on his arse, chafe sores were starting to form. I did rub his prick and it even hardened a little but it hardly rose to half-mast.

Can I go back on the computer now, only for an hour.

No, you're coming with me.

What's the meaning of? Judith started as I burst into the lounge where she sat watching TV. I didn't give her a chance to berate me but immediately went into attack mode.

Have you seen your son lately? Disregarding his protests I'd half carried him from the bathroom and both of us stood naked in front of his mother. Clearly the sight shocked her but I continued my verbal assault. Have a good look now, not just at his prick but at his emaciated body, his arms and his legs. Look at his arse and see the sores that are forming. The only time I've seen anyone looking like this was in a World War II documentary at school when they liberated some concentration camp! This is neglect and he ought to go to hospital for proper treatment but I know you would be in real trouble if he did and it would cause him a lot of unnecessary agro. Peter looked as though he wanted to crawl into a hole.

I didn't know he's an adult He's your son, for God's sake. You know what he's like and never checked on him? That's neglect. If it was one of your horses, the RSPCA would have prosecuted you and you'd have ended up in prison and banned from keeping animals for life but because he is your son, your flesh and blood, and over eighteen you wash your hands of him.

I got you to look after him That was pure chance so don't give me that fucking shit! Had I not come things would have carried on until he collapsed and maybe died. Your only worry then would have been the autopsy report!

That's not fair, I love Peter So when was the last time you spoke to him, had a conversation? When was the last time you held him? Gave him a hug?