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.
"Sit behind the counter until we pack up here and I can get you to the mayor's office to register your employment legally." Employment? What did she mean? The guards opened a passage for me through the group surrounding us, amused at the bargaining and no doubt, wondering, like me, at the woman's motives for buying my services when she knew I'd no training or skills. Officially, no slavery exist these days but men and women can be bought and owned almost like old-time slaves, and in fact, most people refer to them as slaves. Only officialdom calls them 'owned workers'. Their owners have control over their lives but have to pay them a nominal wage each week. In turn the owners are subjected to legal requirements in the way they look after their purchase. They have to feed, clothe and provide them with accommodation but are allowed to punish them for mistakes in a suitable manner provided hospital treatment isn't required. The system is open to abuse and few owners are ever prosecuted. We all knew this because from time to time people, mainly men, came to Shanty Town to buy 'workers' and we'd heard horror stories from some who'd returned, of how they'd been treated and not so long ago a member of the ruling council made headline news by being given a prison sentence for flogging a maid to death. I tried to make myself realise that there were good stories as well but they were fewer because those workers didn't return to the Town. All these stories flooded my mind as I sat for hours waiting for the woman to finish. Whatever happened, my life couldn't be much worse than living with the punishments Dad gave me.
A whirl of activity followed. The woman, Cerise Forsythia, paid a guard to drop me off at the Mayoral Offices where I went through a disinfectant spray that left me smelling of artificial roses even if it didn't clean me, had my ID checked and after they'd filled in several forms on their comms units, they informed me that a Clive Forsythia now owned me and they listed me as his Personal Assistant. I had no idea who Clive was and, wrongly suspecting he was her husband, wondered if they wanted me to work or be his whore. Not that it mattered. From there we went to a jeweller's shop that specialises in collars for owned workers and had a satin chrome one fitted and engraved with 'Elise' and my owners name. A slight click indicated they'd locked the collar in place, reinforcing the feeling that I was now a real slave. One more stop, this time at the doctor's clinic where they took a blood sample and gave me several injections, one an anti-contraception booster, so I guessed I'd be fucked by Clive, or whoever. At home, Dad did not allow me to speak unless ordered to do so, so I kept quiet and didn't ask questions, in any case, I had no choice but to do as Cerise said; she'd bought and paid for me. I was a slave even if officialdom didn't use that term, and she could whip me if I didn't obey her.
The huge house in the suburbs looked like a palace to me after living in a one-room shack for the whole of my life. We drove passed well-kept lawns and flower-beds and I supposed they either owned more workers or employed a firm that did. Stopping at a side door, Cerise keyed something into a pad and ushered me along a corridor into a workshop to meet Clive, my new owner, a thin, gawky lad not much older than me. Unfortunately he'd no wish to own me and berated his mother for buying me without his knowledge. Cerise insisted that he look after me and to make sure I arrived at the dinner table on time. Two meals in one day!
He did not make me welcome and resented my disturbing his work on some engine part and I had grave misgivings about my new situation. I cried a little when he sent me to sit in the corner and I wondered if I dared to sit on the chair but in the end I didn't chance it and sat on the floor. Eventually he stopped work and took me to the bathroom, a room bigger than our whole hut, and made me undress in front of him. His attitude to me thawed a little when he saw the welts Dad had left on my body and the way my bones protruded from my body, but I kept silent about them and allowed him to wash me with warm water and scented gels. His prick started to harden and I noticed it was much the same size as Dad's so I knew I could take it without trouble, but it didn't become fully erect. At least he didn't hit me or force me to my knees and suck it, in fact he treated me very gently and took care not to cause me further pain.
"I'll throw your rags in the washing machine and then we'll see if Rachel, my sister, has anything you can wear," he said and I wondered if I'd be kept naked if she hadn't.
Clive. - Introductions
"Hi Rachel," I commed my sister, "Can I borrow one of your old dresses please?" I saw her grin on the screen. "No, not for me, for the new P-A mother has foisted on me. She's nothing to wear now I've put her clothes in the wash."
"You'll have to hurry brother dear, I'm just going down for dinner. You could always bring her in her birthday suit."
"It would put everyone off their food!"
I introduced them but Elise didn't speak. Rachel took one look at her and uttered, "Yea Gods, she's a walking skeleton Clive, and those welts look very painful. Poor thing, whoever did this to you, ought to be locked up. I can see what you meant by putting people off their food. When mother mentioned she'd bought you a girl slave, I never expected she'd buy one in this condition but it will give you something to think about other than your main love, Mandy. Certainly she'll need a lot of tender loving care to get her back to normal and, as she's your responsibility, that will keep you away from Mandy for a bit."
"I wouldn't bet on it, the race is too important and maybe this one won't need too much looking after."
We found a dress Rachel had kept from her teenage years that fitted loosely on Ell. "It will be an interesting experience for you to go shopping for women's clothes in the morning and be careful where you look if there are other women in the shop!" I have a better relationship with my sister than I do with mother and we often trade friendly banter.
"You wouldn't like to take her? I really do need to spend the time on the car."
"Oh no, she's yours and part of the new experiences mother wishes you to feel. I wouldn't wish to deprive you of that." She grinned in her teasing way and I tried to persuade her that she needed a living doll to look after but she insisted the pleasure was all mine.
Mother glared at us for being late but commented on how much better Elise looked now she'd had a wash and wore clean clothes. Until Rachel mentioned it, mother had no idea of the state of Ell's body and simply said, "I didn't have time to examine the goods before I bought them. Supervising keeps me occupied for the whole time." If that was the case, I wondered how she had time to buy Ell but managed to keep quiet and not start a row. Elise continued to look down and only answered simple questions with one or two words. About her past, she remained rigidly silent.
"Give her more than that, Cook, she needs fattening up."
Cook looked doubtfully at me but before I could say anything more Rachel piped up, "You really want her to be sick all over your place? Yes, she does need fattening up but for now she should have a little at a time and at frequent intervals. Make her a sandwich in a couple of hours ... and wash your hands before you make it!" she grinned knowing that I'd be back in the workshop. Mother and Cook both added their two pence worth agreeing with her. I kept quiet after that except for suggesting, "As you're so much better qualified to look after her, you'd better take over," but they refused to consider it and firmly insisted I take care of her but Rachel generously offered to give me all the advice I needed. From the way she spoke, I knew it would be shopping advice.
They were right about my being in the workshop but with Ell on my mind, I couldn't concentrate on the injector system so I worked on parts that didn't sap my concentration. Even then, most of my thoughts concerned the strange girl in the other room. I'd suggested that she tidied the lounge area and watch the newscasts or whatever on the comms unit, but when I looked an hour or so later, the place was tidy and she sat on the floor waiting for my return. I'd forgotten to show her how to work the comm and hadn't given her permission to sit on a chair and, although she didn't say anything, I expect her father would have whipped her for sitting on a seat. I softened my stance a little and sat her on a couch and fired up the comms unit but that was as far as I intended to go. My car needed my attention more than her.
For the remainder of the evening, I wondered how she would react to sleeping with me. At this stage, she didn't sexually stimulate me, but I'd only the one bed and with her sore body, I didn't wish to inflict further pain by forcing her to sleep on the couch or the floor. Of course I forgot about making her a sandwich until I wanted a snack and a hot drink. I apologised which surprised her and she almost cried again.
Bedtime and I took her into the bathroom and stressed that she could use it at any time but she wasn't to lock the door. A look of bewilderment and her baby-like pleasure at having warm water to wash with and a toilet within the house, reminded me of the differences in our culture and the benefits I enjoyed from living in a rich household. The welts on her arse and back worried me and I commed Cook to see what she suggested I put on them and fortunately she recommended a cream I already had in the bathroom.
In the warm weather I normally sleep naked and, knowing she had nothing to wear, decided to continue that way and then if and when I felt the urge, I could fuck her without having to undress first. I presumed that as a slave, she'd expect me to do that but I thought it might be better and more enjoyable to wait until the worst of her welts healed.
"You will sleep that side," I indicated the side near the wall, "And if you need to get up in the night to pee or anything, don't be afraid to climb over me. I'd rather you did that than wet the bed. Understand?" She only nodded and I wondered how long it would take before she actually spoke more than a few disjointed words and I could find out why she was so repressed. "Get in bed then." She had a further surprise for me. Instead of getting in and lying down as normal, she lay on her back in the centre of the bed with her legs as wide apart as the bed would allow. Quite obviously she expected me to fuck her. "What are you doing Ell?"
"Dad said..." she didn't get any further with the explanation. I closed her legs and climbed in alongside with our bodies touching. Needless to say, sleep took a long while to come for me, but she dropped off quickly, probably from exhaustion or maybe from having three meals in one day. For a long while I inwardly debated what to do with Ell without coming to any conclusion and with the weekend starting the next day, I'd hoped to make considerable progress with the XJV but I knew the family, especially Rachel, would make me take her shopping in the morning. Although they hadn't yet spoken at any length, my sister already created a rapport with Ell and gained her confidence far more than I had.
Elise. - The Meal
Without any concern for my nudity, I didn't even have any shoes because he'd thrown them in the washing machine with my clothes, he took me in the lift to the top floor into his sister's room and introduced me as Ell. That seems to be my name now. Rachel is in her early twenties, several years older than Clive, and somewhat taller and much more buxom than me. Firstly she expressed her disgust at the welts covering my body and the state of my skeleton frame. "I thought the food kitchen that mother supervises was supposed to eliminate malnutrition, but it seems that is not the case. I'll have a word with her about that," she promised but I didn't tell her that Dad took most of the food I should have had until the rule about eating on the grass came in. She found me a beautiful dress, one finer than anything I've ever owned, "I haven't worn this since I was a young teenager," she explained, "And I'll not get into it now. Keep it. It's a bit on the loose side, but you should gradually put on weight and fill out a bit in the next few weeks. Here have this belt as well to pull the dress into your waist a bit more." I could have cried at the unexpected generosity.
Unwittingly, I caused an altercation between my owner, the rest of his family and Cook, an older woman who'd worked for the family for many years. Clive asked her to put more food on my plate but the others railed against him, saying it would make me sick if I ate too much too quickly. I would have eaten it given the chance but with the small amount they gave me, I felt pleasantly full. Clive didn't seem upset at being reprimanded and I hoped he wouldn't take his revenge on me later.
He went back in the workshop and set me tidying the lounge and said I could watch the comms newscasts if I wished. There wasn't much tidying to do but I straightened up his books and discs but I had no idea how to start the comms unit going so I sat on the floor and waited for his return. I didn't dare sit on one of the couches even in my new dress, and the carpet looked far cleaner than any of the furniture at home. I later learned that contract cleaners using 'owned workers' came in once a week and cleaned the whole house.
Eventually he came back, asked why I sat on the floor and not on a chair and gave me a nut bar and a hot malt drink. I've had more food today than I've had for the past week. We washed again before going to bed, with hot water even. What a change from home. There I'd have to fetch water from the communal standpipe outside the house and washing even with cold water, was a luxury. I watched him pee and he motioned for me to use the toilet too and said I should go into the bathroom any time I needed to but I wasn't to lock the door. As far as I could tell there wasn't a key in the lock anyway but maybe there's some electronic thing.
When he told me to get into bed, I did as I had to for Dad; I laid down with my legs wide apart ready for fucking but he closed them up and pushed me to one side and climbed in. We lay side-by-side, our bodies touching but he made no attempt to play with me and didn't ask me to suck him off. Am I too ugly for him? His prick stood half hard before we left the bathroom but he didn't wish to go further. Why? I guessed he hated me but I soon dropped off to sleep, exhausted from the days happenings and from all the food I'd consumed.
Clive. - Shopping
I didn't sleep well. My mind churned over the problems with the XJV and combined them with what I had to do with Ell. Waking early in the morning, I eventually decided to get up at six o'clock and spend a couple of hours working on Mandy before breakfast. Getting out of bed woke Ell but I told her lie there until seven and then wash herself and make the bed, (at least that was a chore I didn't have to do) and to come into the workshop at 7:50 to remind me of the time. She saw my early morning hard-on but I wanted to get on with the injectors and didn't even wank myself in the bathroom.
Fortunately the setting of the second set of injectors went without a hitch and when she peeped around the door wearing her tatty but now clean, clothes from yesterday, I smiled and said, "Morning, you slept well. I'll wash my hands and then we can get breakfast. Normally it's a do-it-yourself thing with cereals, toast and coffee or tea." To my surprise she responded cheerfully, "Good morning Sir." At least that was a start. I told her to call me Clive.
Rachel arrived in the kitchen at the same time as we did but mother had already left to set up some bazaar or other to raise funds for her pet project. Ell even responded with a smile to Rachel's greeting but didn't say much at breakfast. "I've decided to amuse myself this morning," Rachel informed us, "By coming shopping with you but only in an advisory capacity. You'll do the choosing and paying for the items."
"You could take her shopping on your own. Two women together having fun retail therapy," I suggested hopefully.
"No way brother dear. She's yours and it's up to you to choose the style and colour that you want her to wear." I pulled a face at her and she laughed. Ell looked perplexed and didn't understand our relationship at all.
Actually she did much more than advise. She took us to a back street shop that specialised in slave gear, although they didn't call it that, but they stocked a large range of styles and sizes, mainly in plain colours and hard-wearing materials. "Get a size that fits her loosely at the moment, Clive, she may grow a little taller but not much, but she should fill out with all the food you want to put on her plate!" Rachel grinned at me, "We might need to get XXXL size by then."
I chose a deep blue that Ell seemed to like it too although, in the presence of the store-owner, she didn't say much. I couldn't decide between having her wear a skirt or a pair of trousers until the owner pointed out, "A P-A often needs correction or has to provide personal sexual service for her owner and in these cases it is quicker and easier to lift a skirt to do the necessary. Trousers are better for manual workers." Ell looked a little downcast when I chose the skirts but I kept them to a moderately long length. I also bought her a pair of decent shoes but her old ones would do for a while now they'd been washed.
"She'll need a pair of knickers as well," Rachel advised. I knew most slave girls didn't wear them and looked in askance at her. Again she grinned, "Unlike men, we women have to suffer periods for a few days each month and she needs them during that time and you'll also have to buy her sanitary towels, they're in the women's hygiene section of the super market."
"I come up and steal yours!"
While the cashier pulled up my credit account and parcelled my purchases, I heard Rachel whispering to Ell and from the few words I caught, believed she tried to find out when Ell last had her period. I grumbled to Rachel about the cost of keeping a P-A these days and remarked that her outfits cost more than my race fee including the insurance, until I saw a tear form in Ell's eye and realised that she didn't understand that I joked.
Rachel added to her sadness by saying, "That's only the start of what you'll need," but then she too saw Ell's consternation and added, "But you can afford her and she will be worth it in the long run and think yourself lucky that I'm not the one you are buying for. One of my dresses costs ten times as much as all you've bought this morning." She put her arm around Ell and remarked, "It's the first time he's had to look after a live girl and not some inanimate piece of machinery but he'll get used to it and I'll make sure he knows what to do."
"You go and play with Mandy while I get Ell dressed and then we can prepare some lunch. Cook doesn't do lunches on a Saturday and mother's out. We'll call you when lunch is ready." I saw them disappear into my bedroom and a little later heard them head for the lift.
Elise. - New clothes
I didn't know if I were in heaven or hell. Heaven because of the food, the soft bed, the water and toilet facilities, hell because I had no idea if it would last and I knew he resented my being there, mainly because it wasn't his own idea but one of his mother's 'do-gooder' charity things. He didn't even want to fuck me. Admittedly, compared with Rachel's, my body looked pretty gruesome but she seemed to think it would improve with time. Dad fucked me often enough after mum got a proper job and left us so I was prepared for that. Clive had a full erection when he got up but didn't even stop for a blowjob and I'm not sure if this car thing is an excuse to keep him out of my way or if he is telling the truth.
So far he'd been kind to me and not threatened any punishment and allowed me to stay in bed when he got up and the chores he's given me have been simple enough and not taxed my ability or strength, but I wonder how long this will last. Will he become demanding and brutal when he becomes used to being in charge and able to do more or less what he likes with me? I'm worried over the future.
We met up with Rachel at breakfast. Breakfast? That's a first for many years. Again she restricted the amount I had but it was more than adequate for my small stomach and she seemed genuinely concerned for my well-being. They continued to taunt each other but I began to believe they were actually good friends and Rachel pleased me (and Clive too it seemed) by offering to accompany us and to advise him on what to buy.
We went by hover taxi to the town centre even though the distance was only about a mile and Rachel took us to a shop specialising in clothing for 'owned workers'. Another first for me, my first brand new clothes, even if they were slaves clothes. Being a man, Clive chose the colour he liked first, a nice shade of blue, but I liked the colour too, not that it mattered, and then we looked to find a suitable size and style. Rachel dissuaded him from buying the cheapest, "Because you'll have to come back again and buy more when they fall apart after the first wash," she told him when he queried it. "You don't buy the cheapest parts for your car because you know they won't perform well, the same thing applies to the clothes you buy for your P-A," she added.
"Okay, I get the picture, you want me destitute as well!" The remark worried me but I tried not to show it and then I saw his grin.
The next decision on whether I should have a skirt or trousers brought the owner of the shop to our side. He explained that for me a skirt would be most suitable because my bottom and openings would be more readily available for punishment and sex. Trousers were better for manual workers because of the need to keep dust and dirt from those parts. Again I worried when Clive chose the skirt. Did that mean he would be punishing me? I suppose I had to expect that if I displeased him and I fully expected that he'd fuck me although I hoped it wouldn't be in public.
We found a nice comfortable pair of lightweight shoes with good soles that matched the tunic and skirt and then Rachel reminded him I would need a pair of knickers and explained why. With Dad, I wore a piece of cloth like a baby's nappy so having knickers would be another new experience. While Clive paid for the goods and had them parcelled up, Rachel asked about my periods. "How long do they last? Do you have painful cramps? Is the bleeding heavy?" she asked like a concerned mother. Clive grumbled at the cost of my clothes and compared them to the cost of his racing and I wondered if that was a prelude to him disposing of me but cheered up when Rachel suggested that I would be worth it in the longer term. I didn't see how that could be, as I had no skills to offer and only a limited education. I proudly carried the parcel to the taxi and home.
While Clive went to work on his beloved car, Rachel took me into our room and before she dressed me in my new clothes, again examined my body. "I'm in less pain that yesterday," I told her and she said the welts on my back were healing nicely and went into the bathroom and found the tube of cream Clive used last night and smeared some on them. I quietly asked if Clive was likely to sell me because I cost so much but she just laughed, "That car of his costs more than you will if you're here for ten years. The insurance for the race alone is in the ten thousand credits range. He was only kidding about your cost," she reassured me, "And I think he is more annoyed at Mother than you.
In my new clothes I felt like a queen when we went to the kitchen to make lunch. Gradually I lost my reluctance to talk with her but didn't say anything about my previous life or about Dad. Again she reassured me about Clive. "Unless you do something to really annoy him or damage his precious car and stuff he has in his workshop, I doubt he'll ever hurt you. As far as I know, he's never had a girl before so this is probably as strange to him as it is to you and he needs to feel his way. Ignore all the grumbling about the costs, it's peanuts to him but he likes to make a fuss in front of me because he knows I'll get back and tease him with another argument. It's all friendly even though it might not sound like it at times. Do your best to please him and you'll get along fine even if it takes a week or two. Can you find your way back to the workshop to tell him lunch is ready?"
Clive. - My helper
"Are you going to take her to college with you on Monday?" my sister questioned at lunch, "Like you, I'm at college for another week so can't look after her. At least it's my last week at college before I look for a job."
I knew many students brought their P-A's with them to carry their equipment and books needed for the lessons. Most were male P-A's, wanting to learn engineering but not having enough money to pay for the courses. Some were not official 'slaves' but friends or lovers wanting to gain extra knowledge without the wherewithal to pay for it and during the lectures they sat on a bench at the back and listened to what went on but were not part of the class and weren't set projects or had any work marked but it gave them as certain amount of experience for when they applied for a job. The tutors more or less tolerated them provided they didn't cause a disturbance and if they did, the tutor summarily ordered their owner to punish them. Only two other girl P-A's regularly attended and they sat with the others and read or just dozed off. "I suppose I'll have to, I mustn't leave her here alone for long. I doubt mother will volunteer to take her and it probably wouldn't be a good idea for her to return to the Shanty Town and meet her father again. That could spell trouble. Maybe Cook could use some help."
"I doubt it, you know she doesn't even like us in here when she's working."
Ell quietly asked, "What would you like me to do for you this afternoon?"
I'd forgotten the need to keep her occupied and quickly thought and replied, "Help Rachel clear up in here and then get out of your new clothes and put your old shoes on and come into the workshop." Both girls looked perplexed and I paused longer than normal before going on, "I'll find you an overall and you can clear and tidy a corner that should have been done ages ago. I hope you are not afraid of spiders!" With no reaction from her, I assumed they weren't a problem.
Ten minutes later she arrived in the workshop wearing only her shoes and I thought I could already see slight changes in her body but it may have been my imagination. Certainly the welts on her bum and thighs were not as angry looking. My prick stiffened but I wanted to get on so thrust her out of my mind. I found her a small pair of overalls from the stock I kept for when I had helpers, and told her what needed doing and impressed on her not to disturb me for any reason. "If you don't know what to do or where anything belongs, put it to one side and wait till I finish tuning the last injector. At three o'clock go to the kitchen and make tea for us both and bring it in here. Rachel will probably have gone out."
Only once did I glare at her for inadvertently dropping a steel pipe, making a loud crash when it hit the composition floor. "Sorry," she whispered an apology and cringed away from me before she went back to work.
She took longer than I expected to make tea and came back with a couple of cakes as well. I'd forgotten to tell her to use my kitchen and she'd chatted to Cook in the main one. We almost had a conversation during the tea break, mainly about the cleaning she was doing but she refused to reveal anything of her home life. A least she'd started to speak to me and later at the dinner table, she talked at some length with Rachel and what they'd done during the afternoon and, surprisingly, spoke to Cook when she served our meal. Towards mother and I, she showed more reserve but I detected a thawing in her attitude and she'd begun to look us in the face and answered us with words instead of nodding her head.
I left her in our lounge watching the comms broadcasts while I went back to work until I got to a point where I needed someone inside the car to put the nuts on bolts while I held the air intake component in place on the outside. Normally in such a situation I'd comm one of the other engineering students for help but on a Saturday evening, I doubted if any of them would be available. Of course, I'd plenty of other things I could get on with but I really wanted to get the intakes in place. "Maybe it's something Ell can do," I thought. She's a slave so I could order her to do it, but in the present state of our relationship, it might be better to ask her. I did and, willingly it seemed to me, she agreed and asked if she needed to wear overalls and when I suggested that would be best, she unashamedly stripped off in front of me and put her old shoes on.
At first she appeared overawed by having to get inside the car and I had to explain twice what I needed her to do but she grasped it in the end and put the nuts on, hand tight, so I only had to finally tighten them with a torque wrench. The job took fifteen minutes but she stayed and watched me assemble the air intake for the other side and didn't hesitate to climb inside and fasten the nuts when I had it ready. We didn't talk much except when I explained what I needed her to do but the rapport between us improved.
At nine o'clock, I decided to finish and went into our kitchen and showed her how to make the malt drink I liked and made her one too and fed her a nut bar when I remembered the need to feed her little and often. She looked exhausted by then so we showered and turned in. I actually felt quite pleased at the way the day had gone despite losing a morning's work.