index


Message-ID: <31129asstr$993737401@assm.asstr-mirror.org>
From: "Pedro Vila" <pedrovila@dark.summer>
NNTP-Posting-Date: Thu, 28 Jun 2001 01:31:57 PDT
Subject: {ASSM} "The Replacement" pt3 (ped, n/c, abuse, slow, no sex)
Date: Thu, 28 Jun 2001 10:10:02 -0400
Path: assm.asstr-mirror.org!not-for-mail
Approved: <assm@asstr-mirror.org>
Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories.moderated,alt.sex.stories
Followup-To: alt.sex.stories.d

This is a work of pure fiction.
It involves a subject matter
that most of the world finds
disgusting and shoudn't be
posted on A.S.S.M.

If you are one of those
readers, then please STOP NOW!

If you are under 18, the same applies.

If it is illegal to read of these things
where you live, you are also to leave.

Hell, you should just leave anyway!


________________________________

    "THE REPLACEMENT" part3
     by Pedro Vila


  Heather was left alone there kneeling by the toilet. She felt dirty and a
little sickened and now she had to use the toilet water to clean herself up
with.
  Why was Mr. Stafford being so cruel? This was some sort of sick game to
get back at his losing his own family, she thought.
  Tears started to well up in her eyes again and Heather gave in and dipped
the washcloth in the toilet water. At least she knew it was clean. Since he
had left her there alone, she went ahead and stripped out of her undershirt
and panties, but left her socks on. Heather decided to wash them last after
wiping herself off as best as she could.
  When the water started to look murky, she flushed and finished by cleaning
her sauce covered crotch. All that was left was what little clothes she had
left. The shirt came clean easily, but the panties were darkened and
wouldn't come clean no matter how hard she rinsed them. Heather looked to
the bottle from the cabinet, the one that stained the tub, and thought
better than to use it. She looked at the sink and saw a bar of soap and
grabbed it instead.
  It was a bit of work, but the panties started to come clean after the
third rinse with the soap. She rung them out over the toilet bowl and didn't
know where to hang them to dry. She didn't want to go naked, but they were
still pretty wet.
  "There is a hook behind the door." Mr. Stafford said from the doorway,
startling Heather suddenly. "You can hang them up to dry there while you
clean up the mess you've just made." Then he was gone again. Heather didn't
even have time to cover herself.
  She waited a moment and when he didn't return, she hung the undergarments
up where he told her to and started to clean the dirty water drops around
the toilet.
  When she had finished, her panties were mostly dry and the top just a
little less so, so she put them on and ventured out to the living room.
  Mr. Stafford was there reading a magazine. Heather noticed that it was in
English and longed for home even though she'd been here for only a day. Mr.
Stafford put down the magazine and looked Heather up and down. She felt
naked in her skin right then and crossed her legs and arms in embarrassment.
  "Okay, Heather. This must have been a difficult first day for you." he
said. Heather nodded. Mr. Stafford continued, "You have made some pretty big
mistakes today and I'm not pleased. Not pleased at all. First I want you to
stand strait right now. Stop fidgeting. Arms down at your sides, back
strait, head high, and your weight on both legs." Heather tried to comply as
best as she could. She felt her damp undershirt stick to her body, revealing
everything undernieth.
  Mr. Stafford got up and circled around her. Heather started to follow him
with her head but he barked, "Eyes strait!" at her. He lifted her right foot
up behind her and looked at the dirty sock bottom. "Not good." was all he
said to her. Then he sat in front of her once more and held her gaze
completely. "First of all, you should have washed your socks as well.
Second, I know about the stain on the floor over there." Heather gasped,
afraid he was going to whip her again right then. "Third, you did not wash
the dishes after dinner, though I am aware that I told you to do the
bathroom first so your excused from that. Finally, You took much to long on
some of your chores and because of that, your own room hasn't been cleaned
at all today."
  Heather felt humiliated. Here she had been force to do things that she
would never had even though about before yesterday and now he was telling
her that she wasn't even good enough to do that. She felt her lower lip
begin to quiver.
  "Now, don't get upset. You did many things right also. For one, you called
me 'Sir' without being prompted. For another, you gave me very little
backtalk like my first wife when we moved in here. You did what you were
told as best as you thought, which is remarkable seeing as your a pampered
American." Heather's mouth dropped a moment at the last words. She never
thought she had that great of a life, not like most of the kids in her
school. Her father didn't make very much money and she didn't get to have
things like her friends did.
  Here was different. She hadn't seen much of the outside, but she had the
feeling she was in a poorer country. And that thing about his first wife
talking back to him made her uneasy too. Was she also a kidnap victim, lured
here to be a slave?
  Heather understood the moment she thought 'slave'. She was his slave here
and it probably would be the only thing she'll ever know from then on.
  Heather started to bawl uncontrollably. Mr. Stafford waited for her to get
it out of her system as she stood there, racking with emotion. It only took
five minutes to run it's course and then, Mr. Stafford asked, "Are you done
now?" Heather nodded.
  "You are not as bad off as you think here, contrary to what you might be
imagining. Most of the women here have had their genitalia burned off or
sown shut to keep them in line. Most have been taken violently from their
homes at much the age you are now." Heather's eye went wide. She remembered
hearing about abuses to women in other countries but it never sunk in like
it was right now. She wished she had paid more attention back then.
  Heather finally spoke. "Sir?"
  Mr. Stafford leaned back and said, "Yes. You may speak." Heather couldn't
believe she was asking permission to speak from him.
  "Sir? Will I ever go home again? Or are you going to kill me?" The
question disturbed her more than she thought it would and another round of
held back sobs gushed forth.
  Mr. Stafford waited again until she had calmed down and then answered her
question. "that was a very stupid question. Do you think I kidnapped you?
Your mother and I had an agreement, remember? When you have finished your
duties to me, you may then go home if you wish. Okay?"
  Heather nodded. She felt a little less threatened after his words. "How
long?" was all she could think of to ask.
  "Ah, well, that will depend on you." he only said. "Now I want you to wash
the dishes before getting some sleep. Tomorrow will be much more work than
today was." Mr. Stafford picked up his magazine and held it, waiting for
Heather to leave.
  Heather didn't though. Finally, she started to whine. "It's not fair. You
can't treat me like this. I wanna go home. Please stop. You're a mean man
you are... a...." heather shrunk back in fear as an angry Mr. Stafford got
up and grabbed her wrist as he started to drag her to the kitchen.
  He flung her to the table and ordered her on to it. Heather coward onto
the floor, fully engulfed in tears. Mr. Stafford snapped the leather strap
and yelled, "Onto the table now!!! The longer you take, the worse it will
be!! Up, NOW!!!"
  Heather was in terror and could barely move as she tried to climb up the
side. Her crying weakened her too much and Mr. Stafford finally grabbed a
hold of her hair and dragged her up on top. Heather was bawling
uncontrollably again and could offer little defense as her limbs were bound
to the bonds on each end of the solid wood table. Then, Mr. Stafford dragged
her undershirt up as well as her panties down and laid into her backside
with the strap.
  She lost track of everything again and only became aware after he lifted
her sobbing body off of the table top to hold her. Heather was devastated
over the way her life had suddenly changed and held Mr. Stafford for
comfort, glad he was not hitting her still. As her senses returned, she
found herself repeating, "I'm sorry. I'm sorry." and he held her with a
feeling of care she found she desperately needed right then.
  She felt ashamed for some reason and it was from someplace she didn't know
she had inside of her.
  After she calmed down a bit, Mr. Stafford said, "You should clean yourself
up before finishing the dishes." He turned her towards the bathroom and
shoved her gently. Heather went like she was told and took her washcloth and
wetted it in the toilet bowl to run over her face.
  She didn't realize until she'd almost finished that she had just done this
disgusting thing without being ordered to. She went to the mirror, now much
cleaner thanks to her, and examined her backside. There weren't as many red
marks as she though there would be. She only counted seven in all and
remembered that he had whipped her before.
  Why did it seem like so many before? Heather realized that she'd been
blacking out during her punishments and it wasn't as bad as she remembered.
She told herself to stay alert next time. Maybe it would go quicker if she
didn't freak out like she was doing.
  Back to the kitchen, Mr. Stafford wasn't there and she quickly went to
wash the dishes as best as she could. Funny, she would have done anything to
get out of it back home. Satisfied that she'd done her best job with them,
Heather went back out to the living room and stood in front of Mr. Stafford
like he'd told her to before.
  "Sir." she said, waiting.
  "Yes, Heather?"
  "They're done now. May I go to bed?"
  "You may go to your room after I examine your backside. Turn around."
  Heather turned for him and closed her eyes as her pulled down her panties
part way then lifted her shirt. Suddenly, she felt his hand on her back and
it was cold and wet. She was afraid of what he was going to do, but then her
welts started to feel cooler. He was treating her wounds with something.
  Heather sighed with relief and a little less tense. When he had done, he
pulled her panties back up and turned her to him. Heather said, "Thank you,
sir."
  "You may now go to your room. I expect breakfast tomorrow first thing,
understand?"
  "Yes, sir." she answered and left him.
  In her room, she wrapped the blanket around herself and cried. She didn't
know when she fell asleep.


pedrovila@mailandnews dot com

-- 
Pursuant to the Berne Convention, this work is copyright with all rights
reserved by its author unless explicitly indicated.
+---------------------------------------------------------------------------+
| alt.sex.stories.moderated ----- send stories to: <ckought69@hotmail.com> |
| FAQ: <http://assm.asstr-mirror.org/faq.html>  Moderator: <story-ckought69@hotmail.com> |
+---------------------------------------------------------------------------+
|Archive: <http://assm.asstr-mirror.org> Hosted by Alt.Sex.Stories Text Repository |
|<http://www.asstr-mirror.org>, an entity supported entirely by donations.         |
+---------------------------------------------------------------------------+