THE CASTLE - PART THREE


“Well - thank Heaven that filthy  creature is no longer begging in the High Street” said Mrs Bottomley to the grocer’s assistant some two weeks after her meeting with the evil-smelling mendicant.

“’Er be still about these parts. Folk say she be too much afeard to go no where’s else.  A dark secret lies behind those bright blue eyes of her’n” replied the assistant mysteriously.

Dorothy tried to pursue the subject further but the young man seemed reluctant to say anything else about the young lady.  He did, though, offer the further intelligence that the townsfolk were weary of her presence, although afraid for some reason to take any steps to rid themselves of the nuisance.

She left the shop having left her order and went back to the car. On the way up to the castle they overtook the Girl, filthy as ever, striding briskly towards the Castle entrance. Mrs Bottomley looked out of the window at this revolting apparition and felt sick again - as badly as before. A malodorous whiff of the Girl drifted into the car through the open window as they passed. Horrible,  thought Mrs Bottomley!

 Something favourable about the young woman did strike her, though. She was obviously very young and very fit. Those supple limbs and very unclean bare feet were positively eating up the distance that separated her from the Castle entrance, despite the flint-strewn roughness of the unmade up road. The Girl, filthy though she was, seemed to radiate energy and was clearly tough as nails.

Once installed in her favourite room, overlooking the extensive gardens, now in the early stages of being transformed by the excellent Fitch into the kind of paradise she had dreamed of, the good Mrs B was about to doze off when she was jolted back into full alertness by the sight of a ragged person appearing on top of the Castle’s outer wall, an impressive structure some fifteen feet high, and leaping nimbly to the ground. How the intruder had not broken a limb was beyond the good Dorothy’s comprehension.  She soon recognised the interloper as being none other than the Beggar Girl.

At the same time as she was gripped by a towering rage at this intrusion, something was telling Dorothy that the answer to a problem might just have presented itself to her, albeit in a very unprepossessing form! She dashed out of the castle and ran across to within a few feet of the insolent Girl. She was careful not to get too close, for reasons hitherto explained!

“Just what do you think you are doing, intruding into my home. Get out at once, you stinking piece of filth!”

The Girl said nothing. She merely  hung her head, as though full of shame. Actually she was trying to control her laughter and decided this was the best way of hiding her amusement from the keen eye of the nouveau riche chatelaine.

As soon as she felt able to control herself she said. “I have nowhere else to go. The townsfolk hate me and I have enemies in the city. Mine has been a terrible life, although it is partly my fault. I have been young and foolish, falling into the clutches of evil men who will stop at nothing to destroy me. Please give me shelter, Madam, for Mercy’s sake!”

“How do you feel about hard work, my good young woman.?” snarled Mrs Bottomley. “Very hard work! A great deal of backbreaking hard work, sending you to bed dog-tired at the end of every single day? You can stay if you agree to be my slave and work from dawn till dusk with a miserable attic to sleep in for a few hours at night and never a word of thanks, but only blows and curses all the day long. Well! If you don’t agree, then it’s back to the town and the vengeance of these mysterious terrible enemies of yours!”

The poor Girl nodded dumb acquiescence, her head still bowed in seeming humility.

“Good!” snapped Dorothy. “Now get out of those filthy clothes and take them over to that pile of rubbish. We’ll burn them before they infect us all. FITCH!!!”

The old gardener appeared, hurrying despite his advancing years. “Yes, Marm?”

“When this Thing has stripped and taken all its clothes over to the rubbish tip, kindly  set fire to them. Then get a hosepipe and hose the dirty object down. Don’t stop until you have removed every last speck of grime from her body.  I’ll be back in a little while. Keep the hose on her until I return.  Make good and sure every inch of this creature from head to foot is well and truly drenched.  Dirty little tramp!”

She stalked back into the house and watched from the window as all the layers of grime were hosed off the young woman. She nodded approvingly as the dutiful gardener directed the young waif to raise each of her feet in turn in order that they might be thoroughly cleansed, the soles as well as the rest of them. She was made to splay all her toes until every interstice had been rendered sweet and wholesome once again. Her hair was plastered to her body and her mouth was opening and closing frantically as she gasped in the brutal deluge.

Dorothy watched fascinated as the powerful jet of water played up and down the body of the new servant. Now that the Girl was no longer covered in filth it was obvious that the young woman was quite amazingly beautiful, with a slim but firm full breasted body and abundant golden hair. Dorothy remembered the Fairy tale “Rapunzel” as she looked at the, by now, shivering Girl.

Dorothy finally tired at watching her brutal cleansing and wandered out back into the garden. This time she came considerably closer than before. Close enough, in fact to inspect the Girl minutely and handle her as one might a piece of livestock at market. She examined her sodden but lovely long hair and her pubic and underarm hair as well.

“It would be a shame to shave all that off, (My  Slave should be decorative as well as useful!) but it still looks pretty infested  to me. You must stay outside until I make up my mind how to deal with it. Until I let you in the house you can help Fitch with the garden. Lots of digging and tree felling - should make you sweat like the pig you are! Get her to work, Fitch and reward any laziness with a few blows from that nice leather belt!”

“What do I get to wear, now that my clothes are burnt, Madam?” asked the Girl nervously. She looked at the gardener’s broad leather belt with its sharp metal studs and felt her stomach churn with a spasm of fear. She knew how he was rumoured to treat Mrs Fitch when in a bad mood or under the influence of the powerful local beer and his favoured whisky chasers.

Dorothy Bottomley paused to consider this not unreasonable question. The now naked Girl would need something to protect her body from the night air. Furthermore,  the sight of so much uncovered beauty was clearly not good for the elderly Fitch who was already showing that age had  yet to affect his physical reactions to the proximity of a nubile sexual goddess!  Visitors to the Castle might also look askance at all this well stacked loveliness, especially some of her husband’s business friends!

Years later she would remember her reply as if the whole scene had taken place only seconds ago.  As the rest of her long life  went by , she became more and more convinced that she had said what she did at the direction of some higher and stronger Influence. Under this Influence a great drama was being played out.

“You will stay just as you are as long as you are my slave! There will be no more clothes for you - not ever again, neither by day or by night!  And now get to work and don‘t even think about stopping until Fitch goes home for his supper!”

She went inside and watched her favourite TV soap, soon losing herself in the banal intricacies of the tacky saga with its oh! so predictable plot-lines  - coarse and un-lettered  woman that she was.

Meanwhile, the Girl took a large heavy spade and began moving huge quantities of soil to a location on the far side of the gardens, out of sight of her new Mistress. Fitch could scarcely believe his good fortune as he watched her working away, firm young breasts wiggling pneumatically up and down, never once losing their perfect firmness and heart-breaking symmetry.  The exertion made her body glow with a pink and moist sweetness that set his pulses racing. He compared this female paragon to his wife, whose figure had long ago ceased its efforts to  resist the force of Gravity, her withered dugs hanging down like two monstrous razor strops and her wrinkled,  flabby, obese bottom sagging horribly under its fatty weight.

Each time the Girl straightened up and cast another spade full of soil onto the site of the new rockery he tried to control his superannuated lustfulness as he watched her firmly rounded buttocks shimmer, the dying sun gleaming on the twin sweaty, glowing heavenly protuberances.  He decided that he was going to enjoy his job a lot in the weeks and months ahead!

“I don’t think it’s going to all that nice, being a slave!” thought the Girl to herself as she felt her shoulders and arms ache with all the shovelling. The sweat was pouring off her by this time and she knew that there were at least four more hours of this before she could relax. Her pert and shapely little bottom tingled  in fearful anticipation as she thought what that horrible studded  belt would do to it if she showed any signs of slacking and , despite the increasing pain as her muscles cried out in their suffering, she redoubled her efforts.  Mr Fitch looked on with increasing satisfaction!

The time came for him to stop working for the day and he began to adjust himself to the idea of exchanging the presence of this exquisite beauty of a slave for the familiar company of his wife. Never mind! He would stop off for a few drinks on the way and get himself drunk enough to give the old cow a good walloping once he had eaten  the excellent meal she always had ready for him. Marriage is by no means entirely bad from a man’s point of view and not all good from a woman’s!

He removed his belt and swung it around a few times, listening to the satisfying swishing it made and laughing to himself at the instinctive wincing of the Girl’s taut young body as the sound reached her ears. He forbore to use it on her for a while and then frowned slightly.  Maybe the Girl was beginning to slow up a little. Better be safe than sorry! He brought the heavy belt down on her perfect rear leaving a row of angry scarlet marks where the studs had sunk themselves into the tender flesh. The stinging reminder of her new serfdom was enough to spur the tiring Girl to greater efforts and she was soon plying the spade as fast and vigorously  as she when she had started four weary hours before.

“That’s the spirit, my love! Don’t let up - now. The Mistress won’t like it if I don’t mark that pretty rump of your’n a few times. I’m only obeying orders like you and the rest of the staff.  No hard feelings, EH!” With these kindly words he left a few more marks on the Girl and bade her farewell until the morrow.

There was a good deal more soil to be moved before the task was complete for the day and the Girl carried on working after Fitch had left. By the time dusk made it impossible to continue, she had finished it and sank onto the grass in total exhaustion.

She rubbed her bottom gingerly, feeling the slight indentations left by the elderly but strong Fitch.  The old gardener had had plenty of practice over the years, honing his skills on the person of Mrs Fitch! The Girl’s skin stung at the gentle touch of her fingers and she almost cried out. She lay on her side, so as not to cause her delicate and injured rear more discomfort and was on the point of drifting off to sleep when a kick in her ribs caused her eyes to open.

“On those  lazy smelly feet you idle bitch!”,  hissed the voice of her new Mistress.  The Girl obeyed quickly. She now had another bruise to add to the ones Fitch had kindly given her.

“Come nearer the house where I can look at you.” continued Mrs Bottomley. She had been a not unkindly woman until meeting the Girl in her filth and dishevelment. A trace of this kindness remained awhile. (It was soon to vanish permanently).

“I see you were idle and needed a reminder from Mr Fitch!” remarked Dorothy as she looked at the Girl’s sore behind. “You must work hard and never be idle, not even for a second, if you don’t want more of that! We decent hard-working folk are without mercy towards lazy dirty beggar Girls.  One day you will thank us and see that  it is all for your own good.”

Dorothy considered what duties the Girl could be given that would keep her out of the house . An idea came to her.

“In the garage you will find three cars. Clean them all until they are sparkling. I will be there to inspect your work in two hours time. A frightful beating awaits you if I see a speck of dust anywhere!”

The Girl followed her Mistress to the garage and immediately set to work polishing the sleek limousines. Mrs Bottomley watched for a few minutes as the Girl forced her aching limbs to perform yet more prodigies of effort. She then left her to it.

“I bet you do get another blistering before the night‘s out.” the Girl muttered in the general direction of her still throbbing backside. “I’ll do my best to keep you out of trouble, but something tells me it doesn’t much matter how hard I work. You’re in for a lot more of this before you’re through. Poor old bottom! Just like being back at school again!”