The Curse of the Scots

She slipped back on the bed and lay there.

I stared at her then said, "You won't try to run away?"

She shook her head no.

I folded my arms on my chest and smiled.

"OK, I won't run away."

Grinning broadly I said, "Good whore," I went in the bathroom closed the door, and turned on the shower.

I, of course, knew what she'd do. I imagine she just laid there for a minute or two. I'd left my pants over by the foot of the bed. She bet my wallet and the keys to my truck were in my pockets. I could almost read her mind. She figured she could take my wallet and keys and be gone before I got out of the shower. I listened at the bathroom door. She got off the bed as stealthily as she could and went for my pants. Sure enough wallet and keys were right inside. She grabbed the keys and wallet and started for the front door. I bet she thought she'd be doing me a favor.

In the bathroom I had turned the shower on, but hadn't gotten under the water. Still in my boxers but shirtless I quietly climbed out the large bathroom window and walked around the house to where my truck was parked. She was as reliable as an alarm clock. Out the front door she crept.

I was leaning on the left front fender of the truck.

She saw me and stopped dead in her tracks.

"Did I miss something?"

She just stood there. She sighed; her shoulders slumped slightly.

"And you promised," I walked over and retrieved my wallet and keys. I opened the truck door and threw them both on the seat. Then I took her left wrist and walked her to the garage where I kept my second truck, a tractor, and my Lexus. Inside the garage I walked her over to my workbench, reached up and around a top shelf and pulled down some coiled rope. I grinned, "I had a girlfriend once who liked to play tie up games."

I could tell she wasn't amused. The first thing I saw that she noticed was the vise. I wondered what was circulating in that brain of hers. She seemed extra scared, really unstable.

I said something, "You don't like it in here."

She replied, "Are you going to hurt me?"

"What?"

She pointed to the vise.

I looked in the direction she pointed; then back at her. She was staring at the vise.

"Fuck, what kind of person do you think I am," I pulled her back toward the house, "I've done some things I'm not proud of, but I can't imagine anybody doing what you're thinking."

"I saw two men kill someone with one of those."

That shocked me, "Jesus, Vince was using a plastic bag; that was like a kindness wasn't it?"

Caprice shrugged, "You stopped him, if you hadn't I'd be dead now and wouldn't have to put up with any more shit,"

I watched as she stopped talking. I could tell she was getting real scared. She looked at me fearfully, "I don't mean..."

I took her left wrist, "Come on," I pulled her out of the garage and led her back in the house and back to the bedroom. I got her beside the bed, "Hold out your hands."

She held her hands out.

I took the rope and carefully but thoroughly tied her wrists together. Then I took the rest of the rope, pulled it through a gap in the headboard and knotted it. I grinned, "This could get a little uncomfortable, but we'll work something better out later. I stood back and looked, "There you go." Her hands were fastened together, and then held fast near the top of the bed.

She stared at me, "This won't last you know."

I gave her my best shit eating grin, "Probably not, but it'll last long enough for me to take a shower, and then a good long nap." I walked back into the bathroom and started to take what was now a cold shower since all the remaining hot water had run out.

Five minutes later I was back in the bedroom. I slipped on a Tee-shirt. Climbed in on the other side of the bed, and started to go to sleep.

She was facing the opposite direction, She whispered, "You know you're making a mistake."

I mumbled, "Probably, we'll just have to see." I drifted off to sleep. Caprice dozed, but I think sleep evaded her.

++++++++++

A nice long nap helped, but not a lot. When I reawakened it was early evening. I had a headache. I heard her furtively working on the ropes, "Have any luck?"

Caprice's wrists were rope burned, she was probably hungry and thirsty, and she needed to go to the bathroom. She looked all fidgety and nervous.

I figured trips to the bathroom for her weren't exactly the same as for other people. She was after all; a whore; her ass and vagina had been used extensively, and over time the abuse had certainly led to some bathroom problems. I guessed the trouble was with her ass; she was a mass of fissures and hemorrhoids; they were probably part of the reason why her value had declined. She was literally a fucked up and fucked over mess. If she didn't get to the toilet fast I bet she'd be shitting all over the bed. She had no choice but to tell me, "Listen I've been fucked up the ass so many times my rear end is as wide as the Grand Canyon. Half the time anymore when I shit I don't even know it. You've got to help me. I've got to go."

I rolled over, "You're incontinent?"

"To say the least."

I rolled over her and got on the other side. As I rolled on top of her I felt she wasn't so warm anymore; my dick also reminded me she was a woman. I officiously undid the rope that fastened her to the headboard, "Go on go."

As sore as she felt Caprice still moved quickly; it wasn't a second too soon.

I heard the swift even flow as the shit poured out of her. I followed her in the bathroom.

Caprice sat on the toilet; hands still tied in front. She'd been in this situation before; this was usually when she got her face slapped.

I strode over and undid her hands, "I'm sorry. I should have thought."

Caprice looked at me in disbelief; I think she thought I was going to hit her? I bet she was thinking how she had to get away from here. She told me, "Look I told you I'm trouble. Can't you see? I'm a worthless piece of shit. It would have been better if you'd left me for Vince to strangle."

On first appraisal I might have agreed; but I reconsidered, no one is totally worthless, "I don't agree."

Caprice was wiping her ass when she answered, "What do you know; you're just another stupid mark. If you're smart you'll let me leave."

I was and wasn't buying it, "I'll bet you're hungry."

She was beside herself, and I could see it. She blurted out, "Can't you hear? Can't you see? Look at me!"

"How about some scrambled eggs; they'll go down easily, they taste pretty good, and it's something I can fix."

I knew she was hungry, and she thought I was stupid. But I was no pimp; I was a farmer, maybe a stupid farmer. Maybe she'd seen hundreds of men like me; a man who saw a whore and thought they could change their lives. She figured I was a fucking do-gooder.

She grimaced, "Yeah I could eat some eggs."

"Come on then; I'll whip up a batch."

I helped her into the kitchen. Caprice sat at the table and covertly scanned the area. I discreetly watched her. She saw the laptop, the land-line telephone, where the doors were, where I probably kept my shotguns, other stuff. I knew she hated her last pimp Vince but I bet she was thinking about calling the fucker. She'd tell him she was with this guy who has a lot of shit. Yeah she and Vince could clean me out; leave me high and dry for the asshole I was.

I started to break the eggs; I figured I'd cook up eight of them. I dropped a couple pieces of bread in the toaster and got out the butter and jam. I looked over at Caprice. What a stupid fucking whore, "Have you seen everything? Just in case; that's my laptop over there, most of my guns are locked in the closet. All the extra ammunition and spare car keys are in there too. By the way, if you want to steal some money I have a cash box in the same closet." I watched her blush.

She started to respond, "I'm..."

I interrupted, "...a whore. You're thinking I could call my old pimp. He could get here and we could rob the dumb farmer. Well you could Caprice, but where would you be. You'd be back in Central Pennsylvania getting fucked up the ass until Vince decided to wrap another bag around your head and finish you off. You want that?"

She stammered, "No...I...no."

"No what; you want to stay a stupid bitch whore until someone splits your head open with a vise,"

I swirled the pan around that had the eggs, "Caprice I'm the best fucking thing that's happened to you. Oh shit, I know what you're thinking, this is Mr. Fuck Up, the hero who's going to save me, make me an honest woman," I started slopping the eggs on two plates, I plopped the first two pieces of toast on a plate and slid the plate over to her, "eat your fucking eggs; then I want to show you something."

Caprice picked up her knife, buttered a piece of toast, and, taking her fork, started eating her eggs.

I took a few bites of my eggs. I watched her as she ate. I had to say something, "Look at you."

"What," she retorted?

"You're eating your eggs with a fork."

"So?"

"You ever looked at other people? I bet you use a fork for everything. See how you buttered your bread? One small pat. Most people, stupid people, would use a spoon; they'd slab a ton of butter on the bread, not you. I've been watching. Yeah you're a whore, but somewhere back there you had some training. Maybe once upon a time you were something entirely different."

Caprice threw her fork on her plate, "Fuck you."

I got up and took her by the wrist, "Come here,"

I pulled her across the room to the big wall mirror that was over the server. I pushed her in front of the mirror and stood behind her, "Who do you see?"

She tried not to look, but I grabbed her chin and made her look in the mirror. I asked her again, "Who do you fucking see?"

She couldn't look away. What she saw was a tired old whore, "I see an old whore," she tried to turn her head again.

I wasn't going to let her go, "I didn't ask you what you did; I asked you who you saw. Now, who do you see?"

She kept trying to look down, away, "I see nothing. I see nobody."

I yanked her around, "And when you look at me you see a stupid farmer, right."

She just looked at me.

"I'm not just a stupid farmer; oh I might be stupid, and I might be a farmer, but I'm alive, I'm a person, a human being. I think. I feel. I can love, and one day I might even be loved," I was really wound up, "Caprice you work as a whore, but you're much more, I turned her back to the mirror, "You're beautiful Caprice; you're a beautiful human being. You should never have to be tied up and beaten. No one should ever be allowed to hit you, hurt you, or try to murder you. No one should ever be allowed to put your head in a vise," I swung her back around, "Clear plastic bags are made to store food; they're not made to kill people." I let her go.

Caprice fell back slightly, she looked at me. I know what she was thinking; she was thinking this man is crazy. She laughed, "You almost had me for a moment," she laughed again, but it was an artificial laugh, artificially high and forced, "you really are a stupid fucked up farmer."

Then I laughed too, "Caprice you know what I'm going to do to you?"

She got scared, and it showed, "No what?"

I saw her fear resurface, "First I'm going to repair the damage your last hero did. Then you know what?"

She wasn't as scared as a minute ago, "What?"

I laughed, "I'm going to fix your teeth, clean off the ugly tattoos, surgically repair your pussy and your ass. You cost me $5,000.00 the other night. Caprice, when I'm finished with you, no one will be able to touch you for less than a million."

Now she laughed, "You really are a dumb fucking farmer."

I knew I'd gone too far. Five minutes ago I'd never intended to do anything, but she'd pissed me off. I figured all the other men in her life had reacted to her with violence; it just wasn't in me. Well it was, but not in the way she was accustomed. She made me think of Angie. I'd royally fucked her life up, and now I couldn't even get within earshot. She wouldn't even let me near my own daughter. I looked at the whore. What's the difference? I can afford it; I had nobody, only a little girl who was afraid of me and a sick former wife who hated me.

Well I'd said it; now I added, "I don't know who you really are, but I can see you're not sure who you are either. We'll find out together. What have you got to lose, a few chipped teeth and a hemorrhoid or two."

She didn't know what to say. Hell I really scared her, "I'll run away."

I laughed, it was a hearty cheerful laugh, "No you won't," I reached out and grabbed her wrists again. I held them tightly but not so tight as to hurt, "Come on back to bed."

She tried to resist but I was too strong, then she snarled, "This is when you finally fuck me."

I pulled her along to the bedroom, "That'll never happen. Right now you're probably loaded with germs, you know STDs and shit. Later, well later, I'll probably let you leave. No now I'm going to tie you back in the bed, right after I Neosporin your cuts again."

I dragged her back, laid her down, warned her not to move, and got the Neosporin. For the next twenty minutes I rubbed it in, I rubbed it in good. I checked her ass and her pussy. Yeah they were both a mess; they'd definitely need work. Then I tied her back on the bed. Since I planned on going out I tied her by the wrists to the ends of the headboard.

I stood back and checked out my handiwork, "You look mighty nice with your arms all spread out like that, almost good enough to eat, almost."

She lay there spread out like she was ready to be fucked; she'd been in these situations before, "Fuck you farmer."

I replied, "No, we won't do that, but let's get some clothing sizes," I found a pad and a pencil, "I'll name the apparel, you give me your size."

For the next twenty minutes we went over all her clothing sizes, from blouses, to dresses, to shoes, to panties, to you name it. Afterward I checked the clock; it was already after 10:00 p.m., too late to get anything. I looked at her and chuckled, "Wait here; I'll be right back."

I went back to the kitchen. I knew I couldn't leave her tied up day and night; especially not now since I had farm work to do. I figured with the right equipment I could keep her wrapped up at night, but I'd need help during the day. I knew where to go too; I grabbed the phone and called Mr. Ellis.

++++++++++

I had a talk with old man Ellis.

Mr. Ed Ellis was an old man now, but it had been his mother who'd put me on the stove when I was a baby. I've always had a close relationship with Mr. Ellis's family. Hell they'd been my only real family other than Aunt Maggie, and maybe Del and Angie. I got Mr. Ellis on the phone, "Hello Mr. Ellis?"

Mr. Ellis replied from his end.

"Sir this is Cayden. I could use some help." For the next ten minutes I explained to Mr. Ellis what and who I needed. We worked it out. Now all I had to do was get something to keep Caprice controlled while we slept tonight.

I put on my L.L. Bean and headed out the door.

++++++++++

About an hour and a half later I was back with the supplies I needed for that night. I'd bought several lengths of chain and half dozen small locks. I went back to my bedroom and found Caprice right where I'd left her. She looked tired and miserable.

I walked in and called out pleasantly, "Honey I'm home!"

She was still well tied to the bed; she didn't look very happy, "I'm about to piss in your fucking bed."

I undid her ropes and directed her to the bathroom, "Please take care of your personal needs," I laid out a toothbrush, a tiny breath spray, a small packet of perfume, and several other small items a woman might want. I watched while she pissed and shit again. I waited while she brushed her teeth, gave her face a wipe, and tried to fix her hair. Satisfied she was finished I led her back in the bedroom; I poured the chains and locks out on the bed. "Hold out your hands."

She started to cry.

I ignored the tears; this was a whore after all. She held out her hands; I fastened her wrists together with length of chain and two small locks, I took the long end of the chain and locked it to the end of the headboard, "There you go," I got up and started for the door.

She started to cry again, she whimpered, "You can't do this to me."

I turned and asked, "Who am I doing this to?"

She stopped crying and looked at me.

I saw the confusion all over her face, "I mean have I chained up a worthless old whore, or have I cruelly and unfairly restrained a worthwhile human being who has a mind and a heart and a soul."

Caprice heard what I said. She rolled over and faced away from me. She murmured into the pillow, "Fuck you and fuck your mother."

I left the master bedroom and walked a little further down the hall toward the smaller bedroom. 'Fuck your mother,' that's what she said. That was a well-spoken line of shit. I never knew my mother; just the pictures my older brothers sometimes begrudgingly used to get out and show me, just the granite headstone with a name and some dates. My older sister is the closest in age to me and the closest of my siblings. She said my older brothers adored their mother and blamed me for her death. Ellen, my older sister, I also had a half-sister I hardly knew, said she only remembered long dark hair that flopped all around, and she remembered being held.

I reflected back on my father's second wife; a woman Aunt Maggie hated, her name had been Mae. Mae had her own kids with my father, but she'd died. Mae used to rub snuff and ended up with cancer of the larynx. Ellen said our father used to beat his second wife. She said my father used to bend her fingers back till he'd break one. Ellen said one time Mae's brothers had to come out to our father's farm and have a talk with our dad. After that our father stopped beating her so much. I figured maybe that was where my mean streak came from; I got it from my father.

I got to the smaller bedroom, went in, set the clock and went and knelt by the bed to say my prayers. What the particular prayers were didn't matter; didn't everybody pray for the same things?

I climbed into bed and thought about what I ought to do. I'd bought a whore and at first didn't know what to do with her, still didn't really, but I was a farmer. Maybe I'd planted a seed or two in the woman's head today; I'd find out, if they grew she'd become a person again, if not, well I'd send her on her way. I thought again about an old saying, 'you can lead a horse to water, but you can't make him drink, but then again, you can always put some salt in his oats.'

I climbed back down to the side of the bed. I put my hands together and started to really pray. I prayed for Angie and Emily. They mattered. I prayed for the whore too.

This is the end of part one.

++++++++++

If you made it this far thank you. If you're inclined leave a comment, vote if you like, but if al you want to do is fuck over what I've written I'd rather you didn't vote. Remember people who put stuff on this site do it for free. It's all grattus; you can afford to be generous.

All seven parts are finished so part two will be up in a day or so.