The following story is an erotic fantasy story meant for mature readers and should only be read by adults over the age of eighteen years old. It involves depictions of sex. If this subject matter offends, then stop reading this page now.
This story is a work of fiction and is not intended to depict any living person. Do not read this story if you live in an area where it is illegal to do so. The author does not condone the actions in this story.
This work is copyright by the author and commercial use is prohibited without permission. The author would appreciate your comments, pro and con, including constructive criticism, and suggestions. My thanks to Em, Neal, Nhoc, Mitchell, Sean, Mike, Vision, Francis, Dick, J.J., Mat, Seraph, and Chuck for the feedback, story ideas, and nice comments. Hope I didn't forget anyone!
My thanks especially to Thor, Alan, and Dean for specific story ideas that are used in this chapter. You guys rock!
I guess I write slowly. For those of you impatiently waiting for me to write more, you're welcome to check out "The Ultimate Muscle Hunk Challenge", a 23-part story in "Athletics" that I wrote last year, which may help pass the time. It's not the same type of story, but some of you may like it.
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Cinderfella, part 19
"The first tool I brought is a good one," Mr. Gundarson said. "It's been used by governments for decades for interrogation purposes, but I think you'll find that it works just as well for corporal punishment."
He pulled a long piece of rubber hose out of his briefcase, and handed it to Jake.
"This is for Dick's genitals only. It's meant for more delicate areas, and doesn't generally break the skin, although I'm told it's quite painful. Go on, Jake," he urged. "Go to town on Dick's dick. You've forced him to exercise his body; now make him exercise his lungs!"
Jake stepped forward, looked me in the eyes, and said, "Dick, are you ready to receive your punishment?"
"Yes, Sir," I said, contritely.
"Alright, boy," Jake said.
"Wait just a minute," Mr. Gundarson said, as he picked up my urine-soaked briefs of the ground. "I think Dick needs a 'little reminder' not to wet himself again."
He lifted the wet Control Shorts up to my face and said, "Put these shorts in your mouth, boy."
"Sir, please..." I said, turning to beg my stepfather.
"Go on, Dick," Jake said, sternly. "You've got to be punished so you don't mess up again."
Slowly, reluctantly, I opened my mouth, and then Mr. Gundarson stuffed the piss-soaked shorts into my mouth. The taste was quite bad. Sour. Awful.
"Dick, as you taste your own waste, you need to think about what you've done. The taste of the pee in your mouth should serve as a reminder that pissing in your shorts is 'unpalatable' behavior." Mr. Gundarson laughed at his own pun. "I hope I've given you something to chew on."
I hated this man. Making jokes at my expense. He was the worst of them all. If it hadn't been for HIM, I would have been able to pee! And then I wouldn't have pissed myself. It was entirely his fault!
And yet, part of me realized that I should have just used the restroom before they arrived; then I wouldn't have had to go to the bathroom during their visit. And even if I hadn't, I should have been able to hold it in. It was actually partially my fault. I sort of deserved to be punished.
Mr. Gundarson stepped back as my stepfather approached me.
"I'm so disappointed in you, boy. This will hurt me more than it will hurt you, Dick," he said, as he swung the rubber hose at my unprotected penis.
As the rubber hose made contact with my head of penis, I jerked involuntarily and let out a cry. It stung like a bitch!
Jake swatted me again with the rubber hose. The blow stung as it landed across the side of my dick. I hollered again, the sound muffled by the underwear in my mouth.
Three more times he smacked the hose into my crotch, as the rubber device stung my penis. The pain was intense, and I hollered and yelped at every swing.
Then my stepfather turned around and handed the rubber hose to Daniel. "Show your stepbrother the error of his ways, son," he said.
"Thanks Dad. I'll do what I can," Daniel said, as he took the length of hose from Jake. To me, he said, "You've got to learn to hold your bladder, Icky Ricky. At your age, you've got no excuse to be pissing your pants. You're really disgusting!"
With that, he snapped the rubber hose across my crotch again, catching me off guard. Then he swung it again, four more times. I screamed after each blow, the sound only muffled by the undershorts in my mouth.
Daniel handed the rubber hose to Christopher, who didn't say one word to me as he slammed the hose into my prick five times. Then he spat in my face. "I always knew you were a baby; I didn't know until now that you actually go around pissing your pants," he said, looking at me with disgust. "If it was up to me, you'd have way more than twenty demerits, faggot!"
Then he tossed the rubber hose to Doug, who asked Mr. Gundarson, "Is there any way to hold his dick up? I'd like to get the bottom side."
"Oh, I think we can manage that, Doug." Mr. Gundarson took a pair of metal tongs out of his briefcase and, grabbing the head of my dick with them, stretched my cock up so that Doug could take a his five swings at the underside of my penis.
Doug swung hard at my cock, laying four successive, painful swings parallel to one another up the bottom side of my dickshaft. The fifth blow landed on my frenulum. I screeched loudly when this blow landed; the pain was severe.
"Oh, spare me the dramatics, bitch!" Doug said. "You need to take your punishment like a man."
Doug then handed the rubber hose to Mr. Davidson, who landed blows on both the right and left sides of my penis, leaving no part of my manhood untouched.
When Mr. Davidson handed the hose to Mr. Gundarson, I started trembling like a leaf. He had been stretching my dick up with the metal tongs; mercifully, he released my dick head and set the tongs down.
"Let me show you all how we did this down in Mississippi," he said, grabbing my incredibly sore penis in his fist and jerking on my red, swollen member. I whimpered as he stroked me. He kept jerking me until I had a full-fledged boner, and then immediately swung the rubber hose down hard on the head of my prick, all five blows landing right on my piss slit.
I screeched and screamed, the pain so intense I almost blacked out.
"The bitch is gonna feel that the next few days every time he takes a piss. It will be a reminder to him to use the toilet, not the bathroom floor," Mr. Gundarson said. "He'll have a burning sensation every time he takes a piss. That's what Southern contract-holders call a 'Mississippi Burning'.
Everyone laughed.
"Ooh, ouch," Daniel said, sucking in air between his teeth. "That sounds really painful."
"Oh, we haven't even really started the REALLY painful stuff yet," Mr. Gundarson said. "We're just warming up. Remember, Daniel, we're only 30 strokes in. Now let's try another treatment that I brought with me."
He reached into his briefcase and pulled out something that looked a bit like a wooden coathanger, but without the metal hook.
"This little beauty is called a humbler," he explained. "Your bitch isn't going to like this very much. Jake, do you have any metal buckets?"
"Of course, Tom," Jake said, sending Daniel off to the woodshed to fetch them. While they waited, Mr. Gundarson removed the spreader bar, folded it up, and put it back in his briefcase. "We won't be needing the spreader bar for this part of the demonstration," he said.
When Daniel returned with two buckets, Mr. Gundarson placed them upside down close to my feet. Meanwhile, Doug and Christopher brought out some beers for everyone.
"Put your feet up on the buckets, boy," he ordered. As I obeyed, he said, "This will help you forget all about that pain in your nasty dick."
My hands were still cuffed above my head, holding me suspended from the post; putting my feet up on the buckets allowed me to bend my knees, but it put most of my weight on my handcuffed wrists. Mr. Gundarson stepped behind me and grabbed my nuts from behind. As Mr. Gundarson grabbed my testicles, a sinking feeling crept into me.
"Bring that humbler over here, Jake, and I'll show you how this works," Mr. Gundarson said. "When I pull the bitch's balls down, fasten the humbler between his balls and his dick."
As Mr. Gundarson pulled my balls down low in my sac, Jake fastened the humbler into place. I felt the wooden bar directly under my rear end.
"Alright, now just tighten those wing nuts, Jake. That's it."
I started to feel pressure on my balls as the humbler pulled them downwards.
"You'll need to keep your legs bent, Dick, if you want to keep your nuts," Mr. Gundarson whispered in my ear.
Indeed, any movement of my legs at all sent a wave of pain into my balls, as the humbler pulled on my scrotum whenever I straightened my legs. I had to keep my legs bent at a 90 degree angle.
Then Mr. Gundarson let go of my nuts, as he kicked the two buckets closer together and then tightened the wing nuts even more. I started really feeling the pressure, and any movement pulled on my ballsack.
"Jake, in my briefcase there are some rubber gloves and a jar of ointment. Do you see them?"
"This the ointment?" Jake asked, holding up a jar of Icy Hot.
"Yes, that's it," Mr. Gundarson. "Put on the glove and rub that cream into your drudge's balls."
Jake put on the glove and scooped out some of the cream. Then, he rubbed it into my aching balls. At first, it felt soothing and cool to the touch; for the first time in hours, something pleasant had happened. But after about twenty seconds, the ointment began to warm up.
"Now watch Dick squirm as the Icy Hot works its magic," Mr. Gundarson laughed.
The ointment got very warm; soon, it actually felt hot on my balls. Then it felt like my balls were on fire. I moaned into my underwear gag, involuntarily thrashing around in my restraints as I tried to get away from the fire on my balls. But the movement only caused the humbler to pull down on my ballsack, causing more pain. I squirmed and squirmed, trying desperately to somehow get my balls away from the ointment. The pain was awful, almost unbearable.
"Bahaha, look at the expression on Dick's face!" Christopher said. "That's priceless!"
Doug snapped some photos on his phone as the three younger men burst into laughter.
Beads of sweat broke out on my face and body as I was forced to endure the burning ointment while trying to keep my feet planted firmly on the metal pails. I knew if my feet fell off the buckets, I could potentially rip my balls off my body.
Then Mr. Gundarson said, "Now, Jake, try the rubber hose on your drudge's roasted nuts and see if you can get a good reaction."
Jake stepped forward with the rubber hose, and obliged him, whipping the rubber hose into my unprotected scrotum.
"AWWWWWWWWMMMMMM!" I shrieked, as the sharp pain caused me to straighten up. This in turn caused me to shriek again, as my balls were stretched by the humbler. I couldn't get away from the pain!
"This will make a great online video," Doug said. "I'll call it 'Pisser Punished'."
Jake whipped the rubber hose at my balls four more times; each time seemed more painful than the one before it. Each time, too, I squirmed in agony, as the men laughed. Then Jake handed the rubber hose to Mr. Davidson.
"Remember, Dick: this is for your own good," he said. "Discipline builds character."
He whipped my nutsack five times in quick succession as I bucked and howled, while trying to hold still as much as possible.
As Mr. Davidson handed the rubber hose to Doug, the jock in turn handed his phone to Christopher so Chris could continue recording my punishment.
I was covered now in a flop sweat, my skin slick with perspiration. Christopher walked behind me, and delivered the blows from the back side. This was actually worse than from the front because at least from the front, I knew when the blow was coming. From the rear, I couldn't tell when it would happen.
I screeched and screamed. Tears rolled down my face as I begged for mercy. But these men had no idea what that was.
Daniel, Doug, and Mr. Gundarson followed in succession; each man delivered five swings of the hose; after two rounds, that was 60 blows. 60 blows to my genitals!
After the hose whipping, they released me from the humbler and the handcuffs. Mr. Gundarson allowed me to step off the metal pails. They tried to put me back into the Glass Slipper, but my genitals were so swollen that it wasn't possible. Jake did manage to fasten the Glass Slipper's chain around my cock and balls, but the tube part couldn't be used.
"Give it a couple of days and you should be able to get the Glass Slipper back on," Mr. Gundarson said. "Meanwhile, just monitor his nightly activities to make sure he stays chaste."
"I've got a blacklight we'll use to make sure he stays honest," Jake replied.
"Great. Now, let's go ahead and remove Dick's Control Shorts from his mouth," Mr. Gundarson said, as he stepped over to me and pulled the disgusting undershorts out of my mouth. "We're going to need his mouth for this next bit."
"I'd like to demonstrate another training tool that will really help Dick. It's the ultimate training tool, better than any type of physical punishment." "This is called the Bow-Wow Training Device. It's made by a company in Alabama, made in the USA, so you know it's good quality. The long 'silver bullet' device is inserted in Dick's pussy. There are two long lead wires that can be fastened to the chain holding the slipper. Come over here, Dick, and get down on all fours."
Reluctantly, I obeyed.
Tom handed a small clip-on device to Jake. "This is a remote that I promise will do wonders for training Dick. You can clip it on your belt and you don't have to say a word. Your little doggy will know when he is not performing to your satisfaction. Now I'm gonna insert this up Dick's cunthole."
Mr. Gundarson knelt on one knee as he inserted the diabolical 'silver bullet' device into my butt. The device felt cold and foreign inside me.
"Now, Jake, push the button that says 'inflate'. There is a band that inflates with a string of small electrodes surrounding it. The concept is much like a dog fucking his bitch when the knot takes place; it can't be removed until it'd deflated. Now I will pull back on it so it is up against his ass sphincter."
Mr. Gundarson adjusted the device, pulling it back slightly.
"Now Dick, be a good boy and stand up so I can fasten those lead wires to the chain around your balls," he commanded me. To Jake, he said, "Always make sure the wires are making good contact with Dickhead's asscheeks."
"Now, I think we should show our little doggy how this works. Jake, put it on low level, since we just want to give Dick a little demonstration of the fun to come. Dick's going to feel a mild shock both internally and externally."
Jake pushed the button and I jumped and screamed. My asshole suddenly felt a jolt of electricity. I stood there shaking for about a minute as I tried to recover from the shock.
"It's working," said Mr. Gundarson. "Jake, give me the remote. I also want to add the fun part to this kit. On the end of the silver bullet you can screw in a nice-sized dog tail to add visual delight to this tool. It also comes with a dog's mask that fits over the head of your servant. Can you imagine what fun can be had at parties with that dog tail sticking out of Dick's control shorts? A lot of fun can be had with this, as I'm sure your boys are already thinking."
"Now let me demonstrate how effective this tool can be. Doug, if you could go get one of those buckets we used earlier and just set it out on the lawn here. I'm going to show you, Jake, how I can train Dickhead here to do even the shittiest jobs with total commitment. The other benefits of this tool is there are no marks and it also helps with Dick's exercise program."
"Now, Dick, you are going to clean up that empty dog run down at the end of the yard, using only your mouth. You will run down, drop down on all fours, and then pick up each turd and bring it back to this bucket. No hands or slowing down, boy. If you slow down or hesitate, you will feel pain. You have five minutes to complete the job. If you fail, we start over."
What the fuck!? This man was demented! There was no way I was going to do that. I just couldn't. Dog shit in my mouth? And yet, with a sinking feeling, I already knew this was going to happen. I felt like I was going to puke. Even the rubber hose was better than this.
As I stood there, the men retired to the shade of the patio and their drinks.
"when I say 'Go Doggy', you start."
Christopher, Daniel and Doug were laughing their asses off.
"Go, Doggy!" Mr. Gundarson said, looking at his stopwatch.
As I ran down the lawn towards the dog run, cursing myself for ever signing Mr. Gundarson's contract, I wanted to run the other way. Maybe I could scale the fence. I just couldn't bear the thought of the taste of dogshit in my mouth.
As I turned to the fence, though, Mr. Gundarson flicked the button to medium and zapped me. My legs crumpled under me, and I fell to the ground; I must have looked like a person having a seizure.
Jake gave Tom a high-five; I heard his sons laughing.
"Get your ass up and do as you were told, or I'm going to be forced to zap your ass real good next time," Mr. Gundarson threatened. "You already lost a minute of your time, boy."
I lay there in the grass until my dizziness passed. Then I rose and started running again. I only had four minutes!
As I reached the dog run, I saw the area was covered in dog shit. I couldn't believe what I was about to do. But the shocks were unbearable. Dear reader, if you have read this far, please do not despise me for what I did next.
I bent down on my hands and knees, lowered my head to the grass, and... put a piece of dog shit between my teeth. It wasn't as bad as I thought it would be; it was hard and old, and I couldn't taste it if it only touched my teeth. I tried not to think about what I was doing. I wouldn't allow myself to think about it.
I crawled back on my hands and knees to the metal bucket and dropped it in there.
"You won't make it in time if you only carry one piece of shit at a time, Dick," Mr. Gundarson said. "Get a whole big mouthful, boy!"
I ran back down to the dog run and dropped to all fours. I could see already that that horrible asshole was right; I wouldn't make it in time if I only did one piece at a time. And I'd be forced to do it all again. I bobbed down and managed to get two pieces between my teeth. But a third piece was almost impossible to pick up, and part of it broke off in my mouth. I started wretching and Mr. Gundarson apparently counted this as hesitating, because he shocked my ass again.
When I recovered, I realized how far behind I was. I realized I just had to do get it done. I scooped a half a dozen pieces into my mouth and then crawled back to the bucket, spitting them into the pail.
Then I ran back to the dog run and scooped more dogshit into my mouth. A lot more. I filled my mouth with dogshit. I had never felt so low in my life. I crawled back to the bucket and spat those pieces into the bucket. They mostly stuck together, softened by my saliva. The entire time, the men were laughing. I suppose I was a pretty pathetic sight. I repeated what I had done, filling my mouth with dogshit, and then crawling back to the bucket do deposit them.
The last few pieces were ones I had avoided earlier. They looked fresh, and I hadn't been able to bear the thought of those pieces in my mouth. But I didn't have a choice. Dear reader, please do not think less of me for what I did next.
I scooped fresh dogshit into my mouth, crawled to the bucket, and spat the pieces into it.
When it was done, Mr. Gundarson had my stepfather pat me on the head and praise me.
"Good boy," Jake said. "Good doggy."
"Sir, please, permission to brush my teeth?" I begged. My mouth tasted like shit.
"In a while, Dick. Mr. Davidson and Mr. Gundarson will be leaving shortly; you can wait 'til then," Jake said.
I had to wait for what seemed like ages, as the visitors spoke with my stepfather. Jake told them he had decided that he wanted one of each of the devices that Mr. Gundarson brought: the rubber hose, the spreader bar, the metal tongs, the humbler, the handcuffs, the jar of ointment, and the Bow-Wow Trainer Device.
"An excellent choice, Jake," Mr. Gundarson said. "We've already got your credit card on file; I'll just charge it to Dick's indenturement account, since these purchases are for his needs."
"Thanks, Tom," Jake said. "It's been great having you out here. All these tips and tricks will help me get the boy in line, finally."
"It's been my pleasure," Mr. Gundarson said. "Truly. I just know that, with these tools in place, Dick will eventually realize his full potential, and finally accept his new position in life."
With that, Mr. Gundarson and Mr. Davidson shook hands with all the Free Men. "Christopher, Daniel, Doug, it was great meeting all of you," Mr Gundarson said. "Your father is lucky to have three such fine upstanding sons such as yourselves."
"Oh, I'm not one of Mr. Head's sons," Doug said. "I'm just a friend of the family."
"Doug is Christopher's friend from college," Jake explained. "But we see him so often, he's like the adopted son I never had."
"Well, I guess we should be heading out," Mr. Davidson said. "It's a long drive back to the office."
On that note, we walked around the side of the house to the front of the garage. Well, they walked around, and I trailed behind them. I could see Mr. Gundarson's cherry red Maserati in the driveway.
"See the nice car you helped pay for, Dick?" Mr. Gundarson asked me. "Pretty sweet, huh? Bet you wish you were in my shoes!"
"Yes, Sir, I mumbled. "It's very sweet."
As the two DCI employees got in the sports car and then pulled out of the driveway, my stepfather turned to me and said, "Dick, I hope you're truly grateful to Mr. Davidson and Mr. Gundarson for all they did for you today."
"I am, Sir," I said, trying to sound contrite. "Sir, may I please brush my teeth now?"
"Alright, Dick," Jake said. "You go brush your teeth."
"Dad, aren't you forgetting something?" Christopher interjected.
"What did I forget, Christopher?"
"Well, Knob was supposed to get 20 demerits. That's 100 strokes of a paddle or lash. But he only did 60. He still owes 40 more."
"I guess you're right, Christopher," Jake allowed. "What should we do about that?"
"Let's give Knob the full 'Doorknob Treatment', Christopher suggested.
They took me inside and made me squat down in front of the hallway door and put the big doorknob in my mouth. Jake ordered me to fold my fingers behind my head and then spread my legs so that my knees were at a 90 degree angle. The position was incredibly awkward and difficult to maintain. My swollen balls were fully exposed. I dreaded what was to come.
"Alright, Dick. We just need 40 more swings, so I'm going to have each of the four us give you ten shots to the groin."
"Yef Fuuur," I mumbled, the doorknob making it difficult to speak.
Daniel went first. He slammed his foot into my balls without warning, my already swollen, painful testes subjected to another round of abuse. I moaned loudly. The second kick was much worse, and the third one beyond belief. By the fourth kick, I saw spots in front of my eyes. The fifth one was so hard that it jolted my body upwards, and the only thing that was still holding me in that position was the doorknob in my mouth.
Six through ten were so terrible that I almost passed out at the end.
"Dick's practically falling asleep!" Christopher said. "Better wake him up, Doug!"
"No worries," Doug said. "I've got really strong legs. This fucker's really gonna feel what I dish out!"
Doug SLAMMED his foot into my balls, sending them careening into my body. I screeched loudly. He repeated the treatment, again slamming his foot into my swollen nuts. Again and again, he slammed his foot into my tenderized nutsack.
At some point, I must have blacked out. I don't remember Doug and Christopher changing places, but it was apparently Christopher kicking my nads now. He didn't just kick them; he was trying to smash them between his shoes and the closet door. Tears streamed down my face. I lost track of time.
At some point, my stepfather knelt down beside me. "Dick? Hey buddy. Almost done. Dick, I want you to sing the 'Star Spangled Banner' as I start my round. Understood?"
I nodded my head slightly as I murmured, "Yef, Fiir,"
"I'll begin when you start singing, boy."
"Oh fay can 'ou fee," I warbled, "'y a 'awn's ewwy wigh'..." SLAM!
"'Ut fo pwouwy we hai', a a pwighwigh's was' weaming..." SLAM!
"'An' a wockef's wed ware..." SLAM!
"A wom's wurfing i aiw..." SLAM!
"'Ave 'oof fru a ight, a ow fwag 'us fill fere..." SLAM!
I honestly don't remember if I finished the song.
Hours later, I woke up in my cot, large parts of my body still aching. I got up to brush my teeth, and made a painful discovery: my balls had swollen to the size of lemons; they were reddened and the slightest movement sent pain jolting through me. My penis, too, was swollen and bright pink. Sitting was agony, since my ass was still tender from the shocks I had received.My back, wrists, ankles, and knees were also very sore.
I stood up slowly, trying to avoid any sudden movement. Quietly, I crept upstairs. The house was dark. The hour was very late. I snuck out to the greenhouse and rinsed out my foul-tasting mouth. I found my toothbrush in the dark; it was laying on the ground by the brickwork I had been scrubbing the other day. I brushed my teeth four or five times, and it still did not seem like enough.
Then I quietly snuck outside. In the dark, I felt free. No one could see me out here. No one could hurt me. Like a moth to the flame of a candle, I was drawn to a rectangle of light. Ofjoseph's door. The Van Camps' garage.
Inside, Ofjoseph waited for me. I saw him sitting on his weight bench. He looked up as I stumbled in.
He rushed to me, as I fell into his arms.
"They hurt me," I sobbed. "Ow. They hurt me."
"Shhhh," he said, trying to comfort me. "I know. It was bad. I heard you howling from my house. I'm sure the whole block heard you."
"I can't... I can't do this," I said. "I can't go on like this."
"Shhh... don't talk like that," Ofjoseph said. "You're stronger than you think."
He led me over to the weight bench, and we sat down together. He held my hand in his, comforting me. He wrapped his thick, muscular body around mine. It was such a relief having one person who was my friend. One person who would listen to me. I told him what had happened, and he listened. He didn't tell me I had it easier than him. He didn't judge me for what I'd done with the dog shit. He just listened. For not the first time, I thought of him as my knight in shining armor. My Prince Charming.
When I was done talking, he said to me, "Richard, can you keep a secret?"
I nodded.
"I'm running away," he said.
"What? You can't," I said. "They'll track you down. They always do."
"Listen. I can't stay here any longer. I'm not as young as I once was, Richard. Mistress Van Camp... she's losing interest in me. She likes her men young. Real young. I cheated time for a long time, with young-looking features, but it's getting harder and harder to hide my age. Richard, I overheard my Master and Mistress talking. They're going to sell the remainder of my contract to a ditch-digging company in Louisiana. It will be Hard Labor. I'll be in a Hard Labor camp."
"They can do that?" I asked, sounding naive even to myself.
"People as rich as the Van Camps can do anything they want, Richard. Anything. When I'm transferred, my life will end. Louisiana is... I've herad it's bad for contract laborers like us. It's the Deep South. They say you're better off dead than a human contract laborer in the Deep South."
"Richard, I know someone. On the Underground Railroad. They can get me to Canada. They can get US to Canada. If you'll go."
"I... I don't know," I said. "I'm scared."
"Let me know by next week, Richard. I plan to leave by the middle of next month. It will take at least that long for the Van Camps to make arrangements to ship me down South. It will also take a while to make the Railroad arrangements."
"Do you trust these Railroad people?" I asked.
"What choice do I have?" Ofjoseph replied. "It's either trust them, or strike out on my own. As far as I know, almost no one makes it on their own."
"I... I'll think about it," I said. "I hate being my Stepfather's bitch, but I'm so scared to leave."
I crept back to my step-master's house, quietly slipping in the back door. As I walked softly on bare feet through the kitchen, down the hallway, and through the parlor, I grew scared. How would I explain myself if someone discovered me? It was too early in the morning to borrow sugar from a neighbor, and I hadn't even brought a cup, so I had no alibi for wandering around the house in the dark. I would surely be punished yet again.
I suddenly bumped into the table in the parlor; the resulting noise sounded like a freight train collision to my ears, but really wasn't very loud. I was about to back up and move around the table when a shiny golden reflection caught my eye. I looked closer.
It was my stepfather's wedding ring, still sitting on the table, where he had left it yesterday morning.
I took it in my hand, hefting its weight. Then I tossed it into the floor register; I heard it rattle down into the ductwork below the floor. And then I went to bed.
To be continued...