Dara

by AnonYMous

  'I'm Dara Tully from Baldwin Valley in the Isle of Man,' I answered.

  This news was greeted with silence as she continued to knead the dough.

  'I suppose you are Mrs. Quirk, my father's cousin.'

  She quickly filled six baking tins with the dough and put them in the oven, then turned her full attention on me. 'So you are Sam Tully's daughter. How is he keeping these days?' she asked.

  'My father is dead,' I replied.

  She gave this information some thought for a moment then said, 'I always thought he wouldn't last very long. Too fond of the drink, that one,' and then, 'What are you doing here in America?'

  Perplexed at receiving such a cold reception, I was a little nervous at that question. I tried a smile to see if that would soften her, but her face remained expressionless.

  'Well,' I said hesitantly, 'I was hoping you could find me work on the farm or in the house.'

  She began to roll out some pastry. 'You don't look strong enough for farm work,' she snapped. 'In any case, my husband and son don't need any help on the farm. We cannot afford it, and I don't need any help in the house. You might find some work in Cleveland. I don't know what we are going to do with you.' 'I can milk cows. I used to work in Mr. Bruce's dairy,' I said hopefully. 'We haven't got any milch cows, only hogs and they don't need a dairy maid.' Her remarks struck her as being very funny and she guffawed herself into a fit of coughing. She paused in her coughing and shouted as she pointed a finger at me, 'You, milking hogs, that's a good one; I would like to see that!' She was obviously enjoying mocking me.

  She was still bent over coughing when two blonde giants entered the kitchen. Although my body is slim without an ounce of fat on it, I am of good height and taller than most women, and yet I felt like a dwarf beside these men. With massive shoulders about a yard wide and legs like tree trunks, they seemed to fill the kitchen with their presence. I presumed they were Mr. Quirk and his son and stood waiting for an introduction, but none was forthcoming.

  Mrs. Quirk got her coughing under control and pointing a finger at me and looking at her husband said, 'This is Sam Tully's daughter, from the Isle of Man. She has come to help us milk our hogs.'

  The absurdity of her introduction set her off again. She neighed like a horse and whooped with laughter. The men just stood there looking at me and then at Mrs. Quirk and back again to me, not understanding the joke but with big oafish grins spread across their faces.

  In an effort to bring this ridiculous situation to an end, I extended a hand to Mr. Quirk saying, 'I am pleased to meet you. I hope you are keeping well.' 'Tolerable, I thank ye,' he replied, politely.

  My slender hand disappeared from view when he enclosed it in his huge paw. Going to the son I said, 'My name is Dara. What's yours?'

  His face was still occupied with a stupid grin and he stared down at me with pale blue eyes for a moment. 'I'm Billy,' he grunted.

  In the meantime, Mrs. Quirk, recovered from her laughter, was setting the table with cold meat, a pan of boiled potatoes and a great mound of cabbage. When four large china plates were placed on the table it became apparent that I was expected to join them at their evening meal. Riling three of the plates with meat, potatoes and cabbage, she took the fourth and placed less than half the quantity of the provisions of the other plates on it and handed it to me.

  Nevertheless, it was ample for my appetite but her deliberate inhospitality didn't escape my attention and I made up my mind that first thing on the morrow I would be on my way back to Cleveland and out of reach of her insulting uncouth manners.

  Our meal was eaten in silence. When we were finished, I asked Mrs. Quirk if I could help with the washing up. Receiving no reply I declared a need for fresh air and said that if it was alright with them I would take a look around the farm. On hearing this, Billy lifted his huge body off the bench and said, 'I'll show you round.'

  His mother immediately interjected, 'Now don't you be long, our Billy. You've got to get to bed early. You've a hard day's work to do tomorrow.'

  She obviously didn't trust me with her precious son. She needn't have worried; the hulking great brute was of no attraction to me. I would rather have been left to my own devices but he stood in the doorway waiting for me to come out, determined to accompany me on my walk.

  'This way,' he said as soon as I emerged through the doorway and strode off to a barn only a short distance from the house. Coming up alongside him, as he stood in the open doorway, I was about to make some excuse and wander off when his hand came around my back and pushed me with tremendous force into the barn. Stumbling and trying to keep my balance, I fell on top of a heap of hay. For a man of his size he was surprisingly quick in action. He had turned me over onto my back and was on top of me, squashing all the breath out of me before I had time to rise. Pulling my skirt up over my face and forcing my knees apart, he knelt between my legs. I was in darkness and trying to bring my skirt down from over my head when I cried out in pain as he roughly forced two fingers, coarsened with farm work, up my giny.

  He was digging away inside with his fingers as if trying to find something at the top of my giny when the barn door was flung open and I heard his mother shout, 'Billy, where are you?'

  By this time I had got my skirt off my face and saw her stride over to us. She clouted Billy hard around the head and told him to get back to the house.

  'As for you, you trollop, keep your filthy hands off my Billy. He is already spoken for by a decent girl on the next farm to ours.'

  I pulled my skirt down over my knees as she made a move to leave and was about to rise to my feet when she turned. 'Out you go first thing tomorrow morning, and make no mistake about it.'

  Flabbergasted at the ferocity in her voice, I lay there for a moment or two before getting onto my feet.

  I walked about for a while and then reluctantly returned to the house as there was nothing else to do under the circumstances. She glared at me as I entered, muscles tightened with aggressive hostility, husband and son absent, no doubt in bed.

  'Follow me,' she ordered, and led me along a passageway to a bedroom. Before she closed the door on me she yelled, 'And remember, first thing tomorrow you are out, bag and baggage.'

  I'll say this for her, the room was spotlessly clean and well furnished, the chief articles being a wash stand and a massive double bed. Undressing quickly I was about to put on my nightdress when the thought struck me that Billy might waylay me on my way from the farm. Preparing my sponge took but a moment and, crouching, I inserted it up my slot. Being raped was bad enough but the thought of that great brute fathering a baby into my belly was too dreadful to contemplate. Then I remembered the bedroom door and made sure it was well and truly locked in case he tried to walk in his sleep.

  Getting into bed I felt the cuddly softness of the feather mattress under me and was about to dim the small oil lamp on the side table when I heard a noise coming from the window. Getting out of bed to investigate, I had just got to my feet when the window opened and a breeched leg came over the sill followed by the rest of Billy's bulky form. Before I had time to protest one of his big hands pulled my head back by the hair and the other closed hard over my mouth.

  'Now you keep quiet. If you make a noise, I'll bash your face in so you'll never be the same again,' he threatened.

  Looking around the room and getting a firmer and more painful grip around my mouth, he growled, 'Are you going to keep quiet?' The menace in his voice made me nod my head in agreement.

  If I cried out, I thought, his mother would only blame me again and throw me out into the dark night. Girls always get the worst of it in a situation like this and are often accused of encouraging the man and leading him on. It has always been that way and always will be. Society shuns even the maid who gets raped in a most cruel fashion.

  He dropped his breeches, stepped out of them and then pulled my nightdress off. Lifting me up as if I weighed no more than a child, he threw me on the bed and forcing my knees wide open knelt
between them. Getting his fingers around the base of his cock, he wobbled it about, looking down at me and grinning all over his face. I watched horrified as it swelled and hardened and grew larger and larger. In all my experience I had never seen anything like it. It was frightening just to look at. How he was going to get it in to a young girl of my age I didn't dare to imagine.

  Putting his hand under me he raised my buttocks and shoved the head of his cock hard at my giny. Under its pressure the lips of my giny began to stretch and strain to such an extent I thought he would split me. The pain was awful and I made a move to rise and get away from him but it wasn't to be. He brought a heavy hand over my face and pushed my head down on the pillow. At the same time he came hard down on me.

  I was gasping painfully for breath and squirming to get away from him. The more I wriggled about in an effort to get out from under him, the more he seemed to like it. After a while I resigned myself to his cruel humping and shoving for I was pinned down and couldn't move. He had the constitution of an ox and wasn't to be denied. Oblivious to my gasps of pain, his eyes were fixed on the wall behind me like a man in a trance.

  Coming to a climax with an animal grunt, he collapsed on me covering my face with his chest and knocking all the wind out of me. Suffocating, I struggled and pushed against this mass of flesh and hair as I tried desperately to get some air into my lungs. He rolled off just as I was about to black out and lay on his back with his right hand firmly clasped around my left wrist.

  I lay flat out like one crucified, with his muscular right leg lying heavy across my thighs making it impossible for me to escape. With bruised ribs and painfully panting for breath I lay there dreading the thought that as soon as he recovered from his exertions he would probably get on top of me again. To my surprise I heard him snoring.

  My legs began to get the cramp under the weight of his heavy leg as I waited for him to get into a deep sleep and, easing them gently up, I got them free from his leg without awaking him. He still had a good grip on my wrist so I turned very slowly and, with great care, lifted his little finger from my wrist. The next finger showed more resistance but eventually straightened. I was sweating with the concentration needed for my task and the fear that I might awaken him from his sleep. The longest finger of his hand proved to be more difficult and wouldn't budge.

  Losing patience with it, I pulled it towards me. He awoke with a start, sat up, and looked around the room as if puzzled at finding himself there.

  The now familiar grin began to slowly spread across his face when he turned and saw me beside him. From the look in his eyes I could see he was going to give me another battering and that there was no hope of appealing to him for mercy.

  He went through the same motions as before: kneeling between my outstretched knees and swinging his enormous cock from side to side until he was good and ready to enter me once more.

  Moving at a more leisurely pace this time, he played it out for as long as he could. When he did come, I was prepared for it and had my head turned to one side so that I was able to breathe when his chest came down crushing my ribs and head. Finishing with me, he rolled onto his back, holding my wrist as before, but remaining wide awake this time.

  When he recovered he scoured my tits with his coarsened hands until my nipples were fiery pink and sore. Tiring of that game, he got astride me with knees over my arms, wobbling his cock about until it got big and hard. Moving up on me he slapped my face with it and kept on walloping me until my skin was flushed red from the beating it was getting. All this slapping made his cock get bigger and harder and made him so excited that he couldn't get it in me fast enough and, becoming impatient when he missed the hole, scowled and slapped me hard across the head with his hand as he prodded frantically at the wrong place. When he did get it in, he went at me like a rutting beast and came in no time at all. I expected him to roll onto his back as before, but he got out of the bed when he finished with me, pulled on his breeches and disappeared through the window.

  Too tired and weary to get up and close the window after him, I fell into an uneasy sleep and slumbered fitfully until the first light of day when I was awakened by Mrs. Quirk hammering on the door and yelling at the top of her voice, 'Get out of bed, you slut. I'm having you out of here. Unlock this door.'

  Dragging myself out of bed I walked painfully bowlegged to the door and turned the key. In she strode and stood glaring at me with arms akimbo. I stood looking at her sleepy-eyed trying to gather my senses together.

  'Well?' she said. 'Don't just stand there. Get your things packed.' And, raising her voice, bawled, 'GET OUT!'

  Feeling bruised and battered and particularly sore and tender around my privates, I picked up what few articles I had unpacked and put them in my bag.

  At the kitchen door I was about to ask her where someone might be found to take me into Cleveland when she got her hand on my back, heaved me out and slammed the door.

  Stumbling with my heavy bag which seemed to weigh a ton, I made my way slowly towards Cleveland. By midday, hot and sweaty, I stopped for the tenth time to rest, wearied beyond endurance, my thighs tender and sore, my private parts burning painfully. Easing myself on to the grass, I sat down and burst into tears.

  After a good cry my will to overcome my problems strengthened and, staggering to my feet, I was about to take up my bag when I heard the shrill laughter of children ahead of me around the bend in the road. Hurrying along as best as I could, my spirits rose when I saw a tethered horse and wagon and, sitting in the shade of a tree, a man with a woman and three small girls having a picnic around a cloth well laid out with pies and cakes. As I hobbled towards them the woman got to her feet and, coming up to me, took my leather bag and led me to the rest of the party.

  Beckoning me to be seated she handed me a cool glass of cider saying, 'You look exhausted, my dear. Have a long drink; it will help to revive you,' adding, 'it is uncommonly hot today.' And then with a kindly smile, 'Too hot for a young girl to be walking with a heavy bag.'

  I thanked her and attempted to give her some explanation of my situation by telling her that I had been informed that I would meet up with a carrier on this road and had set off early for this purpose but had met no one up until now.

  Spying the water of a stream nearby as I was talking to her, I bent forward and whispered in her ear that I would have to make a call of nature and would she keep her family where they were while I hid behind the bushes near the stream.

  She nodded her head and said out loud for the benefit of the others, 'Yes, my dear. Go down to the stream and splash some of the cool water on your forehead; it will freshen you up I'm sure.'

  Hidden by the bushes, I removed my skirt, petticoat, stockings and shoes and quickly got into the stream gurgling in the shade of a tree. The cold clear water was like balm to the burning skin of my under parts. Sitting on the pebbly bottom of the stream I sighed with relief, thankful that in my haste to get into the water my legs had not been encumbered with lace-edged pantalets, a fashion recently taken up by the better bred ladies of society. Females of a lower class never wore such hindrances as they were most inconvenient for women who had to work. My mind was made up when working at the hotel that I would never ensnare my thighs in such garments as I liked to feel cool air between my legs.

  Hastily splashing some water on my face, I reluctantly climbed the embankment before the good lady on the road came looking for me. Quickly drying myself with my petticoat, I dressed and rejoined the picnic party feeling much better and more at ease below the waist.

  After formally introducing myself, I learnt that they were Mr. and Mrs. Garnet and that their children, whose ages ranged from five years to nine, were named Bella, Emily and Alice. Bella, the eldest, was a very pretty child with long curly chestnut hair. She took it upon herself to wait on me, supplying my plate with portions of meat pie, pickles and fruit cake. I was very hungry having partaken of no food since the previous evening and made short work of disposing of the delicious fo
od placed in front of me.

  During the course of our conversation, I learnt that Mr. James Garnet was practising as a lawyer in Cleveland, and that they would be very happy to make a place for me on the wagon for the return journey to town. Mrs. Sarah Garnet's plump, good-natured face showed much concern when she learnt that I intended to travel alone all the way to Chicago and she wasn't reassured on learning that I journeyed alone all the way from Liverpool in England.

  On enquiring about hotels, she became very agitated saying, 'Such places are not for young ladies travelling alone. You will lodge with us while in Cleveland.'

  When she turned to her husband for his agreement, he nodded, saying, 'You will be most welcome,' and added that there was no need to board the boat for Toledo on the morrow as they would be pleased to have me stay with them for as long as I wished. They were indeed a kindly couple, with three charming daughters, and I thanked providence that these good Samaritans had come to my assistance at a time when I was in great distress.

  Tucked in a corner of the wagon with a blanket wrapped around me, I was sound asleep when the vehicle came to a halt outside their home in the centre of Cleveland, and, with Bella's arm to help me, I stumbled indoors.

  Mrs. Garnet was much concerned at my condition and felt my forehead which was covered with sweat, exclaiming in alarm, 'My dear girl, you have got a fever. You must go straight to bed at once.'

  When we got to the bedroom she wanted to assist me to undress, but I insisted on doing this myself despite my weakness, thinking she might see the bruises or some other ill-effects from the previous night's ordeal.

  'Very well,' she said. 'Get into bed as soon as you are undressed and I will bring you a mixture to suppress the fever.'

  I had only just got into bed when she was back again bearing a glass of her home-made medicine. When I enquired what it was, for I'm not the sort of person who drinks anything that is offered me, she smiled. 'My dear, it will do you no harm. It's for your fever; all my family swear by it. It's a mixture of orange, lemon, tamarind, nitre and cream of tartar. Drink it up you'll find the taste quite pleasant.'