A Wartime Evacuee

by Andrew Passey

Part 3

After a horrendous first day any expectation I had that things would improve were quickly dashed. My bum was sore for a few days and my lot didn't get any better. I was still working hard from dawn to dusk. It was endless tedious work and it just took over every waking moment. I was weeding most of the time but also had to do cleaning and other manual chores. It was constant at times painful work. My muscles screamed in pain at me all the time and I was just completely exhausted.

It also didn't help that I was being fed the littlest amount of food possible. It wasn't like they were eating like kings but Mrs Arch would cook a proper meal in the evening using whatever she had rations wise or whatever her husband had managed to get locally. However any thought of feeding me to keep my energy levels up for the hard manual labour I was doing was clearly not on Mr Arse's agenda.

I was usually just given the most basic food such as bread and butter, maybe a rogue potato every now and again if I was lucky. It was clear that Mr Arse saw me as like a slave who he could use to get some extra food and work done that he didn't want to do. So with such a meagre amount of food I was permanently hungry. If I did dream in my exhausted state it was about food and I fantasised about going into the larder and helping myself. It wasn't like it was that well stocked but it certainly had more food than I was getting.

However Mr Arse's warning of the consequences certainly put me off though.

"Just to let you know boy, if you even THINK about stealing my food from the larder or anywhere else in this house then I'll cut your tiny dick off and fry it for your dinner. That's the only meat you'll be having here! So keep out or else!"

The very thought of that caused me to shudder. Mr Arse was exactly the sort of person who would probably do that and take great pleasure in it. All in all it was not a risk I wanted to take! The only minor bit of pleasure I ever had in my life there was a bedtime wank although I was often so exhausted I just fell asleep. In any case I didn't want my dick cut off and even if it was maybe an empty promise I knew at best I'd get another beating. Violent abuse and constant threats were just an integral part of my life from now on it seemed. Mr Arse was quick to lose his temper and actively enjoyed doling out punishments for whatever minor transgressions he could come up with.

As well as all the other travails, I also had the ignominy of having to wash myself outside. Luckily it was summer so while unpleasant it wasn't as bad as it would be in winter. Something I definitely didn't want to think about. The water was always cold and slightly stagnant. I'd have gone without and not washed for weeks, deliberately stinking to try to be allowed in the bathroom. However after Mr Arse had threatened to strip me himself and dunk me naked into the water butt if I didn't go and get clean I felt like I had no choice. So I'd strip off hoping neither of the adults came outside or could see. Even though it was early summer the water was so cold I'd only want to do the most cursory of washes before I shivered as I got dry.

All in all it was so much worse than my shitty life in London. I hadn't realised things could get worse than that but they had. It was a deeply unpleasant situation and I felt like I was seen as subhuman at times. There solely for the entertainment of Mr Arse. If it wasn't physical abuse then it was emotional abuse. Mr Arse took great pleasure in keeping me on edge and I could tell he loved the feeling of power he had over me. He'd only have to raise his voice or hand slightly and I'd shake with nerves worrying that I was about to get another beating.

Even though I was inexperienced with rural manual labour, I made sure I worked as hard as I could with the weeding. It was a huge area to cover and I couldn't work out why it had been left to get to the situation it got to. It was just so overgrown and If I hadn't been there would they have just left it as it was? I didn't know much about farming and growing vegetables but I had a vague thought that things should have been planted by now. I just didn't know if Mr Arse actually had a plan or just enjoyed using me to do jobs he hated.

He definitely seemed all talk. I couldn't believe I was related to him but it was never brought up and I began to think this was all just a figment of my Mum's imagination. There was clearly no point asking them about it or why they took me in. Actually it was bloody obvious why they'd taken me in. To be Mr Arse's slave and subject of abuse. I just didn't know how they'd known about me and my Mum. I doubted I'd get answers as it didn't really matter anymore anyway. It was what it was which was me stuck in a shit situation with an abusive bastard definitely living a shitty shitty life.

Another thing that rankled with me was the constant insults about me being "lazy". I was the one doing all the fucking weeding while I didn't really see Mr Arse doing much work at all. His wife did most of the household chores apart from the ones I was told to do but it did seem he just sat down relaxing while everyone else worked around him. Occasionally he'd go out and about but I wasn't too sure what he actually did on those trips. Certainly I was the one doing most of the work around the place.

After more hours of work I eventually finished weeding the field. I was half tempted just to lie down in relief and sleep in celebration but that would be a quick path to another beating. So I summoned up the strength to go and let him know it was finally done. I felt so anxious on my walk back into the house that I realised how much of a hold on me he already had on me.

"Sir, I've finished the weeding," I said nervously, standing in front of him and holding my breath to see what he said about it. I wasn't expecting congratulations but maybe he'd give me a bit of minor praise?.

"About fucking time. I could have done it myself in a tenth of the time!" He replied. I bit my tongue rather than replying "well why the fuck didn't you do it!?". No point throwing any fuel on an always volatile situation. I just knew I had to keep calm and hope he didn't explode.

Mr Arse then stood up putting his cup of tea down on the table next to his comfy armchair. "There's plenty more weeding to do but first let's go and do an inspection of your work. Are you confident you've got all the weeds up?" He asked.

"Um yes I think so," I wasn't feeling totally confident but I'd done the best job I could.

"Well aren't you a cocky fucker. Also it seems like you feel you no longer need to say ``Sir!" He said with a nasty smile at me. I cursed myself and apologised quickly but he held his hand up.

"Too late now. Looks like lessons are needed. So let's say for every weed I find it's a whack of the broom handle. Deal?" He asked. He was clearly trying to get me to be a willing participant in his violent abuse of me. However I knew better than to argue so I said deal reluctantly. I hoped against hope that every weed had been pulled up. Of course I didn't bank on Mr Arse virtually getting a magnifying glass out to try and spot every tiny thing growing.

This of course all ended up with me with my pants and trousers round my ankles again as he thwacked me five times with the broom handle. I guess it could have been worse but I realised that this was going to be a regular thing. He clearly got off on the whole physical abuse thing. My bum was stinging and felt red raw by the time he was done. I was convinced I was bruised and was partly relieved I couldn't actually see how bad it was. I didn't have a mirror in my room and wasn't allowed into the bathroom to use one so I just had to go with my instinct. He hit hard and he hit often, I just hoped I'd heal in time.

"Shame you can't see how it looks boy. Bruised to fuck. I hope you've learnt your lesson. You'll be reminded of it every time you sit down. It's a mess back there though, even a pervert like Wilfred would stay away from you! Well I just hope you're more successful with your weeding of the next field. Actually I don't really, I like teaching you a lesson!" He said with a nasty laugh. I was humiliated to have again been beaten naked by a grown man. I thought the days of me bending over to be smacked were long gone. I just really hoped he hadn't done any permanent damage.

I knew I had it bad but I wasn't the only one who Mr Arse took it out on. He certainly wasn't against using his physical strength to hit his wife and mistreat her on a regular basis. I never knew why he was like he was and if he'd always been like that. Did other people know? I was reminded of the wife beating of Mr Martin back at home and how everyone knew about it but nobody did or said anything. That was in a close knit community though. Here we were in a more rural area where houses were more spread out. I had no idea where the nearest neighbour or house was to my new home. I had a vague idea that over towards the woods in the distance there was a village and past that a town but it wasn't like I was ever allowed to leave. I was stuck here. It was now my home although less of a home, more like a prison.

Talk about this story on our forum

Authors deserve your feedback. It's the only payment they get. If you go to the top of the page you will find the author's name. Click that and you can email the author easily.* Please take a few moments, if you liked the story, to say so.

[For those who use webmail, or whose regular email client opens when they want to use webmail instead: Please right click the author's name. A menu will open in which you can copy the email address (it goes directly to your clipboard without having the courtesy of mentioning that to you) to paste into your webmail system (Hotmail, Gmail, Yahoo etc). Each browser is subtly different, each Webmail system is different, or we'd give fuller instructions here. We trust you to know how to use your own system. Note: If the email address pastes or arrives with %40 in the middle, replace that weird set of characters with an @ sign.]

* Some browsers may require a right click instead