A Step Off the Path

Two Bags

Warning: this story involves child abuse

Chapter 1

"No, no," I screamed, "I cannot, I will not."

"You must. You must. You have to save your family."

"No, please. There must be another way."

"There is no other way left to us, Senti. You have to save us, your brothers and sisters, your mama and papa."

"Oh, mama."

"My dear child, we are desperate. You are our last hope. We are all hungry; we are going to starve; your baby brother is already weak. He will die soon unless we get food for him."

"Son, I wish there was another way. I've done everything I can to provide for my family. I am now exhausted. I am so sorry, so sorry."

"Papa, I know you've tried so hard. Why . . . why are things this way?"

I was thirteen years of age, the eldest of five children. We were destitute, starving. Our country was ravaged by famine, greed, corruption and injustice.

A rich man, Mr Penko could easily save us, and he would, but at a price - me.

He would take me to satisfy his perverse sexual appetite. I would be 'prettied up' and service him at his will. In return, he would provide for my family, and save them from starvation. But to me he was a monster, taking advantage of our plight to sate his disgusting base lusts.

I went, I had no choice. It was awful.

What could I do? I'd been passively cooperative for the first two weeks and the bastard had taken his pleasure of me. The servants were dressing me, grooming me and making me look like a pretty girl-boy; that's what Penko wanted.

My family were surviving and so was I, just.

But I was beginning to have other concerns. I didn't trust Penko. Once he had got what he wanted from me, what would happen? Would he cast me aside, and abandon my family? Of course, he would. What could I do?

The swine had had his way with me for two weeks, what more did I have to lose? I began to scheme.

Work him out, that's what I needed to do. He had the power, over me and my family; could I gain some power, some influence over him? How?

I perceived his passion for pretty boys as his weakness. What if I was the best of the pretty boys? What if I gave him the greatest pleasure, the highest arousal, the most excitement? Then he wouldn't want to cast me aside, then I could gain power over him.

I gritted my teeth. It wasn't hard to work out what he liked best and how I could lift him up to greater heights of sensual gratification.

The more I found out about Penko, the more I despised him. He was a gross and vulgar individual; contemptuous and exploitive of others, capricious and cruel, a self-indulgent seeker of the pleasures of the flesh - food, wine and sex.

But his lust for me was growing. I began to tease and pout, leading him on, gaining concessions, and more freedoms for myself. And I found out things, lots of things.

Chapter 2

Penko was untrusting. He kept his wealth in a small room adjoining his bedroom. It was windowless and had a reinforced door and a strong lock. The key to that lock, he kept on a chain around his neck.

I'd seen him in that room a couple of times when he thought I was asleep sprawled out on his bed. I'd seen the many small bags of gold and silver coins. One of those bags would be enough for my family to flee; two . . . would be even better.

My chance came.

One night Penko ate and drank to excess. I helped him to bed and he passed out, but he kept his hand on the key.

I touched him where he liked to be touched, arousing him even in his unconscious state. His hand moved off the key. I allowed him to settle, and then I took the key and entered the treasure room. I took two of the bags and tied them around my waist under my shirt.

I returned the key and then set the scene. Using the decanter of brandy and the oil lamp on the bedside table I soon had a fire blazing around the door of the treasure room. I gave it a few minutes to make sure that it had a good hold, then screamed for help.

"Come, come, the master has upset the lamp."

Penko didn't want to leave without his gold; he kept running back suffering burns and breathing in hot smoke. Eventually, I was able to drag him outside with the help of another servant.

People came running with buckets, drawing water up from the well and fighting the fire. They got it out, but a number of rooms had been badly damaged.

Struggling with his injuries, Penko, nevertheless went back into the house and immediately began yelling that he had been robbed. The people who had risked their lives fighting the fire turned away, getting accusations instead of gratitude.

Much of Penko's wealth was gone. There were globules of fused coins in the burned-out treasure room, but no intact bags of coins. Who could say how much of the molten precious metal was lost in the ashes or through cracks in the masonry?

Yet, I had little doubt that the firefighters had helped themselves - taking back what they believed was rightfully theirs after years of exploitation by the rich man.

I didn't care.

On the pretext of having been invited by relatives in the neighbouring country to come and establish a new life with them, my family left.

I went with them. The two bags of coins were now hidden on my mother's person.