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A college boy gets the Mrs. Robinson treatment.

He was a handsome African-American man, whom she intuitively knew was very much attracted to her, although she had kept their relationship strictly professional so far. What was his name though? How could she have forgotten something like that?

She tried to picture his face, but all she got was the older black farmhand leaning on the fence. Get out! Get out of my head! I don't want you, I want the other one!

A sharp crack across the buttocks brought Alisha back to the present and she discovered that they were back at the other end of the field. She was no longer breaking wind, but her body had now launched into a series of violent hiccups, each one jerking her breasts upward and clanging the tin bell hanging between them.

Turning, she skidded in the mud, and unable to support herself with her arms, fell to her knees and then over onto her face. She lay there for a moment, her face in the clammy mud, grateful for the rest, but then she felt the burning fury of the whip across her buttocks, once, twice, and then after the third one, she maneuvered herself over onto her side, and squirming in the mud, managed to get back onto her knees.

Richard had come around from behind the plow, and gripping her arms, yanked her to her feet. She couldn't see him because she had mud in her eyes, but then she felt his thumbs rubbing her eye sockets and her vision gradually returned.

Richard gave her a look of contempt and said, "Look at the state of you. What a mess! If you can't complete a simple task like this, how are you ever going to prove to my Pa that you deserve to be let in the house?"

Alisha had no answer. Maybe he was right. It was a rhetorical question because she was incapable of speech with the rubber bit clamped between her teeth, so instead she hiccupped loudly, making her feel even more foolish, if that was at all possible.

"Good God, Daisy, come on!" Richard said. "We've got the whole field to cover, and at this rate we'll be here all morning."

Caked in mud, naked in an open country field, a bridle fastened around her head, and harnessed to an old-fashioned plow with a cow bell around her neck, Alisha had never felt so unworthy in her life. Again she asked herself if it could possibly get any worse, but then again, she had asked herself that question several times already - and each time, it had!

Chapter Thirteen

After consuming a rather filling plowman's lunch, Jacob took Darius, Alastair, and Tom back over to the milking shed, to check on Alisha's progress. They had left her struggling through the mud - and covered from head to foot in it - with Matthew helming the old plow behind her. The two brothers were sharing the task, because the glutinous earth had a tendency to suck on their rubber boots making it rather heavy going.

Alisha, of course, had no such luxury, and would have to cover the entire four acres herself. Of course, she was doing all the hard work anyway, the boys merely having to follow behind and keep the plow upright. This had caused Darius to comment over lunch on Alisha's incredible resources of energy, but Jacob had explained that there were some powerful stimulants included in the suppositories that would ensure the girl did not pass out no matter how drained she might feel.

Quite amazing, Darius mused as they entered the shed. Jacob really has covered every angle!

Inside, he permitted himself a wry chuckle at the arousing sight that greeted them. Her morning's work complete, Alisha was now having a bath. But far from being a pleasant soak in a tubful of warm water, predictably, this experience was intended to be every bit as unpleasant as all the others.

She was perched on the rim of a tin tub, bent over on all fours with her toes and fingers clinging precariously to the hard edges.

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