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The Patron


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The Patron, The beginning or is it?

This is a story form a time of two to three hundred yeas ago in England when times were not so good for women and girls of lower class if they ever found themselves alone without protection.

With disease rampant many children were left parent less orphans these are the tales of some of the girls of that time. Some will be happy and some will… well lets just say not so happy and leave it at that. And the man who would control their destiny!

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I never knew much about my father’s philanthropist activities till after he died and they became my responsibility. I could understand the museums and opera but the orphanage for girls, was more a mystery to me it seemed a money waster I could not see how this could be a benefit to me or to the estate, And indeed it seemed that way when I looked into the estate accounts. That is until I read the letter my Father had left me, telling of a different set of books, one that showed it to be one of the more profitable ventures of the estates holding. The details I’m sure you do not wish to know about.

Needless to say I had to look into this and learn more. The old woman that ran the place the Head Mistress was a crafty bitch. If ever there was a female deserving of the name she was it.

Since I had never been there before now, and she was fairly sure my father had never discussed it with me, she thought she could get away with pulling the wool over my eyes. I pulled her up short simply by asking if she had her bags packed, This confused her and she asked whatever for? I simply replied because I was sacking her if she kept up her act with me!

After putting her in her place she was meek as a kitten, all the same I would watch out for her claws, such a woman was not to be trusted.

While my Father didn’t have time to teach me a lot before he died, he did teach me how to deal with the hired help and servants, which is not to say they are both the same.

We got down to details and she filled me in on the operation that while it was indeed a orphanage, it was much more than that. A good many of the girls were trained as domestic maids suitable for most any good house of the ton. Sewing cleaning, cooking, and other domestic chores were instilled in them. Reading and any sort of higher education was clearly not in the cards for these girls. They wouldn’t be expected to know how, and might even be viewed with some suspicion if they could, such were the times we lived in.

However not all the girls became such maids, in fact very few did, most were sold into brothels for very good profit or private hands which was even more lucrative. Not that the Head Mistress knew just how much or even which girls went where. She just suspected and she felt that gave her some sort of edge on me.

It didn’t take long for me to figure out why my father kept her on, it was the way she handled the girls. They seemed fairly desperate to escape her control and who could blame them. But while they were eager to leave they had no idea they would be jumping from the frying pan and into the fire.

Which made them all the easier for me to manipulate. With the illusion dangling of a better life for them as a maid in a good house, simply if they were just nice to me, they would just about grant me anything. For that was what they all thought they were being trained for. And it stood that a good recommendation from me would insure that better life. Too be sure they didn’t think the Head Mistress would ever give them one.

It all became very clear when I looked into my father’s private office and papers there, just how nice a girl might become. There was only one key to that office and I held it. Also I was armed with the secrets that were hidden there.

Having satisfied with the business end of the operation I decided to look over the merchandise. It was a good size orphanage housing over sixty or seventy girls of varying ages from newborns to those that old enough to help teach the younger ones those being almost 21. My father making it quite plain he didn’t want any older girls there that might get wise to what was really going on.

With that many girls it was fairly easy to arrange a transaction at least once a month or so. That there were a goodly number of nursery age girls showed my father was thinking in the long term, their upkeep being minimal.

It turned out my father was a rather randy old goat, and that my mother was unable to deal with his peculiar needs, that of deflowering virgins. Since she could only offer that to him once. Here he had a virtually unending supply of unsuspectingly naive virgins that would fall all over themselves for a kind word from him and I saw no need to change things. As I looked over the girls, I decided to interview some of the older ones. They were putty in my hands even as inexperienced as I was, This one 19 year old I had on her back with her skirts up and bloomers down, before the glass needed to be turned. Not only that but she thanked me afterward. I had to laugh privately afterward, that she thanked me after I blooded her; I was even clever enough to have her use her mouth to clean up the mess as to leave no evidence as to what had transpired. After hinting to her that even a maid would not want it spread about that she was messy slut as well as being easy.

While she had been clearly a virgin as well as naive about anything about sexual intercourse, she did rather well for her first time. I decided to take her home with me and told her to get ready to work within my manor house, and sent her to pack what few things she had.

News like that spread like wildfire within the orphanage with every girl that had dreams of a better life wishing her well and secretly wishing it was them instead. I knew I had planted seeds that would make it even easier for me in the future.

I read a little of my fathers journals as I waited and finally learned why he never remarried. And why we always had young beautiful well trained maids since her death, not that we ever had poorly trained help. It seems the apple does indeed not fall far from the tree.

The old man seemed to take great delight in writing about the many girls he and blooded and brooded within these very walls.

The tales of which I will share with you, if you show an interest!