The Corruption Of Colleen

By Mike O'Connor

Set in rural Ireland, in 1958, this is the story of a beautiful but innocent eighteen-year-old virgin, who takes a job as a housemaid for a rich, middle-aged spinster. Miss Ross is a stern mistress, who wields her cane freely, but she has little patience for the training of a maid. This task falls to her niece. Janice is staying for the summer and the young English blonde is soon working on seducing Colleen and opening her mind to a world of sexual discovery that is beyond the control of the perverted local priest. Colleen’s employer has her own dark secrets, just waiting to be discovered. The red-haired maid experiences a series of sexual adventures that open her mind and finally lead to true love.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Mike O'Connor
• Release date: Oct 29, 2016
• ISBN: 9781370506545

Mike O'Connor

Mike O’Connor is a powerful and engaging storyteller who performs at many events across the country. An important researcher into Cornish music and folklore, he has been awarded the OBE and made a bard of the Gorsedh of Kernow.

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The Corruption Of Colleen

by

Mike O’Connor

Copyright © 2016 by Mike O'Connor

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The slender, red-haired young woman glanced around nervously as she walked up the driveway to the large house. Colleen’s father had left her at the front gate, with a stern warning to work hard and not to forget to say her prayers every night. There was no goodbye kiss, nor even a hint of a smile, as she lifted her small, battered brown suitcase from the pony trap. Colleen suspected her father was glad to be finally rid of her. For a struggling small farmer, one less mouth to feed was akin to a gift from God.

She was less than twenty miles from home, but Colleen felt as though she were emigrating to an entirely new world. At eighteen, she was old enough to be married, but eligible young men were scarce in the rural Ireland of 1958. Her mother had wanted her to become a nun, but Father O’Kelly had advised against it. Colleen was a quiet girl and devout in her own way, but the priest could see something in her that convinced him she would be unsuitable for holy orders. Her mother took this unspecified something to be a flaw in the character of her eldest daughter. It came as a great relief, when Father O’Kelly suggested an alternative. A wealthy parishioner of his was in need of a live-in housemaid. The position was ideal for Colleen. Should she prove satisfactory, she might yet have the makings of a nun. In the meantime, the extra few shillings from her earnings would help her family.

Though she was legally an adult, Colleen had no say in the matter. She could have been married off to some old bachelor farmer and she had been spared from the convent, at least for now. All things considered, becoming Miss Helen Ross’s housemaid seemed like the least bad option available.

She was trembling as she ascended the four steps to the front porch. All she knew about Miss Ross was that she was a rich old woman. Colleen’s father had made a few vague references to the part her family had played in the civil war. He might have had some reason to dislike the woman, but if Father O’Kelly spoke highly of her, there was no more to be said. The Parish Priest was a powerful man and woe betide anyone who got on the wrong side of him.

Colleen rang the doorbell and said a silent prayer as she waited. Whatever form of employer Miss Ross turned out to be, it was her duty to be obedient.

The door opened and Colleen found herself facing a woman who was far from the frail old lady she had been expecting. There were a few wrinkles on Miss Ross’s face, especially around her eyes, and silver strands in the dark hair that was drawn back in a severe bun. She might have been in her late fifties, but she appeared to be perfectly capable of doing her own housework.

You must be Miss O’Connor, she said.

Colleen nodded.

Yes, Miss. Father O’Kelly spoke with my mother and she said you needed a maid. I mean, he said you needed a maid. My father brought me here and….

Stop babbling and come with me, girl, Miss Ross snapped. Shut the door behind you.

Colleen followed the woman in the bright blue, ankle-length dress down a long hallway and into a room that looked like something out of a Victorian era painting. Had the young woman not been so nervous, she would have been even more amazed by the opulence of her surroundings. Colleen shared a three-bedroom farmhouse with her parents and nine siblings. Their home smelled of peat smoke and the farmyard. She had never before smelled polish or seen a painting hanging on a wall. Or even breathed the scent of another home that didn’t smell like the one she lived in.

A young blonde woman was sitting in an armchair by the fireplace, listening to music and reading a book. The music was of a type Colleen had never before heard. She couldn’t see where it was coming from and there were no fiddle or accordion sounds. The blonde woman glanced up, gave her a small smile, then returned her attention to her book.

Sit, Miss Ross directed.

Colleen obediently sat herself on the edge of a chair that was covered in some kind of shiny, red fabric and had arms at the sides. She didn’t want to make it smell of peat and farm manure, like the cheap blue dress she was wearing.

How old are you? Miss Ross demanded, standing in front of her and studying her intently.

I’m eighteen, Miss, Colleen replied.

You’re old enough to be married. Do you have sisters?

Yes, Miss. I have three sisters and six brothers.

Who’s the eldest?

That would be Eamon. He’s a year older than me.

You’re not married off to some local farmer and you’re not a nun, Miss Ross mused. You seem like something of a dark horse, Miss O’Connor. What am I to make of you?

Colleen blushed. She felt like she was being mocked. Had her employer behaved like a cane-wielding headmistress, she would at least have understood her position. She glanced in the direction of the only other person in the room, but the young blonde appeared to be totally engrossed in her book.

I’ll work hard for you, Miss, Colleen blurted. I can milk cows and use a scythe. My father showed me.

There are no cows to be milked around here, Miss Ross retorted. And I already have a gardener. You seem like a decent girl, so I’ll give you a try. Janice will show you to your room and explain your duties. We’ll be having tea at three.

The blonde continued