I try turning around but he stops me. “Tell me you have been a bad girl and you need to be punished“ he tells me “I am a bad girl and I need to ...be punished.” I respond. I am getting a little nervous now unsure what I have gotten myself into. But I want to keep my job and I am sure he wont take things to far. I hope so anyway. Besides he is one hot guy. I have fantasized about him more than once on slow days at work. Hell on busy days I have thought about fucking him. He goes back to his desk. Part of every medieval village is the midden. If it's dead, broken and worthless, the midden is where it goes.Centuries in the future, assuming the natural progression of things, archaeologists will exclaim over the trash of the past; the broken pot; declaring the sherds to be thus and so, the bones of eaten animals with their knife marks or gnawed evidence of "poor unfortunates" last resort.The human remains will be declared sacrifice unless the thrust of sword or the discovered arrow head. However now, at thirty five years old, she wasn't really in demand and had to compete with younger, more energetic girls. Vivian was still an attractive woman, she took care of herself and she still could turn a man's head when she got dolled up. But time and gravity are no friend of a woman, especially a woman who made a living from her looks and body. Yes, there were younger women in the workplace, women with firmer tits and smoother skin. However, Vivian didn't fit most people's picture of. .. people might think I was crazy ... and they might try to lock me up.”“You think?”“Yeah ... that way unscrupulous people could control my winnings.”“I never thought of that.”“Keep it in mind.” I said, “People are going to try and get my winnings.”“Yes ma’am.”“Gimmie a Mountain Dew and two Cokes, please.”“Sure you wouldn’t rather have a Bass Ale?”“Yup ... my drinking days are over.”“Really?”“Yeah ... I really like those imported beers.”“I see,” Art said.“I’m going swimming. Have the shooters.