Well, since I committed the horrible faux pas of double-posting a piece, I thought it only right to go ahead and post one that I know hasn’t been posted here yet. This is a fun little BDSM-ish romp I did about a year and a half ago. It exhorts us all to make sure we read…
The Fine Print
Amanda was the very definition of a slacker. When she started puberty at the tender age of 10, she discovered that the very boys who used to make fun of her clothes and call her “icky” now would do virtually anything she asked in exchange for a bit of attention, a bat of the eyes, occasionally a kiss on the cheek. She reveled in the attention she got, though at the time she didn’t really understand why. Her body shape was nearly perfect, her face so symmetrical and proportioned one might have thought she was sculpted out of clay rather than born. Her sunny blonde hair had just the right amount of natural curl; she needed only wash, condition, and run a brush through it and it would lay perfectly across her shoulders. Even though she all but stopped getting taller at the five foot mark, all the boys wanted little Amanda.
Except little Amanda didn’t want boys.
She was 15 when she discovered this little fact. At a cheer camp, on a dare, she made out with Maria Sanchez. Everyone in the room was laughing and joking and catcalling as they watched, but inside Amanda, sparks flew like they’d never flown before. At home, though, it was made clear that bringing girls home would get her homeless. That brought it all into focus for her. It wasn’t about love, it was about power. Daddy held the purse strings; he had all the power. So she had to find her own power, and in high school, all her power was between her legs. Boys were her tool, a tool to keep her father happy, a tool to get she wanted. And she used and abused those stupid, horny tools. She’d kiss a boy, closing her eyes and imagining Maria when she did. But when she ruined and discarded them, breaking their little hearts before they could reach the big prize, it was Daddy she saw in those tragic faces, powerless and pathetic, with no purse strings to pull.
Still, she graduated with honors, and her parents bought her a car and gave her an allowance that would continue so long as she was attending college. And she abused that as well; taking 6 credit hours a semester at community so she’d have plenty of free time to continue exacting her revenge on the male species while she waited for the chance to meet her own knight in shining armor, the one that would save her from this hell of denying who she was and what she wanted and needed.
After her 21[SUP]st[/SUP] birthday, Amanda started sneaking off to lesbian clubs in the big city, away from the prying eyes in this little religious fishbowl of a town. And she’d party, and she’d drink whatever the butch girls bought for her, teasing them the way she teased the boys in school, except she’d let them take her home and fuck her, which was every bit as glorious as she imagined it would be that fateful day at cheer camp. Only another woman could know exactly where all her little buttons were that gave her pleasure. But in the morning, if she didn’t wake up in a palace, she was gone.
Her fifth year at Community complete, still without even an Associate’s degree for all the different classes she had taken in so many different fields, Amanda was looking forward to another summer of partying, debauchery, and deflecting her parents’ probing questions about where she’d been for three, four, six days at a time. At yet another new lesbian club, drinking and dancing and flirting on yet another someone else’s tab, someone very, very interesting caught her eye. The woman that strode through that door was dressed to the hilt in designer clothes, and she had a supreme air of confidence in her step. From the stark white Louis Vuitton skirt and top to the flaming red Gucci handbag, everything about this woman screamed “money” and “class”. And Amanda had to have her. This was her knight, the one that would save her from her evil dragon parents and whisk her away to a modern castle in the hills.
She had to be coy, though. This woman was sophisticated, worldly, savvy. If she came on too strong, she’d give herself away. No, she had to keep doing what she always did, just do it closer to this woman’s table. She can’t want what she doesn’t see, right?
Unbeknownst to Amanda, Monique Freitag had already seen her. She saw Amanda when she walked into the club. But she had seen her before, at other clubs, where she was content to observe from her VIP suite rather than mingle. Monique had been watching this flighty little thing for a long, long time. She knew what Amanda was about. Amanda wanted to be someone’s arm candy. Monique had other plans for this woman-child, however.
Tonight, she’d let the little moth flit around her, though. She found a table far enough from the dance floor where talking was at least not an exercise in sustaining maximum lung power and settled in to watch the little moth come and try to impress her with her teenage antics.
And Amanda tried. What a show she put on to try and get Monique to notice her! Every move the girl made near Monique’s table was an obvious effort to show off her tight little ass, from the “shake it” duck waddle to the hand-clap-and-bend-over laugh as she mingled with her little friends in the vicinity to the reach-around-the-booth-back-to-shake-a-hand-and-show-my-tits maneuver, it was all so obvious. Monique just coolly sipped on her martini and enjoyed the show.
Amanda, on the other hand, was getting rapidly frustrated. No one had ever made her work this hard to get a little attention. What was with this chick? Did Amanda have her read wrong? Was she not a butch type? Because she sure carried herself like a top, not a bottom. Either way, she should have picked up on the hints by now. Either that or she was so self-absorbed she just didn’t care. Did she already have a girlfriend? Was she just waiting for her to show up?
The night dragged on, and Amanda floated back and forth between the dance floor and Monique’s table area, alternately watching from afar and trying to throw signals from up close. Last call was fast approaching, and Amanda had no interest in going home alone, especially not having to drive in this state. She had to either make a play or settle for one of her several pursuers. If this chick was taken, Amanda would blow her chance to get laid tonight. But if she walked out that door, this may be the last Amanda ever saw of her. No, she had to try, even if it meant sleeping in her car tonight.
Then the unthinkable happened. She turned her eyes back toward that table, and rich chick was nowhere to be found! Nothing but an empty glass and a few bills were left where she’d been perched all night. NO! She’d blown her chance, trying too hard to be…
Monique hooked her arm from the other direction, leaning over. “Come with me, little girl,” she commanded.
Amanda turned, ready to slap a bitch, then her eyes widened, and she let Monique lead her out of the club, waving to friends as she awkwardly staggered behind Monique’s swift movements. The June air outside was thick and hot, but what captured Amanda’s attention was the waiting driver of a black sedan with an open door next to him. “Wh… where are we going?!”
“You’ve been trying to get my attention all night, little one. Now you have it. Are you coming home with me, or would you rather go back in there and try your luck with one of your little floozy friends?”
This was exactly what Amanda wanted. But it’s definitely not the way she was expecting to get it. “I… I don’t even know your name!”
“Monique Freitag. And you are Amanda McDowell, the progeny of a proud Irish Catholic family out in the suburbs, gone wild ever since you were old enough to legally drink.”
“Wait… how the hell do you know that?!” Fear rose up in Amanda, clashing hard with her excitement over being scooped up by a rich and beautiful partner.
Monique stopped and turned, staring down at the short blonde. “I know many things about you just from listening, something you don’t do very much of, because you’re too busy trying to get what you want. I know exactly what you want, and I’m offering you exactly one chance to get it from me. Now, are you going to get in the car, or are you going back in the club?” Force was something every girl like this understood, and force was something Monique used to her advantage in every encounter. Half of winning a negotiation was being stronger, more forceful than your opponent at exactly the right moment.
“I… okay… um… let’s go…” Monique was saying horrible things about her, but the idea of passing on an opportunity was too much for Amanda to resist. She figured she was in for a rough night, but then again, she liked it rough once in a while. This might be fun. Terrifying, but fun…
“Good choice, Amanda. After you.”
In the back of a towncar with a rich, beautiful woman, drinking champagne, Amanda was in her glory. They talked the whole time, well, more accurately, Amanda babbled about the inane details of her daily existence while Monique sat back and nodded, offering an occasional empathetic comment: “Yes, that must be so difficult for you.” “I completely understand.” “Oh, you poor thing, I don’t know how you manage.” How utterly oblivious the child was to her condescension was amusing to Monique.
When they finally arrived at Monique’s suburban compound, it was like all of Amanda’s little fantasies coming true at once. Illuminated only by the security spotlights, it was still a stunning piece of architecture, a huge sprawl at the top of a hill, nested right on the treeline of a huge forest.
And Amanda wasted no time. The second they were through the front door, her hands were all over Monique’s svelt body. She wanted this tall, dark woman to ravage her, and from the very moment Monique grabbed a lock of Amanda’s hair and pulled her head back to kiss her fiercely, she knew that was exactly what was going to happen.
She got all she bargained for and more that night. By the time the sky began to turn from black to navy, hinting at the coming dawn, Monique had reduced her to a sweaty, quivering puddle of naked humanity in the middle of the California King bed upon which she lay, the implements of Amanda’s destruction scattered around her like evidence at a crime scene. But as Amanda gave in to exhaustion and fell asleep, Monique merely grinned and went off to shower. Oh yes, this one would do just fine, with a little training.
When next Amanda opened her eyes, it was noon, by the digital clock at the bedside. Monique was sitting on the edge of the bed, crisply dressed in a short-skirted business suit, watching a financial news show on the wall-mounted flat screen in the corner of the room, sipping coffee. The evidence of last night’s lovemaking was nowhere to be seen. Amanda’s heart soared. It wasn’t a dream! Her chance to become a trophy wife was right here in front of her! “Mmmm… morning, my love,” Amanda said softly.
“Your love?” Monique raised an eyebrow as she looked down at the stirring little blonde. “You’re a fast mover, aren’t you?”
Still half-asleep and hung over, Amanda’s wits were hardly in any shape to manage snappy comebacks, but it didn’t stop her from trying. “Only when I meet the woman of my dreams.” She slid over and clumsily tried to stroke Monique’s back.
“Uh-uh. I have meetings this afternoon, little one.”
Was Monique throwing her out?! No, this couldn’t be happening! “Was I not good enough? What did I do wrong? I’ll try harder, I promise! Just tell me!”
“Oh stop, you were more than adequate. Feel free to have coffee, or ask Dmitri to fix you something to eat if you like, and when I get back this evening, we can discuss more permanent arrangements. I rather like you, and I think I’d like to keep you around, pet.”
And Amanda was back to the top of the roller coaster again. “Oh Monique! I’d love that! I can hardly wait!”
“Yes, I’m sure of it. Go on and have a shower, get yourself cleaned up. I’ll have Martina bring you a change of clothes; I’m sure we have something around here that will fit you, tiny as you are. Perhaps tomorrow we’ll look into a wardrobe for you, if you decide to stay.”
Why wouldn’t I?! “Of course, love. Should I…”
“Silly child, you throw that word around so casually, don’t you?”
A bubble of anger rose up in Amanda, but she swallowed it. “I… what do you mean?”
Monique reached over and grasped her up under the chin, drawing her face close. She kissed her long and deeply, then held her fast. “Don’t worry your pretty little head about it. I will make sure you understand what I say when it is necessary. Be a good girl and go wash up now.”
“Oh… okay…” Amanda crawled off the bed and headed into the en-suite, Monique giving her a sharp swat on the bottom on the way by.
She had a long, hot shower under the waterfall heads, and when she came back out wrapped in towels, Monique was gone, and where she sat there lay a very cute strapless white dress with a playful floral print, and on top of it lay a note:
Feel free to give yourself a tour. The east wing is locked down for renovation at the moment, kindly avoid that area. Wouldn’t want you getting hurt with all the construction going on. I’ll see you very soon, my sweet.
Amanda dried herself off and slipped into the dress. It was super comfortable, loose and flowing, and barely reached her mid thigh. Without her padded bra, her sad little A-cup breasts were dwarfed by the sweetheart neckline, but the cut flattered her anyway. She looked and felt very girly in it, and she did a little twirl, her bare bottom flashing briefly as the hem flew up. She blushed and giggled in spite of herself, then flopped back onto the huge bed, soaking in the luxury which surrounded her. If Monique wanted her girly, she’d be a damn Disney princess, if it made her buxom dark-haired mistress happy.
Meanwhile, Monique was in the back of her sedan, watching, enjoying the little show. The girl looked like a tweener playing dress-up, which was about appropriate for her maturity level. She’d give Amanda a chance to prove her instinct wrong, though she was certain the girl would fail miserably at the attempt.
While Monique met with her high-profile legal client, Amanda explored the mansion, marveling at the expensive appointments detailing each room. Monique had an incredible sense of style; Amanda could tell that much, even if she had no idea of the various periods the décor faithfully reproduced. All she knew was every room seemed like it came from a completely different house, and each was filled with so many little treasures and details. She could get lost in a place like this, and she rather was looking forward to doing exactly that.
She found her way to the kitchen and began to explore, her appetite awakening as the fog of the previous evening’s drinking lifted.
“Shall I fix lunch for Miss?” a booming voice came from behind her, jolting her up from examining the contents of the huge refrigerator.
She spun around to see a towering man in a crisp white uniform. “Um… I am kind of hungry.”
“I’m afraid I’ll need more specifics than that, Miss.”
“I don’t know, like, a salad or something? I, like, totally suck at cooking and stuff.”
“Understood. Shall I send it up to your room?”
Her room. She rather liked the sound of that, though she definitely hoped she’d be sharing Monique’s bed whenever possible. Oh, the things that woman made her feel. “Oh… um… yeah… I guess.” She wasn’t sure if that was a hint by the huge man, but she decided she’d better take it as such and find her way back to her suite. Her suite. Her own little piece of this opulence. And it’d only taken her one delicious night to reel in this prize. She grinned as she opened her door, doing another little twirl before she flopped backward onto the bed. Monique was such a strong, powerful, but so very sexy woman. Amanda would have been willing to sleep with the most butch dyke on the planet to have this, but Monique being gorgeous and mysterious and an amazing lover was so much of a bonus! She could easily imagine herself falling in love with the lady of this manor.
Martina brought her salad and a nice glass of white wine to go with it, and Amanda casually munched while watching a reality show about brides shopping for wedding dresses. Little visions danced in her head about being in her own lavish wedding gown, marching down the center aisle of an outdoor wedding filled with the sorts of high-society people Monique probably associated with regularly. Monique would be standing there in a smart but still feminine pantsuit, while all eyes would be fixed on Amanda, and they’d gasp at how stunning she looked.
“Well hello there, little pet.” Monique’s voice came from the doorway, and Amanda jumped a bit at it.
“I didn’t expect you back so…” Amanda looked at the clock; three hours had passed in a blink. “I mean… how did your meeting go?” She stood up and attempted a seductive pose as she walked toward the taller woman.
“My meeting went as expected.” Monique accepted Amanda’s embrace with a smile. “Looks as though the outfit I chose suits you well, little one.”
“It’s really comfy. I don’t really own anything girly like this, but if it turns you on, then…”
“Yes, yes, dear, I know how much you need your little itch scratched. But you and I have business to attend. Playtime comes later.”
“Wait, business? What business?” Amanda staggered a bit as Monique grasped her arm and led her out into the hallway.
“I told you this morning, we would need to discuss the terms of our relationship. Unless you’ve decided that you’d rather go back to your overbearing parents and your little double life.”
“No! I love you, Monique! I want to be with you!”
Monique laughed. “There you go again with that ‘love’, pet.” She led her into the massive library Amanda had briefly glimpsed before, and waved her to a chair in front of the huge desk. Monique seated herself in the massive leather executive chair behind. Amanda sat down and looked at a stack of paper, the top sheet of which was titled, “In consideration of this cohabitation agreement…”
“A contract?” Amanda asked, confused.
“Yes, yes, dear, we can’t go around not knowing what is expected of us, can we?”
Most of the page was weird legalese, but one section caught Amanda’s eye: “Amenities for Ms. McDowell”
Her eyes widened. There were various allowances for clothing, food, and entertainment, and use of a Mercedes, and her own personal assistant, and… her head swam at the possibilities.
“Yes yes, dear, this is my offer to you for our living arrangements. It’s just a list of what you can expect to get and what I expect of you in return. If you’d be so kind as to sign off on each page right there at the bottom.” Monique knew the girl was far too ignorant to understand the legal minutiae that filled the ten pages, which is why she made sure the benefits were obvious and on page 1, and the consequences were buried on pages 9 and 10.
“Oh, Monique, you’re so kind and generous!” Amanda stopped reading at “Mercedes” and was already inking her name. She rifled her way through the pages, barely lifting them enough to plant her signature, never mind reading the crucial titles. A fancy car, an allowance, and her own gopher? Monique could do whatever she wanted to Amanda for that!
“Yes, I suppose I am. I propose we celebrate this little negotiation over dinner, and later you can fulfill some of your obligations as my concubine. How does that sound?”
“Mmmm, I’d rather fulfill my obligations now,” Amanda purred.
“Oh of course, you are insatiable, aren’t you? Unfortunately, per the terms of the contract you just signed, I’m the one who decides when we have sexual interactions, and I’ve already made us reservations at La Plaza. So you’re just going to have to contain your urges, darling.”
La Plaza?! The most exclusive restaurant in the city? And she got reservations on the spur of the moment? “Oh my god, yes!” Amanda looked down at herself. “But… is this appropriate? I mean…”
“Yes, pet, you look fine. We haven’t time to dawdle, though, or we’ll be caught in evening traffic.”
“But… my bra… and panties… I don’t even have any shoes to wear to match this!”
“I took the liberty of checking your sizing this morning while you slept. I procured appropriate footwear and delicates for you while I was out, darling. They’re in the car waiting for us outside.” Monique stood up. “Shall we, then?”
“Oh… well sure…” Amanda followed Monique out to the drive, and there was the same black sedan that brought her here yesterday. At once, the driver popped out and opened the rear door for the two women, Monique striding confidently while Amanda awkwardly stumbled, her tender toes complaining with each step on the hard payment.
“My goodness, should I carry you next time?” Monique laughed as she stood aside and ushered Amanda into the car first.
As she got in, Amanda spotted a white bag from one of the high-dollar department stores in the downtown area. Her eyes got big. “Oh you shouldn’t have!” She clasped her hands and turned to Monique with a huge grin.
“Yes, yes, well, go ahead and get yourself sorted out.”
Amanda went straight for the shoebox. In it were a pair of wedge sandals, but… Amanda knew she had small feet, but these were little girl sandals! The white latchet across the toes was punched with little flower stamps and trimmed with eyelets. These were footwear for a third-grader! She looked up at Monique, confused.
“Sorry, dear, they had nothing in a white sandal in a size 4, so I had to go to the girls’ section. It was either that or a garish floral print sneaker. I chose the lesser of two evils.”
“Oh, okay.” She reached back into the bag and pulled a pair of panties on a hanger. White boy shorts. With a daisy right in the crotch. Ew. When she was ten, boy shorts were her mother’s idea of a compromise when she asked for bikini briefs instead of the high-waist full briefs she’d been made to wear since she was toilet-trained. The first things she bought with her graduation gift money were a bunch of sexy thongs from Victoria’s Secret, and she religiously handwashed them and kept them well out of sight from her mother’s prying eyes.
“I was in a hurry, and they were the first thing I spotted that I knew would be invisible under your dress. Sorry they’re not as revealing as you prefer.” Monique’s stiff response made it clear she was running out of patience.
“I’m sorry, Monique. Thank you for taking the trouble to go shopping for me.” The apology felt like the ones she was made to give her grandmother when she knitted her some hideous wool sweater for Christmas. Amanda grimaced as she slipped the spandex garment up her legs and pulled it into position. She felt like an old maid in granny panties. Or a little kid. Yeah, definitely a little kid. She buckled on the sandals and felt the heat of a blush rise up in her cheeks.
“Amanda.” She looked back up at Monique. There was distinct displeasure on her face. “Do you know why I am one of the richest, most powerful people in this city?”
“Because I am confident. And that confidence is not derived from the clothes I wear, or my makeup, or anything else external. I am confident in myself. I would be as confident walking down the street in my birthday suit as I am in this pantsuit. Do you understand what I’m saying?”
“Y… yes… I think so…”
“Self-consciousness makes you small and weak, like a child in need of a caretaker. Is that what you are, Amanda?”
“No!” Amanda was much more emphatic.
“Then stop behaving like one. Be confident in you, dear, not what you’re wearing. I expect you to stride into that restaurant at my side, proud of who you are, not meek and ashamed because you think your clothes make you look immature. You make you look immature when you blush and fidget like a tweener on her way to her first day at middle school. Am I making myself clear?”
“Yes, perfectly!” It was clear alright, but it didn’t help any. If anything, Monique’s fierce scolding made Amanda feel even more self-conscious. Amanda’s confidence had always come from how she looked. Before she had boobs, she’d been a timid, scared little girl. And that’s exactly how she felt now, in the shadow of this powerful, fearless woman.
Monique, meanwhile, could read it all over Amanda’s face. Failure was part of this child’s DNA, and repeatedly setting her up to fail was going to be a delicious side dish in this relationship.
And Amanda failed. Oh, did she fail. She didn’t just fail at Monique’s command that night in the restaurant, she failed over and over again. She failed to get up the next morning for Monique to introduce her to her personal assistant, Veronica, who instead waited four hours for Amanda to drag herself out of bed. She failed to heed her assistant’s warning that she had gone well beyond her allotted clothing budget as she raced from store to store building the wardrobe of her dreams, and blew off the appointment made for her with a personal trainer. Over and over she failed over the next two weeks, violating the contract she signed repeatedly and with impunity, blissfully and willfully ignorant of the consequences she was piling up. And Monique, in all her subtlety, merely featured more and more discipline in their nightly sessions. The floggings and the paddlings and the progressively rougher sex, though, put Amanda in an even higher state of ecstasy than she ever imagined possible. Monique never once tipped her hand, never gave Amanda a clue how deep she was getting.
The final straw came when Monique had to fly to Hong Kong for an important sales meeting. Amanda wanted to blow off some steam, not to mention show off her fabulous new status as a member of the city’s wealthy elite, so of course she headed straight for a lesbian club. And she partied like she’d never partied before, soaking up all the attention she could get, flirting and dancing and drinking the night away…
Except she didn’t make it home that night. She got pulled over driving the wrong way down a one-way street, and was promptly arrested for DUI and destruction of property after the damage to the passenger’s side of her Mercedes matched up with numerous parked cars that she sideswiped in her wake. Her one phone call was a desperate plea to Monique for help. And Monique did indeed clean her mess up for her; enlisting a company attorney to represent her, wiring bail money, and most importantly, arranging behind the scenes a requirement for house arrest with an ankle monitor. Amanda was crestfallen; she’d be stuck in the house until her trial date?
Fortunately, her lawyer managed a plea arrangement that got the ankle bracelet off, but Amanda had much bigger problems four days later when Monique returned home in the late evening. Monique spoke not a word to her when she arrived, retreating into the library and locking the door in Amanda’s apologetic face. It was Martina who suggested the girl stay out of the way until Monique called for her; trying to get her attention now would only agitate the woman even more.
Monique didn’t call for her that night. Amanda sat in her room, terrified that Monique would put her out of the house, call off the relationship, banish the princess back to the dragons’ cave. Martina came to Amanda’s room around 9 pm and encouraged the anxious girl to take a sleeping pill, per Monique’s instruction. Amanda was too afraid to disobey now, so she did. By 9:30, she was so groggy, all she could do was strip off her jeans and crawl under the covers.
It seemed like only a minute or two later that she was being shook violently. “Wake up, Amanda! Quickly! Monique is waiting for you!”
Amanda forced her eyes open as dread filled her. The sun blared through her window, and she dragged herself out of the bed, reaching for the jeans she discarded. “No time for that!” Veronica snapped. “She wants you in the library NOW!”
Confused and now blushing in her halter top and lace thong, Amanda staggered to keep up with the longer-legged woman. This was how she was to present to her very angry lover for what was apparently a formal meeting? Maybe Monique might forget how angry she was over the car when she saw Amanda looking all cute? That could work! Well, it could if it weren’t for the fact that her halter was a wrinkled mess and her hair and makeup a disaster. This was just not going to go well at all.
Veronica knocked on the library door. “She’s here, Miss Freitag.”
“Come in, Amanda.” The voice was crisp and even, like it was the first time Monique spoke to her. “Veronica, please join us.” Maybe she wasn’t as mad as Amanda thought. Maybe she calmed down. She opened the door gingerly and stepped in. Monique was at her desk, as expected. Amanda walked over and started to sit in the chair. Veronica stood back a few feet, behind Amanda, out of her peripheral view.
“I didn’t tell you to sit down.”
Amanda popped back to her feet and stared at the desk. “Sorry. I thought…”
“No you didn’t. The only thing you think of is your own pleasure.”
“Do not speak again until I invite you to do so.”
The tiny girl fell silent.
“Let’s see here. Miss McDowell agrees to notify Miss Freitag if a need arises that requires her to exceed her monthly spending limits. Nope. Miss McDowell agrees to maintain her level of fitness, and a personal trainer will be provided for her.” Monique looked her up and down. “Pfft. What’ve you gained, fifteen pounds already, you little piglet?!”
Shame burned in Amanda’s face as Monique continued. All those lovely desserts Dmitri made her when she was bored during the day were catching up with her.
“Miss McDowell agrees to wake up with Miss Freitag and have breakfast with her. Not once. Miss McDowell agrees to behave responsibly with Miss Freitag’s vehicle. Ha!”
Monique slammed the papers down on the desk. “Were you trying to sabotage our relationship, girl? Was it your goal to just use me until I got tired of you and threw you out on the street?”
“No! I… I love you, Monique! I didn’t mean to…”
“Lying bitch! You love you, little girl. And you love the idea of someone you find attractive taking care of you the rest of your life. That’s what you love. If you loved me, you’d have some kind of consideration for what I ask you to do. If you loved me, you’d want to sit up and have coffee with me in the morning before I left for work. If you loved me, you wouldn’t have gone out carousing with every dyke at 6[SUP]th[/SUP] Street then crashing my car on your way home. If you loved me, you’d at least have the goddamned decency to listen to the woman I hired to teach you how to be an adult, to keep your unstructured, self-absorbed little life together for you. You don’t know anything about love, you only know about fucking your way through life to get what you want!”
Amanda’s mouth moved, but no words came. Tears did, though.
“I should throw you out on the street in your goddamned skivvies just like you are right now, Amanda. That’s exactly what you deserve, isn’t it?!”
“Is that what you want?!”
“Last chance, Amanda McDowell, you want out?!”
“No, please, Monique, I’m sorry! I want to be with you! I want to be good to you! I want to learn how to love you!”
“Then sit down.” Amanda sat as though someone had pushed her into that chair. “I’m glad to hear you want to learn how to love, because that’s exactly what I’m going to teach you. And I’m going to start at the level you clearly are right now.”
“Wh… what do you mean?”
“Until I say otherwise, you are not to address me as Monique. You will call me Mama, or Mommy, or whatever other colloquial term for mother you choose. You will be disciplined immediately and harshly every time you fail to do so. Understand?”
“Yes… Mama…” Amanda’s mind blurred. Where was she going with this?!
“Veronica, come forward please.” Veronica stepped out from behind Amanda and stood next to the desk facing the sniveling girl. “Until I say otherwise, Veronica is no longer your personal assistant. She is going to be your nanny. And that is what you will call her. Again, you will be disciplined immediately and harshly every time you fail to do so.”
“Yes, and you are to obey her every instruction without question, if you ever want to earn your independence back again. And she has my authority and your implicit permission, per the terms of our original agreement, to discipline you however she sees fit if you resist her. Understand?”
“I… wait… discipline… I mean…”
“DO YOU UNDERSTAND?!”
“Very good. Now, Nanny Veronica, will you please take Mandy here to her new bedroom and get her dressed please? Please present her to me in the kitchen in 30 minutes.”
“My pleasure, Miss Freitag.” Veronica stepped over and grabbed Amanda’s hand. “Come on, Mandy. Time to pretty ourselves up for Mama!”
“See you soon, Mandy! Mama can’t wait to see how pretty you are in your new clothes!” That was a sound Amanda had never heard from those lips. It was the cooing sound of a mother speaking to her 3-year-old, and Amanda didn’t like it one bit.
She liked it even less when Veronica led her into the wing that was supposed to be closed off for renovation, a wing she’d never seen before. And when Veronica pulled her through that door, Amanda began to jerk and pull away. “Oh my god, no fucking way! This is like a scene from one of those creepy diaper fiction stories I saw on Reddit! No fucking way!”
Veronica’s hand crashing down on her bare bottom rapidly in succession all but confirmed it. “TIME for BABY to GET DRESSED!” Veronica commanded in rhythm with her swats while Amanda yelped and tried to squirm out of her iron grip.
“Do I need to get the paddle already, little girl?!” Veronica demanded as Amanda collapsed to the floor, squealing in protest.
Veronica slapped her sharply on the cheek. “Who am I?!”
“Then get up off that floor and come get dressed, now!”
Twenty minutes later, she stood in the kitchen in front of Monique. Her hair was parted into curly pigtails high on either side of her head, a puffy pink bow nestled between them. Between her flaming red cheeks, covering her pouty lips, was the powder pink mouth guard of a large pacifier. She wore a white cotton blouse with a lacy collar and puffy sleeves, and over it draped a pink corduroy jumper dress with a pocket on the front, and on the pocket was a little white embroidered bunny with a pink bow of its own nestled between its ears. A short, white, lacy tether attached via a suspender button back to the ring on the pacifier. The hem of the jumper barely crossed Amanda’s hips, which gave a clear view of the stark, white, comically thick diaper between her legs. A pair of lace-trimmed pink ankle socks and white patent leather Mary Janes completed the ensemble. Monique sized her up.
“That will do fine. Be a polite little girl and thank Nanny for helping you get dressed, baby.”
“Fank you Nanny for dreshing me.” The sting of that paddle was still very much present on her bottom, and the fear of it motivated her to obedience.
“Now come here and sit with Mama, let’s have a little talk.”
Amanda practically ran to Monique, who opened her arms and pulled the sniffling little blonde right into her lap. Amanda clung to her like her life depended on it. “Aw, did my little Mandy-baby have a tough time getting dressed?”
“It was a little challenging for us to learn our new place in the house, but she and I reached an understanding.” Veronica smiled.
“Well I’m sorry you weren’t happy about your new clothes, Mandy, but you do look very pretty!”
“Why 'o I have to wear zhish shuff… Mama?”
“Mandy-baby, Mama’s giving you exactly what you’ve always wanted. You wanted to be with someone who would take care of you and love you and give you presents and toys and treats, and all you’d have to do is be your pretty little self in return. And that’s exactly what you have now. You’re my little baby Manda-bear, and all you have to do is play and have fun and be a good baby, and you’ll get treats and hugs and toys and anything else your precious little heart needs or wants.”
“But I don’ want zhat, Mama!”
“Then I suggest you listen carefully to Nanny Veronica, and do everything she asks of you, because that’s the only way you’re going to prove to Mama that you’re ready to be a big girl in our relationship again. Or, you can fuss and whine and cry and fight with Nanny like you did today, and you’ll get spankings, and you’ll stay just like this for as long as it takes. But Mama will still love you and take care of you if you decide that’s what you want. Now, let’s get some breakfast in you before Mama has to go to work. Nanny, would you hand me her breakfast please?”
Amanda perked up fearfully as Monique popped the pacifier out of her mouth. Veronica strolled to the refrigerator and produced a baby bottle, filled with some sort of thick, tan liquid. “Mama what is that?!”
The nipple went straight into her gaping mouth. “Nothing scary, Mandy. We’re gonna be on Slim-Fast for a while until we get rid of all that baby fat, that’s all. If Mandy plays along with the gym teacher this afternoon, it’ll go away faster, and Mama will let her have real food again sooner.”
It didn’t take Amanda long to lose the weight on that horrible liquid diet. But it took her a lot, lot longer to finally knuckle under to Veronica’s demands. For a few months, there was never a moment in her day that her bottom wasn’t sore, especially when Mama Monique finally got tired of the noncompliance and started giving Amanda nightly spankings before bedtime when she got poor reports from Nanny.
It’s been two years now, and little Mandy finally has learned her place. She knows that Nanny is just keeping her safe and clean and dry and happy and pretty for her Mama, even when she puts her in the playpen, or makes her take naps in her crib, or when she takes her to the park to get exercise. She knows that all those people staring at her are just surprised that she’s still a baby at her age, but she also knows it’s the truth. Deep inside, she hopes Mama will let her be a big girl again, but Nanny says that she has a lot to learn before that happens, and the stuff Nanny tries to teach her is hard, and it makes Mandy cry to think about it. So… being a baby isn’t really so bad after all…