It shouldn't have been a surprise, I suppose... After hearing she'd gotten rid of the pictures of herself, it only made sense that she knew something like this was coming. That raised another question, though, an even worse one - had this been her plan all along? To trick me into taking her place? I hated to think that she was that manipulative, or that I'd been so easily played, but as I stood there, in the foyer of a strange house, staring up at this woman as she holds the evidence that Holly had some hand in the setting up of... whatever this was... it was hard not to.
Then again, just because she signed it didn't mean she knew what it was. I, of course, know not to sign anything without reading it, and I'm sure Holly does, too, but if she's anything like I was, that lesson hasn't really sunk in yet, the desire to avoid the boredom of slogging through pages of legalese trumping the wisdom of that saying. Or perhaps she'd known about it, only to have second thoughts once we got to the house. Maybe she'd even fully intended to come clean until she saw the woman. I couldn't blame her too much for being intimidated.
"All right, you little troublemaker," the woman said, easing me down onto a couch, making me realize we were now in the living room. It was quite large and well furnished, with a massive flat screen TV on one wall. I knew Holly had told me once that her father was a lawyer, and the outside of her house had always seemed fairly impressive, but I was still surprised at what I was seeing inside. I couldn't help looking around, seeing a display of crystal ornaments, a bookshelf stocked with old, yet well maintained, tomes, mostly quite massive in size, and, strangely, another TV, only slightly smaller than the first, this one sitting on the floor, surrounded by all three of the current video game systems and stacks of game and movie boxes.
"Pay attention, young lady," the woman snapped at me, pinching my chin between two fingers and turning it to face her. She was still standing, so I had to look even further up to stare into her eyes, which was, I was sure, by design. "You have been acting dreadfully irresponsible lately," she informed me, "and quite dreadful all around, really. I'm not sure if you think this is all a joke, but I assure you it's not."
"I'm sure..." I began, only to be silenced by a withering glare.
"Little girls are to be seen," she said icily, "and not heard. If I want your opinion, I will tell you." My blood began to boil, both for my own sake and Holly's. How dare this woman talk to me - and, by extension, her - like that?! I admit that I still thought of Holly as a kid sometimes, but I always tried to correct myself, and I tried never to let her know it. I certainly never spoke to her like she was a grade-schooler.
"You were supposed to be here this morning," she told me. "Since your parents already pulled you from school, I'm not sure what you were doing, but it is certainly not a good way to start our relationship, you keeping me waiting. And don't think I'm impressed by this, either." She tugged at my suit jacket disdainfully. "I don't know where you got it, but I'll be telling your father to inform me if a charge for it shows up on one of his credit card bills, and if it does, you'll be in big trouble. And don't think it's fooling anyone, either. It only makes you look like a little girl playing dress-up... Which you are, aren't you?"
"No, I am not!" I declared angrily, standing up. "I am an adult, a professional, and I will not..."
She shoved me back down onto the couch, hard enough this time for me to bounce on the cushion for a moment. She grabbed one of my feet, yanking it upward and slipping my heel off, dangling it in front of me. "Do you think these make you an adult?" she demanded. I flushed slightly as I saw the heel on the shoe, realizing just how high it looked only now, seeing it off of my foot. That expression was apparently all she needed, as she tossed the shoe aside once she'd seen it, then grabbed my other foot, lifting it a little higher, making me slide down on the couch slightly.
"And what are those?" she asked, even less happy. I blushed a darker shade of red when I realized she was using that opportunity, as she held my leg in the air, to peer up, or rather down, my skirt. I reached down, pushing my skirt between my legs with my hands, but it was too late - as soon as the second heel joined the first, I was being yanked to my feet. Without my heels, I felt even more powerless before this woman, and even more determined to stop her as she started to remove my skirt.
"Stop it!" I ordered, slapping her hands away ineffectively. I wasn't about to let this bitch undress me!
"You are seriously trying my patience, little girl," she hissed at me. "It is my policy never to spank on the first day..."
"S-Spank!" I gasped, hardly able to believe it. Was she serious?!
She continued as if she hadn't heard me, though she gave me a look that told me she had, and she wasn't pleased, "...because my patients might not realize how serious the training program is right away. You are severely testing my limits, young lady. You've already earned yourself an early bedtime without supper, and I'm more than willing to add a time-out to that as well if you don't straighten up right now."
"Wh-What the hell is this?" I sputtered, hardly able to believe my ears. She sounded more like she was dealing with a four year old than someone eighteen, which made it all the worse. "A time-out?!"
"That's right," she said, finally tired of fighting with me. She grabbed both my wrists in one of her hands, holding them there as she used the other to unfasten my skirt, letting it falling to the ground, exposing my thong. "Ugh," she shook her head in disgust. "Do you think that makes you look like an adult? It just makes you look like a tramp."
I gasped a little at that, face reddening even further. "How dare...?!"
Then, to make things even worse, she pulled them down as well. She let go of my hands to do it, making it even more embarrassing when I was too slow to stop her, finding myself standing before some strange woman, naked from the waist down. My hands darted to my crotch, though not soon enough.
"We'll deal with that later," she shook her head, staring downward, making me feel as if she could see right through my hands, much to my chagrin. She grabbed for my jacket next, forcing it down over my wriggling arms and off, joining the rapidly growing pile of clothes on the floor, then started to unbutton my shirt.
"Stop!" I tried again, reaching up to try to re-button as I watched my shirt falling further and further open, exposing more of my chest.
"All right, time-out it is." I knew the punishment shouldn't scare me, or really bother me - seriously, what harm would it do, standing in a corner for a few minutes? - but the idea of it, just the inappropriateness of someone my age being made to do that, stopped me for a moment, giving her time to finish her work. She'd obviously had a lot of experience with this sort of thing, and unbuttoning a shirt was always easier than buttoning it, especially under pressure. I fumbled with another button as I realized all the rest were now hanging open, but it only took her a second to push my clumsy fingers out of the way and undo it, forcing my shirt off as she had my coat.
"Just what I thought," she said as she surveyed the only piece of clothing left on me, my water bra. I felt like dying as she poked at it mockingly. "Do you think that was fooling anyone? That it made you look any more like a grown up than the rest of this... costume?"
I was too stunned to answer, or to do much of anything while she unhooked my bra and pulled it off, then started to lead me away from the living room and the pile of clothes that represented my adult life, so quickly and effortlessly taken from me. I tripped over my panties for a step or two before managing to kick them off, with no help from the woman. I was marched through a hall, then shoved into a bathroom that I'm sure was almost as big as my first apartment. She pushed me down onto the closed toilet, which made for a much less pleasant landing than the sofa had, and began to rummage through the medicine cabinet.
"What are you doing?" I managed to ask after a minute of sitting there, squirming in silence and dread. She didn't answer, though I'm sure if she had, it would just be her repeating that I was meant to be seen, not heard, like I was some kid. And, to be honest, I felt a little like one at that moment.
Finally, she set a can of shaving cream and a razor on the sink, grabbing a washcloth that she began to wet in the sink. Instantly, I remembered her earlier threat, and my hands once again shot from awkwardly trying to cover my chest to my crotch. "You can't do this," I reminded her, as if saying it this time might somehow work better than the first however many. "I swear to God, I'm not Holly... I don't know why you'd do this to her, but..."
"I was originally going to start you at your own age, so you could try to prove you were worthy of it," she said, casually pushing my hands aside and starting to wash me down there, leaving me flushing and humiliated at the idea of her, of anyone I didn't know, touching me down there, even though she barely seemed to notice what she was doing. "You've already convinced me there's no point in that. Do you really want to risk me lowering your starting age even further by making up stories like a toddler with an overactive imagination?"
Toddler? Starting age? What was that supposed to mean? I didn't even know where to start questioning her about it, and before I could figure it out, I was shamed into silence as she began rubbing the shaving cream into my skin and my landing strip of hair. "Don't," I managed to whimper when she washed her hands and picked up the razor.
"While this is still inappropriate," she lectured, not seeming to hear me, "it was good of you to keep it trimmed so neatly. Makes it nice and easy to get rid of, but you should keep still anyway so there aren't any accidents."
I shivered as I felt the razor slide across my skin, taking my pubic hair with it. "That wasn't so hard, now was it?" she asked as I whimpered softly, feeling utterly helpless before her. She grabbed the washcloth again and began to wipe away the extra shaving cream and stray hairs that had fallen from the blade, rubbing it against my vagina again. Despite everything, I couldn't deny that the attention felt good, leaving me blushing from more than the embarrassment of it.
To make things worse, she followed the washcloth with a towel that time. Almost subconsciously, I felt my hips begin to thrust toward the soft cloth being used on me. I stopped myself as soon as I realized what I was doing, but it wasn't quick enough.
"Just what is going on, young lady?" the woman demanded, staring down at me in disgust. "What a naughty child you are!"
"N-No, I didn't..." I blushed.
"You have no idea how disappointed I am with you," she said, shaking her head. "You are very lucky it's the first day, or your little butt would be so red you couldn't sit down for the rest of the week!"
Sitting there, naked, freshly shaved, and shivering before her anger, I couldn't help feeling like the bad little girl I was accused of being. "I'm sorry," I squeaked out, before making the mistake of continuing. "But I'm not Holly, so you really shouldn't..."
I was yanked back to my feet after that and taken back to the living room, where my nose was shoved into the corner. "Not another word from you," she said sternly. "And don't move a muscle. You have no idea how tempted I am to break my own rule and go get my paddle right now... Just give me one more reason, missy."