2010
O ver time, Mommy’s spankings became a routine part of our household, and Mr. Lord no longer kept the training sessions inside the bedroom; he openly disciplined her in front of me. He continued to praise my good behavior and rewarded me with every material item one could imagine. My bedroom closet, along with the closet in the guestroom, was filled with designer clothes, shoes, and bags. And numerous jewelry boxes overflowed with pieces of fine jewelry.
For me, the best reward was his verbal praise and physical affection. A mere pat on my head made my day sunny and bright. Curled in his lap, sucking his finger was one of my greatest pleasures in life. It soothed me hke a warm blanket in the winter. But that particular form of affection was not given freely; it had to be earned.
When my eighteenth birthday rolled around. Mommy, who had been unraveling emotionally for the past few years, was being treated for alcoholism at a facility near
the Pocono Mountains. Lately, she’d been in and out of mental health and rehab facilities quite frequently. Despite my mother’s numerous absences from our home, I didn’t act out or go through a rebellious phase. I was a model teenager. Straight A’s and perfect school attendance. Due to my mother’s illness and my biological father’s lack of interest, Mr. Lord had been my legal guardian since I was sixteen.
I would have felt more secure if he had legally adopted me, but I didn’t question his judgment. As my guardian, it was within Air. Lord’s right to make decisions regarding my education. One day when he drove me to school, he noticed a boy looking at me. On the spot, he told me to get back in the car. “You’re going to be home-schooled. I’ve invested a lot of time molding you into becoming a perfect woman, and I won’t have all my work destroyed by disgusting boys that lust after you.”
I didn’t say a word. When Mr. Lord became overly angry, it was best to keep quiet.
“Have you been leading boys on—making them think you’re available?”
“No, Mr. Lord. I never look at boys. I don’t think about them either. I’m still your good girl. I swear.”
“I hope so, Fonia.”
“I am!”
I was telling the absolute truth. I’d never had a high school crush; never even kissed a boy. The only male hands that had ever touched me were Mr. Lord’s, and he had
No Boundaries 6^
only hugged and kissed me in a fatherly way Every now and then, he fed me from his finger and he gave me articles of clothing he’d worn to satisfy my obsession with his scent. But that was the extent of it. And now that I was getting older, I found that I wanted more. No boy at school could compare to Mr. Lord. He was the most handsome, the most intelligent, the most sophisticated man in the world, and I fantasized about him kissing me on my mouth, and exploring the womanly body that I now possessed.
It was a secret fantasy that would never be realized because Mr. Lord loved me like a daughter. But for me, he was father, lover, and maybe one day, my husband. He was my entire world.
His decision to pull me out of school didn’t bother me in the least. In fact, I expected to be able to spend a lot more time with him now that I wouldn’t be in school for seven hours a day.
But it didn’t turn out that way. My online classes only took a few hours, and I had the rest of the day to myself, with nothing to do except wait for him. But his visits had started to taper off. There was always a reason why he couldn’t stop by.. .business meeting, business trips out of town. I was stuck in the house all day and all night, and I was losing my mind with not only boredom, but I was also obsessing on the possible reasons that he wasn’t spending time with me.
My mother’s words haunted me: Got himself a new
66 Allison Hobbs
family. Kicked us to the curb! Night after night, I cried myself to sleep.
He checked on me by phone on a daily basis, but I ached to see his handsome face. To sit and talk with him. As much as I feared being scolded by him. I’d prefer that to getting nothing at all. When a full week had elapsed without a visit, I went into a panic. Feeling desperate to see him, I called him repeatedly on his cell phone, and left messages with his secretary, pleading for him to stop by and see me.
“Not tonight. I’m busy with a new business venture,” he said.
But I miss you and I need you,” I said, feeling as if my heart would break in two if I didn’t see him soon.
“The desperation in your voice is making me nervous, Fonia,” he said over the phone.
“I am desperate. Desperate to see you.”
Stop it! You sound weak and pitiful, and you’re beginning to remind me of Lena.”
“No, I’m not like her, Mr. Lord. I’m not deceitful. I do everything you tell me to do.”
“Listen, you have to stop calling me every other hour. You’ve lost your phone privileges until further notice.”
“But—”
“We’ll discuss this further when I come to the house tonight.” he said and abruptly disconnected the call.
Extremely desperate and aftaid I’d lose him to another family, I put on one of my mother’s negligees, which I
filled out perfectly. I had no particular plan, but fearing that he was growing bored with me, I wanted him to see that I was no longer a child. I was a young woman.
When he arrived, instead of his face lighting with dehght the way I’d expected, he frowned with disapproval. “Why are you dressed like that? You look like a whore!”
I winced. I thought he’d smile at me and tell me how beautiful I looked. I was stunned by his angry reaction. “I’m sorry. I wanted you to notice that I’m all grown up.”
“Did I raise you to act like a trollop?”
“No.”
“Get against the wall, Fonia!” he demanded in a voice that vibrated with rage—a voice that I’d only heard him use with Mommy.
“I didn’t mean—”
“I said, get against the wall.” He gave me a shove. “If you want to act like a streetwalker, then I’ll treat you that way.”
“But...” Trembling, I moved toward the wall where fine art in gilded frames hung above my head. With my forehead pressed against the cool wall, tears streamed down my face. I stretched out my arms the way I’d seen my mother do on innumerable occasions.
He lifted the negligee, revealing my naked buttocks. I squeezed my eyes closed in shame. The humiliation I felt in that moment was beyond anything I’d ever experienced. He didn’t hit me with a paddle; he struck my bottom with his bare hand. Before I could recover from
the first sting, he hit me again, and I cried out and began to moan. His touch was a mixture of pain and pleasure. There was moistness and a tingling sensation between my legs as I anticipated the next slap. But instead of striking me again, Mr. Lord walked away.
He went into the kitchen. I could hear the fridge open. I heard the snap as he uncapped a bottle of water. I heard the swallowing sounds as he hydrated himself. The anticipation was unbearable, and moisture trailed down my thigh.
With my back turned and my head down, I didn’t see him return to the family room; but I heard his footsteps echoing as he crossed the parquet floor. Bracing myself for more harsh punishment, I gritted my teeth when he once again lifted the negligee. Surprisingly, he didn’t spank me; he caressed my sore behind.
“Hopefully, this will be your first and last span kin g/’ he murmured in a deep voice that was filled with kindness. His hand rubbed my bottom circularly in such a soothing manner; a tiny moan escaped my throat. His hand roamed between the crevice of my thighs and his middle finger found its way to the accumulated stickiness that coated my pubic hairs and smeared my inner thigh.
“What is this?” he said in a husky voice.
“I don’t know,” I said innocently. “Something happened while you were spanking me.”
“Go clean yourself up and get out of that whore’s outfit.”
I walked to the bathroom with my head hung low in disgrace.
When I emerged from my bathroom, carrying the negligee, Mr. Lord was sitting on my bed. Reflexively, I crossed my arms over my breasts.
“No secrets between us, Fonia,” he said in a stern voice. “You wanted me to view your maturity, so don’t hide it now. Come, stand in front of me.”
With my face burning in shame, I stood naked before Mr. Lord.
“Are you still a virgin?” he asked.
“Of course.”
“No nasty boys have been touching you down here,” he asked, patting the mound of my vagina.
“No. I would never let anyone do that.”
“I never thought you’d dress like a whore, but you did.”
I swallowed. “I didn’t mean to. I won’t do it again.”
“How do I know you’re telling the truth? For all I know, every word in your mouth could be a lie. Prove to me that you’re still a virgin.”
“How?”
“Lie on the bed and open your legs. I need to know for sure that your hymen is intact.”
Though it was humiliating to spread my legs open, I did as I was told.
He touched my private parts, gently spreading open the sensitive lips of my vulva. Then a smile blossomed across his face. “Ah, so you haven’t been deflowered. That’s a relief,” he said and unexpectedly lowered his head and kissed the mouth of my womanhood. I gasped and flinched and felt moist again.
“What’s wrong?”
“I don’t know,” I whined, embarrassed that my body was betraying me yet again. Over the years, the feel of his kiss on my face had always warmed me, the taste of his finger had been heavenly, but feeling his lips brush against my private area sent sparks of heat coursing through me, causing me to buck and spasm as if I’d been electrocuted.
He looked me over. “Your nipples are getting hard. WTiat do you think is causing that?”
“I don’t know. It happens sometimes when I’m cold and sometimes when I’m sucking your finger,” I said in a voice filled with shame.
“Hmm. I guess you can’t help yourself; it’s in your blood.”
“No, it isn’t. I’m not like my mother.” I shook my head in fervent denial.
“Don’t disagree with me, Fonia. If I say it’s in your blood, then it’s the truth. Am I right?”
“You’re right.”
He tapped me on the side of my head. “You don’t think I know the indecent thoughts that go through your head.”
Somehow he knew that I’d been having lurid and tawdry thoughts about him. Deeply humiliated, I sniffled and began to cry. “I do have bad thoughts sometimes. I don’t want to, it just happens,” I admitted.
“What kind of thoughts?”
“Urn...”
“Dirty thoughts?”
I nodded my head and averted my eyes.
“I guess there’s nothing I can do about it. Like they say, the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree.”
“I’m so sorry, Mr. Lord. I didn’t want to be like her.” I sobbed mournfully and he began to comfort me.
“Shh. Shh. It’s not your fault, Fonia. You can’t help what you are. The good upbringing, the fancy clothes, and private school were all a waste because you’re Lena’s daughter.” He sighed and dropped his face in his hands, and I kept muttering how sorry I was.
He looked up suddenly. “I have a plan.”
I lay on the bed, holding my breath, and waiting to hear how he planned to rid me of this affliction that I was cursed with. If he wanted to discipline me regularly, the way he did Mommy, then I had no choice but to go along with it. After all, he knew what was best for me.
“From now on,” he began, “when we’re out in public, I want you to continue conducting yourself in an exemplary manner. I want you to behave in the lady-like, refined manner as you’ve been raised. No one needs to know what you really are. Are you following me so far?”
I wasn’t sure where he wasn’t going with his plan, but I nodded my head.
“Once a week and behind closed doors. I’m going to allow you to act like a whore.”
“Okay...” I paused, not exacdy sure what he was giving me permission to do. Did he mean that I could dress up in my mother’s negligees for him?
“You’re eighteen.. .technically a grown woman and I’m
going to allow you to release some of your pent-up passion. Are you ready, Fonia?”
“Yes,” I agreed readily, though I didn’t know what to expect.
“Open your legs,” he commanded.
I spread my thighs and closed my eyes. When I felt him insert his longest finger inside of me, I was jolted with an amazing sensation. I gasped. “Mr. Lord!” I exclaimed as he slid his finger in and out of me. Unable to help myself, I moaned and my hips moved rhythmically; I tried to stop but I couldn’t control my body.
“Don’t hold back. Let yourself go. Be the nasty whore that you are.”
I found myself strangely aroused by the vile names he called me. My hips moved at a faster pace as his finger delved deeper inside me. I lost all sense of modesty and began gyrating and undulating. Crying out, humping and thrusting my pelvis in a terribly lewd way. My cries of passion filled my bedroom.
“Do you like acting like a dirty slut?” he whispered, coaxing me to behave with wild abandon.
“Yes, I love it,” I panted, speaking the absolute truth. Mr. Lord was the wisest, most giving man in the world. He knew me better than I knew myself
“Are you my good girl?”
“No!” I screamed as gyrated wildly.
“What are you?”
“A dirty slut and a whore.” Speaking those vulgar words
out loud took me to an even greater height of ecstasy.
“There’re consequences for whores ” he said in a menacing whisper. “Have fun now because I’m going to whip your bare ass again, tomorrow.”
With that threat, I exploded, screaming out his name as the muscles inside my vagina pulsated around his finger. I squeezed my thighs tightly, entrapping his hand. He waited until my ragged breathing had returned to normal before removing his finger.
He bent over and kissed me on the forehead. “Goodnight, Princess; I’ll see you tomorrow.” He clicked out my light and left. I lay still for a while, my mind spinning over the events that had transpired between Mr. Lord and me.
He’d threatened to spank me tomorrow, and I looked forward to it. I also looked forward to being able to release more pent-up passion. Our relationship had gone to a different level, and although I was still his princess, I was also a woman now. I was his woman and his whore.