Jessica actually jumped in surprise. “Oops. I forgot that you spoke English. I was so used to the moro—people here. Okay, I’ll watch it.”
“And?”
“Ahhh, oh, I’m sorry,” Jessica said, very halfheartedly.
“And…?” Misha said slowly, crossing her massive arms over her equally huge chest.
Jessica’s brow wrinkled. What else did she need to say? She chewed her lip for a moment, and then it came to her. “Oh! Ah, I’m sorry,
ma’am
.”
“Good, better, now don’t forget it.”
After that, it was out to the car for the drive home. It wasn’t easy on Jessica; her ass was still sore from the first and second spankings of her life. That was another item to add to her agenda: Avoid future spankings. It shouldn’t be difficult.
As they rode along, Jessica let out the occasional grunt and yelp at each bump in the road.
God, where is this home, in the next town?
Finally, they arrived. Jessica grinned; escaping from this place would be a cakewalk. A high wrought-iron fence was before them, but the gate stood wide open, and they drove through. The building was large, brick, and clearly many years old; decades of ivy clung to its front. A four-car garage stood off to the left, which they were headed for, and some sort of garden was on the other side of the building; she hadn’t gotten a good look at it. As they parked, Jessica looked over the garage; it was quite the dilapidated old shack, and all manner of lawn and garden equipment filled it. She hopped out of the car, glad of the ‘glute relief,’ and saw two other cars, in varying states of disrepair. It was clear neither could run and were being used as spare parts.
So much for stealing one of them. Oh, well, I don’t know how to drive. Ah, but what if I learn? Hmmm, that idea presents possibilities.
Her jaw dropped as she turned to take in the backyard. Many of the girls were outside, some playing (there was even a simple swing set) and others working in a garden. Jessica had never seen girls so big! It was clear that they were all at least eighteen years old, and not one of them looked to be more than twenty, but nearly all of them were bigger than she.
No wonder ‘Miss Hannigan’ didn’t believe me when I insisted I was twenty-eight. God, what do they feed them?
“Girls, come over here, please, we have a new member of the family,” Misha called out.
The girls stopped what they were doing and raced over to encircle the pair. Jessica actually felt a bit intimidated and stepped closer to Misha, even as her brow wrinkled in confusion.
“Hey, you spoke to them in English,” she said.
The girls giggled. They were all very happy, and it didn’t seem as if they were laughing at her, which mystified Jessica. They were orphans and outcasts, what did they have to be happy about?
Misha grinned. “Yes, Anya, we’ve taught the girls English, it’s quite the international language. Plus, many of the girls hope to travel to America to work or attend university. So, knowing English is useful. Girls, this is Anya Holstein, she’s going to live with us from now on, and I expect you all to make her feel welcome.”
The girls swarmed her, hugging and kissing her; some even lifted her off the ground.
Goodness, what’s wrong with them? Sheesh, they’re so damn sweet I almost feel like I need to brush my teeth.
When the welcome routine was done, Misha dismissed the girls and led Jessica inside. They passed through the large kitchen, where three women were in the midst of cooking dinner. While not as big and tall as Misha, they still towered over Jessica. She felt very small and inadequate. She also crinkled her nose. The food sure smelled spicy! They passed what looked like an oversized high chair, and Jessica did a double take.
Man, an adult could sit in that thing. Well, a
normal
-sized adult.
Going up a back staircase, they passed the large communal bathroom, and then came to the bedrooms. Jessica glanced in each as they walked by. Some had two beds, some only one, and each room had clear signs of personal tastes and preferences: posters of rock bands and movie stars, etc. What she didn’t see were any truly modern conveniences: TV, iPod, laptops, DVD players, and so on. Finally they came to a snug room with one bed and a window that looked out toward the garage.
“Here you go, Anya, this is your room. There are plenty of clothes in the dresser,” Misha explained, pointing at the small wooden dresser. “I’m sure you can find some things that fit. We have sewing class twice a week; you can learn to make and alter your own clothes. Dinner is in an hour. As the new girl, it’s your turn to set the table. Report to the kitchen; the cooks will tell you what to do.”
“Sewing? Setting the table? Are you serious?”
Misha raised an eyebrow. “What, did you not do that at home? You didn’t have chores?”
“Chores!? Certainly not. Jesus Christ, this place is a nut house.”
“Anya, do not take the lord’s name in vain! That’s another punishable offense,” Misha said, and picked up a book from the small bedside table. “This is our rule book. I suggest you read it tonight. Violation of a rule will result in punishment. Do I make myself clear?”
Jessica swallowed hard. “As crystal,” she replied, and then, as an afterthought, added, “Ma’am.”
“Good. See you at dinner. You’ll meet Mr. Craznik then. He’s the director,” Misha replied, and turned for the door.
Jessica heaved a sigh of relief.
Yeah, getting out of here would be easy, and I’m going to do it ASAP.
She made a quick survey of the room. No lock on the door or window, a small closet, dresser, wall-mounted mirror, desk and chair, and bed and bedside table. The clothes were mostly her size: dresses, skirts and blouses, some jeans and t-shirts, and then underwear. No bras. The rules were easy enough to digest: make bed, keep room clean, take dirty clothes to laundry room, help set table, study and do homework, help in garden, clean the house and grounds, help in kitchen, etc. There was one good one that put a smile on her face: help maintain the car! That could prove most useful. She looked at the small clock on the bedside table. Between it and her stomach, she knew it was close to dinnertime.
Heading down the stairs, Jessica made her way to the kitchen. Introductions followed, but she paid little attention to the names. She wouldn’t be around long enough to learn them. Still, she knew she had to ‘play ball.’ She got to work setting the table. It was long and narrow, a good fit for its room. As she tossed the plates and silverware about, she heard the wooden floor creak behind her. Spinning around, she saw a smiling girl in the doorway.
“Oh, I didn’t mean to scare you. I’m Iva, I thought I’d come and help you.”
“Help? Yeah, great, thanks,” Jessica replied.
She promptly slowed in her efforts because Iva was like a human dynamo, or maybe the Energizer Bunny’s sister! And all the while, she kept that insipid smile on her insipid little face. She stood a head taller than Jessica, looked about eighteen, and then there was her build: broad shoulders, strong legs, and a good solid frame. Not fat, but she made Jessica look like a scrawny supermodel by comparison.
“Iva, why the big smile? I mean, come on, this is a chore!”
“Smile? Oh, that. One thing Miss Palicka and Mr. Craznik taught us is to be grateful for every day we’re alive. Life is a gift, never squander it.”
Jessica rolled her eyes.
Sheesh, what morons
.
A few minutes later, a bell rang out, and everyone was called in to dinner. Jessica took a seat near the end of the table, right next to Miss Amazon. On top of that, she was still sore, and the wooden chair seemed especially hard. Then, at the head of the table appeared a man. He was tall—well, to Jessica everyone was—and well-groomed, with chiseled features and soft hazel eyes. If she was herself and not Anya, she’d be stringing him along in the vain hope he might get lucky. Introductions followed, and she learned he was Mr. Viktor Craznik. The older girls served the food, and then sat. Jessica couldn’t believe what she was seeing: potatoes, vegetables, and some sort of bratwurst-type meat.
God, no wonder these people are so big.
The food neither looked nor smelled especially tasty, but Jessica was starving. So, she picked up her fork, and promptly got a slap to the back of her hand from Miss Sourpuss.
“Bow your heads,” she ordered, looking right at Jessica.
Everyone brought their hands up in prayer and bowed their heads. Jessica, not wanting to cause trouble, did likewise. Mr. Craznik said grace, and then they all started eating. Jessica wolfed down some bread and butter and found it to be delicious, but then tried the main dish and gagged.
“Jesus, what do you put in this, a pound of salt?”
A series of gasps echoed around the table, and Viktor frowned.
“Anya, hasn’t anyone spoken to you regarding the lord’s name?”
Misha nodded. “Yes, I have. Now, Jessica, eat up, we don’t waste food here.”
“Oh, yeah, right. Forgot about that. But this food, it’s way too spicy. Come on, don’t you have something milder?”
“This is our ‘daily bread,’ Anya,” Iva said softly. “We are thankful for it, and enjoy it.”
“Yeah, well, the bread is great, but I can’t eat this other stuff.”
“Anya, I will only say this once, you
will
eat, you will eat
everything
,” Misha ordered. “I believe the Americans say, clean your plate.”
“Yeah, that’s what
we
say in America, but I’m not eating this crap!” she shot back.
Viktor made a slight motion with his right hand, the gasps again echoed around the table, and Jessica suddenly felt strong hands grab her from behind.
“Take her to ‘The Chair,’” he said casually.
“Hey, what the hell? Let go of me,” Jessica snapped, trying to look around.
One of the cooks, who looked like she could be a lineman for the NY Jets, hauled Jessica away from the table. She struggled, trying to break free, and saw Mr. Housemaster following, carrying Jessica’s plate. The next thing she knew, she was in the kitchen and being sat in the high chair. The other two cooks watched and sadly shook their heads to see her strapped in at the waist, ankles, and wrists. A tray was set in front of her, and then her plate was put on that.
Viktor scooped up some potatoes on a fork and held it before Jessica’s face. “Now, eat.”
“I will not! This garbage is—ulp,” she said, as he shoved the food in her open mouth.
A moment later, Viktor got the potatoes back, spewed across his face. The cooks gasped, their jaws dropping in shock. For his part, Viktor didn’t so much as flinch. He stood there, stone-faced, and picked up a napkin to wipe his face. Moving to the end of the kitchen table, he sat on it, the legs groaning under his massive bulk.
“Bring me ‘The Spoon,’ please, and her,” he said simply.
A cook got down a very—
very
—large wooden spoon off the wall, even as another released Jessica and pulled her to Viktor. Jessica swallowed hard as a trickle of sweat ran down the side of her face.
Oh, this does
not
look good.
“Now, ah, let’s not do anything we’re going to regret,” she said quickly.
In an instant, Jessica was over Viktor’s massive lap and pinned down by his long muscular left arm. The man was like one of those Spartan warriors she’d seen in that movie a while back! Between his height and sitting on the table, Jessica felt about six feet off the floor. That, plus their relative size differential, made her also feel about twelve years old.
“Oh,
I’m
not going to regret it,” Viktor said, taking the spoon.
Jessica shivered as she felt the large hard spoon swirl across her petite ass.
Whack!
The first blow impacted. The air rushed from her lungs.
Holy crap, this is ten times worse than a hand spanking!
Before she could even cry out, another smack landed. “Ouch! Ow! Damn it, that really hurts.”
“That’s the point, Anya,” Viktor said calmly, setting up a steady pattern of firm smacks.
Jessica wiggled and squirmed as much as she could, trying to break free. “Okay, okay, you’ve—ouch!—made your point. Now, let go of me—ow!”
“Are you ready to eat your dinner?” Viktor said, not letting up for a second.
“Yes, yes, anything—ouch—just stop!” Jessica wailed.
Viktor did so, but did not release her. “Good girl. Now, just so you know, Anya, little girls who refuse to eat get ‘The Chair.’ Those who still refuse get the spoon until they agree.”
“Yes, I get it, I understand. Now, let me up, and I’ll eat my dinner.”
Smack!
She got another whack, and yelped.
“Don’t interrupt!” Viktor snapped, putting the spoon aside. “But you did
more
than that; you were disrespectful and you spit food at me, and I heard that little lie you tossed in about being an American. For all that, you’ve earned yourself
extra
.”
Jessica gasped as she felt an icy shiver of fear course up her spine, even as Viktor flipped up her skirt.
Smack!
Viktor resumed the punishment, spanking her hard, and Jessica screamed. This was the worst pain she’d ever known! Viktor’s hand was huge, it easily covered her entire bottom, and he was really putting those muscles of his to good use.
“Sorry-sorry-sorry, I sorry, I really-
really
sorryyyy—waaahhhh,” she wailed, starting to bawl.
It was all for naught. Viktor spanked her until there was literally a puddle of tears on the floor under them, and Jessica’s pert little bottom was a blazing inferno of pain and redness. Only when she was truly reduced to a ragdoll did he stop, and then lift her into his long warm arms. She continued to sob, and actually clung to him, despite her anger toward him.
“There, there, Anya, it’s all over, and all is forgiven,” he said, his voice soft and soothing. “I
am
sorry for having to be so severe with you, especially on your first day here, but we cannot tolerate one of our little girls breaking the rules. I hope you understand that. If not now, then in time.”