Reforming Little Anya Page 4

  God, what a super sap! Ha, I’ll have no trouble avoiding punishments in the future. Give me a couple of days, and I’ll be running this place.

  Misha left, and a few minutes later, the lights went out throughout the house. As it was so early, Jessica knew she’d never be able to fall asleep, so she decided to get to work. Gently, trying not to stretch the skin across her swollen behind, she got up and stepped out of bed, and froze. The old wooden floor creaked loudly, even under her minimal weight.

  Damn, there’s no way I’m going to be able to move about this old shack without being heard.

  She sat on the edge of the bed, and promptly shot straight into the air, clutching her bottom. “Ouch! Damn it, I forgot.”

  She eased herself down on the bed, on her stomach, and played with her hair as she thought. Okay, I made some mistakes today, and paid for them. I will not repeat them tomorrow. No, I’m going to do just like I did at work, I’ll manipulate everyone around me to get what I want.

  That made her smile, and she actually felt herself becoming fatigued. It had been a long tough day; maybe turning in early made sense. She flopped her head onto the pillow and was out cold before another thought.

  In her dreams, she was carried back to a certain day a few months ago. She was having lunch with… him. Jessica kind of felt like Ebenezer Scrooge in A Christmas Carol, as she stood off to the side and watched herself sit down to eat with Drew, just about the best guy she’d ever known—or had. He was such a hunk of man. No, that wasn’t fair. Yeah, he was tall (she didn’t even come up to his mid chest), solid build, dazzling eyes, and all the yummy extras, but there was more. Drew complemented her so perfectly, and it wasn’t just that he was mature where she was childish and silly. Their personality traits clicked together, like the pieces of a puzzle locking into place to create a beautiful image, and they formed a complete… soul.

  “I don’t understand, Drew, what are you talking about?” she whined.

  “What part of ‘I’m moving to Chicago’ don’t you get? The statement kind of stands on its own.”

  Jessica blew a raspberry. “I get that! What I don’t get is why. I mean, what, was the male strip-o-gram I sent you for your birthday out of line?”

  Drew sighed and slowly shook his head. “Jessica, your antics just seem to get more and more ridiculous with each passing week.”

  “You just don’t enjoy fun!”

  “I love fun, and some of your gags have been delightful, but doing them at work, in front of our co-workers, has embarrassed me to no end.”

  “As I said, you just don’t like fun.”

  “I like it, I love it, and I love you. So, why do you—”

  “Love is for the weak, power is for the strong,” she snapped.

  “Yes, I know, that’s your guiding creed,” he said, standing up. “Well, I hope someday you learn that power is no soul-mate, it can’t keep you warm at night, and it most definitely is not a life partner. When you’re old and wrinkled, power will be a poor companion.”

  “I know, you want the wife and the kids, and the house with the white picket fence. Drew, that is so old.”

  “No, I don’t, I just want a life partner who has a pulse and a soul. I can’t wait any longer for you to grow up, Jessica. I’m sorry, but I have to move on.”

  Drew turned and left. Jessica saw her younger self grapple with herself for a moment. She wanted to shout, “Stop him, go after him, tell him you love him, you idiot.” She couldn’t. As with A Christmas Carol, she was unable to change what had already happened. She was merely viewing the past, and the past was shut off, locked out, and a world that was set.

  She awoke in a room dimly lit by moonlight, and had to wipe a new tear from her eye before trying to get back to sleep.

  * * *

  Meanwhile, back in Prague, Kelly was on the phone with Viktor and Misha, getting a full report on Jessica’s first day at the home.

  She grinned. Yes, this will work out perfectly. Maybe by the time I return to the village for the groundbreaking, Jessica will be reformed and ready for redemption.

  Kelly felt deep down in her heart of hearts that Jessica was a good person. More precisely, she thought that Jessica could become a good person. She just needed some direction for her heart and soul. Kelly would think more on that in the morning, and maybe make some suggestions to Viktor and Misha.

  There was someone else who might help Jessica, and his name was Drew. He and Jessica had dated for a time, but he’d requested a transfer to a branch office. At the time, Kelly hadn’t thought anything of it. He wasn’t in her division, and Kelly didn’t pry into the personal affairs of employees. Now, having read Jessica’s journal, she knew it was Jessica’s antics that had caused him to leave. Kelly made up her mind to contact him.

  * * *

  Jessica was having a great dream. Kelly had come to save her, and overcome with grief at the pains Jessica had suffered, Kelly resigned from the company and named her head of the division. Her first order of business: building a huge Disney-style resort next to the town, right at the foot of the mountain. After that, she built a second one at the nearby lake, and relished the bonus the company gave her for all the money she made them.

  Yeah, a good dream.

  Her final dream wasn’t so good. It was a variation on the classic ‘going to work naked.’ Instead, she went to work in a little girl outfit, something so sickening sweet she looked about ten, and the entire staff laughed at her. That one made her wake up in a cold sweat.

  Chapter Four

  The morning finally came. The sun rose, a rooster crowed, and Misha’s cheery voice echoed down the hall.

  “Morning, girls, time to get up and greet the new day,” she said happily.

  Jessica groaned. “If she says ‘rise and shine,’ I’m going to puke.”

  “Rise and shine,” Misha said, as if in answer to Jessica’s lament.

  “Blah,” she said, miming vomiting, even as she cast her eyes at the clock. “Holy crap, it’s six o’clock in the blessed a.m.! Is she nuts?”

  Jessica covered her head with the pillow. A moment later, the floor creaked and groaned. From the volume of the noises, it was easy to deduce who had entered her room.

  “Come on, Anya, breakfast time. You have a big day ahead of you; let’s try to make it a good one, okay?”

  “Please, I’m tired. Come back in an hour,” she complained, not moving the pillow.

  Smack! Misha gave her a firm, but not severe spank. Jessica was up in an instant!

  “Ouch,” she yelped. “That was mean. You could have given me another warning.”

  Misha stood there, arms crossed over her massive chest. “We do not have time for shenanigans, Anya. Here all of our little girls must pull their own weight. Get dressed in your school clothes, they’re in the dresser, and get downstairs for breakfast.”

  Jessica swallowed hard, rubbing her sore seat. “Yes, ma’am,” she mumbled, and then an idea came to her. “It’s just… well, my momma and poppa always let me sleep late.”

  Again she put on her best sad puppy-dog eyes and looked up at Misha. Jessica chewed her lip. Misha didn’t seem to be softening.

  “I understand you’re still dealing with your loss, Anya, but there are some things you’re going to have to adjust to. Now, get going.”

  Wow, she’s good.

  Jessica nodded and rushed to get the clothes from the dresser, even as Misha moved on. As she got dressed, Jessica had to roll her eyes again; the outfit was ridiculous, stupid, and downright embarrassing. It was essentially a Catholic schoolgirl uniform with an incredibly short skirt and white cotton panties. She felt like she should be in some sort of porno movie!

  Oh, well, I’m in a house full of women, and they think I’m one of them. What’s the big deal? So long as I don’t have to go out in public like this.

  Ambling down the back stairs, she yawned and stretched, and tried to come to life. The smell of fresh brewed coffee certainly helped. Once in the kitc
hen, and avoiding the cooks as they bustled about, she got herself a cup of coffee without thinking. She’d done it every morning for years. All three cooks froze and stared at her.

  Uh-oh, this does not look good.

  “Anya, what do you think you’re doing?” the head cook scolded, snatching the cup from her. “Don’t you know coffee is bad for a little girl? It’ll stunt your growth.”

  Jessica almost rolled her eyes. Do they actually believe that old wives’ tale? Thinking quickly, she painted a sad look on her face. “Oh, I’m sorry, but the smell and taste of coffee make me think of my poppa. He would always put a little in my milk, so I could share it with him.”

  The cooks responded with a collective ‘awww’ and patted her in sympathy. While they didn’t give her back the coffee, they put a little in her glass of milk. At first, she thought it was only a tiny victory, then she tasted it, and almost gagged.

  Holy crap, this stuff is like triple espresso! Sheesh, I always make a point of getting a good bikini wax, but this coffee just might put the rose back on my bud in record time. And it’s amazing how rich and thick the milk is… It’s like drinking thick cream. It has to come straight from the cow.

  She then got to work helping to set the table. Jessica was bound and determined to avoid any spankings today. So, she knew she had to play nice and suck up to the powers that be. Then, sitting down—which proved very easy, as the soreness had dissipated—she was again amazed at the size of the meal. It was a huge breakfast of toast, eggs, bacon, cheese, and meat. It took a lot of effort, but she managed to choke it all down. Well, the toast and butter went down easily; they were incredibly delicious and Jessica loved them.

  It was over breakfast that she had to apologize to the girls who’d been punished because of her. The whole ‘sincere’ angle was easy to fake, and the girls seemed to accept it. Of course, if they were anything like the girls back home, they might be faking it and planning to take their revenge on her later. She would have to watch her back.

  Iva smiled so broadly her mouth just about split her face in half. “Oh, Anya, no apology is needed.”

  The other girls all nodded in agreement, and that was all the prompting Iva needed. She went around the table, telling Jessica about all of them.

  “We’re all between eighteen and twenty,” she explained, “and not all of us are orphans. Some of us came from abusive homes or we were abandoned.”

  “What? You’re all adults? So, why are you in a home? Shouldn’t you be in coll—I mean university, or maybe working?”

  The girls all hung their heads, and Jessica chewed her lip. Uh-oh, did I strike a nerve there?

  “Well… none of us have attended school regularly,” Iva replied. “We don’t really have any skills. So, the home is a place where we can learn those things, and be taught how to be good and responsible members of society.”

  Jessica prided herself on her memory, but Iva went far too fast for her to remember everything. By the time they were done eating, she at least knew the names of all of the girls, but that was about it. Although, she did notice that Iva kind of glossed over any details about herself.

  Then it was time for school, and Jessica truly thought she’d died and gone to hell. With her high IQ, she’d breezed through high school in a year, and now she was back in the Czech version of it. Oh, it was pure torture. The classroom was on the first floor, right next to the living/rec room, and it was a classic old-fashioned schoolroom. Rows of chairs and desks faced the teacher’s desk and blackboard. Maps and posters, and pictures drawn by the girls filled the walls, and bookcases overflowed with books and school materials. Sitting there, Jessica got a good feel for the layout of the building.

  With the early hour, her lack of caffeine, and being so bored—the first subject of the day was the U.S. Civil War—Jessica fell asleep.

  Smack! A ruler striking the back of her hand brought her back from la-la-land. Jessica sat up straight and looked around, and wiped the drool from the corner of her mouth.

  “The Council of Trent,” she sputtered.

  The girls giggled, and were silenced by the teacher. She looked up into the face of Viktor. He was not only the director, he was also their teacher. His eyes were narrowly focused on her.

  Oh, this is not looking good. Think fast, Jessica, think fast!

  “Miss Holstein, would you care to explain why you’re sleeping in my class?”

  She felt like telling him the truth: he was about as exciting as watching bread mold. His voice was like that actor Ben Stein and his role as a teacher in Ferris Bueller’s Day Off, monotonous and dull. But she knew better. Then the perfect lie presented itself.

  “Oh, I didn’t mean to, sir, but, I had trouble sleeping last night. I’m still grieving over poor momma and poppa,” she said, forcing out a few tears.

  The class responded with a collective ‘awww.’ Jessica couldn’t help herself; she grinned a sly grin. It was working. Then she felt a surge of fear: Craznik hadn’t taken his eyes off of her!

  Uh-oh, is he on to me?

  “Yes, very moving, Miss Holstein, but not a valid excuse. Up to my desk,” he ordered, pointing with his hard ruler.

  She cringed, but did as he said without complaint. There was no point risking more punishment. Standing there, she waited as he came up to stand next to her.

  “Bend over the desk and grip the other edge.”

  Jessica wanted to kick him right where he deserved it most, but—again—she held her tongue and complied. It was a hard reach, and left her on her tiptoes. She shuddered when he flipped her skirt up and tapped her panty-clad bottom.

  “All right, you’re going to get a little history test, Miss Holstein. For every wrong answer, you get five smacks, clear?”

  “Y-y-yes, sir,” she stammered.

  “For what speech is President Abraham Lincoln best known?”

  She smiled. That was easy. “The Gettysburg Address.”

  Jessica stiffened and jumped slightly as she saw, out of the corner of her eye, his arm start to swing. She grinned when he froze and his face went blank. Clearly he hadn’t expected her to know.

  He lowered his arm and slowly nodded. “Correct. Very good. All right, next question.”

  It continued like that: he asked questions, and she answered. It was good being a genius. It was clear that he was amazed when she gave all the right answers. Finally, he seemed satisfied, and Jessica heaved a sigh of relief. She was learning to control these people. Her relief was short-lived.

  “I must compliment you, Miss Holstein; a perfect score, you did not earn extra. But, you’re still getting the ruler for falling asleep.”

  “What? No, that’s not—ouch,” she yelped.

  She was tempted to jump to her feet and complain, maybe even slap his face, but she knew that was one sure way of earning that extra. So, she grit her teeth and waited for the first blow. She felt the tap-tap-tap of the ruler again, and clenched her glutes. Her mind tried to process what was about to happen. It was a ruler. It was small and thin; it surely couldn’t hurt very much.

  Crack! Viktor struck, and now her mind processed something else: pain.

  Holy shit, that hurt!

  In an instant, she snapped to attention, and her hand flew to her dainty right cheek, the unfortunate receiver of that first blow.

  “Ow,” she squealed. “Sir, that really stung.”

  “It’s supposed to, little girl,” he shot back. “You broke position. Do that again and you get an additional two strokes. Now, bend over,” he added, pointing at the desk with the ruler.

  Jessica groaned, but did as instructed. She held on tightly to the edge of the desk, desperate not to move again. Looking down, she saw that her fingernails were almost pure white. Then came the next stroke, and she felt a matching rectangle of pain ignite on her left cheek.

  “Eeep,” she yelped, and shut her eyes tight.

  Before she could draw another breath, the third smack landed, bridging her twin mounds, and her
right leg snapped up. She was actually surprised at her body’s reaction; she almost kicked herself in the behind.

  “Anya, you settle down,” he said, again taking aim.

  She looked over her shoulder at him. “But, sir, I held position.”

  “Not entirely,” he replied, and landed another blow.

  “Ouch! Sir, please, I’ve learned my lesson.”

  “Anya, only I and Misha decide that. And remember, you keep your feet on the floor. That’s part of holding position,” he explained, and an especially firm swat struck her low on the right cheek.

  Jessica lurched forward, yet held on for dear life, and squealed. “Owwiieee! Yes, sir, yes, okay, I understand.”

  Whack! Crack! The ruler landed again and again, each smack seemed to get harder. Jessica yelped and howled, and soon she felt her eyes fill with tears.

  God, how does something so small and thin burn like the ever-loving devil?

  Forehand, backhand, Viktor swung that ruler like some sort of tennis pro, and several whacks caught her at her most tender spot: right where her thighs met her cheeks. Then it came to her. Of course he was an expert; he must have paddled the girls plenty of times. She sunk her fingernails so deep into the desk, she just about gouged claw marks into the wood. But at least she hung on. At the same time, she locked her knees and curled her toes, practically willing them to take root in the flooring. Only two parts of her body moved: her ass twitched and wiggled at each wallop, and her head snapped back as she wailed and the tears began to flow.

  “Owwwiieeee! Sir, pleaseeee, I sorryyyyyy, beee goooodd, not fall asleeeppp,” she wailed.

  He was unmoved, and she got the full two dozen. Never had she felt something so painful. That little ruler was like a blowtorch of pain almost literally cooking her poor behind.

  “All right, little girl, back to your seat,” he ordered.

  “Yes, sir,” she said, straightening up and flipping her skirt down.

  She slowly plodded back to her chair, which suddenly seemed harder than she remembered, and had no trouble staying awake for the rest of the lessons. As it turned out, some of the subjects were actually interesting. She also wrote the letter of apology, which he reviewed to insure she’d used proper English and that the grammar and format were correct. Any mistakes would earn her more of the ruler, but she was supremely confident. She almost laughed out loud when he got all flustered at not finding a punishable error, and up on the wall the letter went.