Stiletto Dolls

by C. L. Black

  Fully awake and alerted from her false slumber, Catherine took in her new reality, still in the baby dream. Panty Parlor? Deciding to play along, she forced herself back into a long-forgotten past and cooed up at Giselle. “No, Mommy! We don’t want to be late for Miss Christi.”

  “Does Mommy’s new baby need to go potty?”

  “No!”

  They made their way out of the nursery, through Miss Christi’s private sitting room, and down the grand staircase then turned right at the entry to the Panty Parlor.

  The Panty Parlor

  Miss Christi’s office, 14:39 local

  Wake up! Please!

  Miss Christi’s office had always been more affectionately known around Blachmann as, the Panty Parlor. Its pocket doors were rarely closed. On the far side of the room, Miss Christi was seated at her desk working, her fingers dancing away on the keyboard of her laptop. In walked a barefoot Catherine, still dressed in her pretty new baby outfit. She tried to act as normal as any almost-sixteen-year-old in a way-too-short pink baby dress could. It was the first time she couldn’t remember not wanting to be the center of attention.

  “Sorry we kept you waiting, Miss Christi.”

  “That’s quite all right, Miss Giselle.” Miss Christi closed her MacBook Pro, rose from her desk, and stepped to greet them as they stood together in the entry. “Oh, don’t you make a perfect little pretty baby doll.” She scanned the kitten from head to her bare toes and back up.

  “Come in, my dears, and sit yourselves down right here.” Miss Christi stroked her hand across the overstuffed white leather love seat located centrally in the parlor. Though it faced her desk, she usually avoided sitting behind it when she had company, preferring the center seat on the nearby sofa. She went and took her seat.

  As they neared, Catherine kept her distance as she spied the Panty Parlor. Great; more pink, Barbie pink. Two large windows, facing east, were to either side of the matching leather sofa, itself bracketed by small end tables. Above the sofa was a large framed LCD showing a picture of the castle. There was a large glass coffee table in front of the sofa. The love seat she was to be seated in was located in the center of the room, facing the desk, its back to the doorway they entered from.

  Catherine didn’t like having her back to the door. Always want to see them coming. The granite flooring was covered by a large heavy custom rug. It looked expensive. Its edges, irregular, matched a leaf pattern; its color, mostly beige with some pinks and greens, for the stems and leafs. The tabletops were all of heavy glass. She stopped in front of the fireplace, centered on the west wall. The flames rising off the gas logs warmed her. Above the mantle was a life-size portrait of a woman. Who is she? Looks pretty old. Was that her Sir Katherine? Must be her.

  “Here we go kitten. Sit your pretty little bottom right here next to Mommy.” Giselle gently patted the creamy white soft leather cushion. “There we go. The baby Kat is now ready to begin her preschooling, Miss Christi.”

  Upon sitting, she heard footsteps and twisted. “Why is she here?” Catherine pointed with trepidation at that woman, who entered and seated herself on the sofa with Miss Christi.

  “Pleasant dreams?” Jane’s attempt at small talk was met with silence. “Right then. I am Blachmann’s new headmistress. I shall be responsible for conducting your formal education and enrichment during your time with us at Blachmann.”

  “You? Superbitch? No fucking way! I thought—” Fuck! Tell me you didn’t just say that out loud? Whoops…

  Giselle quickly corrected her baby. “Kitten shall address our new headmistress as Mistress Sterling or Miss Jane unless Miss Jane instructs otherwise. Is that understood, kitten?”

  Everyone waited, and waited.

  “Yes, Mist—Miss Jane. Kitten understands.” She smiled then, regained some spunk, and let go with, “There’s no fucking way I’m playing this whacked baby game with you. Who fuckin’ died and made you headmistress, anyway?” Feeling her old self, she added, “Fuck you and that cute little bitch you rode in on!”

  “Splendid. Shall we let the education begin?” Jane stood and placed herself directly in front of Catherine. “Come with Miss Jane, kitten.” She reached down, taking Catherine by the hand.

  She didn’t budge. “I’m not going anywhere with you.” She recoiled, snarling up at Jane. “I’m gunna call my dad. He’ll get me outta here. You’ll see! Let go of me, you fucking bitch cunt!”

  “Right, then. Miss Giselle, please fetch Miss Jane’s paddle.” Jane never once raised her voice, still standing before Catherine as she admired the girl’s spunk.

  “Yes, Miss Jane.” Giselle popped up and quickly exited for the library, eager to satisfy Miss Jane’s request.

  Holy fuck me! Did she say, P-A-D-D-L-E? Catherine looked to Miss Christi for help. She’s no use. Miss Christi didn’t even flinch. She just sat there, acting so pleasant and normal, as if Miss Jane, gag me—had asked Miss Prissy to pass the sugar. “Miss Christi, may I please call my daddy… Please?”

  The seconds ticked bye dreadfully slow. Mommy G returned, holding a long black paddle shaped with two wide spots at the end. They were engineered for maximum effect. The paddle’s wooden structure was covered with black leather. The other end had a hand grip, also wrapped in black leather. Judging by the worn spots, it appeared that the padded side got frequent use.

  Holy fuck! Miss Headbitch is a fucking Nazi sadist. She wanted me to act out! Fuck me. “I’m sorry, Miss Christi. Really, I am. I’ll be good now. Please don’t let her hit me. Please!” Catherine cringed and started to cry. My fuckin’ mom sent me to some Nazi sadist boot camp. Several doses of adrenaline pumped her back to life. She stiffened, preparing for a fight. MK wasn’t going to just bend over a take it.

  “Thank you, sweetie.” Jane accepted the sinister-looking device from a happy Giselle. Then, much to Catherine’s surprise, she found a pretty white tea dress spread across her lap. With each look, another jolt of adrenaline pumped.

  Jane stood over Catherine, waiting. “Well.”

  “Well, what?”

  Miss Christi spoke. “Kitten, please be a dear and lift Mommy Giselle’s pretty skirt for Miss Jane.”

  Catherine’s brain was spinning faster than the Concorde used to fly. Her adrenaline pump went crazy. Now it was stimulating MK in other ways. “Yes, Headmistress; right away.” Catherine slowly lifted Mommy’s skirt up and pulled it back. Pink panties… And cotton mamas too. Not quite like her dream—but it would do.

  “The knickers too.”

  “Huh?”

  “Her panties, dear,” offered Miss Christi, translating.

  “Oh yeah, right away, Miss Jane.” Catherine tugged the pink cotton, exposing Psycho Dani’s rounder than I thought, ass. Nice. “Um…may I please hold her down for you, Headmistress?”

  “If you’d like, sweetie.” Jane took aim and then let loose the Enforcer.

  Whack.

  “Ah…”

  Whack.

  “Uh…”

  Whack!

  “Oh! Yeah! One more, please, Miss Jane.” Make the bitch scream.

  Whack!

  “Sorry, Mommy Gee.” Catherine held tight and didn’t look at all sorry.

  “Right then. You can let your mommy up now, sweetie.”

  “Thank you, Miss Jane,” said a tearful Giselle, slowly returning to her feet. “I’ll try harder to be a better mommy.” She stared into Catherine’s excited eyes as she rubbed her red bottom, reinforcing the message. “I promise.” She hiked up her panties.

  Jane held her left hand out for Catherine to take. “Are you ready to continue with your education with Miss Jane now, sweetie?” Her right still held the Enforcer. The session had jolted her. She fondly relived her first day at Blachmann. Sir Katherine had introduced Miss Jane to the Enforcer the first day. She recalled that Sir Katherine had used it on that bony little bottom so many times that week after she first arrived. She couldn’t remember the baby kitten’s name: another hole in her memory. />
  Catherine didn’t move; her eyes stuck on the Enforcer. Fuck me! She liked it more than I did. I bet she wants me to act out again. “Yes, Miss Jane, I can’t wait.” She sprang to her feet. “I love school.” Taking Jane’s hand, she went, and so did the Enforcer. They were about to enter Mistress Sterling’s new domain.

  Lesson One: Truth

  The library, 15:00 local

  Jane guided Catherine into the only seat at the large round table filling the center of the library. On the table were a new journal and a big pencil, the kind they give to little children.

  “Sit here, kitten.”

  Miss Jane went and sat at her desk. It was a large heavy desk, made of the same dark wood that covered much of the walls and ceiling. Catherine wasn’t sure what kind it was, just that it looked more like an old man’s office. Way too cold, dark, and hard, she thought. Thankfully, three tall windows let in plenty of the afternoon daylight.

  She glanced to her left. Hundreds of books stood on the shelves covering most of the three interior walls except for the doorways, fireplace, and the pictures. This fireplace was considerably larger than the one in the Panty Parlor. It was trimmed with polished black granite and the same too-dark wood as the rest of the room. It also had a life-size portrait hanging above. It was larger—a beautiful young woman. A tiny baby clung to her breast. Blondes with big boobs. “Go figure.”

  “Eyes forward! No talking.”

  “Huh? Oh, sorry.”

  “Kitten is to write her name, date of birth, physical age, emotional age, sex, gender identity, sexual preferences, number of sex partners with names of each and date, names of all lovers with date you started and ended each relationship. Explain why each ended.” Jane spoke in rapid but deliberate precision. “When kitten is finished, close your journal and bring it to me. No talking during the assignment. Is that understood?”

  “Yes.” After a long pause the baby added, “Miss Jane.”

  Talking? Talking—who the hell am I going to talk to? There’s nobody else in here. Why the fuck did she say that? What’s with everyone in this fucking place anyway? Are they all fucking nuts? Do my mom and dad know all the fucked-up twisted shit they’re into? What’s going to happen to me? How could they fucking send me here? How could I fall for that stupid game trick act of Granny’s? How dumb was that?

  Catherine looked up. Superbitch was sitting behind her desk working at her computer. Fuck…

  A minute, then two drifted past. She tried with growing vexation to remember the fucking assignment. Fuck me! What did she just tell me to do? Name, Date of Birth, age, Emo—What did she call it?

  She couldn’t remember the assignment. Jane glanced at her new kitten. Catherine was lost and helpless. She sat there, staring at the blank page. She took relief when Jane’s eyes left her and returned to her laptop. “Now what the fuck am I gonna do?”

  “No talking!” Jane’s voice was stern.

  After what seemed like forever, Catherine mustered her resolve and timidly raised a trembling hand, dreading that Miss Jane would actually notice.

  “Yes dear?” asked a pleasant Miss Jane, sounding more like a preschool teacher, having just finished her review of the video surveillance from the New York penthouse.

  Catherine answered, speaking fast, still with her best baby voice. “Miss Jane talked way too fast for her baby kitten to remember all those big grown-up words.” She hoped they wouldn’t be her last. She would never hit a baby. Would she?

  Jane lowered her eyes, focused back to her computer, and slowly repeated the assignment. “Does kitten understand Miss Jane now?”

  This time, Catherine copied it down. “Yes, Miss Jane.” She hunched over her workbook and started writing. A lefty, she shielded her work with her right arm—like when you don’t want the kid sitting next to you to see. After answering the easy questions, she paused. I’m not going to tell her that. She shook her hand—it was all pins-and-needles from clenching the pencil so hard. The new baby kitten was growing tired of her first assignment. She looked around for the time.

  There, in the center of the table, a large clock was built in. Like most everything else in the library, it looked to be very old. What a strange clock. It had eight extra dials with hands. She watched the hands on the clock face. They’re fricken moving. It still held excellent time but was different. “What’s with those extra dials and letters and stuff?” Shit. She lifted her head. “Sorry.”

  “Do you find the timepiece interesting?”

  “What is it?”

  “It’s a very special chronograph.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Do you see the eight extra dials?”

  “Yes.”

  “They provide a cryptographic encoding and decoding function. It was used by the Blachmann Eight to exchange secret communications in the days before computers.”

  “Who are the Blachmann Eight?”

  “Who were the Blachmann Eight? They’re dead. Can’t say, love; must let Miss Christi tell the stories. Focus on your assignment, kitten.”

  Catherine lowered her head, supporting it with her right hand. Who can I use? Oh, yeah. Three should be enough. Don’t want Superbitch to think I’m a total slut. She wrote the details in the book. She put the big fat pencil down, closed the book, and sat up proudly. “Finished, Miss Jane.”

  “Right, then. Come, give it to Miss Jane.”

  Catherine handed the book of lies to Jane.

  “I think you forgot someone on your list, sweetie?”

  “No. I didn’t. Really? No. I promise.” Shit. “I mean, no, Miss Jane.”

  “Please return yourself to the Panty Parlor and sit on the love seat. Look around and reflect. Search your thoughts for who you neglected. Look around and search your soul. I think in time you will find the answer we seek. But only if you are true with yourself.”

  Catherine didn’t move.

  Jane took the kitten in hand and led her back across the foyer and into Miss Christi’s office—the Panty Parlor. She directed Catherine to “sit,” on the love seat, facing the desk. “Kitten is to stay here until she provides Miss Jane with the whole truth. Does the kitten understand?”

  “Yes, Miss Jane.” Her shoulders sank.

  Truth Lies Within

  The Panty Parlor, 15:33 local

  Catherine eyes scurried around the room, certain it hid the answer. The old woman in the portrait watched her like a cat as she searched the room for a clue. Superbitch sent me back to old-time Barbie’s Panty Palace for a reason. She looked at the walls. I see why they call it the panty parlor. Several pieces of vintage lingerie were on display: some framed, others in a glass cabinet. Behind Miss Christi’s desk was another tall window. It was just like the other two. They all had long pink curtains with red roses. How romantic. Gag me!

  Miss Christi’s desk was smaller and softer in color than Jane’s, and was neatly arranged. Her MacBook sat in its center with its lid closed. Better not. There weren’t any papers on the desk. Neat freak. Just to the left of the computer was Miss Christi’s Kindle, connected to the laptop by a USB cable. I could have tapped it for power. To the right of the laptop was an open binder containing what looked like some kind of fabric samples. Kristin’s Kloset: A fairytale carriage. Vicki…

  Catherine stopped daydreaming of Lipsticky Vicki long enough to notice the LCD picture over the sofa, centered between two east-facing windows. It was of the Castle, with a girl in a window, high up in the tower, waving to what she thought was a knight on a black stallion. The GoodKnight is riding to save her. Someone was hiding in wait at the gates, to ambush the Knight. Catherine cast her mind adrift. Her eyes closed.

  BP… Where are you? BP! She could see her now. Her lover was in the tower window. She was riding to her rescue. Catherine found herself in the picture, on the horse. There you are. Seeking to defeat her anxieties, she touched herself. Look out! Soon she drew her heavy sword, Die you evil fucking bitch! With all that she was, she thrust the mighty sword f
orward. MK had dispatched her mom. She entered the Castle; I’m coming, my love! She moved up the stairs, until— “Oh, BP!” She’d found her lover bound on the bed. You’re safe, my love. She kissed her beautiful princess. I’ve come back to save you. I told you I would. I love you.

  Her eyes opened to find her world was not as she had fantasized. Fuck it. I’m still in this wacko place. Still in this room—the Panty Parlor. She had used her secret weapon and escaped her demons.

  She returned her focus to the assignment. This time she was more honest with herself. She tried a little harder, but still couldn’t think of who she’d forgotten. Not an hour passed. She thought it had been more than two.

  Red Faced

  16:22 local

  Worn out, Catherine gave up and returned to face Jane. “I’m sorry, Mistress.” Superbitch. “I really don’t know who I forgot.” Her head slumped forward. Almost in tears, she stood before the headmistress’s desk, assembled from hand carved cherrywood some ninety-seven years ago.

  She did not acknowledge Catherine as she continued to click away at her computer. “Eyes up!” She waited to be obeyed. “You forgot at least one person, my dear.”

  Catherine remained at attention, holding the journal, once more reviewing the names. “I don’t know. Really, I don’t.” How could she?

  “Miss Jane will help the baby kitten, if she asks?”

  Help me what? Better play along. “Help me? Oh, yes. Please, Miss Jane.” Was that too dramatic?

  Laptop closed, her eyes lifted, meeting Catherine’s, Jane replied “Why, it’s you, love.” Jane’s face softened. “Silly kitten. You forgot to list your own name. Didn’t you, sweetie?”

  “What?” Catherine’s neck stiffened and her brain became more confused. “I don’t get it?”

  “Kitten knows what Miss Jane means. Did you enjoy your playtime in the Panty Parlor?” Jane stood, walked around to where Catherine was standing, took her left hand, and sniffed.