Mistress Mommy by Carolyn Faulkner, Abby Collier Page B

case – she was surprisingly easy to talk to. Alicia found herself confessing things that she might not have to someone else – like the fact that the reasons she was looking in the paper for a room was because she’d procrastinated in filling out the necessary paperwork to get a room through the college.
    Her companion stopped in the middle of reaching for something and looked directly at her. “There are definitely remedies for procrastination, you know.” She reached for and rang a small bell. A tiny woman in an outrageously gaudy, old fashioned maid’s uniform appeared within seconds. “Would you like some milk or water, Alicia?” the Mistress offered.
    “Do you have any soda or coffee?” Alicia countered, certain one of those common items had to be available.
    “Milk or water?” she was offered again, more firmly.
    “Neither, thank you,” Licia declined, just as firmly.
    A small smile played about the older woman’s lips, but she turned to the servant and said, “Tea for me, please, Ella.”
    “Yes, Mistress.”
    It appeared as if by magic, minutes later, and Alicia was duly impressed to hear that the servant was thanked by her mistress before being summarily dismissed.
    She was again encouraged to speak about herself, and had just begun doing so when they were interrupted by a young woman who was not too much older than herself who ran into the room and knelt down to kiss the Mistress’s hand most lovingly. “I’m back, Mistress.”
    “I see that you are, my Amy. But the door was closed and you didn’t bother to knock, did you?” Her tone was gentle, but there was no mistaking the rebuke. “I’m with someone right now, and you barged in quite rudely, I’m afraid.”
    Amy’s head hung in shame. It was unclear whether or not she’d even noticed Alicia’s presence, but Alicia didn’t think that would have mattered to Amy in the least.
    Mistress hugged Amy without reserve, despite her gaffe, then leaned back and cupped the young woman’s cheek. “You know what you must do now, then, don’t you?”
    “Yes, Mistress,” came the reluctant, mumbled reply.
    “And what is that?” The question – which everyone in the room knew was much more of a command - was delivered in a soft but clear tone.
    On a dry sob, Amy replied, “Go upstairs to my room and stand in the corner with my panties at my ankles and wait for you.”
    “Good girl. I won’t be too long.” She reached up and patted Amy’s bottom as she turned and trudged out of the room, reluctance and regret more than evident in every step.
    When she looked back at Alicia, the girl’s eyes were wide as saucers. “What do you make of that, Alicia?”
    She could do nothing but gulp at her suddenly dry throat. “M-make of w-what?”
    “I asked you what do you make of what just happened between myself and Amy?”
    “Well, I... I don’t – I don’t know.”
    Mistress’ eyebrows rose as if she highly doubted what Alicia was saying. “Come now. You must have felt something. The usual is revulsion or disdain that a young woman of Amy’s age – she’ll be twenty in six weeks – needs to be disciplined. Needs to stand in the corner of her room with her bare bottom on display, waiting patiently for her Mommy to come up there and blister it for her because she forgot to be polite.” She could see how Alicia was trying – unsuccessfully – not to squirm in her seat. But most young women were already halfway down the block by now. 
    The ones who weren’t were the ones who were usually interested in such things, whether or not they were willing to admit it to themselves. Some of them had to be convinced. Some of them knew it already, though, and just needed to be coaxed into it.
    If she had to bet, she would put her money on the idea that Alicia knew what she wanted, but hadn’t quite come to terms with it.
    Yet.
    She decided not to push her, for the moment. “How old are you, Alicia?” She asked as she