They were hanging on him, flirting, and giggling over him. I was so disturbed and angry that I almost screamed out loud. It was just in the way those girls moved their bodies, their hips swishing, their boobs jiggling in front of his eyes offering themselves to him for his pleasure.These were the hot girls; the beauties, the popular, wealthy, well-dressed ones, with big, pendulous jiggling boobs. The ones used to getting what and whom they wanted. The same ones whose rejection and derision I endured throughout my years of college. The ones who made me feel tiny, inadequate, infantile, and sexless. But he looked critically at all of the student theses and to everyone’s astonishment, most of all mine, he singled out my work for attention from all of them.You could cut their envy and hatred of me with a sword. He analyzed and praised my work in front of them offering some critical observations. Then he, the National Treasure, directed me to join his studio in the spring as his. " I mumble. You nod, disappointment still very clear. You had bought me that dress on the condition that I wear it whenever you ask me to. It's not that I don't love the dress. The eyelets in the dress are stunning, showing off my golden skin. The color accents my skin tone perfectly and has the exact same tint as my favorite hair bow. You know I love it, but that's not the point."Why aren't you wearing it?" You ask, sternly."I lost track of time and I forgot, Daddy, I'm so sorry," I say, pleading with voice, trying to avoid a harsh punishment."You didn't listen," You say. It's not a question; it's a statement, and it's not up for debate."Yes, Daddy, I'm sorry." I say. My chin is tilted down, my eyes glued to the floor. I hate disappointing my Daddy. My heart is sinking in my chest, and it feels as if I'm swallowing rocks. My heart is racing as I wait for you to state my punishment.Without saying a word, you nod over to the couch. You unbuckle your belt and my heart sinks more..
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