Mom was a very headstrong woman, who ran the household with something of an iron grip, both before dad came home, and after. She taught us all to think for ourselves, go after the things we wanted, be tolerant of others beliefs and opinions, be polite, and, most important of all, don’t take a lot of shit from anyone! As headstrong as she was, I was still surprised at what I was reading. It started off with the expected stuff, like ‘I miss you so much darling and can’t wait for you to come home.’ Then it started getting more and more graphic. Reading this made me feel like a voyeur, much of this obviously not meant to be seen by anyone other than my folks. I just couldn’t bring myself to put them down. It was almost like a soap opera, but with way more sex than TV allows. I picked up one dated December 20 th 1942 and began to read it. Dear Dot, By the time you get this, Christmas will be long gone, but I hope the spirit of the season will not be. I am consumed with guilt! I went into. He took his belt out of my hands."Down to your knees, angel," he said in a low voice full of wantI dropped one leg at a time, using my back against the pole to help meslide down, feeling the denim straining against my bent knees on eitherside of the pole now, my pink heels , behind me. He stepped around thepole behind me...and I almost couldn't believe my eyes."Arms behind you now, trisha."Almost hypnotized with wonder, I moved my arms behind me on either sideof the pole, and felt Daddy start to tie my wrists together with hisheavy strong belt, much tighter than I had done during our FaceTime play.As he tied me, I gaped at the floor-to-ceiling windows in the livingroom. It wasn't a painting as I had guessed - it was a forest. Behind thehouse, the land dropped off considerably with a large grove of old, tallpines, just a few dozen feet away from the back of the house, and atleast ten feet up or so was where the window started. I realized that ifI wanted to see ground, I'd have to step.
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