Detention With Miss Downey Miss Downey s Story Chapter Four
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For Her Own Good free porn video
Notes- Sentences in asterisks *like this* represent thoughts.
"Good morning, Princess."
*Sleep, I want to be left alone to sleep*
"Sarah, get up, you can't sleep all day."
Who's Sarah? I'm Sarah; they must be talking about me. I got up, rubbed
my eyes, and took a good look around my bedroom. On one wall was a map of
the world and a large poster of the Backstreet Boys, whilst on the other
one was a large map of what appeared to be a large imaginary country
called Vallermoore. There were numerous smaller countries and other lands
around the edges, but I decided to get dressed before my parents got
angry with me. I stared around the room and noticed it was very girly.
The wallpaper was a soft pink and there was a whole row of teddy bears
and other sweet little toy animals along the windowsill. In one corner of
the room was a make-up table and a mirror, and I stripped naked and took
a look at myself.
I had long blonde hair that went down to my shoulders and breasts that
were neither small nor big, and when I ran my fingers over the nipples
they stiffened. I ran my fingers down between my legs and into the patch
of hair and grinned when I touched myself. *It's time to get dressed, not
have nookie with yourself* I thought, and it was then that I noticed
something. There were scars, faint scars, around my breasts and between
my legs. They were far too long to be scars from bug bites that had been
scratched open, and I could not think of any reason why I would have got
burns there. And besides, burn scars would be unsightly and red, whilst
these looked like they came from a surgeon's scalpel.
*Have I had a boob job?* I wondered. *Lots of women have them, but they
are normally older, in their late thirties and early forties or older.
They shouldn't need them at my age. I can't be older then twenty. And why
do I have the scars down below, too? Something is wrong here. Something
does not add up at all.*
I looked for my clothes and found that the vast majority of them were
very girly indeed. There were little black dresses and other dresses and
bras and panties and various other clothes, and something didn't feel
right when I tried one on. Putting on the bra was a struggle, but I
managed it. I did find some blue jeans and a soft pink shirt, and then I
turned my attention to a wooden jewellery box, that was clearly mine.
I selected an amber bracelet, two rings, a golden necklace with an S on
it, and a watch with a pink strap, and sat at my make-up table, and then
realized that I had no idea how to apply makeup.
*But isn't that one of the first things girl's learn, when they are four
years old, playing with their mother's make-up and getting it all over
themselves? And by my age they know how to use it perfectly. What's wrong
with me?*
My bedroom door opened and a short, plump, blonde haired woman came in
and looked at me. "Good morning, Sarah. What's wrong? Why are you staring
at me like that?"
"Who are you? I have no idea who you are, or who I am."
She came forward and planted a big kiss on my forehead.
"You're Sarah Hackett, and I'm Amber Hackett, your mother. A few months
ago you were running downstairs to see a TV program, and you tripped over
a book and fell all the way down. You were lucky, if you had fallen
slightly differently, you could easily have broken your neck and been
either killed or paralysed for life. As it was, you bashed your head and
lost your memory and was lying in a coma for a whole month. Your father
and I thought you would never wake up. When you did, you had lost your
memory, although your other functions remained intact and your brain was
otherwise undamaged.. The doctors said that we should take you home and
gently remind you of who you were. Let me help you with your make-up,
honey."
She smoothed chapstick on my lips, and then followed it up with soft pink
lipstick that felt soft and silky on my lips. I reached up to wipe them,
but she slapped my hands away. "Sarah, no wiping. You have to leave it
alone and get used to it." Then she made me keep still whilst she put a
small amount of blue eye shadow on my eyes.
I looked in the mirror and a beautiful girl looked back at me. "You look
beautiful, honey, and tomorrow I'll teach you how to do it by myself.",
my mother said. After a while I got used to wearing makeup and it didn't
bother me anymore.
I spent the rest of the day studying family photo albums, looking at my
family tree, watching family videos and reading the stories and looking
at the maps of my old imaginary world and I learned a lot. My father was
George Hackett, a headmaster, who thought of me as his little princess,
and could be a bit overprotective of me at times but thought it was for
my own good. Amber Hackett, my mother, was a medical journalist who spent
a lot of time at her computer. I was an only child, due to the fact that
my father had contacted cancer soon after my birth. He survived and was
fully cured, but the cancer treatment had left him sterile.
My imaginary world was called Vallermoore, a Queendom, in which women
were the warriors and power-brokers, a very matriarchal world, and it was
when I was looking at a lake on the map called Lake Bath that a vivid
memory came back to me, of another imaginary world that I had made called
Bathland. But there were a few things about it that made me wonder.
First, its rulers were mainly male, with very few women in top positions.
I decided at first that it must have been a rival country for Vallermoore
to fight wars against, but although I spent over an hour looking through
every imaginary map and every story I ever wrote about Vallermoore, there
was no sign of it anywhere.
I remembered it's commanders...Chard and Bromhead, it's two generals, and
then Johnny Hill, Minister of War...* is real! I made this world with
him, and if I could find him, he could explain everything. The problem
is, only his first name is real, whatever his real second name is, it's
not Hill. And without knowing who his second name is, there is no way I
can look through the phonebook and find out where he lives. But how did I
know him well enough to make a whole imaginary world with him, when there
is no mention in the family records of him, and no e-mails or instant
messages from him?*
Oprah
- 09.07.2020
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