Her Father, My Master: Mentor by Mallorie Griffin Read Free Book Online Page B

would adjust, and that she had trouble adjusting too, when she was my age.  She'd gotten a D in French her freshman year, because she had been so stressed out.  I'd only heard this story a million times before, so I naturally delighted in hearing it for the million and first.
    "So, you know your father and I will support you, no matter what," she concluded.
    I nodded and smiled, trying to make like I'd paid attention to the entire conversation.  In reality, I was thinking about Mr. Hendricks.  How could he felt between my legs.  What an amazing man he was.  "I know, mom," I added to my nod.  She seemed to be waiting for something.
    "Oh sweetie, I'm so proud of you, I just want you to know that."  She went in for an awkward hug, and I was feeling thoroughly confused.  What had gotten into her?
    Finally, she let me go, and I spent as little time in the kitchen as possible, and ran back to my room with a peanut butter sandwich.  I didn't want my dad stopping me for a heart-to-heart either.   Flicker snaked his way out from under my crowded bed, soliciting pets.  I had a feeling he knew I was nervous, too, but at least he didn't talk back.
    And  I was nervous.  I wanted it to be 7 already, but I had a few hours to go.  With each minute that passed, I was less and less sure about whether I should even see him again, or not.  This was so strange.  I felt completely out of my depth, in this bizarre relationship.   And I knew it was odd.  But I didn't want it to stop.
    Still, by the time 6:30 rolled around, I'd once again resolved not to go.  I couldn't bear the thought of being rejected.  My mind kept rolling through all the scenarios that I might have to face, from him laughing at me at the door of his house, telling me it was all a joke, to him being an ax murderer and killing me the second I walked in the door.
    Essentially, it was more of the same from the last week.
    But yet again, by the time 6:45 rolled around, I was out the door, making my way to his house.  It was like the external force was controlling me, guiding me.  I needed more of this man, and I was willing to risk ridicule, or even my life, just to get it.  Though I didn't really think he was a serial killer.  If he was, he would've done me in last week.
    Trembling in my thigh high boots, and not just from the slight chill, I now made my way up is walk.  Mr. Hendricks must've seen my little sedan pull up his driveway, and he was waiting by the front door; it was opened already, and I saw his form leaning against the threshold.
    Part of me wanted to just fall into his arms the moment I was close enough, and tell him how much I missed him, how much I needed him, but something stayed my hand.  I had a feeling he would be aggravated by that.  I got the sense that he viewed this more as a business arrangement than any sort of romance.  We both wanted something, and we exchanged what it was we had, nothing more, nothing less.  But I knew I wanted it to be more.
    As soon as I entered the foyer, he was on me, kissing me, groping me roughly, just as he had the week earlier, and I returned his advances.  My need for him had been building through the course of the week, and the fragile nervousness I felt simply popped, like a bubble.  My worrying had been for nothing.
    Just like last week, he led me upstairs, to his room.  But there was something lying on his bed, glinting brightly against those ebony black sheets.
    It was amazing how innocuous those four sets of steel handcuffs looked, just lying on the bed.  After all, they were merely pieces of metal.  But their sole purpose was the re s train.  He looked at me meaningfully as I stared at the things, and I knew exactly what he intended to do to me, tonight.
    "I thought we should start your training, Krystal."
    I gulped.  "My training?"  I didn't know quite exactly what he meant by that, and I felt like a dope for having to ask.
    He laughed, a quiet, low chuckle, as he placed a hand on