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Chapter 16 – The Butterfly Emerges
"I want you to explain these to me." Her world reeled – she felt as if a lightning bolt had hit her. The fear, anxiety and terror exploded into outright panic as she realised what Mr Campbell had pulled out of the box to display to her.
In his hand Mr Campbell held Charlotte's blue pyjama bottoms. He displayed prominently the crotch of the pants where Charlotte had stained them with her nocturnal feminine emissions. He placed them on the arm of his chair as he extracted the frilly white cotton panties that she had worn the day Mistress Heinz had strapped her. "And these as well." He placed the final incriminating item together with the pyjama pants.
"Mistress Heinz reported to me that she thought she had detected a… moistness, between your legs as she strapped you. I refused to believe it of you. But now what do I find in your laundry – more evidence of this inappropriate behaviour."
Charlotte sat on the floor, her eyes darting between Mr Campbell and the incriminating panties…
"To tell you that I am deeply unhappy with this state of affairs would be a gross understatement. Look at the panties Charlotte. LOOK AT THEM!" His voice rose well above its normal calm reserved pitch.
"What do you have to say for yourself? Well girl – what?"
"It just happened." She squeaked out.
"It just happened did it? You were being strapped for misbehaviour and suddenly; 'it just happened?'"
"Yes…" the intonation of the last half of this word rose upwards, the admission profoundly embarrassing to the young girl.
"Why Charlotte? Why?"
"I don't know…" She dragged her gaze away from the incontrovertible evidence that she had responded sexually to being strapped.
This shocking discovery by Mr Campbell had blown away her emotional armour, her secrets, leaving her soul brutally naked under his burning gaze. She felt a lump in her throat rise as he continued to brutally pierce her newly exposed vulnerability.
"It seems as though we are going to take some rather dramatic action Charlotte. We can't have a beautiful young lady like you, someone who one day will make an excellent wife mixing amongst high society; behaving in this intolerable fashion by acting like a sexual deviant. Can we Charlotte?"
The lump in her throat had led to soft tears, and Charlotte now cried gently into her skirt. She had picked up the edge of her skirt and bought it to her face, where she wiped the tears away on the yellow hem of her pinafore.
He had revealed her darkest secret; he had torn away all her pretensions with this one simple discovery: corporal punishment and the dream of the dominating prince had aroused her. Being dominated and subdued excited her. But even worse than Mr Campbell's discovery was that she now saw that she had been deceiving herself. She wasn't Charlie the tomboy, the best in her school at sport. She wasn't a living example of a young woman conquering the world on her own and beating the boys at their own game by their rules…
She was no better than the simpering females who got bound to railroad tracks by evil villains. Vainly thrashing about in their bonds in a pathetic attempt to free themselves; all the while begging for a big strong man to come and rescue them.
She couldn't work out what was worse – that Mr Campbell now knew her secret, or that she had lied so perfidiously to herself.
Charlie started to fight back through the emotional turmoil – 'stop it – stop acting like a baby! You're a woman – why should you be ashamed of feeling that way when thinking about Kyle! This is nothing compared to how the other girls at school talk about boys! You are Charlie! Stop letting this freak twist you around his little finger!"
Charlotte ignored her, sobbing into her dress. Her soul had been exposed; she was shamed at her reaction to the brutal beating that Mistress Heinz had taken out on her. She was even more ashamed that she had lost control while dreaming of evil princes…
Mr Campbell interrupted her internal struggle, mercilessly ignoring her internalised vacillation. "I take it from your lack of response that you are guilty as charged. Let me tell you right now that I will not have you become some two-bit whore selling your body in some seedy alley.
"You are your mother's daughter and rightfully due a life of privilege and luxury. I would die before allowing you to sink into such a pit of despair and disgrace, because of some sexual deviancy." He paused a moment before continuing.
"I cannot allow that to happen. The memory of your mother would never let me sleep. Charlotte, I am going to have to take some extreme actions to rectify your behaviour." He paused again as Charlotte brought her teary eyes away from her skirt to look at Mr Campbell as he sat in his chair with a look of resigned determination in his eyes.
"From today on I am going to have either Bosker or Madeline check your panties twice a day. If I find that you have succumbed to these perverse feelings again you will wear the punishment panties for a day. If that fails, I am afraid I will have to apply a fiercer approach to your behaviour. Do I make myself clear?"
She wasn't sure whether Charlie or Charlotte answered, but the response was universal: "Yes Sir."
"Good, now I hadn't expected this unfortunate revelation tonight. I'm going to give you a rain check on tonight's planned penance; in fact I think I will have to revise what I had planned in light of this." He indicated toward the soiled panties.
"I think you should go to bed now. I will expect you to attend on me tomorrow night. But for now I want you to go to sleep and think about how you have disgraced the memory of your mother – I also want you to think about how we are going to overcome this perversion of yours."
Mr Campbell rose to his feet and offered an upset Charlotte a hand up from her seat on the carpet. Charlotte accepted his had and dragged herself up. The two of them then made their way back to Charlotte's bedroom. He wished her a good night before closing and locking the bathroom door behind her.
Alone by herself after being locked in her suite, an emotionally distraught and confused Charlotte found that her sheets had been changed, her room tidied and a new pair of pyjamas had been placed on the end of her bed. A one-piece pink sleeper, complete with enclosed booties, had now supplanted the two-piece blue cotton pyjamas. A dancing ballerina graced the chest of the sleeper. Charlie cringed at the infantile pyjamas – only by convincing herself that she needed to continue the pretence of surrender to progress her escape plans, did she finally shed her yellow pinafore and force herself into the pink sleeper. She deposited her day clothes down the laundry chute and slipped beneath her new sheets. These she noted were virginal white satin and the coverlet a plain light pink.
Drifting off to sleep seemed to take forever. Her mind was awash with conflict. She was ashamed that Mr Campbell had discovered her soiled panties – ashamed that her most private secrets had been exposed so unsympathetically – and ashamed that she had had those feelings in the first place. Charlie didn't gush and fawn over big strong men, she was better than them… and yet the panties provided undeniable proof that she did turn into mush at the thought of being dominated by a strong figure. She remembered the thoughts that had cascaded through her while Mistress Heinz had strapped her. Of Kyle putting her over his knee and spanking her before passionately embracing her.
She shook her head to try and rid herself of these inappropriate thoughts. Her mind turned to the future and to different things. She had found the kitchen; hopefully tomorrow night she would have the opportunity to pilfer one of the items she needed. She worked out that the easiest way to acquire the brandy would be from under Mr Campbell's nose. While topping up his glass she would skim off a bit of excess each time – she'd already worked out how to store it – in her spill proof plastic cup with the spout. She was positive that Mr Campbell would let her take it from the table – she imagined he must get off seeing her dressed in frills and lace drinking out of a safety cup fit for a toddler – he would be unlikely to object if she brought it with her to his room tomorrow night.
But first she had to get through tomorrow. A new outfit, new humiliations and now she realised that she had failed to review the requisite chapters of "Manners of a Lady" for Mistress Heinz. With luck she could bluff her way through Mistresses questions, but she resolved herself to the fact another black spot was likely. The greatest humiliation she now feared would be these twice daily "panty inspections". But again she reminded herself that she just had to survive for a few more days and freedom would be hers.
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