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Chapter 12 – The Caterpillar Plans Her Escape
"I'm very upset you failed to submit to your punishment Charlotte. Can you tell me what the rules regarding punishment are?"
"If I don't submit I get punished anyway."
"And?"
"I have to be punished again?"
"Correct, what do you think will happen if you don't submit next time?"
"You'll carry out the punishment anyway and then come up with a new one as well?"
"That's right, so do you see how fruitless it is to continue this obstinacy?"
"Yes sir."
"And will you be a good girl and submit to whatever punishment I decide is appropriate for you?"
"Yes sir."
"That's a good girl."
This conversation between Charlotte and Mr Campbell had been conducted in Charlotte's bedroom. Charlotte was still clad in her punishment panties and bra after the maid had issued her a stern warning not to remove them until Master Campbell told her to.
Mr Campbell had sat down on the bed next to her as she was studying "Manners of a Lady". He had spoken with a kindness and compassion that was entirely juxtaposed by the sheer cruelty of the punishment he had ordered inflicted on her. Confused by this contradictory tailor, Charlotte had sat with her hands in her lap and her head bowed, much as a chastened child would do. The painful ordeal on the rocking horse had shamed the young girl to the core. Any rebellious thoughts had temporarily and ruthlessly been subdued at the thought of further suffering.
"Can I take the panties and bra off now… please?" She asked meekly.
"If you can tell me that you've learnt your lesson." He responded gently.
"Yes, I have."
"Tell me how. What have you learnt?"
"I shouldn't refuse to listen to Bosker when he tells me to do things, like how to fix my hair. I shouldn't have been cheeky to Mistress Heinz… and I should have dressed myself this morning instead of making Madeline and Bosker dress me."
"Very good. Now Charlotte, look at me."
Charlotte looked up from her folded hands. "I have a present for you. Because you were a good girl today even while you were suffering your punishment."
He revealed a small box that he had kept hidden in his jacket pocket.
"I want you to wear it all the time; I picked it out especially for you."
He opened the box revealing a delicate gold charm-bracelet. Hanging from the bracelet were tiny charms: ballerinas, ponies and dolphins. The production of the bracelet reignited Charlie's detestation of her ongoing ordeal. It became the newest symbol in the continuing battle for her identity. Roused from her subdued and embattled plight Charlie internally recoiled at the sight of the jewellery: 'Now he's trying to buy me with trinkets!' she shouted within. Yet in a pretence of obedience she gingerly accepted the bracelet and carefully placed it on her left wrist.
"Do you like it? It's yours to keep..."
"It's lovely." Charlie responded blankly, now unable and unwilling to feel any elation at the gift that ordinarily would have been an eight year olds pride and joy.
"Good, I hope you like it. Now you should get ready for dinner. You can take off your panties and bra if you like. Madeline has put some pretty new panties in your wardrobe to change into."
"Thankyou Mr Campbell." Charlie thanked him quietly as he retreated from the bedroom.
She waited until he had pulled the door shut before lifting her voluminous skirts and pulling the dreadful panties down. She gasped as the bristles pulled away from her tortured crotch. The infernal garment was thrown across the room before she started unzipping her dress to remove the matching bra.
Again she gasped, as she peeled the bra away from her breasts. The bristles had left indentations all over her silken skin. Wincing with pain, she attempted to massage the punished flesh. Suddenly it occurred to her that the camera in the ceiling was likely watching every move she made. Creeped out by the thought that Mr Campbell might be lecherously watching her while she massaged her breasts, she hurriedly covered back up.
Sitting on the edge of her bed she retrieved "Manners of a Lady" and pretended to study while she considered her predicament. Well into her second full day trapped in the apartment she had failed to even ascertain just what type of security prevented her escape. So far she hadn't been let out of sight. While in her bedroom, the camera undoubtedly monitored her, and on being let out she was always accompanied by Mr Campbell, Bosker or the Tazer wielding bitch of a maid. Her experience so far led her to the conclusion that she was not going to be left to her own devises. She needed to think of a new approach if she wanted to win her freedom.
'Break the camera? No – they'll just come running and mete out some more of their sick brand of punishment.
'Tunnel out? With what, and I must be thirty stories up, it's not like I've got a parachute.
'I wonder if there's a fire escape somewhere, if there is it's sure to be alarmed… hang on, fire…'
A plan began to form in her head. She'd only have one chance and she'd have to be patient. Trying to pull off this idea prematurely would wreck her only chance. Preparation ought to be relatively easy. All she needed were some spirits; Mr Campbell drank brandy didn't he? A tin can or bottle of some type; scissors; a bit of cotton, easily obtained from one of these hideous outfits; and a box of matches.
At some stage she would have to find the kitchen, where most of these items would surely be available. This formed another problem, but not an insurmountable one. She thought back to an interview with one of her sporting heroes, Coach Vince Lombardi, who had once said that nothing was unachievable: all you had to do was break a big goal down into smaller achievable tasks and then set out to conquer each in turn. He'd been referring to his team's goal of reaching the Superbowl – but the advice was just as useful in Charlie's case.
She knew she could do this; first she had to find the location of the kitchen. Then she'd worry about the rest of the tasks she was mentally arranging. In the mean time though she had to ensure that Mr Campbell and his crew of debaucherous cronies had no idea what she was plotting. That meant it was time to put on some panties and start behaving like a good little girl. They probably thought her broken as she'd suffered within the tortuous confines of the punishment panties and bra. Good - she'd let them keep thinking that.
'Sugar and Spice and all things nice – that's me. I'll wear his goddamn girly dresses and his frilly socks. I'll smile politely, giggle and behave like a soppy eight year-old. He'll get his little girl alright, right up until I fuck him over like he's never been fucked over before' her internal monologue ran.
Opening the wardrobe she found that the replacement for the punishment panties were a combination of yellow satin trimmed with white lace. Yellow, of course to match her pinafore, with white lace decorating the waist and leg bands. She pulled the panties up her legs and returned to her schoolbook, awaiting the call to dinner and brimming with new found hope at the prospect of eventual escape and freedom.
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