Chapter 4

I was not at all certain I was going to enjoy life inside the orphanage right from the moment that I was dropped like a hot potato on the black and white tiles of the entrance lobby. I saw a number of nasty looking teenaged girls lounging in the area with a look on their faces that alternated between totally bored and evil intent. It reminded me of the “bad girls” on their way to the detention hall of some forgotten school lurking in the corners of my devastated mind.

It seemed like my jumbled memory always placed me in the company of a lot older females than my assumed age and it was impossible to sort out that mystery without some clue about my previous life.

The stern-faced head mistress was seldom without a glass of some suspicious fluid in her hand and a crippled girl with messy hair followed her around like some pinned-on shadow of her distasteful presence.

I and another confused girl were isolated in the center of the huge lobby unsure of what to do and with little inclination to venture even the simplest question to glean some sense of direction. For some strange reason, my brain told me to just wait and see what would be the next move without exposing the level of my distressing confusion about the situation.

The head-mistress looked us both over at close range sipping her brew with a studied sigh of pleasure at the taste of whatever concoction resided inside her frosted glass. I suspected immediately that it was “booze” but I was not quite certain exactly what kind of booze it was and why grown-up seemed addicted to drinking it at every opportunity both night and day. Both I and my companion were directed to a holding room with all tiled walls and floor and instructed to “strip” off all our clothing for a full inspection supposedly to insure our health and safety.

“Hurry up, girls; we don’t want any little critters hiding in your filth. You girls are all alike. You don’t wash properly and there is hair everywhere like you were all born in a cave.”

I complied without making any comment.

It was not because I was afraid of the mean-looking head mistress because I actually didn’t understand the meaning of fear. In fact, my attitude was simply caution in the way that a much more mature person would handle the situation rather than some half-starved waif standing proudly in her naked glory in front of a bunch of leering teens.

“See, children, hair all over, just like I said. This one looks a lot older than only fourteen. She’s got a pelt on her that looks more like my Aunt Sadie instead of some disrespectful child of misfortune sent here for some much-needed discipline.”

The sound of snickers and laughter swirled around us.

I disregarded it completely, knowing that it was just the customary greeting of initiation for all new residents of the dreaded institution. The other girl was much more affected by it all because she was already peeing in her panties frozen in place and unable to remove them in time. The obscene comments flowed around us and the head mistress tapped the other girl strenuously on her now bared flanks with the longest ruler I had ever seen in my entire life. It had a distinctive thickness to it that gave it enough substance to actually “whistle” as it swept down to strike the young girl’s fast reddening bottom.

I studiously kept a blank face ignoring the scene around me knowing instinctively that was the best course of action when surrounded by the enemy.

We were assigned to a dorm room that had almost a score of other female orphans, all in their early teens and some even as young as single digit tender years.

The main dining room was a converted auditorium with long tables being served by other orphans dressed all in black like a flock of ravens fluttering about but never quite landing in one spot for too long.

We were both introduced to the concept of corporal punishment embodied in the head mistresses closet of special spanking toys. It wasn’t long before I, the assigned female creature now known as Alice Doe was fully conversant with most of them despite my struggle to adhere to all the rules and regulations that sometimes seemed admittedly a bit ridiculous.

Each Saturday, a small gaggle of childless couples descended on the orphanage to sort through the new offerings for that perfect creature to complete their portrait of domestic bliss.

I made certain my new companion was wearing clean knickers and extended that to my own case as well. One never knew when one might be required to lift their dress to display the condition of their undergarments because cleanliness was the most important asset of a prospective new family member. I could hear them discussing me with the middle-aged couple sitting demurely on the hard bench outside the head mistresses secretive office.

The head mistress was speaking in that strange tone of voice that she used on all outside visitors. It was a combination of sweet platitudes and soothing but unnecessary laughter that instilled a sense of peace and calm in an otherwise stressing situation.

“Greetings to you on this blessed day of remembrance of pious Saint Joseph. I see you are the Smiths of Somerset. We are grateful that you place our orphans into your agenda on this fateful day. Are you more inclined toward a girl with all the frills and pleasant feminine charm or does a boy with the spirit of our stalwart forebears inspire you to sharing your happy home? We certainly have a goodly supply of both and are eager to seek your custom.”

Mister Smith, being a man of few words, merely harrumphed like a person in need of clearing his throat and took some snuff, totally at a loss for words. It was his comely spouse, Emily that actually answered the question without hesitation and all in a rush like she was afraid of common usage of punctuation in normal conversation.