I am determined to get the information out of Ms Pink. Even if she’s stronger than me. Nothing will stop me this time.
“Breakfast is ready.” Ms Pink bursts my thought bubbles as she appears before me. She bends and scoops me up from the bed as though I weigh nothing more than a bunch of grapes. Talk about feeling powerless.
Ms Pink lowers me onto the chair with the gentleness of a loyal dog and brings my breakfast to me. Holy princess-worthy eggs and toast. And I’m not talking ordinary eggs here. Hers come with extra sheen as the yolk wobbles precariously atop the egg white. It’s a work of art. It’s perfection. Is there anything Ms Pink can’t do?
I dig in but there’s a lot of toast and I’m not a big eater. With a half piece of toast left, I push the plate away and lean back in my chair, sated and happy.
“Finish your food.”
“But I’m full.”
“Stupid human. Don’t waste food.” Ms Pink pushes the plate back under my nose. “Finish it.”
Oh God. I’m absolutely bursting at the seams. “I already ate two-and-a-half pieces of toast and the two eggs. I can’t eat anymore.”
“Finish it or you’ll be punished.”
“P-Punished?” I don’t want to be spanked again. “But I’m injured.”
“My methods of punishment are varied. Your leg will come to no harm.”
“But you didn’t tell me I have to finish my food first. And I didn’t ask for three pieces of toast.”
Ms Pink picks up the half piece of toast from my plate. “Open your mouth.”
I shake my head and press my lips together. “Mmm mmm!”
She rises from her chair while I remain stuck on mine since my leg is of no help to my situation. “Open. Your. Mouth.” The intensity of pink that glows from her eyes is an indication of the severity of my plight. But it’s too late to turn back. So I go all-in. Lips pressed tight, I shake my head again.
“Mmm mm mmm!”
Ms Pink doesn’t hesitate when she wraps one arm around me and dumps me over her shoulder.
She smacks my butt. “Shut up.”
I don’t want another smack so I obey. Ms Pink lowers me onto my bed and I lie on my back helplessly wondering what Ms Pink is going to do next. She closes the door and locks it. Oh no. That’s a bad omen.
Ms Pink dangles the half piece of toast over my face. “Finish it now.”
No. I keep still, mouth closed and watch as Ms Pink puts the plate of toast on my bedside table. I am taken by surprise when she turns around at supernatural vampire speed and strips me of my pyjamas shorts. To her credit, she doesn’t hurt my leg, but I’m not about to approve of what she’s doing. Neither will I lie here while Ms Pink strips me. Not anymore. However, my attempt to get up is quickly thwarted by a single finger against my shoulder.
She holds up the shorts with her other hand and looks at it with a frown. “Why do you like blue.”
I shrug, still struggling against the finger that is holding me flat on my back. “I just do. Why are you obsessed with pink?”
“It’s the best colour in the world.” Ms Pink flings my pyjama shorts behind her. “Your clothes belong in the trash.”
“No, they don’t.”
“Stupid human.” The pink in her eyes gains prominence and radiates as though powered by the sun. “You are in no position to object to anything I say or do.”
“It’s your responsibility to keep me safe. You said so yourself.”
“You are my responsibility. That includes disciplining you when you step out of line.”
“But I didn’t do anything wrong.”
“Have you forgotten about this?” Ms Pink turns my head towards the plate of toast. “I have never allowed my claims to waste food and you will not be the first to break that rule.”
“It’s not my fault that I can’t finish my breakfast. You gave me too much toast.”
Just when I think the pink can’t get any stronger, it flares up, almost leaping out of her eyes like flames. “Stupid human. I own you. You will not use that tone on me.” She leans down and brings her face within a whisker of mine. “For that, I’ll make sure you’re sorry.”
Before I can blink twice, my wrists are fastened to the top corners of the bed frame with what feels like cuffs. How even—
“I will punish you for your disobedience and stupidity,” says Ms Pink.
Maybe defying her wasn’t such a good idea. But it’s too late for regrets. What I need is a distraction. A delay.
“Please, Ms Pink, don’t do it here. Sunny might come home and hear us.”
But Ms Pink ignores me.
“Where did you get the cuffs from?”
I stare as she rips pink Velcro straps from the back of her coat and secures them around my ankles, looping them around the other two corners of the bed frame before fastening them with the Velcro. I can’t even tell how it is done exactly—Ms Pink is moving at the speed of light—and now, I am stuck. Well and truly stuck. In a rather compromising position too, might I add. And to make things worse, she rips my pyjama top off, tearing it into shreds as though it were made of tracing paper. She leans over me, lips slanted to the left in a slight tilt, and blows a trail of breath down my neck to my chest. I am trembling and I can’t stop myself. Help…
Then, she’s gone. From the room. And the door is left ajar. Oh my God. This is my chance. If I can just get the Velcro straps off . . . never mind. The earlier I accept the fact that Ms Pink lords over me, the better. But I am strangely reluctant to submit when I’m not even the most assertive person in the world. I think of Sunny. Now that’s one assertive girl who gets what she wants and isn’t afraid to tell people how things should be done. For me, I’ve always been the tag-along, the easy-going one, the girl who lets everybody else make the decisions. So why am I being obstinate now? Is it because no one has ever challenged the final frontier of power over myself?
The answers will have to wait. Ms Pink is back in the room, closing and locking the door. She turns around with something in her hand. My eyes must be bulging when I realize what it is. A spatula. What?
“A-Are you going to make another piece of toast?” I ask stupidly. What else can a spatula be used for?
“Your kitchen is suitably stocked with many useful tools. But I find this rubber spatula particularly alluring.”
Duh. Of course. It’s pink.
“Now . . . this is your final chance. Finish your toast or face the consequences.”
By now, I’m half curious about the way Ms Pink is going to use the spatula. But also half afraid of how it will be used. “It’s too much for me. I can’t finish the toast.” At least I’m standing my ground on this. I will not cave in just because of a rubber spatula.
“Then you will receive ten smacks from the spatula that made your eggs and toast.” Ms Pink waves the spatula over my face. “Don’t worry. I’ve washed it. Proper hygiene must be observed.”
Ms Pink must be out of her mind if she thinks I’m worried about the cleanliness of the spatula when there are ten smacks to think about.
“You will count each smack. If you miss a count, we will go back to one and do it all over again.”
I bite my lip. Brace for it. I can do it. I can get through this and I’ll win ‘cos I won’t have to finish my toast.
A blur of pink swipes through the air and the inside of my good thigh stings. “One,” I count, almost shouting in my effort to be brave.
Ms Pink drags the tip of the spatula down the curve of my cheek. “Don’t shout.”
Another smack lands on my inner thigh, higher this time. “Two.”
Does it make sense if the praise makes me braver? Ms Pink disappears from my view suddenly and before I can react to anything, two hard and fast smacks land on the soles of my feet. “Three, four.” The inside of my left thigh. “Five.” Two on the soles of my feet again. “Six, seven.” The spatula creeps up the inside of my leg and I’m holding my breath, wondering when the next smack will come. Ow! “Eight.” The spatula climbs even higher up my left thigh. Smack. “Nine. And the last smack lands right at the top of my thigh, dangerously close to a rather private—a nudge of the spatula reminds me I haven’t counted out loud. “Ten.”
My left thigh is warm all over and so are the soles of my feet. It stings a little but it’s nothing I can’t handle. Overall, it wasn’t as bad as I thought it would be. Instead, a stranger feeling is taking over me. It’s unfurling from deep inside me. I arch my back, yearning for something unknown. What is it that I want?
“Well done, Taeyeon.” Ms Pink leans over me, her eyes digging deep into mine. Then, smiling as though she knows a secret, her lips descend upon mine and take me in. Oh God. This is what I want. Holy spanks. Yes, give me your soft, soft lips. She presses down on me, pushing my head into the pillow, giving me no room to breathe. But I don’t need to breathe. I part my lips wide as my eyes close and throw myself into the sea of strange feelings and clueless desire.
“Mmm, you learn fast.” Ms Pink smiles, looking pleased. “There is hope for you yet.”
Hope? What kind of hope? Because my version of hope has locked itself in a metre-thick steel vault and with the key melted into nothing. I have sunk so deep into this world that I don’t even know what I am anymore.
“For your perfect submission, I will reward you with an answer. What do you wish to know?”
There is no hesitation on my part. “Who is Pan Ni?”
Ms Pink puts the spatula on my bedside table, next to the plate of toast. She shrugs off her pink coat and tosses it over the chair at my little writing table. Then, she turns back to me and leaps. She lands like a cat, on all fours, between my spread-open legs and I’m beginning to sense some déjà vu here. Her arms slide on the sheets as she stretches out over me, avoiding any contact with my injured thigh. At this point, I really wish I had on more than just my lingerie but I want the answer even more. No distractions.
She inhales, long and slow, on her way up from my abdomen to the valley of my chest. A pause. What’s happening? My unasked question is answered by a wet sensation drawing a line up between my breasts. Oh my God. Did Ms Pink just . . . did she just lick me? And is she purring right now? The strange low guttural roll is definitely coming from Ms Pink. What in the world?
“You smell too good to leave alone. A true test of my self-control.” Ms Pink’s nose trails up my neck to the spot just under my earlobe. Another lick. Oh my God. “Delectable.” She inhales deeply. Exhales in a huff. Then her eyes are meeting mine, glowing luminescent pink. With the curtains drawn and door closed, my room is rather dark and it makes Ms Pink’s eyes look even more like neon lights flashing at night—attractive, alluring.
“But your question, I will answer. Right now.”
I see the dip of her eyebrows and the crinkles around her eyes as she focuses on me. I feel the weight of her body on mine. I smell the fragrance of flowers blossoming in spring . . .
It’s the girl again. In a pastel pink dress of silk. And it feels as though she has never left. My heart warms as my eyes drink in the sight of her running through the garden. She is young and beautiful. But why do I feel afraid?
“Pan Ni, the sun is down. It’s time for dinner soon.”
“Yes, Mommy.” The girl smiles and throws a handful of flowers into the sky. They fall all around her and I smile as she squeals with joy. She runs after her mother who is escorted by a flock of maids and hooks her arms around her mother’s. I may not be an expert in historical outfits, but the gold-laced, multi-layered, intricate dress her mother has on screams ‘Queen’ to me. Which means the girl is a princess . . .
The garden is huge and teeming with flowers. It’s a long stroll back to the main building and the queen certainly isn’t in a hurry to get anywhere so it’s several minutes before we arrive at the gigantic entrance. The row of guards bow as soon as they see the queen, their fists raised to their heart. The great wooden door opens and the queen and princess enter what I suppose is the palace. It is a plain looking building, with white walls and grey-blue roofs, and it seems familiar. Where have I seen this building before?
The inside, however, is a totally different story. Opulence in its greatest degree is everywhere. Luxury, riches and grandeur. The overarching colours, deep crimson red and gold, fill the walls and furniture and I am strangely reminded of High Society and Ms Pink’s castle. As the doors creek close, I turn back to look at them. I think I see a flash of black but it happened so quickly that I can’t be sure.
I turn back around just in time to see the girl running into a man’s arms. He has kind, twinkling eyes and he smiles wide as he hugs his daughter. His clothes, leathery and dark-coloured, are definitely a cut above the rich as well.
“Your Majesty, dinner is served,” a servant announces. He bows as the king passes him by but I catch a glimpse of him staring at the girl as she enters the dining area. Something is up and my heart is filled with dread for a reason I cannot explain. A young man and woman are already at the dining table and they bow as the king approaches.
“Have a seat, my prince.”
“Have a seat, my princess.”
They must be her older brother and sister and the girl skips to her chair held by a servant.
Dinner is served.
I hover around the table, completely unseen even though I’m right in front of them. I don’t understand what I’m seeing but I have a feeling I know this girl. I know someone like her. They eat and talk, unaware of my presence. Drinks are refilled and the prince proposes a toast. They tip their cups to their lips but their father yells suddenly and slaps the cup away from the girl.
Confusion and horror unfolds around me as the members of the girl’s family clutch their throats and the most hideous of sounds fill the room as the girl runs from mother to father, brother to sister. The servants are in a fluster but the man who stared at the girl enters the room and twists their necks, one at a time, neatly, swiftly. Our eyes meet and for a moment, it seems as though he can see me but he walks right through me towards the girl instead.
The girl screams and runs but he is too fast for her. He has her head in his hands, ready to twist her neck like he did to all the others but something seems to have changed his mind because he doesn’t follow through. She ends up thrown over his shoulder, locked down by his arm around her waist and he strides towards another room which turns out to be the kitchen.
I follow closely, tailing him by instinct but I am unable to help the girl. Suddenly, she is looking at me. She can see me. Or sense me. But he climbs under a cellar door with her and I can only stare at the curious mark on the back of his neck as he disappears into the darkness . . .
The vision is gone and Ms Pink is back. On top of me. The pink of her eyes, sadder than ever. I am flooded by a rush of angst in my heart and at once I know, with absolute certainty, that I am staring into the eyes of a princess vampire who was once a young and beautiful girl called Pan Ni.
Once again, I feel grateful for this much love and support for this story 💗
Credit to JT for making this fanedit. Icwudt 😜 This Pink is…dangerous…