A Rebellious Girl's Reformation

I was born and raised in Southern California, Bolsa Chica Beach to be precise. My mother and father were devout Catholics. Naturally, I was raised in Catholic schools my entire life.

My parents worked a lot and I was left with my aunt more often than not while they were away on business. When my aunt got married things were different. Her husband was a bit of a tool but since he made six figures my aunt typically conceded to his chauvinistic ways. She enjoyed the good life far too much to do or say anything that might jeopardize her Platinum Card with no limit status. Eventually, I started to rebel. I didn't like him always trying to tell me and my aunt what to do.

Right after my 16th birthday, I asked to drive my new car to a nearby party. I had had my driver's license for two months by then. I wanted to drive by myself to my best friend Wendy's 16th birthday party! I argued that I had aced the driver's test so why shouldn't I be allowed to drive just this once by myself?! My surrogate dad told me "Absolutely not" no matter what I said to make my case.

Fast forward to my sneaking out, wrecking the car, and landing myself in the hospital. My parents were the first thing I saw when I woke up. After being discharged, I thought I was going on a family vacation. It turned out I was being shipped off to Woldingham School, which is a Roman Catholic independent school for girls, located in the former Marden Park of 700 acres outside the village of Woldingham, Surrey, in South East England. It is a member of the global Network of Sacred Heart Schools. I was taught my place in this great big world there. My rebellious nature was trained out of me. And although I did maintain a healthy, spirited personality, I quickly learned that there was a natural order of things between men and women when I met a man, "Victor," that had been traveling from the US. He said he worked for The Agency. He was suave, confident, insistent, and nurturing at the same time. We met accidentally at a local coffee shop. I was mistaken for someone else he was supposed to be meeting. Our relationship, for lack of a better word, started that day.

He never mentioned The Agency again for quite some time. We spent three months meeting one another at various locations all across England. He always sent a driver which made me feel more like Cinderella than what I actually was. It only took two weeks for me to realize that he was not interested in me romantically. No, his interests were far more provocative than what one experiences in an ordinary coupling. We had sessions, where he'd help me learn and open up.

Some of our meetings were like a professor and his pupil. Other times, we were far more intimate than I had ever been with anyone ever. I was still so bashful and hesitant but I found myself more and more attached, eager, almost pleading to know everything I could that he wanted me to know. His preferences were my addiction. His scrutiny was like a knife injuring me to the core.

Then, one day, he said he had to move on. That he had business in Asia and that I would not be accompanying him. But he encouraged me to apply for a position The Agency needed to fill back in the states. So, with great ardor, I complied. I was homesick after all and this would give me the chance to go home, so I thought...

All I needed to do was sign the contract and I'd be on my way. I wanted to go home more than anything so the free flight was like candy to a fat kid. I would have done anything for Victor, did do anything he asked. Working for The Agency might be the way for me to see him more often. I hoped it would anyway.

On the flight back to the USA, I was filled with excitement and worry. Victor had been so much more than a tutor and friend. He had fomented a primitive instinct in me. I accepted the offer in hopes of one day reuniting with my tutor, my muse, my purpose. I couldn't wait to arrive. Just four more hours and we'd be landing and I'd be off to my new opportunity and life.