Would he just kill me when he was through with me? I fought with everything I had, then, kicking out my feet, shaking my shoulders and hips, trying to roll away from him. Anything that would get me out of the situation. He simply grabbed my wrists and lifted them up behind my back. I tried to arch my back and follow the movement, but I eventually had to stop moving or risk him dislocating my shoulders. He held my wrists with one hand and used the other to caress my back, as if he was trying to soothe me. I could feel how rough and calloused his hands were, how fat his fingers were. Shh, Baby Girl. You dont want to hurt yourself, now, he said. You want to be a good girl for Daddy, dont you? When I didnt answer, he lifted my wrists slightly as he hand strayed from my back down to pinch me on the ass cheek that he had spanked earlier. He pinched hard enough that I cried out into the tape. Dont you? he asked again, with a hard edge to his voice. Answer your Daddy! He had squeezed. The food was quite fine. I sat next to him the whole time and hung on his lips. In front of the bedside table, my father decisively said: "Nicole, when you're done with the bedside table, please go to your room, so we can discuss business in peace!"When the bedside table was there, a fruit salad, I ate as slowly as possible in order to stay as long as possible. At some point, Markus pressed something into my hand under the table. That was the sign for me and I got up, said goodbye and went to my room. I sat on the bed and took out the piece of paper. It was a business card of my father's bank with the following inscription: Dr. Markus Meyer, Vice President, Head of the Department of Payments and then telephone number, telex, and even fax number and the note ”call me!” I put the card in my notebook to Michael's card.The year 1986 had started well. At the vocational school, it was still boring. We had the next accounting exam and this time I really tried my best. The week after I got.
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