“I’m just as baffled as you are, Miss Boutlier,” Doctor Emerson said, giving a slight shrug. “You’re pregnant, yet – somehow – still virgin.”

“Whom the hell did you sleep with?” Mrs. Boutlier demanded of her daughter. “There is no way you got pregnant without spreading your legs for someone!”

“But Mama! I swear!” Nickolina exclaimed. “I ain’t slept with no one!”

“You lie!” Mrs. Boutlier spat angrily. She was so angry, she very well could’ve had smoke coming out her ears right then. “You slept with someone and I demand you tell me who, so that I can go castrate the bastard!”

“Now, Mrs. Boutlier, there is no need for that kind of talk,” Dr. Emerson piped up. “If the child says she didn’t sleep with someone, then she didn’t sleep with someone.”

“You’re just saying that because it was you she slept with!” Mrs. Boutlier snapped.

“I will not have you state such lies and false accusations in my office!” Dr. Emerson retorted. “Now, I’d advise you to get out of my office, and find yourself another doctor!”

“Why I never!” Mrs. Boutlier declared. “Get dressed Nickolina! We shall discuss this further at home!”

“Mama - ”

“Now!” Mrs. Boutlier yelled.

“Yes, Ma’am,” Nickolina said softly, getting off the doctor’s table to get her jeans and panties back on.

Once Nickolina was fully dressed again, Mrs. Boutlier grabbed hold of her daughter’s arm and yanked her forward, thus dragging her out of the Doctor’s office. They moved rather quickly, and Nickolina was practically thrown into the backseat of the car. She didn’t dare yelp though, as she knew that would just end up making things even worse than they already were.

Upon arriving home, Mrs. Boutlier yanked Nickolina out of the car, and slapped her hard across the face.

“You little wench! Get yourself inside this instant!” Mrs. Boutlier ordered. “Just you wait until your father comes home!”

“But Mama!” Nickolina tried only to be slapped once more.

“Inside!”

Nickolina very quickly ran inside and up into her room. Once there, she threw herself upon her bed and cried. She couldn’t believe that her own mother didn’t believe a word she said – now that things had seemingly changed.

After a while, Nickolina heard her father come home, and shortly afterwards, she could her angry shouting coming from downstairs.

“SHE’S WHAT!?!?!” Mr. Boutlier roared, clearly upset. “HOW DARE SHE!”

Nickolina went and hid in her closet, when she heard heavy footsteps coming up the stairs. She knew she was in deep trouble now – and yet – she knew – this wasn’t her fault. Though she couldn’t explain just how it had happened, all she knew was that she had not slept with a single soul – other than her beloved Teddy Bear – but you can’t get pregnant from that.

The bedroom door flew open then and slammed up against the wall behind it. “NICKOLINA PASQUOLINA BOUTLIER!”

Mr. Boutlier stormed into his only child’s room, and threw the closet door open, knowing that was where she would hide. He angrily yanked her out, then threw her down upon her bed.

“JUST WHAT DO YOU THINK YOU’RE DOING!?!?!” He demanded. “HOW DARE YOU SPREAD YOUR LEGS FOR SOMEONE, KNOWING IT CAN VERY WELL RUIN OUR GOOD FAMILY NAME!”

“But Papa!”

“DON’T BUT PAPA ME YOUNG LADY!” Mr. Boutlier hollered. “NOW, GIVE ME THE NAME OF THE BASTARD THAT IMPREGNANTED YOU! NOW!”

“I don’t know!” Nickolina sobbed. “I never slept with anyone! Papa! I swear!”

Mr. Boutlier grew enraged then, and stood Nickolina up, taking down her pants and panties.

“I’ll teach you to lie to me!” He seethed.

Once her jeans and panties had been taken down, he threw her over the side of her bed as he began to take his belt off. He held her still and began to lash her bare backside with his belt, after having had folded it in half.

“One for each year!” He growled. “And one for each year that I assume that bastard has lived!”

Nickolina began to scream as her bottom was thrashed thirteen times for her life, and another thirty-three for the supposed man who had impregnated her. She crawled onto her bed and curled up into a tight little ball, sobbing, once her father had finished with her. She’d never seen him so enraged, nor had she ever been thrashed like that before. Spanked, yes, thrashed, no.

“You will be out of my house come morning!” Mr. Boutlier barked. “One word out of you, and I shall thrash you again!”

With that said and done, he briskly left the room, his wife following along behind him – she agreed with her husband and was just as angry, but was too lazy to thrash their daughter herself.