My clitoris was too sensitive to touch.Washing my hair reminded me of Robyn. I started to cry again. I was alone behind a locked door, so I let it all...out and cried like a baby—or a woman. I wept for the loss of my little girl Piper more than anyone.Wearing the damp robe, and with my hair wet and tangled, I stood in front of my new mother holding a hairbrush and comb in my hand. "Mother, I no longer have the intellect of a six-year-old, but I don't know how to be a woman. I don't know how to. Silently, she walked over to the dresser and felt underneath her everyday panties to reach the broad black leather belt that had belonged to her dead father. She brought it up to her nostrils and inhaled the heady scent. It reminded her of her youthful passion and the way her father had tried his best to bring her sensuous instincts under control. Of course, he failed, but she loved the fact he made the attempt and showed his love by disciplining her sinful flesh. He would have been mortified. More

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