From Mother to Daughter

Wednesday slept in the bed next to Enid, who the night before had asked her so many questions, but the one that had stuck with her was how she had lost her virginity. This question had led her to relive those moments in her dreams.

It was the day after her 18th birthday. Morticia had called her into the conservatory where her mother liked to cultivate her plants, especially her carnivorous and poisonous ones.

Wednesday knelt at her mother's feet, bowing her head.

• Ah, my daughter, do you know what day it is according to family traditions?
• No, Mother,
• you disappoint me. I raised you according to our traditions. Very well, it's the day of your deflowering, and like mine, it will be auctioned off. It will give you some money.
• Do I have to, Mother?

She looked up to see her mother's expression; clearly, her mother's gaze said, "Don't be silly, my girl." Wednesday sighed and nodded.

-Very well, Mother, I'll do as you wish.

• It's better. The Thing prepares it here and takes us to where we'll begin.

The Thing began to lift Wednesday's dress, and she shivered.

The Thing slid its icy nails along Wednesday's pale thighs, slowly lifting the hem of her black dress. A chill ran down the young woman's spine as the humid air from the glass-roofed room caressed her exposed skin.

• Breathe, my dear, Morticia murmured, her fingers brushing the petals of a poisonous orchid. "Tradition must be honored with grace."

Wednesday clenched her fists, her nails digging into her palms. Quickly, with an agility that surprised her coming from the Thing, Wednesday found herself naked. Just as quickly, and before she could even understand what was happening, the Thing put a collar attached to a leash on her, placed a ball gag on her, and blindfolded her.

"On all fours, my kitten."

Wednesday obeyed. She felt the leash tighten and followed her mother, whose scent she could smell before her.

The leash tugged gently, guiding Wednesday across the cold tiles of the glass roof. The smell of damp earth and plant poison stung her nostrils as she moved forward, her knees trembling against the floor. The Thing's claws scratched briefly at her hip, a silent warning as her pace slowed.

Morticia's soft footsteps stopped. A snap of the fingers echoed, followed by the creaking of a wrought-iron door.