The Madam (2 page)

I know what you’re asking yourself. What made
me this way? Why am I a sadist bitch? It’s all right; you can say
it. I actually prefer it. I am a sadistic bitch, but get one thing
straight; I am “the sadistic bitch”. When I walk into a room I
expect you to turn and watch, when I talk I expect you to listen,
when I say something I expect you to do it, no questions asked.
It’s all very easy; you just need to follow my rules. I set the
guidelines.

In my mind, I am your God.

I may be coming on too strong, but like I
said, I will share everything with you. I have nothing to hide or
to be ashamed of. The decisions and choices I made were given to
me, I was not forced, I was chosen. Just like I choose my
girls.

For you to understand my life you need to
live it. I don’t know if reading about it will do it justice,
nonetheless, I am going to try. There are always three sides to
every story, yours, mine, and the truth. I deserve a chance to
explain myself. Love me or hate me, it’s who the fuck I am. The
Madam.

VIP can be dated back to the prohibition.
When alcohol and VIP took over the world. It has been in my family
for decades and generations have run it since the 1920s, all handed
down from woman to woman. Never has a man laid his fingers on VIP;
many have wanted to, offering millions upon millions of dollars,
never standing a chance to control it. Not one piece of the action.
My great female ancestors saw an opportunity with their pussies;
one that many women bartered for food, clothing, shelter, my family
decided that money would be the key.

Money controls the world. And guess what? Sex
sells in every language. Everyone and anything has a price. You’ll
sell your first born if the price is right; trust me, I speak from
experience. I do not lie. I am a lot of things, but I am not a
liar. Withholding the truth is not lying, neither are secrets, or
skeletons in your closet. Everyone has them; it just comes down to
how good you are at keeping them there.

VIP started like any other business; from
nothing. A woman had an idea and went with it, slowly but surely,
it became something greater than she could have ever imagined. It
blossomed into a life of its own. Men came from all over the world
for a taste of a VIP. It’s not named Very Important Pussy for
nothing. The women were not created, it was in their blood, like
they were born and put on this earth to serve that purpose and that
purpose alone. It was innate to them, each and every chosen VIP is
never taught to please, they are guided.

Not just anyone can be a VIP; it’s not an
organization that is based off interviews or applications. You’re
chosen, selected, picked, and taken; you are the elite. By the time
I was born, VIP was a multibillion-dollar corporation. What started
in salons, alleys, and vehicles, became mansions, private jets,
yachts, and every motherfucking luxury known to man. My mother was
the owner at the time, and she was the strongest woman I have ever
known. My father was a very high profile businessman, and he had
another family of his own, but my mother was his vice. My father
was a devastatingly handsome man. He had jet-black hair with
emerald green eyes, a strong jaw line that accented his thin lips
and perfect white teeth. He was muscular, fit, and nearly cleared
6’3. He wore business suits every time I saw him, and never drove
his own car. From afar, my parents looked like they were meant to
be in magazines and print out ads; they looked perfect together.
The embodiment of the perfect Miami power couple.

My mother never saw herself as the other
woman though. She used him. He was her play toy to do with as she
saw fit, and growing up I saw her use and abuse him daily. My
mother loved four things; VIP, herself, money, and me. She was an
amazing mentor to me, taught me everything I know. I was born into
a life of luxury. I never had to want for anything, never had to
ask for a goddamn thing. It was all handed to me on a
silver-fucking platter with a bright red bow.

I never took anything that I had for granted.
My father played an active role in my life; I knew what he and my
mother were to each other. That had nothing to do with me. See, my
father’s other family had all boys; I was his only girl, his
princess. Both my parents loved me in different ways and they both
said it often. I wasn’t born into a hollow existence. My parents
never played me against each other and they never pretended to be
something they weren’t.

I never met my other siblings and I was my
mother’s only child. The first time I realized that my life was
different, was when I was five years old. I was like any other
little girl, very curious of everything around me.

I secretly watched through the gap of my
mother’s bedroom door with my doll in my arms and my hair in
pigtails. She sashayed across the room in her black knee length
silk robe, pulling her hair up to expose the crook of her neck as
she perched herself on the corner of her king size bed.

“I told you time and time again, Vivian, that
I don’t want Lilith exposed to this lifestyle,” my father stated as
he ran his fingers through his hair.

“And I’ve told you that I don’t give a flying
fuck what you want. Lilith is mine and you’re lucky that I even
allow her to be in your life,” my mother carelessly said, leaning
back on one of her elbows, looking calm yet threatening at the same
time.

“Allow her? Vivian, you can play this Madam
card with everybody else, but you can’t fuck with me. If I wanted
to take her from you, I could. Nobody in their right mind would
leave a child to be raised in this environment.”

My mother viciously laughed. “And what
environment may that be Charles? The one you partake in any chance
you can get? The place where you can get fucked in the ass with a
strap on and no one will think less of you? Or where I sometimes
bring you a man? Is that the environment that you speak of, because
from where I am sitting, you have more to lose than I do. Your
bi-sexual tendencies will be the end of you, darling, we always
knew that. Now get one thing straight, Lilith will take over one
day. The faster you realize that she is my heir to this
‘environment’ the better it will be for all of us,” my mother
threatened with intensity that I had never seen or heard
before.

My father shook his head and folded his arms.
“Jesus, Vivian. Lilith has a chance of a real life, why on earth
would you want this for her?”

“Charles, this is where you and I differ. I
don’t have to explain myself to you. Your job is done. I agreed to
you having an active role in Lilith’s life if you wanted, because I
think children should have their father present. As far as any
decisions based on what her life and upbringing will be, can be
checked at the door. End of conversation.” My mother stood sharply
and glared him in the eye, threatening him with just one look. She
then turned suddenly to where I was standing.

She cocked her head to the side and replaced
her intense stare with a loving one. “My Lilith,” she beamed as she
welcomed me with open arms. I went to her with innocence and
devotion like any other five year old child.

“Mother, why are you and Father fighting?” I
questioned.

She smiled. “That was not a fight, darling.
You will know when Mother is fighting,” she whispered in my ear as
she pulled my pigtails out of my face.

She resumed her composure and looked at my
father. “Charles doesn’t know what’s good for him and he keeps
throwing his opinion in when it doesn’t matter,” she stated,
bringing her loving gaze back to me. “You are your mother’s girl,
that’s all you need to remember, my Lilith.”

I smiled bright and wide. “Is Father leaving
now?” I asked as I looked at my father, who looked like he wanted
to say something but knew better.

“Charles has his other family, Lilith, you’re
not his priority, you are mine. Always remember that. Men are good
for nothing but sperm,” she laughed; it must have been a joke, but
I didn’t understand it. My father didn’t seem to find it too funny
either.

“Fuck you, Vivian,” my father spewed before
he gathered his coat and left; my mother laughed the entire
time.

“So dramatic, Lilith,” she proclaimed in a
high pitched voice with her hand on her chest. “Thank God you have
most of my genes, I can’t stand pussies.”

She rose from the bed and removed her robe as
she walked into her closet. My mother was the most beautiful woman
I have ever seen. Even to this day her beauty haunts me, her bright
blonde hair that came past her shoulders and layered her face, the
porcelain white skin that made her blue eyes vibrant and only
refined her impeccable facial structure. She had these dark black
eyelashes that looked fake and made her eyes look alive. My mother
was tall at 5’7 and built like a model; she had legs that went for
miles, and a tiny waist that accentuated her 34D breasts. I never
once saw my mother without makeup or put together. She was always
picture perfect.

A shy woman she wasn’t; I think I saw her
naked more than I saw her clothed. She emerged, holding a pantsuit
and laid it on her bed. I watched her flawless body move so
effortlessly; she always entranced me. I wouldn’t learn till later
that my mother would be my mentor, my maker, my Madam.

She must have caught me staring. “Lilith,
come here,” she called with a malicious smile.

Crouching down to my level, she looked me
straight in the eyes. “One day you will look just like me. Do you
want to be like Mother?” I nodded.

“I will teach you everything you need to
know. Lilith, you will be Madam. Men and women will bow down to
you. You will hold so much power in your hands that the world will
be your kingdom. Do you understand me?” With inquisitive eyes, I
eagerly nodded, not knowing what it all meant but liking the sound
of it anyway.

My mother contentedly sighed. “You were made
for great things, Lilith, know that now,” she stated, kissing the
tip of my nose. I had no idea what my mother meant at the time, but
this was a phrase that I would hear throughout my entire life, one
that I repeat to myself often.

“Now, enough of that. How about we go
shopping!”

Even at the age of five, I knew that my
mother was an intimidating and fascinating woman. She had a
presence about her, a certain aura that surrounded her and anyone
could see it. She could do whatever she wanted, never had to ask
permission, and was always granted instant access to anywhere she
wanted to go. I grew up on private planes, a chauffeur drove me
everywhere I went, and had private tutors that came to my home.

I was taught how to play the piano, the
violin, and was fluent in six languages all before the age of ten.
Any and all personnel that were to interact with me had to pass a
thorough background check and extensive interview by my mother and
her “team” of associates. My mother wouldn't allow anyone to
corrupt my way of thinking. She had her own plans and motives for
doing that. I never associated with other children my age either,
my mother hated children. She wouldn’t allow me to use poor
vocabulary or to get dirty like other people’s children; I didn’t
grow up eating hotdogs and hamburgers, I ate caviar and sushi. I
was always around adults and those adults didn’t have children. I
was a porcelain doll in my mother’s eyes; she dressed me like one,
and expected me to act as one, absolutely perfect on the
outside.

I never had a hair out of place; I was always
dressed in designer clothes, and was never allowed to leave the
table without being excused first. I was even slapped on the hand
when I didn’t say “please” or “thank you”. My mother wanted me
perfect. There was no baby talk in my house; I never crawled, I
went from sitting right to walking. My mother wouldn’t have it any
other way. I had only the best of what money could buy around
me.

I was never coddled, my mother was insistent
on that. She showed me love in other ways. Once, when I was six, I
slipped on the freshly mopped floor. I started to cry and my nanny
had rushed to my aid.

She grabbed me in her arms and swayed me back
and forth.

“Shhh, baby, Lily, it’s okay. You’re all
right, I got you,” she lovingly reassured.

“What the hell is this?” Startled, we both
surprisingly looked up to find my mother watching from the doorway
with her arms crossed and her face appalled.

“Lilith, her name is Lilith! Not baby Lily.
Let her go this instant.” My nanny removed her arms from around me
and I swear I could hear her heart beating through her clothes.

“I fell and hurts myself, momma.”

“I fell and hurt myself, Mother,” she
corrected. “Come here to me.”

I went with trembling limbs to my mother’s
side. She carried me and placed me on the granite countertop where
she inspected my knees.

“Lilith, you are fine, you do not cry; do you
understand me? You never show weakness, I don’t care if you are
bleeding, you hold it in. The next time I see or hear you cry, you
will be punished. Am I clear?” I heard my nanny gasp as I nodded my
head, trying to hold back the tears that I felt in my throat.

“You’re late for your art class. You’re
excused, but first go change your stockings; throw those away, they
are ruined.” I eagerly nodded, wanting to please her. She placed me
down on the floor and I left, trying not limp because I feared the
repercussions if I did. Before I got to the stairs I heard my
mother’s wrath, and it was enough to freeze me in place while she
screamed at my nanny.

“Get your belongings, you’re fucking
fired.”

“But Madam…I-”

“Save your excuses! You know my policy. She
is not to be treated as a baby. Your work here is done. And since
you’re headed to the servant quarters, make sure to tell Maria
she’s fired too. My child could have been hurt from her negligence
of leaving the floor so damp.” I heard the click of her heels
before I hightailed it to my bedroom.