The Madam (3 page)

That
wasn’t the first or last time that my mother fired my nanny. Let me
rephrase that, that wasn’t the first or last time my mother fired
someone who worked for her and had to “assist” her with raising me.
There was never anyone good enough for her, she always wanted more,
always wanted better, but could never find it. Nothing was ever
good enough for “her Lilith”.

By the time I was eight, I had gone through
seven nannies, eight violin instructors, four tennis coaches, nine
linguist professors, and that’s just the tip of iceberg. For a
while, I thought my mother’s favorite phrase was “you’re fired”,
she was the Donald fucking Trump of the Upper East Side. I learned
early on to not get attached to people; they could leave just as
fast as they entered my life. I also learned how to keep secrets at
an entirely young age. My nannies always felt bad for me and I
learned how to manipulate that feeling early on. Manipulation is
the key to getting what you want; always remember that.

I had them eating out of the palm of my hand
and all it took was a “please”, “thank you”, and a smile. They
would sneak me chocolate, let me eat cheeseburgers, and ice cream
quickly became my favorite obsession. I wanted Barbies, charm
bracelets, an easy bake fucking oven. Would my mother allow that?
Hell no! Did I have it? Hell yes! I was lucky enough to have a
mother who traveled at any point in time, for days at a time. It
was easy to hide things. She had no idea where my sock drawer was,
let alone where I hid my treasures. I had them scattered in
different places and not ever did I get caught.

My most valued memories were when my nanny
would take me to the local park. It became our secret pact. She
knew that I controlled her paycheck and I knew she controlled my
freedom. You could say that I was an honest and upfront little
girl.

They say children have no filter and repeat
everything they hear.

“My mother told me that what I have between
my legs can control you bowing at my heels,” I carelessly told the
boy next to me as we continued to build in the sandbox.

“Really, let me see!” he enthusiastically
shouted as he threw down his shovel to face me completely.

“Okay!” I screeched in return as I turned to
face him to pull up my dress to expose my white ruffled
panties.

He cocked his head to the side while
confusingly studying my underwear. “There’s no candy. That’s just
your no-no place.” I shrugged and we returned to playing.

My mother loved me; she cared about me and
made sure that I had everything I "needed". Yes, she could be the
ice queen of all ice queens. She made me aware that I was the
center of her universe in everything she did. I observed everything
she did for me. I think I was maybe nine, the first time I'd really
gotten into trouble. It was late on a Saturday night; my nanny had
already retired for the evening and had left me alone. I wasn't
tired yet and I wanted a drink. I wandered down the hall and
descended the stairs in my satin nightgown and fuzzy slippers. I
knew I wasn't allowed out of my room that late, especially on a
Saturday night. The rule was that I needed to call my nanny if I
needed anything.

As I came down the last step, I could hear a
humming sound and my mother talking. She was speaking in a low
sultry tone, and I was sure she'd gotten me a kitten or
something.

“That's it, yes, Jasmine, rub it right there;
just like that," I heard her say.

I had to look; the excitement got the better
of me. I'd been asking for a kitten for months. What I saw made me
gasp. My mother instantly turned in her black pinstriped suit, as
did the naked woman on the couch who immediately covered herself.
My mother on the other hand cocked her head to the side, raised one
hand to her hip, and smirked. I turned around and took off running.
I shut my door and quickly covered myself with my blankets feigning
sleep, quietly praying that my mother would not approach me about
what I had witnessed.

Moments later, I heard the door open and her
heels tapping on the tile floor. I closed my eyes tight and
swallowed the saliva that had formed in my mouth.

She sighed. “Lilith, I know you’re not
sleeping,” she said calmly.

“Turn and face me, NOW!” The tone in her
voice made me jump. I slowly took off my blankets, scooted to the
end of my bed where my legs dangled off the edge. I cautiously
looked up at my mother sitting on my chase lounger, arms to her
sides, resting on the back of the settee.

“You have been a very bad girl, Lilith. What
are the rules past nine?” I didn’t say anything; I was scared
shitless.

“I asked you a question and I expect an
answer. Do not make me ask you again,” she threatened in a voice I
had never heard before.

“I-um-I’m-I…” I mumbled and my mother’s
irritation grew.

“What the hell? You are further pissing me
off. Now you’re showing me weakness. What are the rules in this
house, child?” she questioned, raising an eyebrow.

“Do not cry, show no fear or weakness, always
say please and thank you, and never leave my bedroom past 9 pm,” I
said, just above a whisper.

“Yes, those are the rules until you hear
otherwise,” she reminded me.

“You’re going to be ten this year and I know
that there will come a time when I will need to inform you of
everything that you are meant for, Lilith. Now is not that time.
One day what you saw will make sense to you. I promise. As for
right now, there are consequences to every action and this one is
yours. Come to me. Now!”

I gathered my emotions one last time before
approaching my mother, mere inches away from her face.

“Remove your panties.” I took a deep breath
before I nodded and did as I was told. She grabbed my upper arm and
moved me to lie over her lap.

“Bend over, do not arch your back, and don’t
you dare try to cover yourself, or cry.”

She raised her arm high above her head.
“Count.”

SLAP! I gasped from the surprised shock of
the pain. “One…” I barely let out.

SLAP! “Two,” I said through gritted
teeth.

SLAP! “Three. Please, Mother, no
more…please!” I pleaded.

“Two more for begging.”

SLAP! “Four, four, four,” I shouted in
misery.

SLAP! “FIVE!” I yelled, trying to hold the
tears at bay. When I didn’t hear or feel any movement from my
mother, I shuddered in relief allowing my body to go lax from the
stiff position. It was over; I had survived the first physical
punishment my mother ever handed me. I attempted to try to soothe
my ache and my mother immediately grabbed my hand.

“Don’t do it,” she reminded in an agitated
tone. “Sit down, Lilith.” I closed my eyes and bit my lower lip as
I removed myself from my mother’s lap to slowly descend on the
couch.

She shook her head, “Tsk tsk tsk, Lilith, sit
on the floor.” She must have sensed that I was about to plead with
her. “Don’t,” she repeated with a pointed finger.

When I finally sat on the tile floor, I had
to push my fingernails into my skin to stop myself from crying. I
knew if I cried I was done for, this was the first test of control
my mother showed me, not just for her, but for myself as well.

“I’m proud of you, darling. You will sit like
that for the next hour, then you will brush your teeth again, and
you will go to bed. Do you understand me?” she patronizingly asked
and I nodded.

“I love you, Lilith.”

“I love you, too.” She kissed my forehead and
left me to wallow in my own misery without so much as me shedding
one tear.

I should have been thinking about the
stinging on my ass in the months that followed. Instead, I wasn't
thinking about that. I was thinking about my mother and that woman.
I couldn’t help where my mind went when it wandered, or when I was
dreaming. I had woken up with a tingling feeling in between my legs
more times than I could count. A few weeks after my tenth birthday,
I awoke from the most intense dream I had ever had. It was similar
to what I saw the naked woman doing to herself. I had this burning
feeling in my private area. They say curiosity killed the cat; well
I fucking murdered that pussy. I discovered myself when I was ten
years old. My hand wandered and took over of its own accord. I
didn’t see a happy ending by any means, but I did figure out that
if touched correctly, eventually something would happen and it
could be mind-blowing.

I tried hard not to defy my mother after the
night she waylaid my ass, but I was still a child, and sometimes
the curiosity got the better of me. I remember the first time I
knew I wanted to be just like my mother, not just in little girl
terms. I knew at the age of eleven, I wanted to be just like her.
She was out of town. I knew she wasn’t coming home that night,
she’d already called to tell me goodnight. I quietly crept out of
my room and tip toed to my mother’s bedroom, which was all the way
across the other side of our mansion.

When I finally made it to her bedroom door, I
could feel the nervousness and anxiousness in my stomach. I felt as
though I might throw up. I was never allowed in my mother’s room
without her being present. That was another rule that was added on
my eleventh birthday. I mean seriously, who specifically tells a
child they can't go into a room and expects them to listen? I just
wanted to see why she didn't want me there.

I took a deep breath and reminded myself that
everyone was asleep and my mother was not home. There was no way I
could get into trouble. I opened the door, making sure not to make
a sound as I closed it behind me. Once it was shut, I locked it and
only then did I take my next breath. I turned on the lights and the
whole room illuminated like I was in the center of a museum. There
were dimmers, low and high lights, spotlights; it was insane how
much perfect and specific lighting there was in this room.

I started my mission easily enough; I just
looked around, running my fingertips along the furniture and
bedding. No harm right? My mother’s room was spectacular! The bed
was almost like a black mirror. I could see my reflection in the
headboard as I ran my fingers across the shiny footboard. I lifted
the hem of my nightgown to wipe away the fingerprints I'd left. At
the corner of the headboard, there was this button that I had never
seen before. One couldn’t see it unless you knew it was there.

I ran my index finger in a circular motion
around it while biting my bottom lip. I pushed it before I gave it
another thought and the corner wall unit on the other side of the
wall opened. I had no idea that was even there. I started biting my
nails as I walked the fifty feet to the opening; I know it was
fifty feet because I counted. After that, my feet moved on their
own accord as I walked into a room where all the walls were painted
a deep burgundy and everything else was black. I had never seen
anything like it, not in movies, or in magazines, or in books.
There was funny looking furniture everywhere and all sorts of
sticks and leather contraptions on the wall. There was something
that resembled a cross in the center of the room and straps coming
off the ceiling.

It looked like a dungeon and I was terrified
that I was going to find a dead body. At the same time, I felt
empowered being in this room. I loved that feeling; it was the
first time in my life that I felt powerful. I don’t know why I felt
that way, just that it was there. I had to find out what was in the
dresser; it was calling my name. I opened the first drawer and
there were these toys that looked like swords. I picked one up and
turned it on and the strong vibration made me drop it on the
floor.

I put it away as quickly as I grabbed it and
opened the next drawer that held silver metal tools that looked
painful and scary. I didn't like that drawer, so I moved on to the
next one. It had items that looked like mushrooms inside. The last
drawer had leashes, collars, and necklaces that had balls in the
middle. I scratched my head because I didn’t understand the concept
of this cabinet or room. I took one last look as I walked back into
my mother’s bedroom, stopping, I made sure to close the door of the
secret room.

I went to her desk next and all the drawers
were locked.

“Hmmm if I were my mother where would I hide
the key?” I asked myself.

I began frantically searching until I finally
found it hidden in a compartment in the corner under the desk. I
quickly opened the first drawer and there was a huge black binder
that had the inscription “Cathouse” written on the top. I pulled it
out and put it on the desk. The first page had a table of contents
like the books I read. It listed women’s names, medical
information, addresses, and a whole bunch of other information I
didn’t understand. As I kept turning the pages, I would see
pictures of beautiful women, both clothed and nude. These women
were gorgeous, some of them I had seen before and others I
hadn’t.

I became bored with the book rather quickly
and put it away. What I found in the middle drawer really caught my
attention. It was a big black book, and “VIP” was etched on the
top. I had heard my mother say VIP all the time. I had no idea what
she meant. The book looked like an organizer with thousands and
thousands of men’s and women’s names in it. I hadn’t realized how
heavy it was and had to use all my strength to put it away. I
returned the key to its rightful spot and continued my journey of
discovery.

I made my way to the closet, which could have
been a large bedroom on its own. I had seen my mother’s clothes
before, but never like this. It was breathtakingly beautiful how
all the colors and styles were organized. Everything had its
place.

At that exact moment, I wanted to be just
like my mother.