Mistressmind

We grew up in a group home, because our parents couldn’t take care of us for various reasons.

My mom went to jail for Extortion, Blackmail, Money Laundering, and Embezzlement. (Martha Stewart. If it helps, try to imagine a Martha Stewart type.) Her victims were powerful men, including Judges, city council members, a Fund-a-mentalist preacher with his own local cable show, and they made her out to be a prostitute. She settled out of court, returned most of the money, and pled down to the charges above to the district attorney.

Mostly to go on record that it wasn’t Prostitution. The money wasn’t for services rendered, they were bribes to keep her from going public, and exposing all of their sick sexual secrets, but none of them were charged with anything. So, she went to prison for life (For all intents, and purposes. All the charges added up to hundreds of years consecutively) but it was a nice prison. She was pretty famous, so she was treated with respect by the other inmates.

My dad found her blackmail evidence, and went insane. He felt so betrayed that he just lost it, and tried to kill himself. So, he needed 24/hour care. I’m not going into it, that’s just how I ended up there, but my best friend, Penny.

Penelope, she lost her family in a car accident, but the car seat saved her life. It was really bad, so she needed a friend to cheer her up, while I had a different therapy group to deal with my own problems: (I should have known there was something wrong with mom, too. Dad thought she was just having an affair at work, but I was too young to understand any of that grown-up stuff. Also, with both my parents going insane, my mom being Criminally insane, it made me doubt my own sanity, and worry about losing it, like my dad.)

So anyway, then we started growing up, talking about boys, and let me just say that there wasn’t a great selection at the home. It wasn’t just a girl’s home, we had boys too, and went to school like any other kids, but if you showed up there in the first place, it was because you belonged there. So, even the cute boys had issues, and being boys, they tended to act out violently. Even if they weren’t naturally violent, they were in a dorm with violent boys, so they had to fight for survival.

I understand that, but it was different for us. We had violent girls too, and some of them had it much rougher than us 2. (Again, not going into it, just trying to explain how we grew up together.) So, we tried kissing each other first. Just to see what it was like, and then we practiced kissing each other. The hope was always to get boyfriends, when we got out. Decent boys who weren’t prejudiced against us, because we rode the crazy bus to school.

Which came around to Sexuality, eventually. We’re both straight, but it was pretty much like Prison. Same day-to-day, only instead of work release, we took a big grey bus to school and back, with chicken wire over the windows, so you couldn’t break out. That didn’t exactly make us real popular at school with the boys, or girls.

There were girls that were gay, bisexual, or just sexually abused so they acted out sexually. In the Junior Misses dorm (Roughly ages 9-12) we’re starting to develop, and took showers together in 1 big room.

There was one named Bertha (Made-up name, but all names are made-up) in the Teenager dorm that had short hair, and worked out all the time. Whenever she had a minute, she found something heavy to pick up, and curl since we didn’t have weights on our side of the fences. She rolled her sleeves up, and sometimes her friends threw a pack of smokes over the fence, when nobody was looking. So she could smoke, but it turns out that she was actually a boy all along.

She got thrown out by her parents for acting out, and I hear she got a sex change after she left, but when we knew her. She wasn’t a lesbian, she was a boy, and acted like a bad boy. Strong, tough, she wasn’t a rapist, or a child molester. Honestly she didn’t even like girls all that much, but if you’re a virgin, and you didn’t want to be any more, she was the one to take care of that for you.

It was rough, but I told her I wanted it rough. If you’re gay or bisexual, she could play Lesbian, and even eat you out first, but I wasn’t. It wasn’t rape, but it was like a rape. That’s what I wanted, honestly because I didn’t want to give it up to a girl, willingly. She had to take it, bent over my bed with her hand holding my head down. Turned away so her fingertips dug into my jaw, and her thumb tight under my hair. She didn’t pull it, but turned away like that, I could close my eyes, and it wasn’t too much of a stretch.

She was as strong as a boy, her fingers, and thumb were rough. She pulled up the back of my uniform dress, and yanked down my granny panties roughly. Forced something in, I don’t even care what it was, probably her thumb? It hurt, and I bled, but I was already on my period, and it came out a lot easier with that out of the way.

I just made her bed, and folded her laundry for a month to pay her. Since I didn’t have any money, and I couldn’t get her cigarettes. I didn’t have to, she had friends to help her with that, so I just did her chores. If I didn’t want to, she could destroy me, and I knew it. Every girl knew it, she didn’t even have to beat someone up to make an example. I guess just sitting there curling a big can of beans in the dining hall was enough.

She let me go, so I could run off to the showers, and douche. I was cold, and shivering, I turned white, and went into shock, but Nelly (It was Nelly by then) was right there when I got out. She held me, and kept me warm until I got some blood back in my skin, fingers and toes, then I told her what happened. “I went to visit Doctor D.”

“Oh,” she nodded, since she had an appointment with Doctor D before me. I didn’t ask her about it, because it was none of my business, and that’s all I had to tell her. I wasn’t a virgin no more, and it healed in a week. That was the kind of relationship we had, best friends, but when normal girls with normal childhoods say that. “Best Friends Forever.” It’s not a competition, but it’s not the same. She’s not better, she’s just different, but we’re not talking about shopping buddies here. Sisters, nor even Friends-with-benefits.

More like Therapists, because we know each other only slightly less than we know ourselves. Our own issues, and sometimes the best thing to get you out of your head is to find someone else that’s hurting, and help them with their problems for a change.

;

Alex (fM)

My first time with a man was an orderly. Normally, I got a ride to visit my dad with a nurse, or an aide who was a woman, but for some reason. That day, he got to take me in his car, and drive me out to the hospital.

Dad was doing well, but by then, I knew the truth about getting out of a place like that. He got better, it was just a psychotic break, but once you get labeled a danger to yourself, or others, it tends to stick. So, they kept him for his own good, but after years of living there, he got used to it. That was his life now, while I had an actual way out:

After I turned 16, if I didn’t have a criminal record. If I graduated high school with a scholarship, or when I turned 18, and legally became an adult. I could talk to the doctors, and prove to their satisfaction that I wasn’t legally insane. I didn’t have to be locked up in a place like this, like my father. (I already knew that I didn’t want to be like my mother, because of all the collateral damage. Since I was one of those collateral victims of her crimes.)

Then, Ward (That was his last name, but it said [D. Ward] on his scrubs) picked me up, and drove off. He wanted to talk about my mother, but not like a doctor wants to talk about my mother. He called her a whore, but “A high class whore like that, getting into the highest levels of the government, and pulling the strings. Playing them like a puppeteer…”

He had no idea. Honestly, he didn’t know my mother, but I didn’t correct him. I nodded along, but he also distracted me. Then he asked me if I ever got to visit her, in prison?

“Oh, no.” I don’t want to, see her ever again. Honestly, I know exactly what she’s like, and I’m her daughter. She played men, powerful men like marionettes, but she raised me for the first 6, or 7 years of my life. So, she had more control over me than anyone, and I knew that if she got a chance. Even a little chance, she’d take it. (Okay, Martha Stewart? More like Charles Manson, but she looks and acts like Martha Stewart.)

Finally, I started tearing up, and turned away to wipe my eyes. “Um, where are we going?” That cleared up my sadness right away, because by the time I actually looked out the window, we’re not on the highway any more. I looked for a sign:

[Deer Park
Ashland…]

“Just taking the scenic route.”

To where, Jefferson City? That was completely the wrong way, and it’s not like there’s a whole lot of sites to see, in Jefferson City.

“Huh.” I just took a deep breath, and acted calm. I wasn’t calm, I was scared to death, but you don’t show it. My heart was beating as fast as it could, just to get a few more pulses in before I was raped, and strangled. So it had to stop beating forever, but I forced myself to take deep breaths. Instead of hyperventilating.

“You know,” I listened to myself, and tried to make my voice deeper. Huskier, older, and more seductive. “I could really use some more privileges around the home.”

“Like what?” He took my hand, and patted it on the arm rest, between us.

“I don’t know, but.” I skipped right past Denial, and into Bargaining. I guess, a part of me figured that if he’s going to do this, I might try to get something out of it before I die, but what do I have to lose? My life? Look at my life. I suppressed the Criminal mastermind, for years.

I’m not a criminal mastermind. Probably because I suppressed it for years, and I was afraid that it might be inheritable, but if I need it? Yeah, I can think like Them.

1: If he kills me, he’s never going to get away with it. He signed me out, he was seen outside the hospital, they have his license plate, and if I wind up dead under a bridge somewhere. Even if he finds some way of completely destroying my body, he’s going to have to answer some questions if he ever goes back. Okay, maybe he can give up his job, and keep driving. I don’t know how many days drive it is to Mexico, but maybe he can get across the border before they put his face out, on an APB sheet.

2: He wants my mother. I got a chill, and suppressed a shiver at that thought. I can’t assume that he’s rational enough to think about everything under part 1: I have to assume he’s Delusional, and he can become Violent, if I don’t give him what he wants. So, what does he want? My mother, maybe it’s because he’s jealous of all those men? Powerful men, and he’s impressed that she was able to threaten them. Make money off of them, and even terrorize them with their own sexual secrets, but how did she do that? Exactly? I know she was attractive, she had to be, but I’m not going to impress him with a cocktail dress, and a platter of hors d’oeuvres.

3: I’m going to have to do something, sexual. That was actually an exciting thought, he’s a man, and he’s obviously. Kidnapping me, a stranger, and stranger abductions tend to end in the death of the victim, within the hour. I have maybe an hour left to live, but I don’t have to die a virgin, right?

“Huh!” Finally, I relaxed. I didn’t have to act calm, my heart slowed down, and he signaled. Passed a blue sign, with [Food:] And [Lodging: Best Western]

“Yeah!” He stretched theatrically, and fake yawned. “It’s been a long day, so I need a break.”

“I’ll just wait in the car, then.” Under the roof, hanging out over the doors to the lobby. He went in, and got a room.

I looked at the door lock. Pressed the button to unlock it. He took the keys with him, nobody came out to take the bags, park the car. It’s not that kind of hotel, but we always had our own room. My brothers, and sister, with a boy’s bed, and a girl’s bed to jump on.

I shook my head, but what if I run? Sure, this uniform might look like a school-girl’s, but it’s got the name of halfway-house right on it. It’s gonna look like I was trying to escape, because I was trying to escape, and he promised me things. Things I’m not supposed to have at the home, access to places I’m not supposed to go, and he’s got a set of keys.

I wanted him to sneak into records so I could read my own file, and find out what the doctors really thought about me, for a start. Other than that, what he promised me, how am I supposed to do a risk/reward assessment? Right here, right now, when he practically ambushed me like this, kidnapped me, and took me to a roadside motel, like a whore.

I don’t want to be a whore, or at least I never did. My mom wasn’t a whore, she was a blackmailer, money launderer, embezzler, but he’s watched the news. Probably saved clippings out of the news paper, and he’s got this delusional ideal of mom that’s nowhere near the truth, but the scandal said she was a whore. Madame, ringleader of an escort service, which is bullshit. She always worked alone, but for all I know, they had some warrants on women they wanted to get rid of, and charging them as prostitutes strengthened their case against her for Conspiracy, and Enterprise Corruption.

I don’t know, I’m not a lawyer, neither. RICO, whatever it took to get the FBI involved, to make her a Federal problem. No, Alex. Think, think about him. Try to think about something else for once in your life, because it depends on it. This is life, or death, flashing back is just going to make it death. If you don’t think of something quick, you’re going to die, horribly, and your body is going to be found in a river, wrapped up in a shower curtain.

I’d rather live as a whore, than die like one.

;

Xandra (femdoM)

He didn’t get the honeymoon suite, but it only had one bed. He said “I’m gonna take a shower,” but he took his bag with him. A duffel bag, like you’d take with you to the gym, but I looked around the room.

Cheap room, I’m no Paris Hilton, but I stayed there once on vacation. That was a long time ago, we were kids, but I remember how nice the rooms were. Crown molding, but just plain white crown molding in here. No plaster arabesques in the corners. Brass plated lamps hanging out on arms, instead of gold. An alarm clock.

He came out, in pantie hose, a black pleather corset, and a ball gag.

“Oh,” okay. “Get on the bed.” I had no idea what to expect, but when he came out like that, I somehow knew what to do. I asked myself what mom would do, but he got on his hands, and knees. His butt in the air, and his balls hanging down in the tight nylon. “You bad boy?”

He nodded, so I gave him a swat. “Kidnapping?” I hit him harder. “You had me scared to DEATH! I thought you’re going to RAPE me!”

“Uph!”

“I thought you’re going to KILL me!”

He grunted, but I guess that anger helped. I had to hit him pretty hard, and he didn’t bring me a paddle. A belt or anything, he couldn’t talk through the ball gag, but he didn’t bring me a butt-plug, neither. I sure as shit wasn’t sticking my fingers in there, he didn’t bring me gloves neither.

He started crying, sobbing, and snuffling when snot started running out of his nose, but I just spanked him until my hand got tired. So, I had to go around to the other side, shake it, and flex my fingers so they stopped smarting. Slapping his cheeks back and forth with my left hand.

“You like that, huh sicko? Turn over, let me see this.” I pushed him, and flexed my left hand, so it would stop tingling. “Puny little thing.”

He was hard though, and here I had a man, with a hardon for me. “Look at this.” I held my skirt out, finally deciding what I wanted. “Shitty grey dress. Look at these stupid Mary Janes.” I had to put my foot up. So, I put it between his legs, and mashed his balls with his toes. “I’m going to need some nicer clothes.”

He nodded.

“Some sexier underwear. You think you can do that?”

He nodded harder, grinning around the straps. “Uh huph!”

“You think you can get that right? You fucking loser. How can I trust you to get that right? What did you think, you’d get away with this? Kidnapping me? ME!?”

Oh my God!

“I’ll show you.” I put my foot down. “You worthless excuse for a man.” Ripping at the front of the pantie hose, and I had no idea. I mean, I knew that they could rip, they’re pantie hose, but I never tried to rip them off to get a man’s junk out. It’s harder than I expected, so I had to get up on the bed with him.

“Pervert, sick pedophile. Child molester, kidnapper, rRrRrapist!” I growled, and spat through my clenched teeth. Finally beating him off. I mean, it wasn’t a hand job. I beat him off, with my knee jammed up under my nuts. “You brought all that for you. You bought all that sexy stuff for you to wear? You selfish little prick, but you didn’t think about me?”

ME!? No, that wasn’t me. That was my mom slipping out.

“SNH!” His eyes flew open, and the snot sucked in, but then he squeezed them, and shook his head. Holding his breath, I felt it twitched and stopped. Looked down, and just watched what I had done. It was amazing. At the end of the day, I beat a man off. A grown man off. I gave him an orgasm, when I was so afraid that I couldn’t. I wouldn’t know what to do, when honestly, it was obvious. Painfully obvious, literally. I just had to spank him, humiliate him, grab it, and try to rip it off bare handed.

I had to think of something to say, but honestly, I just had to tell the truth. That part, it took me days of reminiscing to figure out that was the best part.

I didn’t have to hide it. I didn’t have to bite my tongue, and hold back. I could tell him exactly what I thought of him, because damnit, it was all true. He didn’t even bring a rubber. He wanted to fuck me so bad, and he didn’t even think that maybe Birth Control might be a good idea? You know, so I don’t get pregnant, then have to answer questions like how I got pregnant. Who the father is, and probably get an abortion.

I know, I don’t want to get an abortion either. I’ve got enough issues all ready, without feeling like a baby killer, but I couldn’t avoid it any longer. I never asked myself what made mom do it. I never wanted to know, I loved her, I missed her, and a part of me hated her for leaving me, and dad to rot in hospitals. I thought she was so selfish for that, but this.

How could I know? Now that I felt this. I know exactly why she did it.

Because I can.

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