by M. Robinson
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.
Chapter 2
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 wa
s “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 t
ip 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.
