When I look back over my life, I sometimes find it amazing that I never had a nervous breakdown.
I mean, I went through an awful lot of mental and physical abuse over the years, and I came out of it with my body and my sanity intact. Well, until now, that is. Maybe the dreams and nightmares I've been having lately are a delayed reaction to everything I went through, especially the last few weeks that I worked for my Uncle Bill. I guess that's why I'm here.
My mental reaction to the traumatic events of my life was strange. I guess it's like the old saying that what doesn't kill you makes you stronger. It seems like the worse the things that were done to me, the stronger they made me.
And that was certainly true of the ordeal Curtis Miller put me through. I came out of it more determined than ever - desperately so - to get away from my uncle and forge a life for myself. But it was also as close as I want to come to completely falling apart.
For the next few weeks, I forced myself to act strong so I could get through the last little bit of college, but inside I was having a tough time. I'd find myself jumping every time something fell unexpectedly, and when I was alone, I'd find myself starting to cry, as much from latent fear as anything else.
During this period, I was spending a lot of time with Janelle while trying to get my schoolwork finished. She could sense that something was wrong with me, but I just couldn't bring myself to tell her about my home life, and the job I had to go back to.
I wasn't going back to it enough to suit Uncle Bill, though, and he was more and more bitter about how much time school was taking from my job. There was this disconnect in his mind about what would happen after I graduated. He kept talking about the big-money jobs I'd take on once summer came around, as if this was just another summer like the ones before.
Looking back on it, I didn't help matters by being non-confrontational about it. I should have just taken the bull by the horns and told him flat-out that I was quitting. Instead I led him, I guess, to think that I was fine with his plans.
The truth is, I was increasingly frightened of my uncle. His temper was getting worse, and his drinking was out of control.
As graduation approached, I was more and more nervous about him coming to see me walk across the stage and receive my diploma. I didn't want him to see my friends - and vice versa - and I was concerned about what he would do when he heard my name, the name I now considered my real name, being called out.
Fortunately, a couple of days before commencement, Bertie got sick and Bill had to man the store in her place.
Bertie had stayed on for those four years, largely for my sake. Uncle Bill had been a little nicer to her than he was with me, but she had still seen him pretty angry at times. If she could have, she'd have left and tried to find a job somewhere else. But I think she felt an obligation to be there for me.
We'd gotten to be friends, and she was someone I could truly unburden myself to, within certain limits. Uncle Bill had told her in no uncertain terms that what I did at night wasn't any of her business, and he'd told me that she wasn't to be told what went on there after she left work.
But she wasn't stupid. She could see the effect prostitution had on me, and she could tell how many boxes of condoms were being used on the premises, rather than being sold.
From pretty early on, we had offered customers the option of wearing condoms when they had their sessions with me, and I'd say a little over half of the men used them, especially if it was late and I started getting a little sloppy. I didn't like them much. As I've said, I was a real cum queen for much of that time, plus I didn't care for the feeling of a rubber-clad cock in my pussy.
Bertie tried as best she could to be a sort of grandmother to me, so she stayed around. And, honestly, she needed the job. She was widowed with deep roots in the county, and there weren't too many jobs for single women her age in that area.
So Uncle Bill wasn't there when I got my diploma, and I stayed in Columbia and celebrated with my friends. It was really one of the best times I'd ever had, a nice, mellow party with a few people I'd come to like. Afterward, Janelle and I made love, and it was beautiful.
I left the next day, a Thursday, and told Janelle I'd give her a call in a few days. She was leaving that afternoon with a couple of friends to go to Washington, D.C. for a few days, then she was staying over to attend summer school and to work at the fitness center.
She was like me, there wasn't much of a home for her to go back to during the summer. Her home was there on the Missouri campus, the way it should have been mine.
I got back to the store to find Uncle Bill in an expansive mood. When he told me why he was in such good spirits, I swear I turned white, and my stomach turned. He showed me the check from Curtis Miller, and he beamed.
"Boy, you must have made a real impression on him," Bill said. "He threw in an extra thousand. He wants you to come today, and stay through Sunday."
"Uncle Bill," I said in a shaky voice. "I can't go back there. He'll kill me. You don't have any idea what he did to me the time before. I can't do it. I won't do it. Send the check back and tell him I'm not interested in the job."
My uncle lost it completely. He walked over to me and got right in my face. He was red in the face, and he smelled of beer, even though it was well before noon.
"You fucking whore!" he screamed. "This isn't found money, and this man doesn't just give it away. I need the money he's paying for you, and you are damn sure going to go to his place right now and do whatever the hell he wants."
I broke down, then, and cried hysterically.
"You... you ... I... c-c-c-can't," I blubbered. "He'll... k-k-k-k-kill me."
"Bullshit!" Bill roared. "He's a goddam senator. He won't do anything to you."
"Uncle Bill!" I said sharply, as my composure abruptly returned. "He fucking tortured me for a whole day and a half! Tied me up, whipped me, just, just... It was awful!"
