My Destiny

When I first wrote my "My Destiny" draft, I planned that the story would conclude in two to three parts. However, as I developed characters and a storyline, it ended up being 13 parts. The main reason for the "blowout" was to keep each part/chapter at a reasonable length for the readers to enjoy. Each section would flow into the next to keep the reader enthralled

I set the story in Australia, introducing some unique terms and sayings. To avoid reader confusion, I have minimised the language and different measurements while keeping it Australian at its core.

This story is a work of fiction. I have not knowingly written about any person or event. If the characters' actions are similar to a real person or event, I apologise and will edit the story should this be brought to my attention.

Within the story, there are three references to violence against women. I do not support this; the perpetrators receive the punishment they deserve within the story. Also, all those who participate in sexual activities are above the legal age of consent.

All those who participate in sexual activities are above the legal age of consent. While there are references to Bi Sexual activities along with Incest activities, the story remains centred on the female same-sex activities of the main characters.

I have introduced several topics to add to the story and to give me additional topics to expand on the activities of my characters.

With your help and feedback, I have revised this chapter so it flows better as the story develops. I am also more confident that my punctuation and spelling are of a more professional standard than my first draft.

Version 02, Please enjoy

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"Well, this is unexpected," I thought as I moved closer to the front of the meet-and-greet line for the birthday ball. I didn't even want to attend as I am not a great fan of all the formality accompanying military functions. Still, my current manager, the base Commanding Officer and his wife thought it would be a great idea to parade their visiting foreign AFP investigator in front of all the rich and influential dignities in attendance. But here I was, two steps away from facing my past; I had no escape. Before I knew it, I was at the head of the line, looking into the eyes of someone I hadn't seen or heard from in over 20 years. At first, they seemed to struggle to recognise me, but then the shock on their faces betrayed a wall of emotions. He dropped the glass of champagne he was holding while she put her hands to her mouth in shock. As the Commander introduced me, I held out my hand to shake his, and with a calm and controlled voice, I greeted them, hello, Father, Mother, you both look well.

The stunned silence from my parents, the hosts and the line behind allowed me to move forward and away from my parents. Even though I am not a drinker, I took a flute of champagne from one of the servers and moved outside to the gardens, giving me space to get my swirling mind in order.

It is best to start at the beginning of explaining how I became estranged from my family and a Senior investigating officer in a foreign country's Federal Police Force. It has been a long and exciting adventure that started nearly 40 years ago when I was born into a wealthy and established family as a twin to my brother Eric. You would expect this to have set me up for an easy life, but it was more complicated. You see, I was born female.

My name is Elizabeth Richards, Beth to my friends. As mentioned, I come from a well-to-do family. The polite term is we came from "old money." The family fortunes were made during the early gold rush era before subsequent patriarchs invested well in oil and transport. These days, the diverse range of businesses and assets controlled by the family is immense; my great-great-grandfather advocated not putting all your eggs in one basket. It's a shame my parents forgot about this when I entered the picture.

When we were born, my Father had his heir and was overjoyed; I was surplus to requirements and would eventually be married to a suitable family. Very old-fashioned thinking, but welcome to my family. Even with my future Destiny set, I wasn't deprived in any way growing up; I was trained and prepared for my future. I was well educated and afforded opportunities with my fitness and artistic abilities. At a young age, I became a competitive swimmer and accomplished musician. I also was given all the resources and opportunities to develop my love of photography. Various nannies and tutors supervised my upbringing, ensuring I was well-disciplined and never wasted precious time. My life was more regulated than fun, but I avoided scrutiny and punishment as long as I towed the line.

In contrast, my brother was my parents' pride and joy. While Eric received the best education and resources for a successful life, he was rarely held back by rules and discipline. In my Father's eyes, he was the future, and butter wouldn't melt in his mouth. We were close once, but as we grew older, our separation grew so that he never acknowledged me. I became his sister in words only; all the love and connection we once had as siblings was lost.

It was no surprise, my resentment of my place within the family grew, as did my rebellious behaviour. My behaviour became an issue when I hit my teens and puberty struck. At first, my obnoxious attitude was rewarded with periods of confinement to my room, but eventually, I regularly felt my Father's wrath with the old leather belt.

It all came to a head not long after I turned 16. My brother came to my room, typically not knocking, barged in and closed the door behind him. I told him to get out, but he just stood between me and the door before pulling his cock out of his pants. He was hard, and the look in his eyes was that of a predator. His next move was sudden and violent; he hit me as he pushed me back onto my bed. His sudden violence was where both my panic and fight kicked in. His intention was obvious, but I wouldn't give in without a fight.

Fortunately, he only ever put in half-hearted effort when we were in the gym, which gave me strength and flexibility. My first kick took him straight in the crotch, while the second got him across the bridge of his nose. He went down screaming with pain. Unfortunately, the noise bought my Father to the room, and seeing his pride and joy crying with his cock hanging out of his pants, it took him less than a second to work out what had occurred. I thought he would, for once, stand up for me and how wrong I was.

The beating that ensured was nothing short of savage; he stripped me bare and laid into me with his old leather belt. The more I tried to protect myself, the worse the beating got. When my fight started to wane, he stopped, picked me up off the floor and threw me on my back on his desk. He stepped back, undid his pants, and let his cock free. I knew what was coming and cried out as I tried to move; this was rewarded with a punch in the face. He moved between my legs and, without any warning, pushed his cock into my virgin tunnel. The pain was excruciating as I felt my hymen give way as he pushed in as deep as he could go. After he bottomed out, he didn't wait for me to adjust before he started to rut me for all his worth. While he fucked me, he kept telling me that my only use in the family was to satisfy the needs of him and Eric. He told me I would never fight my Destiny again or the punishment would worsen. Eventually, he pushed as deep as he could and started shooting ropes of his sperm deep into my womb.

When he pulled out, my pain and humiliation were overwhelming as he laughed at me. I reached out and slapped him as hard as I could. This slap started a chain reaction that would change my life forever. His shock at my impertinence was nearly worth the beating I received for my actions. He didn't hold back with the belt, and eventually, I lost consciousness, which put a stop to the horror I was receiving.

The next few weeks were hell on earth for me. When I woke from my nightmares, I was lying face down on my bed, which was covered in towels to protect the bedding from my blood. My wounds were being attended to by the old cook who had been with the family since before I was born. She didn't say much except to caution me not to move and to keep my cries silent. Her touch was gentle, even caring, but the disinfectant she used must have come straight from the seven rings of hell. She also gave me a morning-after pill and told me never to tell anyone I took it. I received this treatment every couple of hours and each time; I was left in tears. Despite the pain, I never allowed myself to show weakness in my situation; I didn't want to give my parents any satisfaction. It took a week before I could walk unaided and another week to get appropriately dressed and leave my room. The whole time I was confined, recovering from my injuries, I never received a visit from my parents; my only company was the old cook and one of the maids who bought me food.

Eventually, the pain eased, and the wounds healed as I regained mobility. I ventured outside my room to get some exercise. The only people I encountered were the maids who serviced the house. However, when they saw me, they diverted their eyes or turned their back on me. This new behaviour shocked me as I always had friendly relations with them all before the beating. Given this new attitude towards me, I knew I was in for more action from my family, but the extent of my punishment surprised even me.

Once I was mobile, my Father summoned me to his office. I had enough sense to dress respectfully before attending my required meeting. I wasn't offered a seat but stood to attention in front of his desk. To that point in my life, he was never one to show praise for my achievements, but he never held back from expressing my failings. This meeting was a fine example of such a one-way discussion.

After an age of being torn down for my poor attitude and behaviour and being a distraction to my brother's development, he dropped the bombshell that shook my world to the core. I had been enrolled in an all-girls boarding school where I would finish my education and learn my place in society before my mother would "assist" me in finding a suitable husband. His following comment tore at my heart: I was not to contact the family except via handwritten correspondence, which I would draft once a week. He dismissed me and told me I would be leaving in two days and that I should pack.

When I returned to my room, I found two suitcases and a new laptop computer with associated equipment. Sitting on top was a leather case containing envelopes and writing paper. At this point, the shock of my situation kicked in, and I sank to the floor and just cried myself to sleep, hoping when I woke, the nightmare would be over. Of course, when I woke, my nightmare had not stayed in my dreams, and the suitcases still waited for my belongings.

The following two days went in a heartbeat, and in no time, I was packed into the family limousine for the long drive to the airport. Before I left the house, my mother saw me off in the lobby; she didn't show any compassion, just told me I had bought this onto myself and that when I learnt my place, I would be allowed home. She handed me an envelope containing my travel documents, some cash for the trip, and a credit card for my expenses. Along with a document that outlined my family's expectations for my "rehabilitation". She then closed the door behind me, and my new life, my banishment, began.

The drive took nearly two hours, and I quietly contemplated this turn of events in my life. I still could not believe my parents' cruelty in sending me away for simply standing up for myself. But here I was, a 16-year-old being sent to some distant land for schooling and to become a disciplined woman.

The driver showed empathy and compassion when he dropped me off at the airport. He hugged me, told me things happen for a reason, and hoped he would soon get a chance to return me to my home. He even offered to see me off, but I declined his offer with a hug and a quick kiss on his cheek before heading inside.

As I went to the check-in, I realised I didn't know my destination; due to my self-pity during the drive, I hadn't even opened the envelope my mother had given me. I found a quiet corner to read the documents and looked at the travel itinerary. My shock would have been evident to anyone interested in looking at me; I was being sent to Australia. This discovery finally made my situation real; my supposed loving mother and Father were sending me into exile.

The following two days of flights and airport lounges were hell, but it gave me time to research my new reality. The school was located about two hours west of the capital of Queensland. It seemed well-equipped and had a good reputation, and by all accounts, the weather was reasonable, and snow would no longer be part of my immediate future. The bright outlook, along with my parent's funding to pursue my health and artistic interests, made me realise my punishment could have been worse and that my parents must have held some care for my overall well-being.

I was met at the airport by one of my future boarding house supervisors, Mrs Davies; she seemed very pleasant and asked me to call Annie, which was nice. She was chatty and passed the trip by informing me about the school and the local community. She also asked me about my hobbies and touched on the circumstances of my enrolment, but didn't push the subject when she detected my discomfort. Annie told me I had arrived during the mid-winter holiday, which would allow me to get my uniforms and school needs in order. I would also be doing my education equivalence assessment so the school could place me in the correct year of studies.

It was late when we arrived at the school; from what I saw, it seemed a daunting facility; the main building was part of the original school, which was established around 1890. Annie arranged a meal and sat with me while we ate. She was a lovely lady and quite beautiful as well. A little under six foot tall and a very firm athletic build. Her long red hair was slightly darker than mine and hung naturally over her shoulders. I have never been attracted to another woman before; in fact, I haven't thought about anything sexual to that point in life, but I couldn't help admiring her as a woman, especially her pert 34B (at least) breasts. I was embarrassed when I realised I was staring and hoped she hadn't caught my weird behaviour.

After dinner, Annie showed me to my room, gave me a brief tour of the accommodation area, and explained the routine and security requirements. My upbringing had yet to prepare me for communal showers, laundry rooms, or the fact that I would be sharing with 19 other girls. My emotions finally kicked in, and I sat on my bed and started to cry. Annie sat beside me, not talking, just holding me, making me feel safe. When I settled, she held me to her chest and told me I would be OK. I could not remember ever receiving a loving embrace like that, and I started to feel wanted and safe.

Before she left for the evening, she arranged to meet me for breakfast, after which she would help me with my uniforms and school shopping. She hugged and kissed me gently before leaving me to unpack and settle in.

My room had a twin-share layout, a king single bed against the walls, desks, and cupboards in the middle. It was apparent which side of the room had already been claimed, so I settled into my new space. As I unpacked, I was surprised to find a letter from my parents. It had been placed there without my knowledge. The envelope contained a note on the fancy paper used by my family and a photo of us as a happy group. This photo was the only one I now process of the life I am no longer part of.

Elizabeth,

By now, you will have arrived at your destination, and I trust you have taken some time to think about the actions and behaviours that led to your Father's decision about your immediate future.

He accommodated your desire to maintain your sporting and artistic interests, but you mistakenly took this as a license to be independent and disregard your station in life. Our family has a standing in society and business, and as such, there are expectations that you need to accept and live up to, whether you like them or not.

When you struck your brother, the future head of our family, you crossed the line. There is no place for you to be assertive in our family. Your rebellious behaviour is why you have been sent away. This break from the family home will allow you to finish your education and eliminate your dominant behaviours and attitudes.

Your Father has agreed that you can continue to pursue your sport, but when you return home, this will become just part of your history as no future husband will accept his wife wasting time on such endeavours.

We will assess your progress as you deal with this rebellious streak of your personality. When you accept your Destiny, you will be welcome back under our roof.

Regards

Mother.

I reread the letter several times before it sunk in that, as far as my parents were concerned, I had one purpose in life: to be a submissive wife in some arranged marriage. My emotions were mixed at this realisation and the archaic attitudes of my parents; these feelings seemed to light a fire in me. Despite their intentions, I wanted my life to be of my design, and nobody would tell me otherwise. I decided then that I would excel in everything that came my way, no matter what my family threw at me.

The next couple of weeks were a whirlwind of activities. I had endless interviews with school officials, induction lessons and hours of equivalence assessments. Fortunately, I have been fortunate with my education, not so much for the curriculum planners. My parents had ensured my brother and I had the best tuition, which gave me exceptional academic discipline. Thanks to my Father's expectations of business superiority, I have always achieved high grades in STEM subjects and am competent in two-level four and two-level three languages. I should have been placed in year ten (middle school), dictated by my age; however, I was assessed as competent and able to jump to year 11, but I would need to take extra studies to catch up with the rest of the cohort.

Only some of the interviews were fun and memorable. One was with a lawyer my parents had engaged to manage my needs while I was in Australia. Miss Julie Betts had shoulder-length red hair and naturally attractive features. She was slightly shorter than me but had a similar athletic build. Her breasts were more prominent than mine and looked very firm, and her nipples were well-defined under the material of her dress.

At first, she was very business-like, going over the instructions from my Father. She emphasised his points about discipline, academic achievement, and not bringing the family name into disrepute. My Father drafted his instructions into a contract that I had to sign with Miss Betts witnessing the signatures. Once done, she explained that my parents had made her my guardian while I was in the country. This delegation gave her the authority to sign for parental consent, on behalf of my parents, for any activities I might want to participate in. She had also been placed as the manager for my financial needs, including my credit cards and additional costs associated with my ongoing development and education.

After she finished her endless speech about managing my life, she closed her file on me before standing up and inviting me to sit on the couch in her office. When I got comfortable, her first words were please call me Julie, and she felt sorry for my current situation. Her display of compassion allowed me to relax and start to like her. In friendly terms, she explained what she meant by managing my welfare and financial support, which took the sting out of my parent's intentions of "keeping me reined in". She asked me about my family's dynamics and how I came to be sent to a small country town in Australia for my final years of school, but when she saw my embarrassment, she changed the subject to sports and music.