Your child's eighteenth birthday marks a significant rite of passage every mother faces with ambivalent feelings...soon, the child will be out of the house on their own, meeting new challenges every day, and all you can do now is hope you've prepared them for the highs and lows the real world will throw at them.
In my case, it meant I had just one child remaining at home to care for and to raise-just two-years to watch her face light-up with smiles, or to hold and comfort her in times of teenage angst. Two short years to not only prepare her for this New World, but to protect her from it, as well.
I went thru it with my son, John, and now my oldest daughter, Julie, was celebrating what she called her "day of liberation and freedom."
How sadly naïve, I thought, with all the new rules and regulations, which I made sure she was well aware, she would equate her eighteenth birthday with 'freedom' when in fact, because she was born female, it doomed her to a life of subjugation and sexual servitude.
Fortunately, I had persuaded Mr. Bagley to sign a 'Letter of Exemption' that would permit her to go to college, and keep her from having to perform two-years of 'mandatory national service'...that phrase alone made me shudder with fear and revulsion since I understood the true meaning of it.
Your child's eighteenth birthday used to be cause for a celebration and party-not so much any more. Nowadays, no one held parties, inviting all their friends, no, 'the big day' was now almost mourned instead of celebrated; attended by family members only...there were few smiles and even fewer congratulatory hugs and kisses.
I baked a birthday cake instead of buying one; I didn't want the inevitable looks of pity and attitudes of condescension when the person learned your child was turning eighteen.
My son, John, my youngest Jenny, and myself were waiting for Julie's arrival. It was the first time I'd seen my son since he left the house and moved-in with Sarah, his girlfriend.
I couldn't get over how polite, even differential, he was towards his sister and me. I'd always suspected Sarah 'wore the pants' in their relationship, but his amazing 'attitude adjustment' made me admire and respect the girl more than I already had. In this age of male machismo, Sarah had transformed John into a perfect gentleman.
He had insisted on cooking Julie's favorite meal, chicken piccata with pasta and veggies while Jenny and I concentrated on the birthday cake. I was impressed how he moved about the kitchen, and when I asked him, he admitted he did all the cooking at home.
"Sarah's job takes-up a lot of her time," he'd said, "...she's tired when she gets home...the least I can do is help around the house."
After some coaxing, he admitted he not only did the cooking, but the cleaning and all the laundry, too. I found myself wondering what she had him do for her in the bedroom.
I had discovered thru my friend, Mary, that Sarah had offered her virginity to the highest online bidder...once I got over the initial shock, I was impressed by her business acumen...she knew a woman's place in this New World, and she made it work FOR her-AND she profited handsomely by taking advantage of men, and their lust for young girls. Yes, I am very happy my boy has a strong girlfriend like her.
Of course, those of us aware of her offer were surprised when she went to work for Missy Hatfield...was Ms. Hatfield the highest bidder? Is Sarah a concubine to the most powerful woman in town?
No one knew for sure what their relationship consisted of, but quite honestly, it was mere fodder for the gossip mills because all women were in similar circumstances, and had scant time to be concerned with someones well-being other than their own.
Jenny and I finished decorating the cake at the same time we heard the side door open. In walked the birthday girl, smiling with head held high.
She waved a document at us, I recognized it immediately and my heart ached and pounded in my chest.
"Mother," she announced, "...I won't need the letter from your boss-I got one all by myself!"
"JULIE...what have you done?" I asked; simply flabbergasted she'd signed a PA contract on her own without consulting me.
"Mother, I do not want to go to college," she said, "...I told you that but you went ahead on your own, anyway...a girl has only so many good money-making years-a pussy is like a new car-once it's driven off the lot it decreases in value every year!"
"JULIE-HUSH!!" I said loudly, rolling my eyes towards Jenny. The three of us had agreed not to speak of these matters in front of the young girl.
"My little sister needs to know what life is all about these days, mother," she went on: "You are not helping her by avoiding talking about the inevitable-how her best opportunity for a happy life is right there between her legs...she needs to understand a girls limited options these days...that no matter how smart and talented she may be-her only chance for success is using her body to her advantage!"
I was trembling and my blood began to boil. Julie had always been a head-strong girl, but she'd never spoken to me like this before...it were as though that signed contract had given her the arrogance to confront and rebel against her own mother.
I took a deep breath and waited until I was calm. Then I asked the only remaining pertinent question: "Sweetie...just who are you going to be, uh, 'working' for?"
My daughter's beautiful, fresh face twisted into a strange smile and it scared the hell out of me.
"Don't worry, mother, I won't be 'working under' any of the men you know in town..." she said. "In fact, I signed a PA contract with a woman-a woman you all have seen-my new boss is Ms. Jennifer McBride!"
I was so stunned all I could manage to say was "HUH? WHAT? HOW?"
John stammered, "OH MY GOD, JULIE-WHY? HOW DID YOU EVEN MEET HER?"
She stared at her brother with that twisted smirk and said, "I met her today at the lingerie store in the Mall...she was autographing her used panties for a long line of drooling men...who knows? She might still be there...maybe, dear brother, if you hurry down there she'll autograph YOUR panties, too!"
I had no idea what she meant by that, but I watched my son's face turn a deep red as he lowered his eyes.
"I will begin moving my things into her place tomorrow...you know, mother, I'm certainly not a virgin with boys, but I've never been with a woman before-I know how close you and Mary are-are there any tips or advice you can give me about sexually satisfying a woman?"
And then it was my turn to flush a deep crimson and lower my eyes.
I lied to my mom and brother and sister about how I met Mistress Jennifer.
She contacted me weeks ago, and after meeting with her she offered me the PA position. She swore me to secrecy until my eighteenth birthday when I went to the lingerie store to sign the contract.
There had been, indeed, a long line of idiot men forking out twenty bucks each for a pair of her used panties which she autographed before their bugged-out eyes. She used that example to reinforce my belief that men are weak-willed and stupid, and quite frankly, totally useless outside of the bedroom.
"BUT-" she said on my first night in her bed, "...you are going to learn how to be a whore-not just any whore, but the best cocksucking whore AND a whore who knows how to please a hard cock when it's in your cunt or asshole..."
I expressed my shock and dismay at her plans for me.
"You are a proud and insolent little girl," she said calmly, while stroking my hair, "...don't worry, when I'm finished training you those troublesome character traits like ego, pride and arrogance will be gone forever...you will become a valuable member of our team!"
I made the mistake of arguing with her. She patiently listened to me with a curious smile on her face.
When I was done she said, "Sweetie, the language of the contract you signed is very explicit-the fact of the matter is I own you-I can legally do with you whatever I want...if you persist in defying me, I will have you interred into a brothel where you will be required to service, at the very least, thirty hard cocks every day for a minimum of sixty days...think of it, sweetie, 1,800 loads of men's nasty spunk in your mouth-your pussy-and your asshole..."
She gently wiped away the tear drops rolling down my cheeks. She took me in her arms and held me close; showering my face and neck with kisses.
In a soothing, almost breathless voice she continued: "When you and I met for the first time, you expressed a strong desire to become my PA...you are an intelligent girl-you knew exactly what PA's are required to do...in this New World, the words 'PA' and 'whore' are synonymous and 'whore' is no longer a term of derision or scorn...in fact, most women now are 'WHORES'-your mother is a WHORE-75% of the girls you went to high school with will become WHORES-being a WHORE is now the most common profession among women...and Julie dear, becoming an outstanding whore is not only smart and pragmatic-it is the honorable thing a woman can do for herself, and her gender."
"I—I don't understand-I thought I did—I mean, being a common whore means letting men use you for sex-isn't that right?" I asked her.
She laughed softly and said, "Sweetie, that is the old definition for whore...in this New World being a whore means YOU are using men for not only financial gain, but for pleasure, as well...simply put: the very best whores working today are earning large sums of money AND having fabulous orgasms while doing it!"
She was right-I know my mother is making a lot of money, and she seems very happy with what she is doing.
"Julie dear, in recent years, men accidentally enlightened women about the power and control they have over men...we all know men are nothing more than children who grow taller and heavier than women-who grow hair in unlikely areas-and whose bodies produce obscene sounds, and even worse smells...and we also know when men think and make decisions, they use just 10-to-20% of their brains in their thought process..."
She turned and smiled at me and asked, "Sweetie, how do men make decisions if they only use 20% of their brains?"
I blurted out: "THEY THINK WITH THEIR HARD DICKS!"
She laughed and hugged me again. I enjoyed being held close; feeling her breasts mashed against my own.
"With everything men have going against themselves, it is a woman's DUTY-for the survival of our planet-to take charge and guide them into making reasonable decisions...do you understand what I'm saying, dear?"
My heart fluttered with excitement. WOW, I thought, this is so INTENSE...
"Yes, uh, I think I understand," I said.
