Chapter 1

The first written text of prostitution can be dated back to 4000 B.C. I’ve always hated the word “prostitution” but it truly is one of the world’s oldest professions. Women from all over the world knew early on the power that they held between their legs. They were a force to be reckoned with even back then. It’s interesting to see how the world has evolved since this taboo profession began. But of course, back then it wasn’t prohibited, it was called bartering. I’ll give you something if you give me something in return. This is how I’ve lived my life. It has been my motto, my creed, my oath so to speak.

The psyche of the human mind is a fascinating concept. God gives us freewill, he gives us instincts, survival skills, he sets the stage and you pull the strings. One may think he is the puppeteer but the reality is, you have to blame someone for your mistakes, so why not him right? It’s so much easier that way. Although, God is a bit of a voyeur in my eyes as he likes to watch. He also sets the rules; look but don’t touch, touch but don’t taste, taste but don’t swallow.

This is where he and I differ. Temptation is an alluring son of a bitch. I’m not a religious woman by any means, but I have been called God a time or two. I prefer Madam though. They say you learn a lot about a person through their name; my given name is Lilith meaning “of the night”. Legends say Lilith was Adam’s first wife, sent out of Eden and replaced by Eve because she would not submit to him. I was pretty much fucked the minute I was born.

I was born June 6, 1960; yes, I know you see it, 666 the sign of the devil. Is that me? I think not, although, one can dream can’t they? That would make me fifty-four years old. I don’t look it by any means. In my eyes I don’t look a day over thirty-five. Trust me, I can fuck anyone under the table in more ways than one. Everyone has a creator and we are put on this earth for a purpose; some believe that once that purpose is served, you’re done. Game over, do not pass go; do not collect $200.

I say fuck that. Women are put on this earth to be cherished and treated as a queen; men are our worshippers and will do anything by whatever means possible to make our wishes come true. If they don’t, we deserve the right to make them suffer; after all, we did create them. Doesn’t that give us leeway?

I know what you’re asking yourself. What made me this way? Why am I a sadist bitch? It’s all right; you can say it. I actually prefer it. I am a sadistic bitch, but get one thing straight; I am “the sadistic bitch”. When I walk into a room I expect you to turn and watch, when I talk I expect you to listen, when I say something I expect you to do it, no questions asked. It’s all very easy; you just need to follow my rules. I set the guidelines.

In my mind, I am your God.

I may be coming on too strong, but like I said, I will share everything with you. I have nothing to hide or to be ashamed of. The decisions and choices I made were given to me, I was not forced, I was chosen. Just like I choose my girls.

For you to understand my life you need to live it. I don’t know if reading about it will do it justice, nonetheless, I am going to try. There are always three sides to every story, yours, mine, and the truth. I deserve a chance to explain myself. Love me or hate me, it’s who the fuck I am. The Madam.

VIP can be dated back to the prohibition. When alcohol and VIP took over the world. It has been in my family for decades and generations have run it since the 1920s, all handed down from woman to woman. Never has a man laid his fingers on VIP; many have wanted to, offering millions upon millions of dollars, never standing a chance to control it. Not one piece of the action. My great female ancestors saw an opportunity with their pussies; one that many women bartered for food, clothing, shelter, my family decided that money would be the key.

Money controls the world. And guess what? Sex sells in every language. Everyone and anything has a price. You’ll sell your first born if the price is right; trust me, I speak from experience. I do not lie. I am a lot of things, but I am not a liar. Withholding the truth is not lying, neither are secrets, or skeletons in your closet. Everyone has them; it just comes down to how good you are at keeping them there.

VIP started like any other business; from nothing. A woman had an idea and went with it, slowly but surely, it became something greater than she could have ever imagined. It blossomed into a life of its own. Men came from all over the world for a taste of a VIP. It’s not named Very Important Pussy for nothing. The women were not created, it was in their blood, like they were born and put on this earth to serve that purpose and that purpose alone. It was innate to them, each and every chosen VIP is never taught to please, they are guided.

Not just anyone can be a VIP; it’s not an organization that is based off interviews or applications. You’re chosen, selected, picked, and taken; you are the elite. By the time I was born, VIP was a multibillion-dollar corporation. What started in salons, alleys, and vehicles, became mansions, private jets, yachts, and every motherfucking luxury known to man. My mother was the owner at the time, and she was the strongest woman I have ever known. My father was a very high profile businessman, and he had another family of his own, but my mother was his vice. My father was a devastatingly handsome man. He had jet-black hair with emerald green eyes, a strong jaw line that accented his thin lips and perfect white teeth. He was muscular, fit, and nearly cleared 6’3. He wore business suits every time I saw him, and never drove his own car. From afar, my parents looked like they were meant to be in magazines and print out ads; they looked perfect together. The embodiment of the perfect Miami power couple.

My mother never saw herself as the other woman though. She used him. He was her play toy to do with as she saw fit, and growing up I saw her use and abuse him daily. My mother loved four things; VIP, herself, money, and me. She was an amazing mentor to me, taught me everything I know. I was born into a life of luxury. I never had to want for anything, never had to ask for a goddamn thing. It was all handed to me on a silver-fucking platter with a bright red bow.

I never took anything that I had for granted. My father played an active role in my life; I knew what he and my mother were to each other. That had nothing to do with me. See, my father’s other family had all boys; I was his only girl, his princess. Both my parents loved me in different ways and they both said it often. I wasn’t born into a hollow existence. My parents never played me against each other and they never pretended to be something they weren’t.

I never met my other siblings and I was my mother’s only child. The first time I realized that my life was different, was when I was five years old. I was like any other little girl, very curious of everything around me.

I secretly watched through the gap of my mother’s bedroom door with my doll in my arms and my hair in pigtails. She sashayed across the room in her black knee length silk robe, pulling her hair up to expose the crook of her neck as she perched herself on the corner of her king size bed.

“I told you time and time again, Vivian, that I don’t want Lilith exposed to this lifestyle,” my father stated as he ran his fingers through his hair.

“And I’ve told you that I don’t give a flying fuck what you want. Lilith is mine and you’re lucky that I even allow her to be in your life,” my mother carelessly said, leaning back on one of her elbows, looking calm yet threatening at the same time.

“Allow her? Vivian, you can play this Madam card with everybody else, but you can’t fuck with me. If I wanted to take her from you, I could. Nobody in their right mind would leave a child to be raised in this environment.”

My mother viciously laughed. “And what environment may that be Charles? The one you partake in any chance you can get? The place where you can get fucked in the ass with a strap on and no one will think less of you? Or where I sometimes bring you a man? Is that the environment that you speak of, because from where I am sitting, you have more to lose than I do. Your bi-sexual tendencies will be the end of you, darling, we always knew that. Now get one thing straight, Lilith will take over one day. The faster you realize that she is my heir to this ‘environment’ the better it will be for all of us,” my mother threatened with intensity that I had never seen or heard before.

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.