I am Mistress Bitch. Well, at the time, I don’t recall ever having a name – that was only chosen for me later by Miki and Brett when I presented to them.
My first memory is of being in an Escort Agency, masquerading as a Hair and Beauty Salon in central Cape Town. I was seventeen years old. That fat old man Don was downstairs. He’d arranged this.
I was in a small room, with a man. He was doing a line of coke. He motioned to me with his head, offering me some coke.
“No thanks.” I replied, brusquely. “What’s your poison? What do you want?”
He told me he liked being dominated, controlled by women. He wanted me to dominate him. My immediate reaction was YES; I am going to love hurting you! For all the things you pigs have done to this body, to this young girl, this young, innocent child. This body has been used and abused over and over again through the years.
She just desperately wants to be loved and kept safe, but she keeps finding herself used and abused. Of course, I’ll hurt you, pig, I thought to myself.
I didn’t like being in that place or doing that work, but Mercedes couldn’t do it. Even Erin wasn’t prepared to do it. It was too much for either of them. But Don was forcing Mercedes to do it. So, they created me: emotionless, disconnected, strict, dominant, and uncaring.
Another day, another man: slightly overweight, but still relatively good-looking. He had the smallest dick I’d ever seen. I’m not sure how I knew this, but I did. He wanted me to f**k him in the ass with my fist.
“That’ll be R1000.” I told him.
He nodded excitedly.
“No groping, no touching, no looking at me, nothing from me. No safe words.” I continue.
He objected. “Red, that’s my safe word.”
I looked at him, thinking to myself, yes, red is exactly what it’ll be. I’d make this bastard bleed red all right. If he wanted red, I’d cover him in red blood! He didn’t know what he was letting himself in for. That worthless, ugly piece of shit, filthy piece of meat wants a young girl to dominate and hurt him. Well, that’s exactly what I gave him.
I don’t remember much of what else happened during that time. I only remember the room and the men Don arranged for me to abuse – many men. There wasn’t a shortage of men who were willing to pay a lot of money to be hurt by a beautiful young girl. Why did I do it? I’m not sure. Don told me to. This was the life he’d created for me.
Besides, I enjoyed it… they deserved it, all of them.