I grew up under a grand delusion.
As a child, I pretended that I was a paper princess, hidden in a tower, awaiting my prince. Being with me came at an impossible price though, because I was kept by a wicked witch, someone who called herself my mother. I was a doomed Rapunzel, forgotten by the world.
All my life, I’d been a kept woman.
Kept in the cellar while my mother entertained foul men of all shapes and sizes, sometimes for hours or all night long.
Kept in the closet while my mother sucked her boyfriend’s cock.
Kept in the garage while my mother laundered bloody sheets and soiled blankets. While she scrubbed the walls and took out the trash.
My mother said she was born to serve. A born listener. A follower. Chosen for breeding. Hand-picked for pleasure…
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