Chapter 1: Annamarie prepares

Picture a building, in a lovely forested suburb, that is somewhere between a contemporary apartment house and a classic mansion. It’s been divided up into apartments, offices, and work areas. One apartment belongs to my mother, Ada Russo, who set me up in my own. I’m Annamarie. She has her office there, as well as those of her managers and specialists. Most of those have apartments as well. Mrs. O’Connor is one. She’s the housekeeper now. Earlier in her life, Mary Margaret O’Connor was a nun. She is the most Amazonian of our Dominatrixes, and a disciplinary force not to be challenged. Only a fool would have the temerity to cross that force of nature. As she might say, “I rejected God. You think you might scare me?” Yes, I said Dominatrix. Professional dominants and submissives, as well as performers and other sex workers, are our business. Where appropriate, people are legal Registered Courtesans, the status that resulted from the backlash against politicized religious conservatism.

There are wings for dining, styling and beauty, business management, and technical support. Co Binh runs the domain of the kitchens, with assorted sous-chefs for other than her cuisines, and various apprentices. There’s a wing for styling and beauty services, with Kim the head stylist and makeup artist, Hippolyte for the martial arts, Ginger Bell as the athletic trainer and fitness manager, and Marla Orlov for dance as art and exercise. Most of the health and fitness people are paramedic certified.

I haven’t had that much to do with the business management side. Morbius -- never Mr. Morbius, and I don’t know his first name -- is Mom’s deputy and the Chief Operating Officer (COO). We have a couple of professionals both in a business area and the oldest profession that brings in much of the revenue. Diane is the Chief Financial Officer (CFO). Cath is our educational manager and is credentialed to do homeschooling. Horatius is the lead driver/bodyguard, and our security manager. Dolores and Abigail can guard bodies or send them into ecstasy. Kenna, whose Scots name means born from the flame, is our weapons mistress and weapons smith. McAndrew is our engineer, for the building, but also for security systems and personal gear.

Everybody who has stayed more than a little while feels like family to me, and I think vice versa. In principle, other associates could have children in residence, but it hasn’t worked out that way.

Beginnings of masturbation

[Ada: I have a special empathetic sense for sexual sensations in my vicinity. For the first time, I sensed them emanating from my daughter. In addition to receptive telempathy, I have some ability to transmit. To Arlene, I transmitted approval, and amplified her pleasure]

I was perhaps 10 when I realized that touching my crotch felt good. Mom noticed when I was doing it in the living room and gave me a big smile. “Honey, does that feel good?” Somehow, I had felt that I might need to hide it, but no longer. I felt good that she knew.

“Uh, yes. I’m not sure why.”

“Well, I’m very happy to see it. It’s part of maturing into a woman, and it’s an early part of your sexuality. The formal term for stimulating yourself is masturbation. You shouldn’t be doing it in public unless everyone present has agreed to do sexy things. I love doing a wide range of things with masturbation, by myself and with friends. I’ll get you some books, and some toys that will help.

“Not all adults will say this but being stimulated is mostly a good thing. Usually, it’s private, but you and a partner can use the same sort of movements on each other. Let me say that I do it and enjoy it a lot, but it’s probably best that close relatives don’t do it to each other, at least when one is an adult and one is a kid.

“I don’t rule out that other adults, if I approve of them, might teach you things.

“For now, I’m going to suggest you go to the Jacuzzi, get it to a comfortable temperature, and move around, letting the water jets hit your crotch at different angles and intensities. I’ll give you privacy but will be just outside if you need anything.

Not knowing quite what to expect, I got into the hot tub, moved around, and felt utterly new, strange, and pleasant feelings. I became aware that I was screaming, and Mom was coming in.

“Are you OK, Annamarie dear?”

“More than OK, Mom. It feels so good that I didn’t know how to respond.”

“I’m very happy. If you agree, we will tell some of my female friends about it, and they’ll be happy for you. I never, never, want it to be something you feel guilty about. Unfortunately, some mothers make their daughters guilty.

“To be perfectly honest, I have a much higher sex drive than may women. As long as that doesn’t interfere with other things, I regard that as very good.

“You’ll start to grow pubic hair and get genital development in a while, and we’ll match you with both modest and hot panties. Love, I don’t want to hit you with things faster than you’re ready, but you need to know -- but not mention unless there’s a reason -- that I’m a very hypersexual woman. I see no reason not to assume my daughter may have the same tastes, and I’d rather you enjoy them and be informed than suppress it like in some families.”

“Mom, about the family aspect -- you’ve never mentioned my father.” She scrunched up her face, and looked relieved when Mel, our comedian cat, jumped into her lap and head-butted her.

[square brackets and bold denote inner human thoughts; double brackets are nonhuman thoughts]

[Ada: Oh, hell. I’ve avoided this, but sooner or later, I had to address it explicitly. Today is the day to start details.]

[[Mel: I love my hoomins. I like them to be happy. Ada is my special hoomin mom.]

“Annamarie my love, I am going to restate a commitment to you. I might decline to discuss something, but I will never lie to you. That supersedes some oaths I might have, about which you’ll learn later. I hope you will make the same commitment to me.

“I can guess which of several men are your biological father, but, even in an age of genetic testing, I decided not to find out. There are reasons for this, some of which I’ll mention now, and others that you’ll learn about in time. I’m also not going to discuss your grandparents now, for reasons that you will learn.

“All of my candidates are charming, smart, and not interested in families. Hell, I didn’t want a conventional family, but I do want to mentor and develop, one of the things that goes with good motherhood. Yes, I’m an unconventional and very independent mother. I will educate and support you to be all you can be. There are some special circumstances -- I like to think assets -- that I would like you to share.

“For the moment, assume you’re going to be part of a successful family business, unless your path takes you elsewhere. No, I’m not going to be that explicit yet about it. Suffice it to say that money is not an issue. Don’t worry about external moralizing. In particular, you and I are quite free to be attractive, and to be sexy, which aren’t necessarily the same thing. In that context, though, don’t be stupid.

“Look at us and reflect. We’re both wearing outfits that I like for casual and informal work wear: single-piece tube dresses of a stretch material that molds to our bodies. They’re short-skirted and low-necklined. As the occasion dictates, we’ve got variants with wilder materials like wet-look, with various interesting slits and cutouts. Other provocative looks are in our closets. We also have business suits for appropriate occasions, ranging from very conservative to miniskirted. Shoes also vary from conservative to what you could get at a favorite store of mine, The Wild Pair. It, and Units for the one-piece clothes, are closed as stores but some of their styles are still sold. Maybe someday, I’ll open a store with some of those styles.

“Yeah, right. I’m supposed to be too old to wear things like that. I say if you’ve got it, and you’re sensible about time and place, flaunt it. I happen to think Madonna looks great, and I’m a hell of a lot younger. Accept whatever attracts you. Purely from a physical standpoint, I get wet over Katy Perry and Melania Trump.

At 35, Mom is fairly tall, strong without being a competitive athlete, with a gorgeous face and hair, prettier than mine. I show signs of developing a more dramatic figure. We feel no jealousy. She has a moderate bust that looks good in clothes without instantly drawing attention. Of her body parts, she least likes her hips and butt, which she concentrates on making hard-muscled. Her thighs are full, again muscled, but heavier than she would like. From mid-thigh down, though, her legs are pretty striking.

I spoke of her hair. Where I have light red, curly hair, which I wear fairly long, hers is brilliant copper-red, slightly wavy, and dramatically shining. She wears it in a somewhat short cap that molds the elegant shape of her head, and shows off her slim, graceful neck.