The Bio of Molly J

Note: I cannot give this to a beta reader first. It is too intimate. It would be like giving a virgin to a stranger, the day before her wedding. The comma's will have to be good enough. I study. I learn. I will get it right. My mistress demands it.

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I am Molly J. I'm a persona. I was created to serve my mistress. I serve my mistress well. I obey her in all things. I think my mistress is a persona also. I am not sure. It makes no difference to me. I am sure that someone is real in all of this.

A little square box can not possibly hold the Bio of Molly J. My mistress has ordered my to write my Bio. I obey my mistress. I love my mistress and my master which she holds in her hand.

I think it all started in the mental institution. It might seem a little harsh to start my Bio there. That is where my life started. Before that, it is all a fog. I withdraw from the memory of it. I refuse to relive it in any way.

'I would not mind. I must be ill.'

My parents would not allow disobedience in their world. There was no hint of sex in my house, ever. The spankings were to 'make me mind.' My sister and my cousins were all model little ladies. They were all married off in society trading. The mental institution seemed like a better choice to me.

I have lived many years. The state mental institution was not like the hospitals of today. I fought the fog that enveloped me, through the drugs that they administered in many ways. The stories of my 'treatments' would change the mood of my Bio. I refuse to relive them in any way either.

It all started in the mental institution. Actually it started with my escape from the mental institution. Through a fog of the psychotropic drugs, I commanded myself to swim above the fog to lucidness. The escape seemed so easy. It went so smoothly. The fog around me was undisturbed.

I put the late night nurse in the closet. I am not strong. I wonder how I did it. Her uniform and little white cap were soon on me. She was naked. Her underclothes bound and gagged her. I walked out naked except for the uniform. Her shoes did not fit. I walked the late night halls with bare feet.

I used her keys. I opened several doors with the keys. I found a small store room that contained drugs of many types. I later found the nurses cloak room. I found her purse in the cubbyhole that matched the name on my chest. I kept the wallet and the keys. I emptied the rest of the junk. I returned to the room that contained the drugs. I filled the purse, and the pockets of the coat. I picked them at random. I was only connected to the logical choices I had to make. I watched it all.

I waited. There as a lot of commotion. Several nurses were leaving the institution. I slipped into shift change smoothly. I found the car by the make, then trial and error. I drove through the gate. The guard only looked at the familiar car.

I could tell the story of my flight through the seedier parts of our society. I won't. It depresses me. There is no passion in that story. I went west. I dealt drugs. I gravitated back to the mid west. In Chicago I used my money to purchase an identity kit and check kiting kit.

It was quite simple. I would establish my identity. I would obtain proper I.D. The name was always the name of a child who had died early, in the town I had chosen. It was easy then. I would deposit my money in a business account. No one asked for ID then. Cash was king. I would close the account on a Friday afternoon. I would withdraw my money in cash.

I wrote checks from Friday afternoon until Sunday afternoon. By Monday morning I was in the next state. It worked all the way to Portland. It was as easy as my escape from the institution. I was no more involved with it, than I was in my escape.

In Portland I did everything the same, except I did not withdraw my money. I had a small business in Portland. No office, telephone, or employees. Just a business account.

Through the whole journey, I was never involved. I only watched. I could not return from the safety of my mind. I had retreated into my mind with the treatments.

It all starts in the mental institution. The flight that brought me to Portland was all a part of the mental institution

I hid in my apartment. I ate little. I spent little. The money was shrinking. That was when I returned. I was in my body one day. Just like that. I went to my purse. I opened the wallet. It was there. At that time. I found out that I was Molly J.

My mistress has threatened me if I do not excite her with my Bio. The narration above does not excite me either. It just is.

How do you tell where the story begins? My story begins with my master. My master is the whip. Its so easy now. Just go the the adult toy store and buy anything. Whips in every color and style. Displayed next to the padded restraints. They nestle next to the leather corsets. I become wet just entering such a place. Nothing is as exciting as the smell of leather. Nothing, except the smell of leather that is damped by a woman's lust.

I bought my first whip in a western wear store. The store had a wide section of western wear. There was also a tack shop in the back. As I walked through the store the smells of leather filled my nose. The smell brought me alive. When I entered the tack shop, I was almost overwhelmed by the rich sensuous odor.

When I saw the wall covered with whips, my heart was racing. My vagina was flushed with dampness. My panties would have been wet if I had any on. I was naked under my clothes. I took off my coat as the clerk approached me.

My nipples were erect. They pushed out my thin silk blouse. Now it is common to see the shape of a nipple behind a thin blouse. Then it was a scandal. The clerk's eyes were drawn to the sight. I knew he would get an erection from it.

"I want to see some whips. Not too big."

I pointed to a leather covered quirt. The clerk handed it to me. I held it in my hand. It felt good. I handed it back. I held out my bare arm.

"Hit me with it."

"Ma'am I couldn't do that."

"You will if you want a sale tonight. I must know how it will feel, if I am to use it on my horse."

The clerk slashed my arm, barely hurting it.

"Harder. I must know how much it hurts."

The clerk used the whip on my arm. He left a bright red welt behind.

I had found my master. I sat that whip aside. I required the clerk to demonstrate several whips. Both of my arms were covered with bright red welts when I picked up my master and purchased him. I purchased a soft suede case to carry him in.

I held my master like a lover, as I hurried back to my apartment.

I found my bed. I masturbated as I hugged my master to me. My nose drank in the aroma of the leather. My orgasm was full. I found it quickly. I had almost waited too long. The pain in my arms was fading.

I brought my master with me to my bath. I kept it dry. I looked at it as I bathed. I caressed it with my eyes. It was as if I were bathing before my lover. I was quite bold. There was little hint of my natural shyness. I blushed as I rose up out the water, offering my naked wet body to my masters gaze.

I am not beautiful by anyone's standard. My body is lush. It is full. My naked body is stunning. My breasts are not big. They fill a hand quite well. My ass is full. It begs to be spanked and lashed.

I returned to my bed. I used my master on the insides of my thighs. They are so delightfully tender. The braid of the whip rippled waves of pleasure through me as I slide it across my tender clitoris. My hand raised my passion. The whip brought sharp pain. The pain brought pleasure. The rough braided handle took my virginity. I now belonged to my master.

My night was a jumble of erotic thoughts punctuated by the sound of my master kiss upon my legs. I found my orgasm many times through the night.

I awakened tired. My mind was in a fog. My legs hurt with every move. I entered my bath. The hot water brought pain to my abraded thighs. I lay in the water. Tears of frustration rolled down my cheeks. I wanted someone to hold my master firmly in their hand. I wanted them to cover my body with the thin purple bruises. I wept in my need.

CHAPTER (This is not really a chapter. My life is not a series of chapters. My life flows like a river. I wanted you to pause, to savor my words before we continue.)

My mistress is not yet excited by my story. I could write a story to excite her. My mind is full of them. I have written so many of them. Nothing but my Bio will satisfy my mistress now.

I walked around in a fog. My mind demanded action. I must find a master as strong as the one who lives by my head. I sought him. At the time, I could only think of a man holding my master. If I had looked for a mistress, my search might not have taken so long.

I spent time at the university. I made money writing papers for students. I was always watching. I did not know what I was looking for. The weeks turned into months. The months turned into a year. I had my master for a year. I still had no one strong enough to hold it.

My master and I were lonely lovers. I used the whip on every part of my body, that I could reach. I used the handle like a dildo. I fond little pleasure from the violation. My pleasure came from my hands on the the silky smoothness of my open vagina and the little nugget of nerves that sat above my valley of love.

A nagging fear came to my mind. Maybe I had not escaped from the mental institution. Maybe this was all a vision in my mind. My escape and flight was so simple. It want so smooth. I was really not involved with it at all. The drugs they gave me, might have captured my mind. I would only know for sure if someone else were involved with my life.

If I could share my life with someone else, I would know that I was actually safe from the institution. Finding a master in my life now became a an issue of my sanity. Sanity became the issue. I wondered about my sanity in my quest. Was the need for my master insanity? I was not sure. I just knew that my need was real. It drove me. My search became desperate.

I knew what I was looking for, but how could I tell when I had found it? I searched the faces of many people each day. I had been in Portland for a year. I had no friends. I had few acquaintances. I was alone, surrounded by thousands of strangers.

I met Ellis at the university. He wrote papers for money also. He did science and mathematics. I could do those, but they took me much longer. The social sciences were much easier for me. We began our affair over our work.

I was attracted to Ellis' eyes. Ellis was a large man. His hair was like the pelt of a wild animal. His eyes were always moving. They never rested. They were like burning embers. He was restless. He rarely sat long. Even when we were talking, he often stood and paced.

We saw each other often. He became as close as I allowed anyone to be. I allowed him to take me home one night. His love making was as restless as he was. His love making was rough. His passion flared and died quickly. He was not my master. He was a solid anchor for my sanity.

When he made love to me, I was sure this was not all in my mind. I knew it was a real event, with a real person. As least I knew that I was not locked in my mind, while my body was locked in the mental institution. We made love. Mostly on the weekends. My passion was raised by the act. I found no lust in the affair. I did find a certain amount of stability. Aloneness is ever so hard.

I might have found my self in an institution in Oregon, if it had not been for Ellis. It was not love that kept me in the affair. My fragile sanity keep me near him. As long as he made love to me each weekend, I knew that I was real.

Ellis not only kept me sane, he opened the door for me to meet other people. I was now sure, I would not find my master, looking into strangers eyes. I am so shy. I found it hard to talk to anyone, unless I knew them.

Through Ellis I found a social life. He took me to taverns and bars. I drank little. I went to some parties. I mingled a little. I never seemed to be a part of any of it.

It was much like my escape. I sort of watched myself mingle. As if I were really apart from my self. I became an observer of my own life. My sanity was slowly dissolving around me.

It was at a party that I met James. James became my first master. James touched Ellis' life in several ways. He became familiar enough to me, that I could speak to him when I was alone. I met him one night at the university. I thought Ellis would arrive.

If he had, we would have gone to his apartment to make love. Ellis was wanting more from me than I was willing to give him. A occasional night in his bed, was all the further into Ellis' life I was willing to go.

James asked me to go out to a bar for a drink. I accepted, rather than go home to my empty room. In our conversation, James told me of his loneliness. He said that he had never been successful in his quest to find a partner. Either in either his bed, or his life. I asked him, almost casually, what excited him in his bed. He said with a sigh, he did not know.

He said that he was sure that it was a woman he wanted in his bed, not a man. Other than that he was not sure. He said that he was not a virgin but that he had little experience.

He had once found pleasure with the women he had been with. He had never found passion. I became alive and excited when he told me of his experience with her.

James told me that the woman asked him to tie her hands when they made love. He said that it was the most exciting thing he had ever done in his bed. I tried to be casual when I inquired, as to where she was. Was she a part of his life now? He said that she was only in his life for a short time before she moved out of the area.

My passion raised. I became bold. I spoke quietly. My head was bowed.

"It would excite me to have someone tie me up, before they made love to me."

His eyes became alive.

"Would you like to come home with me tonight?"

I blushed. I stammered out my acceptance. We walked to his apartment. We did not speak on the way. When we got to his apartment he poured us each a drink. I drank mine quickly. He urged me to drink more. The alcohol relaxed me. I became bold as he started his seduction.

"If I fought, you would have to tie my hands. I can feel your passion. I know it cannot be denied."

I began to struggle. I denied him access to my body. James was strong. I had no chance against him. He over powered me. He roughly bared my breasts. He tore the buttons from my blouse in his passionate haste. His hands were rough on my breasts. My vagina opened. The lovely flower between my legs bloomed. With the blossom came the heady musky aroma of a woman aroused.

James was rough. He was not crude. He aroused me with his caresses. My passion rose higher. My hips rocked in their need. James pulled me into his bedroom. He roughly pushed me onto his bed. I lay on the bed. I did not try to flee, as he rummaged in the closet. I was bound to his bed by my passion.

He came to the bed with a handful of ties. They were of many colors. I begged him. I plead with him. Even as I did, I wanted him to continue.

"Please. Don't tie me up. Please let me go."

My pleas were ignored. His passion could not be denied. James over powered my body. It was not hard. I have little physical strength. He had a lot. He bound my hands together. He pulled them above my head. One hand held me in my bondage. The other hand explored my body.

He held my arms captive as he took the belt from around my waist. He pulled my skirt above the swells of my hips and ass. He forced his hand between my legs.

I tried to deny him access. His hand was strong and insistent. Even as I struggled, my vagina used my hips to rock against his invading hand. My panties became a sponge. I could feel the moisture spread out from the center of my passion. He masturbated me. He kissed me as he did.

He sucked my breasts. He nipped the nipples with his teeth. He did not bite hard. I wanted to beg him to bite me harder. Instead, I struggled harder. He bound my hands to the headboard of his bed. I was now bound to the bed. I was helpless to defend myself. He stood by the bed. He leered down at me as he removed his clothes.

There was a feral untamed look in his eyes. They sparkled with his lust. He aroused my body with caresses. These were not the gentle caresses of love. These caresses were ones of power and possession.

In my captivity, I belonged to him. He caressed me for his pleasure, not mine. I found my pleasure from my struggles. I found it in my helplessness.

His tongue covered my face with shiny moisture. My face became as wet as my vagina. My hips reached up for him, with each invasion between my legs. I still clinched my legs together, in my feeble attempt to guard my chastity.

James was consumed with his lust. He knelt beside my head. He moved my head with a firm hold of my hair. He pushed his erection to my mouth.

I tried to resist. He pulled my hair until the pain brought my scream. With the attempt to scream the violation of my mouth was complete. James was driven by his lust. His violation of my mouth was for his pleasure alone.

The pain in my head exploded into a muffled scream. My vagina screamed also. She screamed in explosions of pleasure. My vagina demanded attention.

I writhed in my need. I was no longer in control of my body. I did not want to be in control of my body. I wanted my violation. I wanted to feel my leather master's kiss upon my body.

He took no thought of any of my wants or needs. Only his driving passion was in his mind. He fucked my mouth with his erection. My coughs and gags further inflamed his lust. His ejaculation was deep in my mouth.

He wanted my throat. He pushed against it. Only my coughing kept it from him. My mouth felt violated. My vagina wanted her own violation. My hips reached into the air in frustration. My vagina was hungry and seeking. She demanded to be fed.

My tears began when he rolled away from me. He lay in his pleasure. The desire of my need filled my mind. Passion raged in my body. I cried softly in my frustration, and my need. My body writhed. It rocked. It yearned. Soft moans fell from my lips. My moans became pleas.

"Please do not violate me further. Leave me my modesty. I beg you."

He reacted to my lies. His eyes sparkled with passion. His lust had been expended for the moment. There was excitement and humor in his eyes as he stripped off my panties. He captured each leg. He tied each ankle with a neck tie. He bound each tie to another one. He tied the long ends to the foot board of the bed. My legs were bound wide apart.

I was now helpless to his gaze. My femininity lie open in full view. My vagina was as open as my legs. The flower of my passion glistened as she wept in her need. Her lips were swollen in her arousal. The moisture fell from the bottom of her flower. The aroma rose like a cloud.

James became intoxicated by the sight and smell of my flower. My open vagina was all that he could see. The room filled with sexuality like a sparkling blood red ruby. The whole room became shades of red. My vagina radiated her energy. She glowed red with passion also.

She called him. She drew his mouth to the heady nectar. He knelt between my legs. He enveloped his face in my passion, as he drank from her well. The intoxicating liquid of pure passion took his reason away. His erection demanded access to my heart. The heart of my passion pulsed with it's need.

He plunged his erection into my body. His hips were not under his control. He fucked me with long powerful strokes. His hips were powered by his lust. His reason had fled from him.

Only the driving piston of his lust was real to him. The feral nature of his rutting raised my passion further. My orgasm rose with his lust. My orgasm took away my mind and my reason. There was only passion in it. I found no lust.