The early Life of Madeah (f/m-m/f)
Posted: Fri Aug 23, 2024 5:52 pm
Maedeh sat cross-legged on the dusty rooftop, her dark brown hair fluttering in the warm Tehran breeze. At 12, she was already taller than most of the girls in her neighborhood, a stark contrast to their frail frames. Her eyes, the color of burnt sienna, held a sharpness that suggested she knew more about the world than she should. Her skin, kissed by the Middle Eastern sun, had a rich glow that spoke of strength and resilience. The cobblestone streets below her were a blur of activity. The distant calls to prayer echoed through the narrow alleys, blending with the chatter of street vendors and the occasional honk of a car. Maedeh found solace in the chaos. It was a stark contrast to the quiet resentment that filled her family's home. Her mother's eyes held a sadness that never seemed to fade, and her father's stern gaze always fell on her with a hint of disappointment. She was born into a world that didn't favor her, a daughter when all they wanted was a son.
Maedeh's solace came in the form of a worn-out textbook, its pages yellowed with age. It was her secret treasure, smuggled from a school she wasn't supposed to attend. She devoured its contents, especially the chapters on commerce and economics. Her mind raced with dreams of a life beyond the confines of her gender, a life where she could stand tall and be heard. Her grades were the only things that seemed to matter in the silence that followed dinner each night.
The rooftop was her escape, a place where she could breathe freely and be herself. Her thoughts often drifted to the distant horizon, where the city met the desert. It was there she saw a different world, one where the rules didn't feel so suffocating. As she grew older, the weight of her family's expectations grew heavier. Her brothers, much younger than her, were already treated like the future leaders they were expected to become. Meanwhile, she was taught to cook, clean, and care for them. But Maedeh had other plans.
When she turned 15, she started sneaking out to the local market, trading goods she had bartered or stolen from the house. Her business acumen grew, and she quickly became known for her sharp deals and shrewd negotiations. The thrill of the market, the smell of spices, and the sound of coins changing hands fueled her spirit. The more she learned, the more she realized that the world was not as small as the walls of her home made it seem.
Maedeh's secret life grew alongside her frustration with her family's plans for her. She knew that the arranged marriage loomed closer with each passing day, and she felt trapped by the tradition that valued her only for her ability to bear children. Her heart raced at the thought of being shackled to a man she didn't love, living a life that wasn't her own. The day she turned 16, she decided she couldn't take it anymore. The man her parents had chosen for her was from a wealthy family, a decision made with the hope of an easy life. But for Maedeh, it was the last straw. In the dead of night, she gathered her most valuable possessions and the 5000 dollars she had stolen from her father's secret stash. With a deep breath, she slipped out of the house, the cool air a stark contrast to the stifling heat of her future.
For two days, she tasted freedom, her heart singing with every step she took away from the life that had been laid out for her. But on the third day, her world came crashing down. A policeman caught her, recognizing her from the posters plastered around the city. Despite her desperate pleas, he returned her to her family, enforcing the very silence they had hoped to impose. Her parents, enraged by her disobedience, left her handcuffed and gagged, a constant reminder of her rebellious spirit.
The next year and a half were a blur of humiliation and pain. She was escorted to school each day, only to have the cuffs and gag removed, then reapplied as soon as she stepped back into the house. Her uniform became a symbol of the life she was allowed to live, while the trash bag she wore at home was a stark reminder of her place. Yet, amidst the fear and anger, she found a strange comfort in the restraints. They provided a perverse sense of security, a feeling she couldn't quite explain. Maedeh bided her time, waiting for the perfect opportunity. It came on a weekend when her mother and brothers left for a visit to her grandparents' house. The house was quieter than usual, and she knew that this was her chance. She waited until dinner, preparing a meal she had hoped would never be eaten by her father again. The lamb and rice stewed with her mother's sleeping pills, the aroma filling the air. Her father's eyes watered slightly as he took his first bite, but he devoured the meal with his usual vigor.
As the clock ticked closer to 6 pm, Maedeh's heart raced. She could feel the tension in the air, the anticipation of her father's imminent slumber. After what felt like an eternity, she saw his eyelids grow heavy, and she knew the pills had worked. She waited, watching him closely, until she was certain he was deeply asleep.With trembling hands, she searched his pockets and found the key. The handcuffs clicked open, and she felt a sense of relief wash over her. But it was short-lived, replaced by a burning desire for retribution. She had suffered under his tyranny for too long.
Maedeh dragged her father to their room, stripping him of his clothes except for his boxers. With a wicked smile, she grabbed her mother's makeup and began to apply it to his face, her strokes careful and precise. She used the same cuffs that had held her down for so long to bind his wrists and ankles, leaving him in a vulnerable, humiliating position. The power dynamic had shifted, and she reveled in it.
He woke up and was startled by his predicament, the makeup smeared and his dignity in shambles. His eyes searched for Maedeh, finding her in the red dress that was too fancy for their simple home, her hand on her hip and a wicked smirk on her face. She held the mirror up to him, reveling in his humiliation.
"You look pretty, Dad," she taunted, her voice dripping with sarcasm as she shoved a ballgag into his mouth . " Girls should be seen and not heard, right?"
Her father's eyes bulged in rage, but the gag muffled his protests. Maedeh couldn't help but feel a twisted sense of satisfaction as she surveyed her handiwork. The powerful man who had controlled her life for so long was now at her mercy. Raged built in and she kicked him in the balls relishing the sound of his pain. "Thats right, Dad," she sneered, "You're just a pretty doll now." I think you deserve to be punished for all those years of treating me like this. She grabbed a belt from the side of the bed, the leather cool against her palm. With a sadistic grin, she began to whip him, watching his body contort in agony. Each strike brought a sense of catharsis, a release from the pain she had suffered.
After about ten lashes he was begging and crying for mercy but she didn't stop. She felt powerful, like she was finally taking control of her own destiny. With each strike, she imagined herself breaking free from the chains of tradition and patriarchy that had bound her for so long. The belt left angry red welts on his back, but she didn't care. This was the first time she had felt truly alive. This was he first time feeling dominance over a person. Yes she did enjoy the feeling of being cuffed and gagged but it was nothing compared to this.
Her father's cries grew weaker, his body limp and defeated. Maedeh's rage had reached its peak, and she dropped the belt, panting. The room was thick with the scent of fear and pain. She leaned over him, her eyes gleaming with triumph. "You're going to learn to respect me," she whispered, her voice hoarse from the yelling. "You're going to learn that I'm not just a thing to be used and discarded."
Maedeh's thoughts raced. She had to leave, and she had to do it now. She grabbed her backpack, stuffed with the essentials she had managed to save over the months. The red dress clung to her curves, a symbol of her newfound power. She took one last look at her father, bound and gagged, before slipping out of the room. The house was eerily quiet, the only sound the distant wail of a siren cutting through the night.
Over the next year, she learned to navigate the harsh world outside of her parents' control. She met John a man whose family was deeply entangled in organized crime. His drunken words about their weapon-dealing business piqued her interest one night at a bar, and she saw an opportunity for the power and control she craved.
They married, and she became a part of his world, using her newfound status to learn the ins and outs of the trade. Sex with John was a means to an end, a way to keep him content and ensure her place in the family. Her real passion grew in her beauty salon and spa, a seemingly innocent front for her clandestine operations.
Maedeh's hatred for men never truly faded, but she had learned to use their weaknesses to her advantage. She grew cold, calculating, and ruthless in her dealings, a stark contrast to the gentle touch she offered her salon's patrons. The thrill of power was intoxicating, and she reveled in it, turning the tables on the men who had once held her down.
Years passed, and she became a respected figure in the underworld, all the while keeping her true self hidden behind a facade of beauty and elegance. But the scars of her past remained, reminding her of the girl who had once been handcuffed and silenced, now a woman who knew no bounds.
Maedeh's solace came in the form of a worn-out textbook, its pages yellowed with age. It was her secret treasure, smuggled from a school she wasn't supposed to attend. She devoured its contents, especially the chapters on commerce and economics. Her mind raced with dreams of a life beyond the confines of her gender, a life where she could stand tall and be heard. Her grades were the only things that seemed to matter in the silence that followed dinner each night.
The rooftop was her escape, a place where she could breathe freely and be herself. Her thoughts often drifted to the distant horizon, where the city met the desert. It was there she saw a different world, one where the rules didn't feel so suffocating. As she grew older, the weight of her family's expectations grew heavier. Her brothers, much younger than her, were already treated like the future leaders they were expected to become. Meanwhile, she was taught to cook, clean, and care for them. But Maedeh had other plans.
When she turned 15, she started sneaking out to the local market, trading goods she had bartered or stolen from the house. Her business acumen grew, and she quickly became known for her sharp deals and shrewd negotiations. The thrill of the market, the smell of spices, and the sound of coins changing hands fueled her spirit. The more she learned, the more she realized that the world was not as small as the walls of her home made it seem.
Maedeh's secret life grew alongside her frustration with her family's plans for her. She knew that the arranged marriage loomed closer with each passing day, and she felt trapped by the tradition that valued her only for her ability to bear children. Her heart raced at the thought of being shackled to a man she didn't love, living a life that wasn't her own. The day she turned 16, she decided she couldn't take it anymore. The man her parents had chosen for her was from a wealthy family, a decision made with the hope of an easy life. But for Maedeh, it was the last straw. In the dead of night, she gathered her most valuable possessions and the 5000 dollars she had stolen from her father's secret stash. With a deep breath, she slipped out of the house, the cool air a stark contrast to the stifling heat of her future.
For two days, she tasted freedom, her heart singing with every step she took away from the life that had been laid out for her. But on the third day, her world came crashing down. A policeman caught her, recognizing her from the posters plastered around the city. Despite her desperate pleas, he returned her to her family, enforcing the very silence they had hoped to impose. Her parents, enraged by her disobedience, left her handcuffed and gagged, a constant reminder of her rebellious spirit.
The next year and a half were a blur of humiliation and pain. She was escorted to school each day, only to have the cuffs and gag removed, then reapplied as soon as she stepped back into the house. Her uniform became a symbol of the life she was allowed to live, while the trash bag she wore at home was a stark reminder of her place. Yet, amidst the fear and anger, she found a strange comfort in the restraints. They provided a perverse sense of security, a feeling she couldn't quite explain. Maedeh bided her time, waiting for the perfect opportunity. It came on a weekend when her mother and brothers left for a visit to her grandparents' house. The house was quieter than usual, and she knew that this was her chance. She waited until dinner, preparing a meal she had hoped would never be eaten by her father again. The lamb and rice stewed with her mother's sleeping pills, the aroma filling the air. Her father's eyes watered slightly as he took his first bite, but he devoured the meal with his usual vigor.
As the clock ticked closer to 6 pm, Maedeh's heart raced. She could feel the tension in the air, the anticipation of her father's imminent slumber. After what felt like an eternity, she saw his eyelids grow heavy, and she knew the pills had worked. She waited, watching him closely, until she was certain he was deeply asleep.With trembling hands, she searched his pockets and found the key. The handcuffs clicked open, and she felt a sense of relief wash over her. But it was short-lived, replaced by a burning desire for retribution. She had suffered under his tyranny for too long.
Maedeh dragged her father to their room, stripping him of his clothes except for his boxers. With a wicked smile, she grabbed her mother's makeup and began to apply it to his face, her strokes careful and precise. She used the same cuffs that had held her down for so long to bind his wrists and ankles, leaving him in a vulnerable, humiliating position. The power dynamic had shifted, and she reveled in it.
He woke up and was startled by his predicament, the makeup smeared and his dignity in shambles. His eyes searched for Maedeh, finding her in the red dress that was too fancy for their simple home, her hand on her hip and a wicked smirk on her face. She held the mirror up to him, reveling in his humiliation.
"You look pretty, Dad," she taunted, her voice dripping with sarcasm as she shoved a ballgag into his mouth . " Girls should be seen and not heard, right?"
Her father's eyes bulged in rage, but the gag muffled his protests. Maedeh couldn't help but feel a twisted sense of satisfaction as she surveyed her handiwork. The powerful man who had controlled her life for so long was now at her mercy. Raged built in and she kicked him in the balls relishing the sound of his pain. "Thats right, Dad," she sneered, "You're just a pretty doll now." I think you deserve to be punished for all those years of treating me like this. She grabbed a belt from the side of the bed, the leather cool against her palm. With a sadistic grin, she began to whip him, watching his body contort in agony. Each strike brought a sense of catharsis, a release from the pain she had suffered.
After about ten lashes he was begging and crying for mercy but she didn't stop. She felt powerful, like she was finally taking control of her own destiny. With each strike, she imagined herself breaking free from the chains of tradition and patriarchy that had bound her for so long. The belt left angry red welts on his back, but she didn't care. This was the first time she had felt truly alive. This was he first time feeling dominance over a person. Yes she did enjoy the feeling of being cuffed and gagged but it was nothing compared to this.
Her father's cries grew weaker, his body limp and defeated. Maedeh's rage had reached its peak, and she dropped the belt, panting. The room was thick with the scent of fear and pain. She leaned over him, her eyes gleaming with triumph. "You're going to learn to respect me," she whispered, her voice hoarse from the yelling. "You're going to learn that I'm not just a thing to be used and discarded."
Maedeh's thoughts raced. She had to leave, and she had to do it now. She grabbed her backpack, stuffed with the essentials she had managed to save over the months. The red dress clung to her curves, a symbol of her newfound power. She took one last look at her father, bound and gagged, before slipping out of the room. The house was eerily quiet, the only sound the distant wail of a siren cutting through the night.
Over the next year, she learned to navigate the harsh world outside of her parents' control. She met John a man whose family was deeply entangled in organized crime. His drunken words about their weapon-dealing business piqued her interest one night at a bar, and she saw an opportunity for the power and control she craved.
They married, and she became a part of his world, using her newfound status to learn the ins and outs of the trade. Sex with John was a means to an end, a way to keep him content and ensure her place in the family. Her real passion grew in her beauty salon and spa, a seemingly innocent front for her clandestine operations.
Maedeh's hatred for men never truly faded, but she had learned to use their weaknesses to her advantage. She grew cold, calculating, and ruthless in her dealings, a stark contrast to the gentle touch she offered her salon's patrons. The thrill of power was intoxicating, and she reveled in it, turning the tables on the men who had once held her down.
Years passed, and she became a respected figure in the underworld, all the while keeping her true self hidden behind a facade of beauty and elegance. But the scars of her past remained, reminding her of the girl who had once been handcuffed and silenced, now a woman who knew no bounds.
