Total pages in book: 106
Estimated words: 97951 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 490(@200wpm)___ 392(@250wpm)___ 327(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 97951 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 490(@200wpm)___ 392(@250wpm)___ 327(@300wpm)
“Yes.”
“Instead of seeing his role in the reason that you, his daughter, became a stripper to essentially gain control over the pain that men have caused you, he showed absolutely no responsibility or accountability. Baby girl was forcing men to pay for a look at her pussy, to lust after you, and you wanted him to know about it because you wanted him to suffer! True or false?”
“…True.” She was shaking, trying to keep it all together.
“Stop hesitating when I ask you a gotdamn question that you know the answer to. Trying to keep control of this conversation. Don’t play with me, Queen Nadia. I’m not one of your fucking gentleman’s club groupies, or Only Fan tricks!” he yelled. “I see through you.” He pointed at the camera with steely eyes. She blinked back angry tears. “Not all strippers are traumatized, but the great majority of them are and men like me who are sexual predators—because a sex addict is always a predator, too, Nadia—seek women like you to dominate and destroy. Y’all are a big prize. We love to take you down! It’s like getting Wonder Woman to give us dome in the middle of rush-hour traffic. What a high.
“Your mother was a big fish, and your father was out to get that big catch of the day. He wanted to terrorize her. Lennox said that his mother escorted during her college years but in fact it was also a deep-seeded need to break free from her religion’s restrictions, mostly imposed by her father. She never told her children that part. Your father got this all in motion, the trajectory you were on, but you became an adult and instead of making this a temporary stepping stone to get your money up and bounce, you turned it into a career because you were self-medicating, trying to suppress the trauma. Yes or no?”
“Yes.”
“LOUDER! I know you can speak louder than that, damn it! Don’t be timid now! You weren’t introverted on the stage when you were ripping off your clothes and pumping your hips in a slow grind! You weren’t shy behind the camera when you rubbing and sucking your own titties! Do I need to CashApp you?!” He reached in his pocket, pulled out a stack of money and tossed it in the air. It landed all over his desk and the floor. “I’m not a fucking lame, john, simp, square, or a trick! NOW SAY IT! SCREAM LIKE YOU DO WHEN LENNOX IS DICKIN’ YOU THE FUCK DOWN! HITTIN’ THAT DRIPPIN’ WET TWAT FROM THE MOTHAFUCKIN’ BACK! OWN IT!”
“YES!” She buried her face in her hands and sobbed.
“Your father wasn’t shit. Most of your ex-boyfriends weren’t shit and you were almost sexually assaulted by a man who you rejected, in typical Queen Lust fashion. Making him not shit, too since he was too damn fragile to accept that you didn’t want him. YES OR NO?!”
“Jesus… Yes! Yes!”
“You were unable to talk to anyone about that assault, or prove that it happened in the manner that you described to the authorities, and that made you all the more bitter and traumatized. You still blame your father for this. HE IS TO BLAME, BUT YOU WERE A GROWN ASS WOMAN STILL NOT GETTING REAL HELP, FOR YOUR REAL TRAUMAS! YOU WERE SMART ENOUGH TO KNOW SOMETHING WAS WRONG WITH YOU, BUT YOU DID NOTHING! YOU CAN’T BLAME HIM ANYMORE! ALPHA WOMEN STRUGGLE FUCKING ACCOUNTABILITY SOMETIMES, TOO! OWN IT, DAMN IT!”
She glared at him, hating the man behind the camera. She wanted to reach through the screen and wring his fucking egotistical, conceited neck. He leaned in close again, pointing at the camera, and she jumped back.
“Don’t you ever, in your fuckin’ life, look at me like that again.” He gritted his teeth. “You chose these fucked-up men for partners as an adult! One after a fuckin’ ’nother, you chose emotional and mental bums! They were spiritually void! No God was in them! DON’T GET MAD AT THE MESSENGER. You were no longer a child. You chose losers, users and abusers! And do you know why? YOU KEPT CHOOSING YOUR DADDY OVER AND OVER AGAIN! TRYING TO MAKE HIM LOVE YOU THROUGH TERRIBLE TOM, DIRTY DICK AND HORRIBLE HARRY! AND WHEN HE DIED, YOU COULD NOT BLAME HIM ANYMORE, AND THAT PISSED YOU OFF! Dead men make poor punching bags! You needed him to stick around so you could keep throwing darts at him, landing on that gotdamn bullseye! DADDY IS GONE. HE WAS NEVER HERE. YOU HAVE TO FACE THIS ALONE! IT’S TIME TO HEAL!”
A tear streamed down her face, and she clutched the edge of her shirt…
“You showed your beautiful pussy, your divine gateway, that wet, sweet hole that is there to please your mate and bring forth life, your lush garden, your oasis, your womb portal, to hundreds of men who didn’t deserve for you to even spit on them, let alone see the loveliness of your physical form, and the delightful snatch that is between two warm thighs, made to wrap around your future husband. This is not a condemnation of your past, present or future, baby. Sex is beautiful. The female human body is beautiful. You are beautiful. You are loved. You just need to start loving yourself more… Come here… Look at me…” His voice calmed then, and she looked back up at the camera, her face a wet mess. He curled his finger, motioning for her to lean in.