Fifty Shades of Domination - My True Story by Mistress Miranda Read Free Book Online

any tears. Even before she left, my birth-mother had signed adoption papers to make the arrangement legal. I’ve never seen a copy of my original birth certificate which my grandmother apparently destroyed. Many years later when I wanted a passport I applied for a birth-certificate copy. It is a surprisingly short and little-detailed document, failing to record my mother or father’s names and merely stating the date of my birth and that I am, thankfully, ‘a female’.
At some time soon after Eileen had left, I simply forgot who she was. It’s hard to understand how any child can forget their own mum, you might think. But I, of course, did have a mum and a dad, in the shape of my grandparents. They became my whole childish world and my reality: so much so that when Eileen got married shortly afterwards I was recruited as a bridesmaid. Far from recalling that event as my mother’s marriage, I can remember only that I was as pretty as a picture in a new pink dress. The significance of the actual event had, by then, totally passed me by.
That was all long before I rediscovered the truth about why my ‘mum and dad’ were so much older than me. One girl at my school did have an astonishingly young mother. She seemed like a baby compared with my own mum: so young, highly attractive, lively and full of energy. I remember her as going out to parties all the time, being very trendy and ‘hip’, a huge contrast with my own mother’s life. As far as I could see only one other person in my class had parents anywhere near as old as my mum and dad. Her name was Amanda and, partly because we both had elderly mums, and partly because my mother earned a few extra shillings by child-minding Amandaafter school, we became close friends. Amanda had two far older siblings and she confided in me she’d been told she was ‘a late addition to the family by mistake’. I believed that I must have been a similar ‘late addition by mistake’ despite ever really understanding what that meant. What I did know was that other children, who will seize on any slight differences to tease and annoy, were only too happy to take the mickey out of me for having an ‘old mum’. I was glad that Amanda was around to share that particular burden.
The other reason for valuing Amanda’s friendship was that I was painfully shy at that age and didn’t always mix comfortably with other kids. It was not that I was unpopular, just that I rarely joined in with the crowd or sought to be a leading light in the group. I would talk to the others but if they were doing their group thing, what you might call ‘girly games’, then I did not want to know. If a sports game was in the offing, however, then I was always the first to be picked. I was ridiculously flexible, so was very good at gymnastics, and my height gave me an unbeatable advantage for netball. In our mixed school the boys were always playing football and asking me to join in their games. The speed at which I could run and the length I could jump kept me at the forefront of all the athletics as well. Without a family car and with ageing parents I rarely went on the sort of school-holiday outings that many of my friends seemed to enjoy. Instead you would find me most likely in our little back garden, messing around with the netball or trying to do some gymnastics, seeing for how long I could sustain a handstand or attempting the splits. Exercises and backflips on the lawn would keep me amused for hours on end.
I loved all sports and might in different circumstances have considered a sporting career, I still train several times a week with the help of a skilled, personal trainer and have always tried to keep myself as fit as possible. But any possibility of becoming a professional sportswoman foundered at school on the rocks of my parents’ financial problems. Watching sport on television, I noticed that some people actually seemed to make their living from this one activity I loved; the one activity