madelynsheaffer
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For those of you who received and purchased my first video l..
🕑 Added 2022-10-04 15:38:15 +0000 UTC For those of you who received and purchased my first video last night, you have passed the first test. You now belong to a higher ring of subscribers, who will receive extra status and privileges assigned to this exclusive circle. In due course, this carefully selected circle of elite subscribers will become more elite, more exclusive, until there are only 12 left--these to become Mistress Madelyn's Circle of Fifths. For the rest of you, I still need some toe suckers and those who enjoy the ball gag. And now a story. When I was a little girl, I lived in a large antebellum home in the inner city of Kansas City. Until I was five, and sent to private school (fortunately for me, a Montessori Kindergarten) I believed myself to be a black person. I mean, I wanted to be black, so bad. With the exception of my family, I was the only white person for miles. I had the best friends. We would chase down the ice cream truck and beg for free popsicles, roller skate down (what seemed) gigantic hills, and a highlight was on the hottest days, my big brother and his friends would turn on the fire hydrant at the bottom of a dead end street with a big wrench. The water would spray up the entire road. We kids would choose a spot halfway uphill to let the waves hit us before running into a gulley in the park behind the dead-end road where the retreating water would turn into a large muddy lake. There we would swim for what seemed hours until the adults would come ruin the swimming party by saying that dead bodies would be floating in the water from the adjoining cemetery. Good times, childhood. Wonderful! But the story I would like to tell you today is about being five years old and peeing standing up against a clubhouse wall that was actually a lean to/build on to the antebellum home I was raised in, within an all-black neighborhood. I was not the orchestrator of the peeing party, but I gladly participated. As has always been the norm, it was an older girl (probably 7 but she seemed 14) who was initiating us, youngsters, in the pleasures of pull your pants down games. All of us little girls, shorts down to our ankles, pubic bones pressed forward, were shooting strong, proud, and steady streams of hot urine into the secret-keeping wall of faded, chipping lead paint at the same time. Alas, a nosey neighbor was spying through her fence line and reported all of us tinkling tots to our parents. It was at that time that I first learned that there are things you should do, and things you shouldn't do, with the things you shouldn't do, apparently being more fun. This is the kind of space I want my page to be. You are all the boys in my Montessori kindergarten--or better still--you are the "go outside and play til I call you in for dinner" children I play with before we know the rules. Shall we have some fun?
