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The Human Animal Sex Instinct ....(94k)    by William Decker

CONTENTS

I. PRELUDE
2. CASE No. ONE: "MAVIS B-, THE DOG-TRAINER"
3. CASE No. TWO: "JANET A-'S SECRET JOY"
4. CASE No. THREE: "GRACE V-'S BASSET HIGH"
5. CASE No. FOUR: "ELINOR'S CANINE INFERNO"
6. CASE No. FIVE: "HELEN'S STRANGE NEED"
7. EPILOGUE
8. BIBLIOGRAPHY

PRELUDE

Bestiality-the human use of various other animals for sexual pleasure-is the subject; it is not a new one. like sodomy and other forms of sexual perversion, bestiality has been practiced for thousands of years and probably since the beginning of human life. The earliest writers mention the practice, some of them frequently. The Bible, too, takes special notice of it. Through the Bible we learn that bestiality was widespread during the time of Moses. In Leviticus (C. 18, Vs. 22, 23, 24), we see it condemned along with homosexuality, although to a lesser degree: "Thou shalt not lie with mankind, as with womankind: it is abomination. Neither shalt thou lie with any beast to defile thyself therewith: neither shall any woman stand before a beast to lie down thereto: it is confusion. Defile not ye yourselves in any of these things: FOR IN ALL THESE THE NATIONS ARE DEFILED which I cast out before you." In the sight of God, then, homosexual activity is abominable while bestiality is merely confusing.

The use of animals for sexual pleasure was widely practiced in the ancient world. We do not need the Bible to tell us that this was so. All we need do is examine the sexual symbols of ancient peoples. All ancient peoples used animals as suggestive symbols of the male creative energy, thus indicating that copulation between humans and other animals took place.

Phallic worship was worldwide; its devotees every bit as sincere as the most devout believer among modern Christianity. Ancient religious paintings of India depict an amazing variety of intertwinings of men and animals. The cock, the goat, the snake, and the bull figure very largely in phallic worship. The goat and the bull were extremely sacred to the Egyptians, who looked upon these animals as not only the living symbols of Osiris, the Creator, but as his actual incarnations; and they were accordingly treated.

The sacred bull, as an incarnation of the creative power of nature, was a feature of many ancient Hindu temples, where the animal was waited upon and adored with reverence and solemnity.

The sacred goat also had his day of worship. The goat is, perhaps, the most salacious of all animals; his inexhaustible appetite and virility enabling him to copulate with as many as eighty does in a single day. It is not surprising, therefore, that he should have been chosen as a specially sacred sex symbol. It is easy to comprehend how such extraordinary sexual abilities as his appealed to the impressible mind of early man as a manifestation of the infinite powers of the Supreme Procreator himself. Goats played a prominent role in many of the ancient religious celebrations, and down to our own time has been employed in the initiation ceremonies of secret orders, just as he was in the mystic rites of the ancient Egyptians. In fact, ancient Egyptian priests were required to be initiated into the mysteries of the Goat before they could be admitted to the divine knowledge of Isis. These mysteries were so sacred, and so zealously guarded by the few initiates, that very little is really known concerning them.

The Greeks idealized the goat in their god Pan and his voluptuous attendants, the fauns and satyrs-creatures half man and half goat. Pan, of course, was the patron deity of sensual pass-times, and representations of him depict him as worthy of the highest honor on this score.

Other animals used as sexual symbols by ancient peoples include the dove, which is today used as a symbol of love and peace. The dove was a symbol of Cacchus, in his character of the First Begotten of Love, and was emblematic of the Holy Spirit or divine generative power, through which he came into being.

Among the Hindu people, the tortoise was an important phallic symbol. Although we can only guess at the reasons why the tortoise was chosen as a sacred representative of the creative deity. Perhaps it was chosen because of its fabled androgyny (an attribute of the Creator), and because of its great fecundity and tenacity of life. Furthermore, the frequency and rapidity with which the tortoise protrudes and withdraws its head, changing from the appearance of repose to one of energy and action, as well as the shape of its head and neck when aroused, readily suggested to the imaginative phallic-worshipper the active lingam, or masculine creative symbol.

It is quite possible that humans have, over the years, engaged in sexual contact with all the domestic animals whose size would permit such activity. Ewes, cows, goats, and dogs are the preferred ones; but they have also had sexual relations with horses, geese, ducks, hens and pigs.

The Chinese are famous for their copulation with geese, the necks of which they are in the habit of wringing off at the moment of ejaculation, in order that they may obtain the pleasurable benefit of the anal sphincter's last spasms in the victim.

In Peru the belief is current that syphilis is a malady peculiar to the alpaca, and that from this animal the disease has been passed on to man as a result of sexual intercourse. As far-fetched as this may appear, there was formerly in force in Peru a law prohibiting bachelors from keeping female alpacas in their homes.

At Rimini, Italy, we learn that more than one young Apennine shepherd, suffering from nervous dyspepsia, confessed to having had sexual intercourse with she-goats. Furthermore, many of them confessed also to copulating with sows.

But let us not ignore woman's partiality to animals, since the case histories herein deal exclusively with the sexual habits of five human females. No less an authority than Plutarch stated, that from the most remote times women had to subject themselves to the libidinous caprices of the sacred goat at Mendes. This was religious ritual as well as sexual pleasure, and daughters of the wealthiest clamored for the privilege of sacrificing their hymens to the penis of the sacred goat.

The Byzantine empress Theodora was peculiarly imaginative; it is reported that she get sexual satisfaction from a goose! Jory Sherman (MAN, WOMAN and BEAST, 1967, p. ll), who also makes mention of this historical fact, referred to Theodora as "a jaded and bored woman," and said: "she devised the unique habit of placing grains of corn between the lips of her vagina, and even deeper into the vagina itself, for the purpose of inducing a large goose to excite her sexually. She spread her legs wide, exposing the grain, and the goose would worry her vagina with his strong beak until she had had an orgasm." A little later Sherman adds: "A variation of this practice was instituted in the French court, whereby specially trained Pekinese studs would perform cunnilingus on the ladies. These latter would meet in a large room, lift their skirts and spread their legs while the little dogs romped from woman to woman performing cunnilingus. Contests were held to see which woman had orgasm first."

These examples serve to show that women, like men, have sought sexual pleasure from various animals, although not as frequently nor in as large numbers as men. For women, even in the past, bestiality was considered a rare activity. There were practical reasons for this consideration, just as there are practical reasons why women can not indulge themselves with as wide a variety of animals as men. For one thing, the human female did not have until quite recently the opportunities enjoyed by the human male. More important, perhaps, is the question of physical flexibility. A woman is just not as sexually flexible as a man; a fact which probably explains why men are much more-likely than women to engage in coitus with animals. For example, it is much easier for a man to fuck a cow than for a woman to let herself be fucked by a bull. Common sense should suffice. This holds true concerning sexual relations with a great majority of livestock, such as sheep, fowl, and horses. The Kinsey findings in this regard should have surprised no one.

In fact, much of the sexual activity of women can be dismissed as pure nonsense; it usually takes place in male fantasies rather than in reality. Tales of women being fucked by horses is a case in point. One either over-estimates the sexual equipment of the woman or under-estimates that of the horse. At ancient Rome, where, it is said, public exhibitions of this form of bestiality were held, a special breed of horse was employed, one no larger than your average pony. Special scaffolding was also erected, to make it possible for the horse to fuck the woman and to protect the woman from harm. A horse's cock, in an erect state, is far too large and long for a woman to take, and would, in fact, injure her irreparably, if it didn't actually kill her.

Women do fuck animals; but they have been confined, generally speaking, to small animals, such as goats and dogs. This is especially true of modern women. Today, dogs are the big favorite in the animal sweepstakes. Though cases of canine intercourse, such as those examined in this selection, are becoming more and more frequent, today dogs are used most often in a masturbatory capacity. The difference between masturbatory bestiality and the more complete form of animal contact is worthy of consideration, if only to clarify the issue.

According to the Institute of Sex Research (SEX OFFENDERS, 1965), experimental masturbation of animals by humans is "ordinarily a juvenile activity," while "animal contact" relative to sexual behavior is something quite different indeed. "We regard as animal contact," wrote the research team, "any oral, anal, or vaginal penetration occurring between a human and some other vertebrate." Exactly. But we must remember two things, and both are important: the research team of the Institute just quoted were dealing exclusively with criminal sexuality, and a definition of terms is necessarily limited to the terms defined. The "whys" of human sexual behavior are something else again, especially with regard to animals.

If we seek reasons why human beings practice bestiality, we cannot consider the animals involved ; the reasons are entirely human, since the animals have no choice in the matter. When we examine the reasons given by those who have practiced bestiality, we find they are many and varied, and that all of them have the aim of justification. It is evidential that a great number of people in the U.S. are experimenting, if not having actual genital relationships, with animals. And an even greater number are fantasizing about it.

Using the Kinsey reports (which are now more than 20 years old), we learn that more men than women use animals for sexual pleasure. Today, as in the past, men indulge themselves with a much greater variety of animal-partners, but they begin at an earlier age and are less constant than women.

According to Kinsey and associates: 17% of the total male population of the U.S. experienced some sexual contact with animals. When broken down by area, the figures show that approximately 70% of the rural male population had experienced sexual contact with animals, usually farm animals. A look at the report on women revealed a much lower percentage. Only 4.I% of the total female population of the U.S. experienced some sexual contact with animals.

These statistics have naturally changed within the past twenty years, but I would estimate that the percentage margin between men and women has more or less remained stable. Using only those percentages given in the Kinsey reports, we see that at least FOUR MILLION human females indulged in bestiality during their lifetime. If we translate the statistics into round figures, based upon the sample number, and apply them to the total female population of the U.S., we discover that approximately FIVE HUNDRED THOUSAND human females will experience sexual contact with animals before they are fourteen, and that many of these will find the experience pleasant enough to desire its repetition.

The Kinsey case samples also reveal the following: Half the girls experienced only body contacts and performed masturbation, but later, more than 14 had persuaded, trained, or otherwise coaxed animals to perform cunnilingus on them, while another 3% engaged in actual copulatory sex with a dog. Where women are concerned, today, the dog is by far the most common agent of bestial voluptuousness, including those women who limit themselves to masturbation and fantasy.

Masturbatory fantasies tell us a great deal about human sexuality and are, for this reason, very important in erotic considerations. Taken as an indication of a person's feelings, the Kinsey statistics on masturbatory fantasies reveal the following: More than ONE MILLION women have aroused themselves sexually while fantasizing about animals, and an additional SIX MILLION, who have never experienced direct physical contact with animals, have erotic dreams involving animals. Moreover, 2% of the SIX MILLION women experience "wet dreams," and thus reveal that their physical reactions to the fantasy of animal-sex was so strong they experienced actual orgasms.

Perhaps the most interesting revelation we obtain from Kinsey's figures is the curious difference between the sexual behavior of men and women relative to animals. Of the men who admitted to animal-sex, a great majority indulged themselves as youths, during pre-teen and teen years, and then gave it up. But the reverse is true of women. The figures show that most of the human females who experienced animal contact did so as adults; only I.5% did so during their pre-adolescent years.

The sexual behavior revealed in the following narratives is that of five women, each of whom sought erotic satisfaction in animal contact. Identities have been disguised for the usual reasons, but the individual "confessions" have not been altered in any way; the words are those of the women themselves.

CASE No. ONE "MAVIS B., THE DOG-TRAINER"

"But if one wants to establish a 'new kind of life' one has to know the contradictions inherent in the old one."

-Wilhelm Reich The Sexual Revolution, p. 29

Mavis B-, whom I first met in February, 1971, is a twenty-five-year-old woman who told me her story in the hope I'd be able to give her advice. She was a troubled person, and with good reason, as you will soon discover. But she was also an attractive woman, with luminous brown eyes, a slightly tilted nose, small mouth, curvaceous frame and extraordinarily sensuous-appearing legs.

Mavis had come to me at the suggestion of a friend. She was torn between a desire to marry and a fear that she would not make, (in her words) "a good wife." She wanted to tell me all about herself and then have me evaluate her chances for a successful marriage. The man under consideration had been her lover nearly five months.

"I care for him," she said. "And I think he loves me. He says he loves me. But," she added, "I don't believe he would love me any more, if he knew everything. I don't think any man would-"

"You may be doing him an injustice," I suggested. "If he really does love you, as you say, it is quite probable that your fears are groundless."

"Even if I had done horrible things?" she asked, skepticism apparent.

"All of us do horrible things at one time or another," I replied. "Fortunately, others seldom think what we do is as horrible as we think it is."

Mavis didn't say anything for a moment. I could see that she was giving my remark some hard, hopeful thought.

"What are these horrible things you've done?" I asked.

The question startled her. She glanced sharply at me, then looked away again.

"I've been training dogs," she said, so softly that I could barely make out the words.

"Training dogs doesn't sound as though you've done anything horrible?" I commented.

She kept her eyes averted. "It's how I trained them," she said. "I trained them to make love." She raised her eyes and glanced at me. When she saw that my expression had not changed, she said: "You don't know what I'm talking about, do you?"

I shook my head. "Not yet. And I was unaware that dogs required training in such a basic and instinctual activity." I paused deliberately, then off-handedly added: "Unless for some special purpose, such as cunnilingus or coitus with human beings. Is that it?"

Mavis stared at me and nodded.

"Suppose we start at the beginning," I said.

"Well, the first time-"

I cut her off. "Not that beginning," I said, smiling. "Your beginning. Tell me about yourself, your parents, your childhood."

"Oh. I didn't understand," she said, and seemed suddenly relieved. "There isn't much to tell, I'm afraid...."

But there was quite a lot to tell, once she got started. At that first meeting I learned that Mavis was born in a small town in upstate New York, not far from the Tri-cities area.

"My father was the manager of a hardware store," she said. "He worked there for eighteen years. My mother sometimes worked as a waitress at the local diner, a truck-stop. She was working there steady before she married my father."

Mavis was born during the second year of their marriage, and she was destined to be an only child. She was a healthy child, and, according to her, "had a happy time of it." When she was six, the year she started school, her father gave her a puppy-a collie; it was such an unexpected and delightful gift that she named the puppy Santa, in honor of St. Nicholas and Christmas.

"I wouldn't let anybody take care of Santa but me," she said. "He was such a playful, loving little puppy! He even slept in my bed, though mother didn't think too much of that."

The puppy grew with her, and the two of them were inseparable. She played games with Santa all the time, and the dog guarded her faithfully.

"He'd chase after any boy who tried to pick on me," she said, proudly.

She talked of the dog more than she talked of her parents. She remembered everything, even how she felt when she witnessed Santa mount a bitch in heat. She was eight years of age, she told me, and Santa was two.

"I knew about sex, of course," she said. "But in the way an eight-year-old knows about it, abstractly. Except for cats. I'd seen toms screwing female cats, which gave me the idea that it was painful. You know how female cats squall. I didn't know then that it was the biting on the neck rather than the screwing which was painful. But when Santa mounted that bitch, it was different somehow. The bitch didn't squall or bark or anything ; she just stood there and let him penetrate her thing-"

"Thing?" I asked.

She smiled and dropped her eyes a moment. "Her pussy, then," she said, and went on with her story. "He sniffed around it, licked it a long time before he got on her. I tried to call him away, but for the first time he ignored me. I was furious with him! Then I was furious with the bitch, maybe even jealous of her-because Santa found her so interesting. He rose up on his hind legs and clamped his forelegs over her sides and walked into her, his long red thing-ah, prick pushing into her pussy real quick and easy-like. Then he hunched closer and started frigging her like crazy. Treading-that's what we call it.

"I was embarrassed and anger and jealous. Then he stopped treading and the bitch started moving forward-with Santa still on her. I didn't know about locking, and I got scared. It seemed to me that they were stuck together so firmly that Santa would never escape. But after-Oh, I don't know how long!-The bitch broke away, and Santa was free. I got hold of his collar and dragged him down the street, telling him what a terrible dog he was all the way home."

This experience made a deep and lasting impression on Mavis. She used to dream of Santa and the bitch, and became obsessed with the idea that the female had deliberately tried to take him away from her. This obsession gradually left her, partly because she never saw the bitch again and partly because an older girl explained the facts of animal mating to her.

"People do the same thing," the girl told her.

"Fm never going to do it," Mavis said she said. Then she laughed. "And I meant it, too! I remember how disgusting the whole idea was to me. Ugh!"

Shortly thereafter Santa died. "Killed," she said, "because he ate some poisoned food."

The poisoned food had been set out by a neighbor's sixteen-year-old boy, to get rid of a cat. Mavis was inconsolable for weeks, and she refused to have another dog. Her hatred of the boy responsible for Santa's death was extended to boys in general; she would have nothing to do with any of them. Boys were mean, vicious, cruel....

She never felt comfortable with boys, and even after she started dating, at fourteen, she was still afraid of them.

"All they wanted to do was kiss me and feel me up," she said. "Several of them wanted to do even more, but I wouldn't let them. Every time a boy started pushing his hand between my thighs, I'd get this image of Santa screwing that bitch and make him stop. I didn't mind if a boy fondled my tits and kissed me, but I wouldn't let any of them finger my pussy. I got the reputation of being a tease-prick teaser, they called me. I wasn't, though. I just couldn't go all the way, like they wanted, that's all."

Mavis was seduced at the age of sixteen by a strong man who, according to her testimony, used force.

"He was in his early twenties," she said. "And he was tall, good-looking, and came from Pennsylvania. He only stayed in town one summer, working as a mechanic at Judson's service station. He was catnip to the girls; they flocked around him like silly fools. I dated him most to show-off, and to prove to myself that older boys found me attractive. But he wasn't really interested in me. All he wanted to do was screw. My mistake was in thinking I could hold him off the same way I managed to hold off the local boys. They'd struggle awhile, and argue, then get angry and give up trying. Only George Sdidn't give up. He simply held me down on the ground and took me."

"On the ground? You mean he raped you in a yard, in the woods-some place like that?" I asked.

"In the woods, a park, at the edge of town."

"What happened?"

"He raped me!"

"You fought him, then?"

Mavis didn't answer immediately, so I said:

"You said he used force. What kind of force? Did he strike you, threaten you-what?"

She shook her head. "No, he didn't hit me, if that's what you mean?-He just held me down and did it. I struggled, but he was just too strong."

"Did you scream?"

"No. I told you we were in the woods. Screaming would have been a waste of time, and it might have made him angry. Besides, it happened so fast! He had me down and was kissing me and feeling all over, my tits, ass, thighs, pussyeverything. First thing I knew he had forced his legs between mine and had his prick out, and was pushing it under the rim of my pants. He got the tip of it between my cunt lips and-Wham! he was in, and I mean in. I screamed then, all right. But that didn't stop him. There I was, pinned to the ground, feeling as though he'd hammered a railroad spike into my pussy, and unable to do anything about it. He just ignored my sobs and pleas and kept right on jabbing into me until he got his nuts off."

She said she felt only pain and indignation, that she hated him for taking her against her will and wished she could hurt him as he had hurt her. Nevertheless she didn't tell her parents-or anyone else-that she had been raped. In fact, she continued the relationship through the summer, letting him fuck her time and time again without once experiencing orgasm. "I got nothing from it," she said. Her coldness goaded her lover into a frenzy. He tried all possible sexual procedures, including cunnilingus and hand-masturbation, without the least success.

Mavis was glad when he came to her. She knew how popular he was with girls, and she was jealous; she could not tolerate the thought that he may be fucking other women. Her greatest pleasure was to be seen with him in public places. This was why she kept giving herself to him. But he finally got tired of her because she was sexually unresponsive. Sensing his boredom, and fearing to lose him, she began simulating sexual pleasure. But he dropped her anyway, and took up with another girl.

The effect upon Mavis was immediate and lasting. She withdrew into herself and refused all offers of friendship from young men. She got her only sexual pleasure through masturbation and fantasy. She would fantasize that her lover was a dog, although her former pet was never in her mind on these masturbatory occasions.

In the many meetings I had with her, Mavis finally told me her whole history, although not in sequence. For the purpose of clarity, I have pieced her various statements together in orderly fashion, leaving out my interjections and comments. The words are her own, and this is what she told me:

I always managed to have an orgasm while masturbating, and always stronger ones when I imagined that a dog was screwing me. I even thought of getting another dog, to keep and use as a sex partner. But I didn't, because I was afraid. Not of the dog, but of my parents-of what they would do if they should find out. Thank God, they never did find out about me.

When I was almost seventeen my mother and father were killed in an automobile accident, and I went to live with an aunt who owned a small farm in New Jersey. Lillian T-was my mother's sister, and she was the only relative willing to take me in. At least, she was the one who volunteered. She came to the funeral and I went back to New Jersey with her.

I was delighted when I discovered that she raised dogs and supported herself by selling them. Of course I didn't know that she also trained many of them to have sex with humans, mostly women. I found this out only after three or four weeks, when Lillian thought I had sufficiently overcome my grief and could take the truth without being so shocked by it that I'd run away or something.

I wasn't shocked at all. Astonished, perhaps, but not shocked. In a way I was elated by what Lillian told me. When I began fantasizing about dogs while masturbating, I came to think there was something wrong with me. So you can imagine the relief I felt on learning that other women, even my aunt, had gone further and turned fantasy into reality....

Lillian had a good business going, and not only in dogs as sexual companions; she also raised and trained hunting dogs and trained dogs for other people. Sometimes a hunting dog would bring as much as a sex-dog. And she had the farm, too; it was taken care of and worked by a man named

Elton C--. Elton received room and board and a share of whatever the crops earned. He also was entrusted with the training and selling of hunting dogs, including several blood-hounds which were occasionally rented to law enforcement agencies. But he had absolutely nothing to do with the 'special' dogs. To help with these dogs Lillian had a young woman whose name was Gloria H--.

Gloria was a blonde, around twenty-three, I think; and she had green eyes, a wide, sensuous mouth, and rather large breasts. Her shape was very good-the kind of body men always turn around to get a second look at. I liked Gloria from the beginning, and she liked me. She was the first woman I saw being fucked by a dog ... .

There was a special room used for copulating with the dogs; the only piece of furniture in it was box spring with a mattress on top which sat directly on the floor, so it wouldn't be too high for a dog to mount a woman face to face. The floor was covered with a thick, soft carpet from wall to wall, and that was it. Even the windows were sealed and blocked. ... There was an air-conditioner in one of the windows, through which the room was kept cool in summer and aired in winter. In this room I got my first lesson in what it was like to have a dog fuck a human female. Gloria demonstrated, with the help of a German-shepherd, while Lillian made explanatory comments as we observed the action.

"Hercules has been thoroughly trained," Lillian said, referring to the dog. "He knows exactly what is expected of him, and he will proceed to do it the moment he hears the key word, which, in this case, is 'frolic'."

Gloria removed her shoes, skirt and underpants but not her turtle-neck shirt. Then she got down on all fours and nodded her head at Lillian who, with a little smile, reached down and released Hercules from his leash.

"Come here, Hercules," said Gloria, summoning the dog to her.

Hercules walked directly to her rear and began sniffing about her buttocks. Gloria separated her knees, so Hercules could sniff her pussy, which he instantly did. He also licked between her buttocks with his tongue as he continued sniffing.

"Frolic, Hercules!" Gloria said quietly, but with authority. "Frolic!"

Hercules obeyed with alacrity; he raised up and brought his forelegs down over her back, moving his rear feet between her legs at the same time. I watched, fascinated, as Hercules caught her waist with his forelegs and moved forward, his prick moving closer and closer to her exposed pussy. I saw the red-tip peaking forth, saw it slip between the lips of Gloria's cunt and disappear. Hercules pulled with his forelegs and pushed with his hind-legs, thus forcing his prick deep into her cunt. Then he moved in closer, one hind foot moving a step forward at the time, until he seemed to be standing almost straight up on his hind-legs.

"Now watch," Lillian whispered, as though I had to be told. "He'll brace his hind legs, push his prick into her cunt as far as he can and then start treading. He pushes in as far as possible before treading in order to get the very sensitive part of his prick, which is just in front of his balls, into her cunt."

"I see," I said, with my eyes focused on Hercules.

"Then perhaps you noticed that the dog didn't need to get an erection before penetration," Lillian said, speaking conversationally.

"But I thought an erection was necessary," I said.

"Not where male dogs are concerned," Lillian explained. "The dog penis has a cartilage in the center. Therefore, a dog's prick is fairly stiff at all times, and he can penetrate the female as soon as there is a desire to do so. There!" she said, nudging me with her elbow. "He's treading now."

Hercules was making rapid in-and-out motions and, glancing forward out of curiosity, I saw that Gloria's face was quite flushed.

"The treading causes the dog's prick to swell considerably," Lillian went on. "There are two nodules on each side of the dog's prick, and these harden and expand as the treading continues. This is why male and female dogs get stuck together during copulation."

Hercules was still fucking Gloria who, at the moment, was slowly swinging her head from side to side and moaning audibly. I became aware of an insistent itch between my thighs, the sort of feeling that comes when I begin to masturbate. I envied Gloria, for she was obviously enjoying herself; yet I doubted that I could expose myself in front of witnesses and let a dog fuck me. On the other hand, I was desperately yearning to experience the feelings which accompany the act....

Hercules must have come in her, because I saw this milky fluid dropping from her crotch to the floor. The dog kept his prick buried in her cunt but stopped treading. Then he suddenly started treading again, even more furiously than before. Gloria gave out with a sharp cry that dwindled into a series of low moans, and her body trembled visibly as she had an exciting climax....

It must have gone on for at least twenty-minutes-not the orgasm, but the coupling. Hercules did not willingly dismount; he was dislodged by Gloria, who simply dropped forward, flat on the floor. Then she rolled over on her back and sat up, face flushed and eyes a trifle glazed.

"Hercules was in good shape tonight," she said, getting unsteadily to her feet. "He went in so deep I could almost taste it." She gave Hercules an affectionate pat on the head. "I hate to see him go," she said.

"Well, he goes just the same," Lillian said. Turning to me, she added: "We're getting seven hundred dollars for Hercules."

I didn't say anything, but I was certainly astonished at hearing that some one was going to pay seven hundred dollars for a dog....

Lillian did not insist that I become a dog-trainer. She merely said that my commission from each sale would be at least thirty percent, if I cared to consider helping her and Gloria. That was thirty percent from the sale of each dog I trained, not every sale. Gloria also got thirty percent, and, according to her, she never earned less than fifteen thousand dollars per year. Pretty good pay for doing something so pleasurable, I thought; although I didn't voice this obvious conclusion.

It never occurred to me that loving dogs was an indication of sickness. It wasn't something I'd brag about, or advertise, of course, because I felt it was wrong, morally wrong to fuck dogs. Hell! I thought it was morally wrong to fuck men. Unless one was married, that is. Still I wanted to do it! I only hesitated through fear that I might not be able to carry it off.. ...

My first experiences were with small dogs, and screwing wasn't involved. When I told Lillian I was ready to give dog-training a try, she suggested I begin by letting a small dog perform cunnilingus on me, preferably one already trained to do it.

"Take one of the Pekinese," she said. "They really do a good job, and they're easy to handle. Take it to bed with you and take your time. One or two nights should get you over your shyness. Then we'll see how quick you can learn the training procedures."

Lillian was considerate and understanding. She understood my reluctance to take up dog-training was due entirely to shyness, so she made it easy for me to see what it was like. When I went to my room one night I found a Pekinese curled-up on my bed. I got the point. This was an opportunity for me to satisfy my curiosity privately, without any one ever knowing. Unless, of course, I decided to tell about it myself. One thing about dogs, you can't teach them to talk.

But you can teach them to perform sexually with human beings, and in almost any way you want. Whoever trained that Pekinese did a really good job....

. . . The little dog's name was Rupert III, though I couldn't say if there had been two previous Ruperts. like most Pekinese, Rupert had a swift, soft, warm, wet tongue, and he liked to lick things. He licked my hands when I petted him, then licked my toes and legs as I undressed. Once on the bed, with nothing on, I lay on my back and lifted him between my legs. This was all the direction required, for he immediately sniffed about my cunt and nudged it with his nose and mouth. Then I felt the little soft, wet tongue slowly lapping at my cunt lips. I can't describe the sensations of feeling, and can only say it was weird at first.

When that little tongue made the first several swipes on my cunt, I was too mentally oriented to know how it felt. I kept thinking: What if somebody came in? ... Was I really letting a dog eat my pussy? ... What if the little beast bit me? ... Things like that. Then the steady titration overcame my mental processes and I was more turned on than I had ever been.

I was so aroused that I felt compelled to touch my cunt, but settled for cupping and caressing my tits, as a man might do. Rupert's tongue teased steadily through my furry mound, driving me crazy. As a result of the excitement that flooded me, I instinctively rose to meet Rupert's mouth; but he eluded me, moving quickly away and lapping at the inside of my thighs. Realizing at once that churning my cunt was a mistake, I forced myself to lie absolutely motionless. Rupert moved in again, his tongue darting quickly over my clit. Unable to suppress a cry of pleasure, I let loose

"OH-OHHH-OHHHHH!" I cried, every nerve-end screaming with sudden ecstasy. "OH-OHHH-OHHHHHHH!"

I wanted to reach down and force that animal-face into my cunt, grind my cunt into that suddenly exciting mouth, but I somehow forced myself to lie still. Rupert's tongue explored my moist crevice and flicked back and forth across my clitoris with such remarkable consistency, that I felt as if I would black out under the fiery need to explode and release the rising tension. My stomach was quivering, my mind dazed, spinning like water running down a drain, and every muscle in my body was as tight as an over-wound watch. Just when I thought I couldn't stand another second without passing out, the climax swept over me like a tidal wave, drowning me in its ecstatic power. I shuddered violently, moaning uncontrollably, and then slowly regained my senses, weak and wet from the joyful strain. Rupert kept right on lapping my cunt, unaware that he had just brought me through an orgasm of great intensity....

After that experience with Rupert III, I overcame my shyness and ventured into dog-training on a wider, more serious scale. Lillian let me select the animal that was to be my introduction to canine penetration, and I picked a black-and-white collie named Bacchus, probably because he reminded me of Santa, the collie I raised from a puppy. He was a wonderful dog, friendly and intelligent, and he seemed to like me. Although he had had preliminary training in screwing humans, getting it from Gloria, he was not yet considered fully trained. Lillian guaranteed her dogs, and being a good business woman she wanted to be absolutely certain the buyer would have no legitimate reason to complain.

"There are a few things to remember," Lillian told me, as I stood naked in the training room. "This is your first experience, so listen well. If you change your mind, and decide not to go through with it, you can dislodge the dog by falling forward or sideways. The fall will release the hold of the animal's forelegs-which reminds me: Put on that sweater; it will protect you from scratches, if you do decide to stop after the dog has penetrated.

"But," she warned, gravely, "you must not attempt to dislodge the dog once treading has begun. The prick expands rapidly during treading, and to attempt dislodgement then could result in serious abrasions. Once the dog has started treading, you must go through with it or risk injury."

"I'll remember," I promised, but had no intention of not going through with it. "Is there anything else?"

There was something else. Lillian opened a small container and took from it a crumpled handkerchief. She reached down and dabbed my cunt lips with the cloth, then told me to hold it over my slit for a minute or two.

"With dogs like Bacchus, who aren't yet trained to respond at hearing a key word, it pays to use the scent of a female in heat," she explained. "The handkerchief has been soaked in the juices of a bitch in heat. When Bacchus smells the scent, he'll mount you. ... Look at him, for Godsake! He smells it already."

Sure enough, Bacchus was tugging at his leash and making little whining noises, his eyes on me.

I pulled the sweater over my shoulders and pushed it down to my hips. I returned the handkerchief to Lillian; she returned it to the container from which she took it. Then she unleashed Bacchus and went to the door.

"I'll be just outside," she said, opening the door. "You're on your own, but holler if anything goes wrong."

Even before the door had closed behind her, Bacchus was sniffing at my cunt and whining.

"All right," I said, tapping him playfully. "I'm just as eager as you are."

I remembered how Gloria had gotten down on all fours and imitated her. I was hardly on hands and knees before Bacchus was pushing his nose between my buttocks and lapping at my scent-doctored cunt with his long tongue. Then he mounted me, his hairy forelegs clamping tightly just above either hip. I felt the tip of his prick seeking entrance, but it was off-mark about an inch and threatened to penetrate my rectum. I shifted quickly, pushed my buttocks upward until I could feel the prick centered on my pussy, then held still. The prick pushed easily into me, going deeper and deeper as Bacchus took one or two steps forward on his hind-legs. His forelegs gripped me strongly, giving him the leverage he needed for full penetration. I could feel his long, slender prick against my uterus; it sent shudders down my back. Then Bacchus started treading, and I was soon in a half-dazed state; he pressed into me, working his haunches rapidly. For a moment I felt sharp twinges of pain, and the jabs resulting from the rapid treading went deep and far too fast. And there was a swelling inside me; I could actually feel the expanding nodules, which I knew about but still proved quite surprising.

When Bacchus stopped treading I experienced the deepest, strongest yearning for him to hump again. His swollen prick was locked inside my cunt and I couldn't resist swaying my buttocks, to see how it would feel.

It felt great. I pushed back upon the prick and swayed slowly, titillating my clitoris. A million tiny pin-points seemed to be pricking my flesh all at once, and from head to toes. I became aware of something strange and exciting that was happening. Bacchus' prick started contracting, then he flooded me with strong spurts of semen. Oh, it was a weirdly exciting feeling! A dog ejects much more semen than a man, and it spurts so forcefully that a woman can feel it shooting into her. At least, I could feel it. I wondered what would happen next, hoping that it wasn't all over yet. . . because I hadn't reached a climax.

I wasn't prepared for what happened next, although I'd seen it happen between dogs who were locked together. Bacchus began to dismount, much to my regret. But he didn't withdraw his prick, because it was too swollen and wouldn't come out. He dismounted slowly, but in reverse; that is, he swung one hind leg over my buttocks and came down in such a way that we were ass to ass, with genitals firmly secured. I had to lower myself due to the pull, so that it wouldn't hurt. I could feel the swollen prick turning inside my cunt, and, although it resulted in a series of strange sensations, it wasn't painful.

Bacchus stood perfect still for a few moments, then exerted a slight pull, as if attempting to leave me. But he pressed back against me again and started coming. The contractions of his prick as he jetted the semen into me excited me greatly. After a minute or two, he ejaculated again, and this time I climaxed, too.

"AAAAAHHHHHHH!" I cried, trembling under the passionate impact. "AAAAHHHHH! ... LORD! ... AH-AH-AHHHHHH!"

Bacchus shot at least two more streams of semen into me before his prick shrank and made separation safely possible. It was at least fifteen minutes before his prick slid easily from my channel, releasing the stoppered flow of semen with which he had inundated me. I collapsed, trembling and dazed, and lay face downward on the soft carpet. Bacchus stuck his nose between my parted thighs and lapped at the exuding semen with his tongue....

After this experience I was ready and willing to become a full-fledged practicing trainer. If I said I didn't enjoy my work I'd be lying. I reveled in it. I like it so much that I couldn't go through an entire day without fucking one of the dogs. All breeds, except those too small for fucking. My favorite, I think, was a basset-hound named Big John. He wasn't the most beautiful animal in the world, which is probably why we couldn't find a buyer for a couple of years. But he was certainly endowed where it counted most, which is why we called him Big John. As you know, this breed of dog doesn't grow to be so large, except in the genitals. Pound for pound, bassets have the biggest pricks in the animal kingdom. Big John, for instance, was as big as most men in that department. When he got locked in-Wow! you know there wasn't room left for anything else in there!

Maybe I liked him best because I had to get on my back, in the normal fucking position, so he could fuck me. He wasn't large enough to mount me successfully if I got down on all fours. So I'd lay down on this low bed in the training room, with my legs stretched across the floor and my ass balanced on the edge. Big John would mount me just like a man, and most of the time I'd have to guide him in-you know, take his prick and place it into my opening. I almost wept when a woman from Philadelphia bought him, because, she said, she preferred that breed to all others. For the three hundred dollars she paid, that woman got a terrific bargain....

I don't suppose I'd have ever let a man fuck me again, if Lillian and Gloria hadn't kept after me. Lillian in particular.

"You mustn't forget that you're a woman," she said. "What we are doing here happens to be sexual and very pleasurable, but it's dangerous to get emotionally involved with animals. You need a man to occasionally keep you in balance."

Lillian, I learned, was making it with Elton

C-, her share-cropper. Gloria had several men panting after her, and I think she balled all of them. If ever a woman was sex-crazy, Gloria is the one. It was through her that I met Robert

L-, a cashier at the bank in the town nearby; he was one of those panting after her that she didn't particular care for.

I went out with him a couple of times, but only to stop Lillian from talking about how I should make it with men. I was surprised to find that I liked him. Robert was neither handsome nor extremely healthy. In fact, he was always on the verge of ill-health. He suffered from ulcers in the stomach and high-blood pressure. Maybe I felt sorry for him; I don't know. But I discovered quickly that he posed no sexual threat, because he was practically impotent, unable to get an erection most of the time.

But he'd go down on me, and that was nice. He'd always bring me to climax during cunnilingus, which is more than he was able to do on those rare occasions that he managed to get an erection and fuck me....

I did a terrible thing when I was nineteen. I seduced a boy of fifteen. I couldn't help myself. He was so beautiful! I mean that-he was beautiful! I was his first real sexual partner, and it was a delightful experience. I remember how-before I actually seduced him-I would imagine him in my arms. I would be fucking one of the dogs and imagine he was fucking me. It got so bad I couldn't stand it; the desire for him, I mean. So finally I took him to bed....

Not to bed, exactly; we did it in the woods, with nothing but the earth below and the sky above, as the saying goes. I simply removed my panties and pulled him on top of me. He was so hard and eager that he came as his prick pushed into me. But with a few strokes of the hand and a kiss or two, he was as hard and as eager as before. Young and inexperienced, he went wild once his cock was buried to the hilt in my cunt. He made such rapid thrusts, it reminded me of a dog's treading action. I thrust up to him and churned my cunt round the base of his piston-like prick, getting hotter and hotter with every stroke.

"OH! OH! FUCK ME! FUCK ME! FUCK ME!" I cried, as I swooned under the strongest orgasm I'd had up until that time.

Poor dear! I lost him after several months. His parents moved out to California and, naturally, they took him along. I still catch myself fantasizing about him ... sometimes....

. . . There were other men, some older, some younger, but it wasn't until I met George. That things changed for me. George isn't exactly what you'd call the world's most handsome man, but he's not bad-looking either; and he was so kind, so gentle, that I felt something for him from the beginning. Sexually, he wasn't the best I'd ever had either. At first I didn't enjoy fucking him, and he failed time and time again to bring me to climax. Nevertheless there was this something ... something that held my interest in him.

Lately, George has been pressing marriage upon me. But he doesn't know about Lillian and me and the dogs. He thinks we just live on a small farm and run a kennel on the side. I am afraid to tell him, because he's rather straight-laced; he would be horrified if he knew I'd been screwing dogs all these years.

But I want to marry him. He needs me, you see. He has epilepsy, and I could take care of him. As far as sex is concerned we manage better now than we did earlier; it isn't terrific like it was with the boy, or with several of the dogs I've trained, but it's okay....

. . . After all, I can't very well spend the rest of my life with a dog. like Lillian said, we're human beings after all....

I'd hate to marry George and then have him find out about me and then leave in disgust....

My problem is whether to tell him and get it over with.

MAVIS B-told me many other things about herself, but the above clearly illustrates her character and personality, as well as her emotional problems and motivation. A few remarks made during our various meetings, and which are taken out of context, are interesting bits of information. I give them now:

"Many dogs used for sexual purposes by humans weigh more than the women who use them."

True. The Newfoundland weighs approximately 150 pounds; the Deerhound, at maturity, weighs between 100 and 115 pounds, the Mastiff tips the scales anywhere between 150 and 175 pounds.

"Not many virgins lose their hymens to dogs. Those who do should be careful to select a partner from among the smaller breeds, but not a basset-hound."

I do not know how many virgins lose their hymens during sexual intercourse with dogs, but

Mavis B-'s observation regarding the kind of dog a virgin should employ is quite sensible. In the virgin penetration is made safely and rather easily with the smaller dog's thin penis, but even these expand considerably during treading, so it is impossible for the virgin to quit once treading has started.

"A dog's penis isn't dirty. It's quite clean and quite sanitary. But a menstrual pad is usually necessary after copulation, because far more fluid is discharged into the vagina than with a man."

True. Some women go so far as to perform fellatio on their dogs, taking the semen into their mouths.

"Dogs vary like people, and it is almost impossible to say how they will behave. But our dogs were specially trained, and they know exactly what to do. They prefer women after the training course is through, and some of them have been known to ignore bitches in heat."

Both true and questionable. Although dogs vary in their behavior, the special training is like a road-map; it allows reliance on certain behavior patterns. It is doubtful that any male dog would ignore a bitch in heat, even if its mistress were in the same room.

"I think most girls who have experienced sexual copulation with a dog would be willing to experience it again, at least once in a while. If, that is, they could do it conveniently, without possible detection. But I don't believe girls prefer dogs to men as a regular practice, only as a change, as an adventure."

Not necessarily so. Some girls have felt such shame and guilt following coitus with a dog that they have never again had a desire to repeat the performance. As to girls preferring men over dogs, in regular practice, this is undoubtedly true. A girl who preferred dogs over men as sexual mates would be truly in need of psychiatric help, because such a preference is definitely unnatural.

ANALYTICAL SUMMARY

Considering Mavis B-'s story we come at once to the question: Why do women elect to copulate with dogs? According to Dr. Frederick Clausen, PERVERTED BEHAVIOR PATTERNS, p. 19, the reasons for bestiality are many and varied. "There have been cases of women, who, desiring to be faithful to their husbands, have considered bestiality to be less sinful than seeking sexual relief with another man," said Dr. Clausen. "For example, a mature woman, married fifteen or twenty years to a man who is away for long periods of time, may well allow her pet dog to perform cunnilingus on her. She thus receives sexual relief without the guilt she would have felt if she had enjoyed coitus with another man."

Listing additional reasons, Dr. Clausen tells us of women who did not get along with their husbands, and who, as a way of satisfying raw desire, turn to their dogs. Many of these women have confessed, said Dr. Clausen, that they found their canine lovers more sexually potent than their husbands.

There are several categories of women who have relations with animals, and some of them cannot control the strange lust that drives them to bestiality. Some try it only once, some try it repeatedly, and others try it from time to time, with long periods of abstinence between each act. "Some of them," adds Dr. Clausen, "are later emotionally wrecked by the guilt of realization of what they have done."

According to Dr. Lorraine Mason, DOG LOVERS, pp. 17-18, "Bestial relations are either well considered, thought about, and agreed to, or else they are done on the spur of the moment when the sexual urgency forces the person to resort to a method of sexual behavior which they never before even thought about. In the cases where women have one overwhelming sexual experience with an animal, and where it comes as utterly unpremeditated, there is a great danger of psychological harm being done to the person. Sometimes this erratic form of behavior is so much of a shock to the person that they never recover completely from the incident."

Based upon what my own research into the subject of bestiality has revealed, I would say that human beings practice animal sex for only two reasons: They prefer animal contact over human contact, or, they cannot find suitable human contact at the moment of desire. I also say that the latter is relative harmless and the former definitely sick. In this, as in any other form of deviate behavior, there are varying degrees of sickness. Mavis B-stands somewhere between the two extremes.

Taking her at her word, which I have no valid reason to doubt, we see plainly in her life the interplay of pride. She hated her first lover because he had used force. For this reason, although she was unaware of it, she denied him the satisfaction of arousing orgasm in her. Then, in order to keep him, she simulated sexual orgasm; her greatest satisfaction was in showing the world that this strong, handsome man belonged to her. Thus she felt triumphant over the other girls in town who also wanted him. She was jealous NOT because she loved the man, but BECAUSE she did not want any other women to have him. She was, in a very real sense, frigid, or, as Dr. Stekel would say, "anesthetic."

Wilhelm Stekel discusses this type of female in his FRIGIDITY IN WOMAN, II, p. 14, and says of her:

"Many women who are anesthetic find their chief incentive for attracting men in the satisfying thought that they are enticing other women's husbands away. They thus triumph over all other women. They remain frigid during the sexual embrace, thus triumphing also over the man they have lured. Thus they trample triumphantly over men and women alike. ... Sexual anesthesia is an important weapon in the sex struggle. The anesthetic harlot shows that women attain certain advantages most easily when they remain cool. The woman who responds cannot remain calculating and deliberate ... . "

Some women-and Mavis Bis certainly one of them-are aroused sexually only when they feel themselves to be stronger, or greater than the man who possesses them. Behind this attitude lies a deeper meaning: the man never really possesses them. Instead, he is possessed by them. They domineer; and the feeling of power, of taking possession, of being "on top" is the bridge over which the orgasm takes full possession of their body.

Often the orgasm sets in only if the woman feels at the time that she is superior to her sexual companion. Such a preference in a woman explains a whole series of manifestations, and particularly fetish attachments: such as love for the halt and the lame, the blind, the ugly and the crippled, the helpless, the downtrodden, the unfortunate, the socially disinherited, the eccentric, and animals-all instances in which the woman feels that she is the savior, the protector, the guide, in short, "on top."

Notice that Mavis turned to men who were ill, usually with a handcapping illness. One had ulcers, one had epilepsy, and one was a mere boy of fifteen. Many women are gratified only by men who are weaker than themselves in some respect or other, and in some instances this is carried over and applied to animals such as dogs.

With women like Mavis B-, the will to power annihilates their will to subjection. Her rapturous feeling of triumph counts with her more than sexual pleasure.

She wants to marry George F-because, in her words, "he needs" her; he suffers from epilepsy and she "could take care of him." On the other hand, sex with him is "okay," but not "terrific like it was with the boy, or with several of the dogs" she had trained to copulate with humans.

She wants to marry him but she's afraid he might find out about her submitting to dogs for both pleasure and profit; and she's afraid not because she loves him, but because he might turn from her "in disgust."

This expressed fear did not prevent her continuing her dog-training, however. Nor did her consultations with me change her life-style, although she recognized the impossibility of "living with a dog." She finally stayed away, unhappy with my diagnosis and advice.

I learned from the friend who had sent her to me in the first place, that she did not marry

George F--. Instead, she took a young man of nineteen as her lover, and he lives openly with her at her aunt's farm, fully aware of what is going on.

What will eventually happen to Mavis B-is something I have no way of knowing with certainty. However, there are those bestialists who, once having tasted the fruits of perversion, cannot help but sink deeper and deeper into the well of sensuous submission. Such a one finally discovers that she (or he) genuinely prefers animal contact and cannot live without it.

Let us now consider an entirely different type of woman, one who "goes to the dogs" only because it is "something different" and "exciting."

CASE No. TWO "JANET A-'S SECRET JOT'

"For the lips of a strange woman drop as honeycomb, and her mouth is smoother than oil; but her end is bitter as wormwood, sharp as a two-edged sword. Her feet go down to death; her steps take hold on hell."

PROVERBS: ch. 5, vs. 3-4-5

Janet Ais in many ways the strangest, most honest woman I've ever met. I should note that she did not come to me; I went to her. She didn't want advice, psychological or otherwise. But she was willing to talk to me, once she learned that I was seriously engaged in behavioral research.

"Understand that I am not one of your guilt-ridden patients," she said. "I regret only what I haven't done, not what I have done."

She volunteered to tell me all about her various sexual experiences, but only on condition of noninterference, meaning I was not to attempt psychoanalyzing her during her visits. I agreed.

"You might find my experiences amusing," she said.

I got the impression that she was expecting to shock me. She didn't, of course; although I must admit that she managed to surprise me once or twice.

Janet Aoccupied a rather comfortable position in life, socially as well as economically. In her late thirties, at the time of our meetings, she had the appearance of a much younger woman. She had a direct way of speaking, and she mingled vulgarities in her remarks as easily as she smiled. But somehow the words seemed less vulgar when she used them. People warmed to her instantly, and she gave the impression of being genuinely interested in them. She was quick to laugh, sometimes too quick, but showed not the slightest signs of worry or sadness at any time. She was well educated, quite knowledgeable, personally and physically attractive, and married. Nineteen years married, to the same man.

Her husband Chester A-was a successful businessman. He was a top executive at a large motion picture company, and his income was estimated to be phenomenal. Janet gave up a promising career as an actress to marry him.

Over a period of several weeks she told me the following story:

Experts have been taking notes on the sex habits of people since writing was invented, and they still can't agree on what's normal and what's sick. Ever since Sigmund Freud the psychologists have taken themselves too seriously. The whole thing smacks of religion to me. They substitute words like "abnormal" for words like "sin."

I was born and raised in the Bible-belt, so I know all about sin. Fun is sin! "Sex is sin! Life itself is sin! I got fed up with sin before I was ten years old.

I know about sex, too. Which is more than I can say for most of the men I've met, and that includes the psychologists. Psychologists! Dreamers-that's what they are: dreamers and confusion-spreaders. Experts-hah! Look how many years they preached to women on the subject of orgasm. They didn't know a damn thing about orgasm in the female. Vaginal orgasm, indeed! Penis envy was another of their favorite flaps. Still is, judging by what I read. What's to envy, for Godsakes? I always figured men were lucky not to have their pricks growing on their faces! Listen ... I had a brother, and I never envied his prick one moment. I've never envied any man in that regard. Why should I? I've got a perfectly nice cunt. What value does a prick have without a cunt to put it in?

And another thing. Women have a clitoris as well as a cunt. That's one up on the men. A prick has to do it all, including the sex. But the clitoris is strictly sexual; that's its only function.

Well, enough of that kind of talk. You want to hear of what I've done sexually, not what I think about it. So start the tape rolling. ... Oh. It's already rolling....

Where I came from-the Bible-belt-fucking is something a woman does only after she's married. Oh, I know there's been a sexual revolution and people are more open about it these days, but in certain areas fucking is still a sin. A "nice" girl just doesn't do it. Men-they're different. The old double-standard flag still waves by the dawn's early light. Hooray!

Animals? Sure. I've had sexual relations with animals. And I'm including men in that category. We sometimes forget that men and women are also animals. Just a species, that's all. The surprising thing isn't that some people have sexual relations with other animals but that more people don't. What's so bad about making it with a dog, for instance? Or a sheep, or a cow? Hell! People eat animals don't they? ... Maybe that's why. ... Maybe it's guilt. See what I mean? If you were going to eat me for dinner tomorrow night, how would you feel about fucking me this evening?

Sure. I've screwed animals. I still make it with my husband's dog. But of course I'm not going to kill the dog and eat him. See what I mean ?...

A well-trained dog can really blow my mind. I can't tell you anything about other kinds of animals, except cats. Cats make wonderful pets, but as sexual playmates they aren't worth a damn. Naturally, a torn can't screw a womannothing there to screw her with. So cunnilingus is all that's left. I tried that with a cat, but I wouldn't recommend it. A cat's tongue is too rough.

How did I get the cat to lick my cunt? Easy. I sprinkled catnip among my pubic hair and simply placed the cat between my legs. It worked like a charm. Only I couldn't stand it when the tongue really dug in; it was too painful. No, I definitely don't recommend the feline family....

Down home, when I was a little girl, I once saw my little brother fuck a chicken. Honest. He was twelve. We considered ourselves quite wicked Sometimes we'd play with one another, you know-touch each other's genitals. I remember how his little prick would get so hot and hard I was afraid it would break off. Strange, now that I think back, we never got around to anything more serious than just touching....

My first real sexual experience was with a girl friend. Nancy was fourteen, I was six months younger. I didn't know about such things as lesbianism then, but Nancy was already exhibiting lesbian characteristics. For one thing, she had this rag-a-muffin dog which had learned to lick her cunt. He would nuzzle between her legs and lick away. She let me watch once or twice, but it wasn't until after she had performed cunnilingus on me that she let the dog do it. So the thing with Nancy was my first real sexual experience.

You must bear in mind that I was very young and very impressionable. Nancy was beautiful and smart; she was my friend, and I idolized her. She knew such strange, fascinating things. She told me all about ancient Greece and how a Woman named Sappho invented a new method of sexual love, a method that did not involve men. I was so curious that when she suggested a demonstration, I agreed.

We were at her house, in her room. She locked the door and told me to lie down across the bed, on my back. It was exciting and a little frightening, but I did everything she told me. I've never regretted it either.

Nancy slipped her hands under my dress and pushed them beneath my buttocks. Lifting me slightly, she hooked her fingers in the panty-band and pulled the panties down past my knees, then off completely. She crumpled the garment in her hands and impetuously pressed it to her face.

"Oh, oh, so sweet!" she exclaimed.

With an audible sigh, she eased down between my thighs. She kissed first one thigh and then the other. From that moment on I was limp and yielding, all fear gone. Nancy's mouth was a fiery massage, ascending my thighs until, finally, her warm lips touched my pussy. At the first dab of her tongue, I trembled with ecstasy;! she created a knot of hot urgency in my cunt. I clutched desperately at her head, pulled her into me, eager for the ecstatic feelings to continue. Nancy's tongue furrowed my slit, caressing my clitoris, and within seconds I climaxed in a frenzied shuddering, moaning and gasping....

A whole new world opened for me with that orgasm. Never again would any one be able to convince me that there could be anything wrong or sinful about something so wonderful. When Nancy permitted her dog to perform cunnilingus on me, right after, I became a dog lover for" life. If you're wondering why I didn't have sexual intercourse with the dog, the answer is simple: It was a small dog, and the idea of actually fucking was far from my thoughts. I hadn't started dating boys yet ... .

As a matter-of-fact, I didn't lose my maidenhead until I was nearly seventeen. Then I deliberately got rid of it. With a policeman. Tom was his name. Much older than me ... twenty-seven, I think ... and he was married. Nevertheless, I made up my mind that he was going to break me in. Love had nothing to do with it; I wasn't in love with him. But I liked him. He thought I was playing some kind of flirtatious game. Boy, was he surprised!

We drove over to the nearest town and checked into a motel. I removed all my clothes and lay down on the bed. He ate my pussy until I was so hot I couldn't stand it. Then he got on and fucked me. Lord! he fucked me! It felt as though his cock was as big as my arm! It hurt like hell ... But he fucked me twice.

I didn't let it go at that, however. We went back to the same motel at least once a week for nearly three months. But it took five sessions for me to reach orgasm. By the time the affair ended, as it had to, my hang-ups were gone. I was even getting pleasure from sucking him off....

It's probably of no importance to your research, but my ambition was to go to New York. I wanted to be free, to make a new life for myself and become an actress. My parents objected. My father said, "Actresses are whores!" My mother was less direct: "It's no life for a nice girl," she said. like narrow-minded, religious and prejudiced people everywhere, my parents knew all about everything. But I held my ground, and three weeks prior to my eighteenth birthday, at which time I could leave without their permission, my parents gave in and let me go. My father even contributed two hundred dollars to my grubstake, which brought the amount I arrived with to seventeen hundred.

I have since learned that I was most fortunate in New York. Everything happened that should have happened, and very quickly, too. I settled in a one room kitchenette in a brownstone on West 74th. Three days later I secured work as a receptionist at a music publishing firm located in Radio City. I began immediately to visit producers and agents, to try and get a part in a show.

I guess you could say my sex life was normal, at least in the beginning. At least it was strictly heterosexual. If a man who asked me out struck my imagine, I didn't play hard to get. I worked and fucked, I looked for parts in shows and fucked. I enjoyed fucking, so I fucked.

Eventually I was cast in an off-Broadway play. It wasn't a big part, but the play got excellent reviews and ran almost a year. It was in this play that I met Carl N-, and through him

Bob and Doris R--, owners of the first dog I ever had sexual relations with.

Carl and I had been dating rather steady, and he kept mentioning these friends of his who lived in Connecticut and who owned "a Great Dane."

"A very special dog," Carl said.

"What's so special?" I wanted to know.

"You really want to know?" Carl seemed hesitant.

"Tell me!" I commanded.

"It's a sex dog," he said.

"I thought you said it was a Great Dane."

Carl laughed. "Both. Don't you know what a sex dog is?" I shook my head, and he went on; "This Great Dane screws women. I swear it! I know it sounds crazy, but I've seen him do it."

"You've seen a dog screw a woman?"

"Sure. Don't you know anything? Lots of women have dogs that are trained to do everything, like cunnilingus and-everything."

"Oh. Well, I let a dog perform cunnilingus on me," I told him. "But I didn't know dogs were specially trained for screwing women."

Carl suddenly had a peculiar look in his eyes. "You really let a dog go down on you?"

I nodded. "Of course. It was just a little dog. But he made me come."

"Would you like to visit Bob and Doris?" he asked.

"Okay," I said. "I'd like very much to meet their dog."

True, too. The idea of a Great Dane fucking a woman had aroused my curiosity; I was eager to see how it was done. So Carl drove me to Connecticut the following Sunday, and I met Bob and

Doris R-, and their marvelous dog Sport. Carl informed Bob that we had come to see Sport do his thing.

"It's fine by me," Bob replied, "but it's up to Doris."

"Why not?" Doris said, laughing. "I'd hate for Carl and Janet to go away disappointed."

"We could have a real party," Bob said, looking directly at me, with a challenging glint in his eyes, "if there are no cowards among us."

"Don't worry about Janet," Carl put in quickly. "She'll try anything once."

"If it's pleasurable," I said, "I'll try it twice."

Doris took hold of my arm. "Men!" she exclaimed. "You come with me, Janet. I'll introduce you to Sport."

I was impressed. Sport was the best looking beast I'd ever seen. Lean, lithe, sleek, and obviously male. I swear his prick was as big as Carl's! Maybe bigger. He was in the yard when we came out, and he made straight for Doris. He reared up, placed his paws on her shoulders and attempted to lick her face. Doris held his head between her hands and kissed him, then said: "Down, Sport. Down!"

Sport obeyed; he dropped to all fours, his tongue hanging out.

"He's well trained," I observed.

"Very," Doris replied. Then she tilted her head and looked at me, with a quizzical expression on her face. "Would you care to try him on for size?"

I glanced at that big dog and experienced a ping of doubt. I was curious, of course, but face to face with the reality was a trifle upsetting.

"It's like swimming," Doris said. "Once you dive in you like it."

"Okay," I said, making my mind up despite the feeling of apprehension that twitched in my stomach. "Okay. But not in front of Carl and Bob. Only because I wouldn't want to chicken out in front of them."

Doris led me and Sport into the house. "Upstairs," she said, and nodded towards the staircase in the hall. "We'll use my room. No one will interrupt us there."

Never having had sexual relations with a dog, I didn't know what to do or what to expect. But Doris directed me. She even offered to demonstrate, to show me how easy it would be. I told her that wouldn't be necessary. She told me to remove my shoes, stockings, underpants and dress. When I had done this, she told me to get down on my hands and knees and keep my legs apart.

"I'll help Sport," she said, standing on her knees beside me. "We wouldn't want him to make a mistake and put his prick in the wrong hole."

"What do I do?" I asked, feeling awkward in my hands and knees position.

"Just remain perfectly still until Sport gets into you," Doris replied. "Then relax and enjoy. But whatever happens," she added, "don't panic. I'll be here...."

She said something to Sport, and I became aware of his nose nuzzling my exposed pussy. Another word I didn't catch, and Sport was licking into my slit with his tongue. I twisted my head and looked back under my arm. Doris was stroking the dog's prick with her hand.

"Up, Sport!" she said, and he obeyed instantly.

He came up and locked my sides between his forelegs.

"Don't move," Doris said. "I'm going to put his prick into position. Then he'll do the rest...."

I felt the wet prick pushing between the lips of my cunt. Then it moved in, sinking deeper and deeper. I remember thinking that it didn't feel as large as it had looked, because it wasn't uncomfortable at all.

"He's in now," Doris said, and moved away to watch. "He'll start humping in a second, then you'll feel him swelling inside you. But don't let it frighten you...."

Sport was in very deep. I could feel his balls against my flesh. Then he moved in closer and started humping. It was a weird, thrilling experience and I began to feel excitement. Sport humped faster and faster, and I became aware of the swelling Doris had mentioned. His prick expanded tremendously, filling my channel, stretching it, pushing deeper and deeper. I was hot all over. And suddenly I felt a flood of hot liquid spurting over my womb. I trembled with excitement. I had never felt a man's semen, although I had always known when a man was coming because of his expressions and thrusts. But Sport emptied himself with great force, coming profusely, and I felt the liquid.

"Oh! Oh! Oh, my!" I gasped.

Doris lay on her back and wriggled her face under my breasts.

"Don't move now," I heard her say. "He'll come again in a moment. I'll help you reach climax ... . "

She kissed my nipples, first one and then the other; then she mouthed one and sucked on it. She reached for my cunt and fingered my clitoris, making a circular motion just above it. This motion caused the tip of the clitoris to come into closer contact with Sport's prick, and soon had me swooning with pleasure. Sport pulled himself forward and started the humping again. Between his prick moving rapidly within my channel and Doris' fingers manipulating my clitoris, I thought I'd flip out. But I merely climaxed. And what a climax! Because as I was exploding with joyous release, Sport shot off again. Oh, God! did that dog come! He came, and came, and came ... God!...

That was my first session with a dog. Afterwards we had a sex party, including the dog. I fucked Carl while Bob fucked Doris, and then we changed partners and fucked again. Doris and I took turns with Sport, which fascinated Carl and Bob so much that they masturbated themselves. It was quite a party. Quite a party....

I got lucky, as they say. A producer gave me a couple of juicy parts in two television dramas, and this brought me several offers from other producers. I still saw Carl, but not as regular as before. Once a month, at least, we'd pay a visit to Doris and Bob and have another party. Then I met Chester, my husband.

Chester was a producer for motion pictures when I met him. He liked me from the start, although he didn't think too highly of my acting talent. Nevertheless, he gave me a contract and cast me as second lead in the movie he was making. Before the movie was finished we had become lovers. Truthfully, I hadn't wanted to fuck him at first. He was twenty-three years older than I was, you see, and I thought he was too old for me. But he was a wonderful lover. ... He could excite me sexually more than any man I'd screwed, and he could fuck for a long time. Oh, he had stamina, all right. The first night we spent together he balled me six times....

We got married right after my nineteenth birthday. We've been married nineteen years. The twenty-three years difference in our ages didn't matter in the beginning, or for a long time. But they matter now. I still love him, of course, and we still screw, but. ... Well, I always needed lots of sex. Thank God, Chester is an understanding and tolerant man. He even suggested that I have affairs on the side, if I felt the need of more sex than he could supply.

I had a few affairs, but I never felt right about any of them. I didn't object on moral grounds, understand. I never have believed in sexual morality as taught in this country. But men like to talk about their conquests, and I had too much respect for Chester to want him embarrassed by my affairs. So I decided it would be wisest to get a dog.

Now understand that I am referring to the last seven years, not to the whole of my married life. I actually gave up all extramarital activity for nearly ten years, because I loved Chester and he satisfied me.

And I satisfied him. He told me that he never once made it with another woman after he married me, and I believe him. I wouldn't care if he had, understand, but it's a compliment to my sexual ability knowing he hasn't. Maybe that's why I stopped screwing other men, even though they meant nothing to me beyond the screwing.

Chester knew about my experiences with Bob and Doris R-'s dog; I never kept any secrets from him, and I never lied to him. A lie indicates fear, or shame, or a belief that one has done something bad. I never felt I'd done anything wrong, so there was no need to lie. It didn't bother Chester anyway. He generously suggested that I get myself a well-trained dog, if I wanted one, and let him pay for it. But I procrastinated. Then he came home one afternoon-we were living in California at the time-and brought me a surprise gift.

Yes, it was a dog.

An Airedale mixed with shepherd.

"He's already trained," Chester explained. "Lie on your back, he'll eat your cunt; get down on all fours, he'll fuck you."

"I'll get acquainted first," I said. "What's his name?"

"Rex."

It was a most thoughtful gift, and I appreciated it. I spent a whole week with Rex, just getting acquainted. When he got used to me I decided to see how sexually well-trained he was. Chester suggested I first let Rex perform cunnilingus, then let him fuck me. Chester also asked if he could watch, because he'd always wanted to see a dog fuck a woman.

I let him watch. The dog behaved exactly as Chester had said he would. I lay on my back, spread my legs, and Rex came between my legs and started licking my cunt. He licked in the right place, too, and at the right tempo; he had me tense with excitement within minutes.

The action proved quite exciting for Chester, too; he had a hard on in nothing flat. He stripped and stood above us, eyes glowing with desire as Rex brought me to climax. Just as I was at the crest of the climax, Chester shoved Rex aside and fell upon me. Quickly, he thrust his prick into my climaxing channel and drove in to the hilt. I churned up to him, grinding against him urgently; it was such a great feeling that I cried out in ecstasy: "OHHHHHH ... DARLINGGGG! ... FUCK MEEEEEEE! ... FUCK MEEEEEE!"

I never felt more like a woman than at that moment. Probably because Chester was more masculine at that moment than he'd ever been. He fucked me so strong and with such uninhibited concentration, that I soared into a second orgasm before the first one had completely died away.

An hour later I was on my hands and knees, and Rex was hooked into me with that fast-hammering pecker of his. Rex fucked so well that my blood ran through my veins like warm water, and I felt weak and trembling and dazed. Rex flooded my cunt with semen and remained locked in, causing me to moan with pleasure. Pushing back, to get more of that prick inside me, I wriggled my ass to induce friction and entered orgasm. I was so weak and shaky it's a wonder I didn't collapse and break contact. But I somehow managed to stay on all fours until Rex himself dismounted, the semen flowing from my cunt like water from an unstoppered faucet. Or so it seemed....

I could go on and on, but whatever I said would merely be repetitive. Suffice it to say, that Chester and I got a new lease on life and love; I enjoyed copulation with Rex, and Chester enjoyed watching it. We haven't been without a dog since. We've had at least half-dozen others through the years following Rex. We thought it best to get a new dog every two years or so, for variety; and because we didn't want to become emotionally dependent on any one animal.

The dog we have now is a beaut,-the best thus far; he is such a good sex partner that I haven't once considered fucking a man. Aside from Chester, that is. He gets so young and ardent when he witnesses a session between me and the dog, that I don't need another man. Besides, men always press for involvement; they want you to love them. They can't seem to get it through their egotistical heads that a woman can fuck for the sheer pleasure of fucking. If the woman is married, as I am, the man always assumes she is bored and dissatisfied with her husband. No such hang-ups with a dog. A dog fucks and says nothing, and he's always ready when you want him.

I don't think Chester would approve if he knew I had told you all this, because he has this thing about image. But he needn't know anything about it. The only reason I've told you of my sexual experiences with dogs is because I think it's important that people in your line of work realize not everyone who enjoys sex with animals is in need of psychoanalytical therapy. Bestiality is not necessarily a sign of sickness, and it certainly isn't harmful. I know what I am talking about, even if you don't. I know what I am doing, and I know why I do it. You are free to make of my experiences what you will, but please show me the courtesy of accepting my own evaluation of my emotional and mental condition. I refuse to be categorized by a set of rules with predetermined answers. If you wish to know why I have sexual relations with a dog, I'll gladly tell you: I do it because I like it, and for no other reason. ... Okay, Doc?"

ANALYTICAL SUMMARY

Janet A-ended her story at this point and refused to answer questions concerning any aspect of it. Therefore I can deal only with what she told me, which, after all, is hardly sufficient for knowledgeable analysis. When one has insufficient knowledge upon which to form an opinion, then one should tread carefully: Better no opinion than an erroneous one. Even when we have "sufficient" knowledge, we can't be certain that we'll arrive at the correct answer to a sexual problem. We can't even be certain there is a problem. Sometimes we create a problem simply by thinking there should be one. Writing on this subject, Wainwright Churchill (Homosexual Behavior Among Males, pp. 197-198), observed:

"Psychoanalysts have a tendency to describe everything out of harmony with the norm as a disease, just as jurists have a tendency to view abnormal behavior as criminal behavior. Time and experience do not seem to affect negative thinking. We are no further along in our thinking in these matters than were our ancestors; we simply paint them a different color and call them by different names. And since our approach is wholly negative the results of our approach continue to be wholly negative."

I admit a tendency to place Janet A-in the

"sick" category. But I know that she is not sick in the real meaning of that term. Copulating with a dog was neither a compulsion nor an addiction with her, only a deliberate act for the sake of sexual pleasure. There was no indication that she preferred dog over man; she'd rather have sexual intercourse with her husband, if it came to choice. On the other hand, her husband seemed to get as much from watching the act as she got from performing it. Seeing her copulate served him well as a sexual stimulant and this, together with her desire for something "different," probably justified the bestial relations in her mind.

Janet was a sexual adventuress. For instance, she is the only woman of my acquaintance who admitted to experimenting with a cat. She is amoral rather than immoral; the question of right or wrong plays no part in her reasoning. This fact is-likely to lead to trouble, if it hasn't already done so. It is as Albert Camus said in THE REBEL (p. 5); "If we believe in nothing, if nothing has any meaning and if we can affirm no values whatsoever, then everything is possible and nothing has any importance. There is no pro or con: the murderer is neither right nor wrong. We are free to stoke the crematory fires or to devote ourselves to the care of lepers. Evil and virtue are mere chance or caprice."

Obviously Janet has not carried her attitude this far, since she decided that it would be more immoral to fuck another man than to use a dog for sexual pleasure when her husband was not available. She was not promiscuous, only adventuresome; her rebellion against the code instilled during childhood expressed itself in an unusual form, but one would require much more information before making any sort of specific judgment concerning the state of her health. As J. F. Cuber and Peggy B. Harroff (SEX and the SIGNIFICANT AMERICANS, p. 19) pointed out: "One does not really understand a person in any important phase of his being until three dimensions are revealed-what he says, what he does, and how he fits the two together. He may be consistent, inconsistent, or variously equivocal about his pronouncements and his actions. And if there are discrepancies, he may or may not recognize them or feel obliged to resolve them. Whatever the configuration, however, the measure of the whole man involves all three." In this instance, the measure of the whole woman, too.

Finally, it is quite possible that Janet was "putting me on." If not entirely, she blocked any chance of me finding out how much of her story was true by flatly refusing to answer questions. Therefore I have presented her story, as she told it, without attempting a genuine analysis of the information. Better no opinion than a wrong opinion.

But Grace V-, our next subject, is an excellent example of a thorough case study.

CASE No. THREE "GRACE V--'S BASSET HIGH"

"They cannot scare me with their empty spaces. Between stars-On stars where no human race is. I have it in me so much nearer home To scare myself with my own desert places."

-ROBERT FROST

Grace V-is almost a classic example of female frigidity, and would be if not for the salient fact that she is able to reach climax while being fucked by her dog. She came to me to discuss her complete dyspareunia where human sexual contact was concerned. Although she has been married six years and is the mother of two children, she has never experienced orgasm during penetration except with her dog, a mature basset hound. She does not want to become a promiscuous woman, and she does not want to continue having sexual relations with her dog. On the other hand she does not want to miss sexual pleasure.

I had to tell her that I was not a psychiatrist, only a behavioral researcher, and could not, therefore, treat her as a patient. In fact, I object to the term patient unless applied to an individual who is obviously sick. In my work we call them "subjects." Grace said she understood this, and added: "I just want to talk with someone who might understand, someone who will not criticize and make me feel cheap or foolish, someone who will listen and perhaps advise me as to what I should do."

I saw no reason why I should not listen to her, although I again informed her of my unwillingness to advise a course of action. "However," I said, "if it becomes obvious to me that you are in need of medical or psychoanalytical therapy, I will refer you to the persons qualified to give you the help required."

Grace V-is a woman of pronounced feminine type, whose face shows sensitive traits. She said she was twenty-three years of age, but would have guessed twenty-six or seven. Her face was round, with sensuous lips, slightly tipped nose, pale complexion, and nervous gray eyes that constantly darted from object to object while she talked. Breasts were medium-sized, matching well the rest of her physique which was fleshy but shapely.

At our first talk-session she wanted to tell me the story of her life. It contained a number of interesting details. Following my usual practice, I inquired about her earliest reminiscences. These are of the highest importance because they reveal so much of an individual's character formation.

"Remember all you can," I said. "Don't worry about sequence, just tell of events as they come to mind. We'll sort them out later."

Grace V began her story, recalling incidents from her childhood. I have set them down as she related them to me.

I was two or three years of age-I believe I must have been only two-when my first girl friend was introduced to me. She held a red flower in her hand, and she offered it to me....

I was four, I think, when I saw my baby brother naked. Mother was giving him a bath. His little prick fascinated me. I wanted to touch it, so I did. Mother slapped my hand, hard, and said I was a "bad, bad girl." I felt ashamed. Later that same week I saw our neighbor's dog screwing a stray, only I didn't know what they were doing. I knew he had his thing in her thing, and that hers was like mine; and I wondered if boys, like my brother, put theirs into little girls....

I was playing with a girl friend and two boys. I was six. I know because I was going to school at the time, in the first grade. I squatted down in such a position that one of the boys saw my pussy. He took a twig and tickled me down there.

. . . If anything more happened I am no longer able to recall it.

Perhaps I should tell you about a recurring dream I have. I began to have this dream when I was seventeen. I see in front of me a swarm of large and small snakes. Although I am afraid and filled with aversion an inner impulse compels me to touch the snake. I take them in my hand, one after the other, though I do it with a feeling of horror....

Oh, yes-I remember another dream! I dream quite often of being in a place where there is a crowd. To the astonishment of everybody I lift myself high into the air and soar above their head, flying towards the sky....

I was raised a Catholic. You don't know how funny that is! I haven't really believed in God since I was twelve. Anyway, I've been an atheist for years now. But I just thought of my last confession. ... It was during communion and there were nearly fifty girls in the group. When my turn came and I got ready to confess, the old priest waved me aside. I swear! You know what he said? He said, "It's all right...." So I didn't make confession. "It's all right," he said. Isn't it a scandalous way for a priest to behave? I think so. And I think that old priest helped me to more quickly get away from religion.

I was curious about sex but afraid to do anything about it. I used to masturbate. Not often ... maybe once a week. You know what I thought about while I was masturbating? That time I told you about, when I saw the stray mutt fucking our neighbor's dog. Isn't it amazing that I remembered such a thing! And vividly, too. I would fantasize the whole thing. Sometimes I'd push my finger into my cunt, as though it were that dog's prick. But not too far, because it hurt if I did.

Which reminds me. I don't know if these dreams have any significance, but there's another that scares the hell out of me. I dream again and again of a coffin being taken down from the second floor of a big white house. The coffin is falling to pieces, the corpse it contains is decayed and stinking. A new coffin, preferably one made of metal, is needed. ... Isn't that a silly dream?...

I had lots of boy friends. I started dating at fifteen, though not seriously. School dances, movies now and then, things like that. Quite a few of the boys I dated got to me. You know, turned me on. Those I let fondle me-petting, we called it-would really get me excited. But I always turned off when they wanted to go further than kissing and caressing....

My father died when I was sixteen. I had mixed feelings about his death, but heavy on the sad side. It was a long time before I got over resenting any man my mother went out with. I think I knew she was having affairs, and the thought of another man fucking her bothered me a great deal. I imagined all sorts of things, foul, disgusting acts which would probably have horrified mother.

A year after my father's death I started seeing an attorney. He was thirty years old, but attractive, successful and usually interesting to be with. He fell in love with me, or said he did. Anyway, he spoke to my mother and ask if he could marry me. Mother said he should ask me, since I was the one who would have to live with him. She told me I could do a lot worse, and advised me to really consider marrying him if he did propose.

George-that was his name-did ask me to marry him. I was flattered that a mature man wanted to marry me, but I had sense enough to not rush into marriage. I told him we should get to know each other better, then see.

George kept after me. He gave me presents, and took me places. He gave me a puppy-about six months old; it was a basset hound, with sad eyes, long body and short legs. It soon developed the habit of mounting my leg and making sexual motions. Urged by curiosity, I started stroking his furry prick. He'd really get excited. His prick was much larger than my finger, even then. I became obsessed with a desire to know how it would feel to have that slippery red prick inside my pussy. Believe it or not, I never felt so strongly about fucking any of the men I knew, although, as I said early, several managed to physically excite me. But it was different with Basset-Oh, I decided Basset was a good name for him, so that's all I ever called him....

Mother had a date. George had asked me to a movie, but I made some excuse and stayed home. I had convinced myself that there could be no harm in letting Basset fuck me, if I could get him to do it. And since I had the whole house to myself, I decided to give it a try. I showered and went to my bedroom, turned off all the lights except my reading lamp, and lifted Basset onto my bed. I lay on my back and bent my legs at the knees, then pulled Basset up over my crotch.

You'd think after trying to fuck my leg at least a hundred times the dog would have known what I expected, but no such luck. He just put his paws on my belly and licked at my hands and whined joyfully. Then I noticed that my cunt was too low for him to approach, because his prick was far above it. I put a pillow beneath my buttocks, and this made the difference. Only Basset still wasn't aware that I wanted him to fuck me. I reached under his belly and stroked his prick with my thumb and forefinger. When the red stem slid forth from its furry cover, I helped by placing it at the entrance of my cunt and getting the tip between my cunt lips.

Well, that did it! Basset's forelegs clamped my sides just above the hips and pulled himself forward, pushing with his hind legs at the same time. His thin prick plunged through the narrow opening of my hymen and was very deeply imbedded in my channel in a flash! So quick, in fact, that I was aware of the pain for a moment or two. I thought: It doesn't hurt as much as my finger! Then I became acutely aware of discomfort, because Basset's prick was really very deep inside me. His balls were against my inner ass-cheeks, which will give you an idea. But I wasn't prepared for what happened next, and let me tell you I was panicky for a few minutes there.

Basset started humping-rapidly. And my cunt began to stretch inside under the pressure of the swelling of his prick. I got scared. I tried to push him away from me, but that hurt worse than his humping. Besides, my opening was too small for his swollen prick, and that's when I realized we were locked together. And that's when I really got frightened.

I would not advise a virgin to let a dog fuck her without first learning all there is to know about a dog's genitals. It is too true that a dog's prick expands tremendously once he begins humping, and there is no painless or safe way to dislodge him once distension has occurred.

I had a few horrible thoughts when I discovered Basset's prick was hung within me. I had visions of having to call mother for help after she got home; of her summoning a doctor; of everybody knowing what I had so foolishly done. Fortunately I recovered my wits. It occurred to me that eventually his prick would reduce in size and return, finally, to its original dimensions. In the meantime I should enjoy it as much as possible, if possible.

Basset humped a moment longer and then ejaculated, filling my channel with several hot spurts of seminal fluid. I tried to savor the warm spray, because it did wash away the discomfort I had been feeling. I wanted him to hump me again. I even churned my pussy, to encourage him. Instead his prick shrank, and as it shrank it slipped from my pussy. Oh, hell! I thought....

But Basset did a terrific thing: He backed up and sniffed at my cunt, which was exuding the semen he'd emptied into it. Then he began lapping at my cunt, making long swipes with his tongue. That turned me on! I got hot all over.

My body was like a taut wire. His tongue probing and licking suddenly had me quivering and gasping, and I climaxed with a long moan. I remember laying there in a dreamy, warm, satisfied way, thinking how lucky I was to have a dog like Basset and wondering if I could teach him to perform cunnilingus regularly.

I knew one thing: I wasn't going to marry George. I was thankful for his present, but wanted no part of him. I wrote him a letter of farewell, saying that I did not love him and therefore could not marry him.

You know, George died two years later. He was found dead in bed. Heart attack, they said. It made me sad, very sad. I was married, of course, and had my first child, but that didn't keep me from mourning George. Maybe I felt guilty for not marrying him. Whatever the reason, I went to the cemetery and cried. Oh, I wept like a baby. ... Isn't that strange? ... Even that isn't all! I used to go at least once a week and place flowers on his grave. ... Last year when my mother died I didn't cry at all.

Did I tell you about my fainting spells? These started right after my marriage. On my wedding night, to be specific. Wayne was only four years older than me-Or is it "I" ? We'd been going together two months prior to the wedding, which I agreed to because I thought it was time to settle down, and because I wouldn't go to bed with him unless we were married. Of course that was silly, since I'd been fucking Basset all the while and had developed this burning curiosity to experience sex with a man. Wayne was handsome and manly, and so much nearer my own age than George had been that I decided to marry him.

On the wedding night I was gripped by anxiety, torn between fright and temptation. I got undressed and on the bed, and zing! I simply passed out! Not for long, obviously, since Wayne wasn't aware of my loss of consciousness. He took off his clothes and lay down beside me, sideways, and took me in his arms. Our naked bodies came together; his hot and eager, mine warm and shaking.

"Are you cold?" Wayne asked.

"No," I replied, "just nervous."

He kissed me. "Don't be frightened, sweetheart. I'll be gentle."

I could feel his prick throbbing against me as he pressed our bodies together. I thought of Basset, who was in the fenced yard, and wondered what Wayne would say if he knew. Thinking of Basset made me less nervous, and my curiosity made me attempt some response to Wayne's caresses. His hands wandered over my tits and stomach, down between my thighs and buttocks. Finally the fingers of his right hand were caressing my pussy, lightly pressing downward over the clitoris. It felt neither good nor bad, although I would describe my feelings as being mildly pleasant. He caressed my cunt for a minute and then, kissing me, forced me over on my back with the weight of his rising body and parted my thighs with his own.

The tip of his prick brushed the lips of my cunt, then pushed between them. Wayne moved slowly, exercising control, until the tip wedged into the dog-created opening of my hymen, which had not been totally destroyed by Basset's slender prick. I noticed right away that the head of Wayne's cock felt as large at the beginning as Basset's felt after it was inside and swollen. I steeled myself against the intrusion, not knowing what to expect.

"Help me," Wayne whispered, his voice harsh with emotion. "Push up. Don't cower. It's always easier for a girl if she helps."

I braced my shoulders and pushed up my crotch. Wayne pushed down, steadily, relentlessly. The narrow opening widened, then the hymen snapped. With a sudden lurch of the hips, Wayne drove his cock through, deeper and deeper. He buried himself to the hilt and kept it there, churning his pubis against mine. I bit my bottom lip to keep from crying out; the final give of my hymen had shot bolts of searing pain through my insides. I wished for unconsciousness again, but no such luck. I had grin and bear it, as they say. I was determined not to make an outcry, and managed not to do so.

Wayne told me to lift my legs and wind them about his sides. After I had done as he requested, he began a slow rocking motion; his prick moved to and fro in my wounded cunt, always striking my uterus when it moved into me. He gradually increased the tempo of his prodding until his whole body was rocking above me, sweaty and warm. He was like a blazing furnace of heat and pent-up energies. Not at all like Basset, who would hump rapidly for a while and then stop and come. I clamped my legs tighter and tighter as he continued the plummeting, and hidden muscles deep within my belly contracted and clutched at the moving cock.

He pounded harder. He pounded so hard that my cunt lost all sense of feeling. Only deadness permeated my crotch. Suddenly his body became rigid above me, his breath came in quick moaning gasps, and he called my name, repeating it over and over: "Grace ... Grace ... Grace ... Oh, Graaaaace!"

He emptied himself, warm and sticky, in long, rapid spurts, then buckled and fell limply over me, slobbering my mouth with erratic kisses.

"Ah, God!" he mumbled, still sucking air. "That was wonderful!"

He pushed himself up, withdrawing his cock from my anesthetized cunt. Dropping loosely beside me, he said:

"Did you like it?"

"Yes," I lied. "I liked it very much."

But I was already thinking of Basset, of how good it would be to have him with me again. And I had him, too-the next morning, as soon as Wayne left the house. Once again I felt the tremendous joy that comes with orgasm....

Yes, I still have fainting spells. Usually in the mornings. On awakening, I go through the same old routine. Something seems to get twisted in my head and I lose consciousness. I suffer similar spells if I am suddenly awakened at night. Only these spells didn't start until after the birth of my son. Whenever I'd get up during the night, to go to his bed, I'd feel as though I was about to fall. I had to throw myself on the bed because my head was in such a whirl. I couldn't pay attention to my son until the attack was over.

Fainting spells are just one part of the misery that besets me. I have the most awful headaches you can imagine. They are sure to start if I am walking downhill ... I don't know why that is, but it is.

If it wasn't for Basset I'm certain I'd have had a nervous breakdown a long time ago. He's five and a half years old now, and you should see the size of his prick. Wayne's is fatter, of course, but no longer; and he doesn't know how to use his as well as Basset. At least he's never brought me to climax. Pregnancy, yes; climax, no. You'd think after giving birth to two children I'd be able to enjoy sex with my husband. ... Well, I don't enjoy it. I just don't get all the way, which is damn frustrating.

Funny. Wayne doesn't suspect anything where Basset is concerned. Even when he sees Basset mount my leg and make those fucking motions, he laughs and treats it as a joke. Not when Basset mounts his leg, however; then it's a different story. Wayne yells at the dog and hits him. Or he throws something, a book, anything handy. I don't like it when he treats Basset mean, and I've repeatedly protested. ... After all, he's only a dog. Poor thing! He doesn't think he's doing anything wrong.

If I didn't have Basset to comfort me I don't know what I'd do! But I know my attitude is becoming a problem. One of these days Wayne is bound to get wise, and I dread his finding out. I've been considering seeking sexual gratification with another man, or men. I mean, there must be a man somewhere who can give me pleasure. It isn't that I'm frigid. If Basset can make me come, and if I can masturbate and reach climax, then I'm not frigid. ... Right?...

I had this strange dream the other night. ... My cousin Natalie was sitting in a corner with my cousin John and they were talking about something. ... I haven't mentioned Natalie before, have I? Well, she's a very educated, very intelligent woman; the kind of woman to whom nobody can say anything. But she mistreats her children, so I don't have much to do with her any more. Anyhow, she was talking to John. I couldn't hear What they were saying but I was sure they were discussing me. Then the dreamed shifted: I was sitting with my son at a window. We were looking out across an open field, about fifty yards or so distant from us. A war was raging on the field. I was afraid my boy would get hit by a stray shot, so I anxiously withdrew from the window. At that precise moment a bullet smashed the window and passed close by my son without hitting him....

Next morning I was so depressed that I had a session with Basset, hoping to relieve my depression. We had a house-keeper who also looked after the children, whenever I wasn't feeling well or wished to sleep late. So I turned the children over to her and locked myself in the bedroom with Basset. He was as playful and as eager for sex as I was or seemed to be. He sniffed at my pussy and started licking it, his tongue moving as though he was lapping water. Right away I was sexually excited ... I put the heavy pillow under my buttocks and pulled him into position, placing the tip of his prick into my cunt. He walked forward, pushing into me with the same old ease. I closed my eyes and relaxed, mentallymy body was quite tense with excitation. Basset got all the way in and started humping. I reached climax just as he spurted my cunt-depths full of warm canine come....

I fell asleep feeling much better. Basset slept at the foot of the bed. I had this sex dream in which my husband wanted to fuck me. It was night-time-in the dream. He wanted to fuck but I wasn't in the mood. For a long time various things kept interfering so that he was unable to fuck me. For some reason he decided to lock all the doors. An electric burner on which water was boiling stood near the bed. ... Isn't that silly!. . . Just when he is mounting me, the electric burner began to sputter and throw off sparks, which caused quite a disturbance. I could smell vinegar; it seemed to pervade the room. While all this was happening I could see his prick in a state of erection. The sight of his long, hard prick gave me a strong pleasurable feeling. ... This was puzzling, since I don't have such a feeling when awake. I couldn't make up my mind whether to hold back or to give in to the feeling. While attempting to decide on a course of action, I awoke ... and discovered Basset nestled between my thighs, his nose nuzzling my pussy.

ANALYTICAL SUMMARY

Grace V-was in need of specialized help, in my opinion, and I told her so. My opinion was not influenced by her canine relations; it was based upon her inability to have satisfactory sexual relations with her husband, i.e., her dyspareunia. If we go over her remarks step by step, her problem will become clear. As I said at the beginning she is a classic case, in that every psychoanalyst has had dozens of female patients suffering from the same type of sexual anesthesia.

Her first memory-that of the baby girl holding a red flower-could be interpreted as an indication of a slight homosexual feeling-attitude. The offering of the red flower (in a symbolic sense at least) means: "She loved me warmly, ardently." On the other hand, as all trained observers know, such memories can't be regarded always as genuine. Quite often such incidents are invented. The remarkable thing there is that the incident was invested with so much affect that it clung to Grace's mind.

It is not uncommon for an older sister to see an infant brother naked and be, in some degree, fascinated by the physical appearance of his genitals. Mere childish curiosity could prompt closer examination, even touching. The fault in this case lies with the mother, who slapped Grace's hand and called her a "bad, bad girl." The mother's remark was ill-advised since it made such an impression upon the girl, possibly instilling a sense of shame. As for witnessing the neighbor's bitch being screwed by a stray male dog and wondering if boys "put theirs into little girls"-What is there to say? The scene is a common one, though in this instance it seemed to have a special meaning.

The next memory wherein she was playing with a girl and two boys, one of whom tickled her cunt with a twig, is something more important and, perhaps, not complete. This memory discloses an experience very common among children. The boy probably touched her cunt with his cock. Obviously repression set in so that nothing further is remembered. A traumatic experience of this kind usually becomes embedded in the young mind as a warning.

I questioned her about this particular memory and she remembered, subsequently, that her "panties" were strikingly white and clean. Psychologically speaking, she thus lays particular stress her purity; and this trauma would warrant the inference of a dread of soiling herself. Further reminiscences revealed an early repression of her first sexual knowledge. Especially her dreams.

The recurring dream about the swarm of snakes tells quite a lot about her sexual attitude. As Dr. Wilhelm Stekel observed in FRIGIDITY IN WOMAN: "Through our study of the various phobias of women we are well familiar with this fear of snakes. It represents dread of the phallus; her longing to touch the phallus is as strong as her dread and aversion of it."

In connection with Grace V-'s dream she has already described clearly a desire to touch the phallus, in the memory concerning her baby brother.

"Another meaning of snakes is of greater importance in this connection," said Dr. Stekel (p. 133, v. ii), "the snake as a symbol of sin." Grace

V-'s dream says: "I have been fighting against sin all my life, but an inner predisposition drives me to sin again and again. I should like to remain pure, but this is beyond me. Temptation assails me all the time, and everywhere." She is more religious than she thinks she is.

The next dream she told me about ("I lift myself high into the air and soar above their heads, flying towards the sky") clearly reveals her hidden religiosity. She is an angel. She alone, among those present, reaches heaven, to the astonishment of everybody. At the same time this dream reveals her boundless ambition: She rises above everybody else.

At this point, according to my notes, I made mention of her deep-rooted piety and she denied it. Then she went on to declare that she was an atheist and told me about her last confession, when she was twelve years old. If she were really an atheist, however, she would feel grateful towards the old priest for dismissing her rather than outraged.

In the dream of the decayed corpse and coffin which is falling to pieces, we read the following: The dead man represents her own lower cravings. These cravings are not concealed properly, i.e. the coffin is falling to pieces. She must confine these cravings more securely, so a new metal coffin is needed. This indicates that her anesthesia is intentional.

The big white house has two floors. The upper floor symbolizes the brain. She wants to rid her brain (otherwise pure, as shown by the white house) of an evil, low, malodorous thought. It must be a very evil thought inasmuch as she wants to isolate it from the world and bury it so securely. She fears that its stench may yet disclose that there is something rotten about her.

I see from my notes that I was impressed from the outset by Grace V-s' use of strong perfume. Usually women do not apply perfume' so heavily, except to hide strong bodily odors. This was not true of Grace; she used the perfume symbolically.

She dated boys but refused to go beyond light kissing and petting with any of them. When her father died she was very depressed and sad, but her thoughts were still sexual: she imagines her mother in the arms of other men with whom she performed "foul, disgusting acts."

This simply means that she was projecting onto her mother those "foul, disgusting" cravings which were repressed by her, thus enabling her to fantasize without guilt feelings.

She met a thirty-year-old man who wanted to marry her. This man gave her a dog, a basset hound, as a present. She thinks more of the dog than of the man. Her sexual relations with the animal prove how far the splitting of her personality has reached. Obviously, after having repressed all her sexual cravings she gives vent to them in bestiality. Her frigidity vanishes in an instant, and the dog fucks her to climax. This resulted in a decision against marriage and a letter to George dismissing him from her life. Yet when this suitor died, two years later and after she was married to another man, she visited his grave and wept, as if she had lost a lover. On the other hand when her mother died she was unable to shed any tears.

She spoke of fainting spells-one on her wedding night, and, later, when she awakens. "Something seems to get twisted," in her head, and she passes out. This still happened five years after the wedding night. This indicates sexual dreams which she does not wish to recall. The probable character of her dreams is disclosed by other symptoms with which all psychoanalysts are familiar through their study of anxiety neurosis. On awakening she feels herself bereft of will power, weak, paralyzed, unable to lift a hand. The attack ends with palpitation of the heart, a strong desire to urinate and diarrhea.

What is the meaning of these morning spells? I can tell you this: They appear only in persons with an extensive splitting of personality, whose unconscious stands in glaring contrast to consciousness. This woman cannot-and must not-know what she has dreamed. She wants to sleep through her orgasms or experience them only during the state of fainting, or while copulating with her dog.

She mentioned "awful headaches" that are "sure to start" if she is "walking downhill." This has also a symbolic meaning. Every steep downhill road becomes a symbol for the pathway to sin. She must again repress sexual thoughts, and does so by developing an "awful headache."

She thinks if it wasn't for her dog she would have had "a nervous breakdown a long time ago." Which is probably true, since she can free her sexual self with the dog. And without fears of pregnancy or concern for what the dog may think of her. She even expresses gratitude for the animal, deprecating her husband at the same time, because he has never been able to make her come during sexual intercourse.

Yet she knows that she has a definite problem. She considers seeking sexual gratification with a man other than her husband, because, as she puts it: "There must be a man somewhere who can give me pleasure." This proves her recognition of the problem, but she can't bring herself to face it totally. We know this through her dreams as well as her conscious behavior. The dream involving her "very educated, very intelligent" cousin was quite easy to decipher. She identifies herself with her cousin. Regarding this dream I said to her:

"You are this wise, all-knowing, somewhat self-conscious woman. You are saying that you do not want me to teach you anything. You desire to use me as a sounding-board. You have made up your mind not to allow yourself to be influenced by me."

My notes reveal that she replied: "True, true. I said to myself yesterday: Let him say what he will, I shall do what I think is right."

"You assume towards me, as you have assumed towards all men, an attitude of contrariness," I told her. "From your identification with your cousin I see, that, you, too, are not particularly fond of your children."

"I admit it," she replied. "But this worries me very much. I try to be a good mother. Nevertheless, according to the way I feel, I am not. I don't seem to have those maternal feelings other women talk about so much."

I discussed with her the episode in which she awoke depressed and used the dog as a means of overcoming her sense of depression. Afterwards she dropped off to sleep and dreamed that her husband wanted to fuck her. There was, you remember, an electric burner on which water was boiling; it began to sputter and throw off sparks just when her husband mounted her. Remember, too, that the sight of her husband's erection gave her "a strong pleasurable feeling." Unable to decide whether to hold back or give in to the feeling, she awoke.

A very instructive dream. It reveals that her anesthesia is merely apparent, the product of an inhibition. The disturbances with which her husband has to contend with in the dream are brought about by her. She is the electric burner that catches fire easily; but she is also quick-tempered; she reaches the boiling point and sputters over too quickly. In the dream this peculiarity is portrayed as a handicap. The shutting of all the doors, too, expresses symbolically the removal of disturbing inhibitions.

It occurred to me that the chief reason for her frigidity may be some grudge against her husband.

Another striking feature in connection with this last reported dream is her strong excitement at the sight of her husband's erect cock. This reminds us incidentally of her snake dream and of her horror of touching a snake. The erect cock is also taboo. Obviously she married her husband without love. Indeed she must have married him because she could not love him sensually. There are women who flee from their own passion. She wanted to flee from sensuality to punish herself. She must make sure that she doesn't yield to it. She wanted to domineer, and this cannot be done when one loves. Love involves the will to submit.

Fucking the dog involves no submission on her part. She dominates the animal and can therefore throw off repression and inhibition; she has no difficulty attaining orgasm while copulating with the dog. At the same time she would like to respond properly to human fucking.

I found her to be a proud, self-reliant woman who does not want to owe any man the favor of an orgasm. She wants to be simultaneously, as it were, her own man and woman.

After telling her how grateful I was for the information, I again recommended that she seek psychiatric aid. I offered to arrange appointments for her with at least three different analysts. She responded by asking me to treat her. "Free me of bestiality!" she begged. "This is all I ask. I am perfectly all right otherwise, as you know. Talking to you has given me a new insight already, and I know you could do more for me than a psychiatrist"

"Bestiality is not a disease in and of itself," I explained. "It is your coldness toward the opposite sex which is the problem. Tell me: Do you consider adultery with a man, even a strange man, a worse thing than having sexual intercourse with your dog?"

"Yes, I do," she replied. "I cannot help it. That is how I feel. I want to enjoy fucking my husband. If I can't enjoy fucking him I don't think it would help me to violate my deep belief in fidelity by cheating with another man. ... I've thought of doing it, of course-I told you that; it might even prove pleasurable. But what then?"

"I am not advising you to seek sexual pleasure with a man other than your husband," I reminded her. "I am advising you to seek qualified medical and psychological help."

Her reaction to my repeated suggestion that she seek qualified treatment revealed her disappointment in me. She accused me of being too indifferent, of taking no interest in her, of treating her as if she were a series of digits in my list of research cases, as I do with every one who confides in me.

My denial was accepted in stony-faced silence. She felt that she was being abused, that she was submitting herself to me day by day and that she was losing the upper hand. She was unwilling to recognize that I might be right. She cannot bear the thought. She would think I was right if I agreed with her own diagnosis and agreed to treat her as a patient. Once more I informed her that this was impossible.

Grace V-left in a rather sullen mood. She has not been back to see me. At this moment I know nothing of her subsequent activities, sexually or otherwise. I cannot say whether she took my advice and secured qualified medical aid. Judging only on the information in my possession I would suspect that she is still practicing bestiality. If, as I hope, she had sought and received qualified help, it is quite possible that her dyspareunia has by now disappeared and that she has succeeded in removing the inhibitions which had stood in the way of her experiencing orgasms during sexual intercourse with a man.

In case number 4, which follows, we deal with the story of Elinor W-, a woman who liked to suck a man off while being fucked by a Doberman named Dante.

CASE No. FOUR "ELINOR'S CANINE INFERNO"

"You cannot simultaneously choose crime for yourself and punishment for others. You must open the prison gates or give an impossible proof of your own innocence."

-MARQUIS DE SADE

Elinor W-had what Dr. Stekel and other authorities called "the Messalina" complex. The psychology of the Messalina type of woman is similar, says Stekel, to that of the Don Juan type among men. They are love seekers who fail to find fulfillment. In the arms of their lovers they seldom reach climax, whereas through masturbation and other forms of sexual activity (in this case bestiality) they attain satisfactory gratification. But this does not make them happy. They yearn for sexual gratification in the normal way, i.e. through fucking a man. Frequently these women relate that they reach a very powerful orgasm during cunnilingus. Nevertheless, they are dissatisfied and go on wanting to experience the ultimate ecstasy through fucking a man. This is the gist of all their thought and longing. As women they want to attain sexual climax in the normal manner. Any other form of gratification fails to satisfy their craving.

The subject of this case history was in her early twenties, possibly twenty-two. She was not beautiful, only fair-looking. She had small rounded shoulders, small tits, a narrow waist and flaring hips that tapered into attractive legs. Her hair and eyes were dark brown, and the color of her skin seemed lightly tinted with olive green. She was not married, though she sometimes lived with a man named Tom R--. During the first three visits to my office she was accompanied by Dante, her dog and constant companion. She gave me the following account of herself.

I hardly know how to begin. The pathway of my life thus far has been a labyrinth through which nobody, least of all me, could find the way out. However, I will attempt to tell you, in a somewhat orderly manner, those things which have not yet escaped my memory.

Tom says I am crazy to tell you everything about myself. Perhaps he's right. But I think he objects because he doesn't want me talking about him; he's awfully touchy about what other people would think of him, and he doesn't want to get into trouble. It's Dante, you see. Tom is afraid we'll be arrested because of the dog....

Dante may look vicious but he's gentle as a lamb. Really. Oh, he'd attack I suppose if he thought you were attacking me. He's a very good protector. He loves me, and I love him; he's my friend in more ways than one.

But you already know about Dante and me. Only this morning I made it with him. Which is why he is so calm now. He wasn't calm this morning though. A whole hour! Can you believe it!

Well, it's his birthday. Dante is six today. ... So we had a party early this morning, to celebrate. He's smart, too. Just wait 'til I tell you what he did! I always sleep nude, you see; and this morning he woke me up licking my tits. He had pulled the cover back with his teeth. ... Then he stood there on the bed licking my tits. He had me going pretty good even before I was fully awake. I caressed his neck and then his underbelly with the tips of my fingers. He moved his hind end toward me, as he always does when I tickle him, because he enjoys having me play with his prick.

I stroked his furry sheath with the thumb and forefinger of one hand and masturbated myself with the other. I was hot for his prick in a matter of moments. He whined with pleasure as I kept on pushing his sheath back. The nipples of both tits were already swollen to twice their regular size, and the more he licked the hotter I got. I can always let myself go with Dante. I don't have to concern myself with what he's thinking, or whether I'm a satisfactory sex partner. It's pure sex, and that makes a difference. No inhibitions. And I'm always in control of the situation. If I want to fuck, he fucks; if I don't want to fuck, he gives me no trouble. This morning I wanted to fuck.

With Dante licking my tits and me finger-circling my clitoris, I was rapidly approaching orgasm. I quickly turned over and pulled my knees up under me. Dante sniffed his way to my rear-end and licked between my buttocks. His forelegs were soon clutching my hips between them, pulling him closer and closer. I felt the tip of his prick seeking entrance to my cunt. Once he found the entrance the prick slid into me easily and quickly. Then Dante walked forward on his rear legs, thus pushing deeper into me. His forelegs gripped more firmly and I braced myself for the treading attack, knowing I'd come almost immediately.

"Come on, Dante," I called back to him. "Fuck mama!"

He began treading. That's what they call it when the dog is pulling back and pushing in, ; more or less as a man does. I melted away into a warm dizziness and moaned deliriously. Every jab was delightful, thrilling, and with a strong inward shudder I climaxed.

Just as the spasms slackened Dante started coming. I wish I could tell you how it feels when a dog comes; it's so different from a man coming. I can't feel a man coming inside me. I can feel his cock throbbing, but that's all. With Dante I can feel the semen; it spurts all over my womb. And there's a large amount of semen, too.

Another thing that's different is the fact that Dante's prick doesn't grow flaccid and soft. He remains hard, and he remains buried deep. He can outlast any man. Even if we happen to become disengaged, Dante will mount again and be as eager and as fresh as the first time. This morning we simply remained locked together until I'd had at least two additional orgasms. Dante emptied himself four or five times, which is not unusual. Then I got up and took a shower, dressed, ate breakfast and hurried here for my first session. Since it was his birthday, I brought Dante along. I hope you don't mind his being here. After all, this concerns him almost as much as it does me....

As a very young child I showed a high degree of nervousness. I was also extremely irritable, on account of my highly sensitive temperament. Both mother and father coddled and pampered me a great deal. I always insisted on having my way in everything. I usually got my way, too. My delicate state of health was the weapon I used.

However, this was not the case so far as my little sister was concerned. She was two years younger than me, but I had to yield to her in everything. I did so because I knew she was the stronger one. I tried everything I could think of to get ahead of her, to best her-but nothing worked. Jean always won. My parents, therefore, thought of me as the softer, milder, yielding one.

At the same time I was also quite downtrodden.

I was considered stupid and unattractive. Naturally this bothered me very much. I looked up to my sister as a higher kind of being. She was wiser, prettier, more aware, as well as more energetic and courageous than I was. Even at school I sat absentmindedly staring in front of me, thinking of everything but the school work.

I was excused from the intricate work because I became dizzy during the hour on one occasion and the dizziness persisted for a long time. This dizziness is a condition which has remained a part of my life, usually coming on me in connection with some specific occasion. ... None of the doctors I've had over the years seem to know what it is, so I've stopped even consulting them. This dizziness has struck me nearly every year of my life, later at rarer intervals, lasting four to six weeks. I have suffered very much because of this dizziness....

To return to my sister: I want to make it clear that I loved her in spite of the fact that she seemed to hate me. I ran after her everywhere; and I do it to this day. If she points out a fault in me I do what she wants me to do. When she quarrels with me it grieves me, hurts deeply. Even though she brings me to tears I am the one who asks forgiveness. I don't really mind, since I am always happy to see her get over her anger.

At school I had difficulty; I did not learn easily. It was hard for me to grasp anything. Jean, on the contrary, was the opposite of me. She was one of the best pupils. I asked her to let me copy her lessons. She allowed me to do so, but took it out on me with cruel taunts, mercilessly pointing out that I was not as bright as she was. Although I was the older, after the first three years we attended the same grade. Actually I remained behind on purpose, in order to go with her to school and to be near her.

Oh, yes! I was also very timid-afraid of being in the dark. I was particularly afraid of burglars. Lying quietly in bed at night I listened with tension to the least noise, fearing that somebody would break in. Fear and dread played a big role in my life. I also had great fear and dread of vomiting. I became nauseated easily. Food sickened me. I remember not being able to swallow on more than one occasion. This scared the hell out of me, for I thought I'd never be able to swallow again-that I had forgotten how. Since childhood this fear of not being able to swallow has reappeared many times in my life.

And I was impressionable. Once I saw a woman faint on the street, and I was always afraid that it would happen to me. Water frightened me, too. I learned to swim, of course, but I never liked to get into the water. This dread of water is still part of me. I was afraid of finding myself suddenly unable to talk-speechless; afraid of losing my breath suddenly. Oh, I was a mess, all right. Innumerable foolish notions of the same type entered my head at that period of my life.

We lived in the country then, on a farm. We had horses, three cows, a bull and all sorts of poultry. I was terribly afraid of the bull. I witnessed him fucking one of the cows, although my father wasn't aware that I was watching. Did you ever see a bull's prick? God! Long and bright pink-as long as my arm! He reared up on that cow and shot that long prick into her. She got a hump in the middle of her back like a goddamn camel! And when that long thing slid back out of her, a thick creamy stream of come followed it, flowing down from her cunt like a thin rope. Before it hit the ground the bull was on her again, shoving that terrible pink thing deep into her insides. I thought of that damn bull in the daytime, and I dreamed of the monstrous prick of his at night. It ruined the country for me. I was always afraid the bull would break out and get me at any moment.

I remained a child for a long, long time, always living in my fantasies. I liked to play "mother" and I nursed my dolls. Jean used to laugh and make fun of me for doing it. I also had my dolls go to the toilet. I dressed in mother's clothes, stuffed my bust line to make tits and felt I was a mother. Already at that young age the word "wife" excited me. The word "God" always inspired me with great awe. I was afraid I might be harboring at the same time some blasphemous thought. At school I was afraid the teacher might call on me to recite the prayer. When she did so I became speechless. That wouldn't be a problem today, since prayers have been outlawed in schools....

I sat always near the door, on the end of my seat. I did it because I wanted to be exceptional-you know, different. At that time I imagined that I was "somebody", that my frail health made me exceptional. Already as a child I was very conceited. I admired myself in the mirror. I wanted to be prettier than anybody else.

I was really fond of my mother. She yielded to me in everything. Father was more severe; he often whacked us one. As a child I saw his prick on one occasion. I don't know if this has anything to do with it, but I recall that on one occasion father whacked me on the behind and I was so scared that I could not swallow a single bite of food. The food stuck in my throat.

At that time Jean always wished father were dead and frequently told me so. I was hurt and desperate about it. I was more obedient and considerate than Jean....

Once, while in town, I saw a man with his cock out; he was standing at the edge of an alley, urinating against the building. This made a lasting impression on me. His action obviously pleased me, for I tried to imitate him at home. Not very successfully, I should add.

One day a girl at school told me that children come from the mother. The father merely puts his "thing" inside hers, then the baby grows inside her belly. This excited me very much. I ran home and told mother, who tried to convince me that it wasn't true. This filled me with a pronounced disgust towards mother, for I knew she was lying to me.

At the age of 13 or 14 I became very pious. A girl friend always went with me to church and we sent one another religious trinkets. Around this time I began to masturbate-possibly earlier. I always indulged in the act with the illusion that a doctor was examining me and that I fought against it. This happened several times during the day and also at night. Sometimes I would imagine myself as a dog, though this type of fantasy didn't occur until I'd witnessed a male dog fucking a female dog in the park. ... This fantasy exerted tremendous pressure upon my sexual desire, making me come in far less time than before....

A woman-my mother's second cousin-came to live with us for a while. Un-like my mother, this woman would discuss openly all the forbidden topics. At least she discussed these topics with me. ... Her name was Anne, and I grew to love her very much. She shared my room at night. ... I kissed her on the tits. She, in turn, masturbated me. At that time I was still very timid. I blushed the moment anyone looked at me. But Anne understood me, and we had great moments together. She taught me all about cunnilingus. The first time she went down on me I thought I was going to die from pleasure....

I thought about men, naturally, but was too shy. Being very pious, as was Anne, I liked only spiritual-minded men and was happy whenever I met one. ... Anne told me that she often felt a lump in her throat. I had the same experience afterwards. It began, however, only shortly before

I became engaged to Freddy Y-, the first man to have me sexually. But that was later, when I was eighteen, and long after Anne had moved away from us.

On leaving school I had to look for an occupation. Mother wanted me to be a typist and work in an office, but I did not care for it. Nothing appealed to me, nothing seemed to me worth while. Because I had talent for drawing father sent me to an art school. It was a waste of time and money. I didn't accomplish anything there. And I hated the city. I yearned for the country. Nature furnished me everything that I wanted; in the open country I could lose myself completely.

I decided to learn astronomy-I mean, astrology, and I bought a chart for myself. At the same time I was very religious. I read only holy books, wrote poems about Christ, and so forth. I despised every one who was not religious. I venerated Christ in particular....

I felt much disappointed with life. I thought my fate was particularly harsh. Whatever I attempted ended in failure. I was unattractive-looking and I wanted to be pretty. This troubled me. I looked at my sister and saw how pretty and voluptuous she was! All men ran after her, while I seemed superfluous everywhere. Jean was the favorite and made herself shine wherever we went. I remained the little Cinderella. Is it any wonder that I became despondent and pondered to myself: Why has nature so neglected me? I was very anemic, pale and thin; no man looked at me. I prayed to God to send me a man who would love me and whom I could love. I felt thoroughly confident that God would answer my prayer.

My parents liked the city, so we had to remain. My father had sold the farm and opened a small grocery store in town. I wanted to do something, so I took music lessons. Again I did not get very far. My teacher was a very sensual man. His questions always had a double meaning so that I blushed all the time. I was quite addicted to the habit of masturbation, and I would play with myself and imagine that the music teacher was trying to seduce me.

"I love you, Elinor," he would say in my fantasy. "I want you. I want to make love to you."

"No, no," I would say, fingering my pussy. "Nice girls don't do that."

"Just look at how badly I need you," he would say, and I'd see his prick; it stood out from his crotch long and hard and the end fiery red. "I want to fuck you, Elinor. ... I want to make you happy. Let me fuck you....

And while he begged me to let him fuck me, I'd reach a climax pretending that the head of his prick was brushing against the lips of my pussy.

He had a Doberman for a pet. The dog used to sit on the rug and lick his prick. The red tip. would ease out of the hairy cover and he lapped all over it with his tongue. I thought it was a pretty thing, and the size was not scary. I wondered how it would feel to have that red prick slipping inside me. I had the most urgent compulsion to touch it....

Then it was that my fear of open places began, although I don't think this had any connection with my interest in the Doberman. On one occasion while I was on my way home from a music lesson everything on the street seemed changed so that I felt suddenly like I was about to faint. This alarmed me, naturally. I hurried home as quickly as I could and told my mother about my horrible experience. After that I did not trust myself to go out alone.

Mother, thinking I was seriously ill, sent me to the country, to stay a few weeks with an aunt. In the country all my symptoms disappeared. Nature brought me nearer to God and I felt well. I do not recall everything clearly any more, but it seems to me that I fell in love frequently at the time. As soon as a boy or a man began to pay the least attention to me I fell in love.

My first love was my cousin. He never kissed me when we were alone, but we were together on my aunt's farm very often. He delighted in taking me around where he knew the animals were in heat. He took me to the pig-pen and I saw a big boar mount a sow who squealed and grunted all the while she was being fucked.

He had a big bird dog that followed me around, and once I touched his prick in the woods. I pushed the covering back and looked at the stiff red prick and was tempted to lie down and see if he would fuck me. I didn't have the courage, however, and I was ashamed of myself for a long time afterwards.

The first man to propose marriage to me was

Freddy Y-, a school teacher. I felt flattered that a man wanted to marry me. I loved him with abandon. The thought of becoming a man's wife thrilled me. I did not object too much when he wanted to make love to me. We drove out to a lonely place in the woods, because I refused to let him rent a place. He kissed me, fondled my buttocks and pressed his crotch into mine. I could feel the bulge down there. This aroused me. He lifted my skirt up over my waist, kissing me all the while. He hooked his thumbs under the tops of my panties and slowly worked them down over my thighs. Still kissing me, he held me about the shoulders with one arm and placed the fingers of his other hand on my pussy, stimulating it with a slow circular motion. I felt myself turning wet between the legs, and there was a series of sharp, warm, urgent sensations within my cunt. When I trembled from excitement and gasped for breath, Freddy forced me gently down upon the leafy ground and removed my shoes and panties. He got between my legs and stood on his knees. He unzipped his fly and hastily exposed his prick. It was much more powerful-appearing than I had imagined, and the sight of it shook me a little. I was about to object but he shut off my appeal before I could say anything. Coming down over me quickly, he covered my mouth with a deep kiss and nuzzled my slit with the crown of his prick. I was already quite wet and he pushed into me with ease. Then he met the blockage of my hymen. He seemed surprised. "Are you a virgin?" he asked, raising his head an inch or two so that he could look into my eyes. "Yes," I mumbled, wishing I could get away from him. He smiled and kissed me again. "Then just relax as much as you can. I'll do it quick...." He pushed that hard cock of his steadily into me. I felt my flesh tear as he broke through, and for a moment I was paralyzed. A sharp, searing ache occupied my cunt, which now contained the full length of his cock. "Does it hurt much?" he asked softly. "Yes," I answered truthfully. "I can't stand it, Freddy. Please stop."

"It'll only take a minute for me to come," he said.

"But it hurts!" I said, whimpering.

"Will you do something for me if I stop now?" he asked, and pulled back an inch or two. "Will you?"

I nodded. "What do you want me to do?"

"I want you to suck me," he said. "Will you do that for me?"

I didn't say anything for a moment. I just let his request rattle through my brain, trying to picture such a thing. He pushed deep into me again, causing a new attack of sharp pains in my cunt.

"Yes!" I cried. "Yes. I'll do it! Only please stop now."

Anything was preferable to the searing pain. He slowly withdrew his prick and stood on his knees again. I watched him take a handkerchief from his pocket and use it to clean the blood from his prick. Then he sat back, propped on his elbows, and let his cock stand exposed.

"Come on," he urged. "Suck me off. Take it in your mouth and make it shoot."

I didn't really want to do it, but I had promised. I got up and came over his cock, standing on all fours. I remembered how I'd seen my cousin's dog lick himself, and I stuck out my tongue and imitated him. I licked over the bulging red crown, moving my tongue swiftly. It wasn't displeasing, as I had expected it would be. Following my instincts I took the knob into my mouth and sucked upon it. Freddy lay flat on his back and made intercourse motions, causing more and more of his long cock to enter my mouth.

"Oh, Elinor!" he gasped. "Oh, Elinor!"

Suddenly my mouth was attacked by a stream of warm, thick liquid. I could taste his come, and I liked the taste. I took even more of his cock into my mouth and sucked hungrily. I swallowed the semen and kept right on sucking, wanting more. But he withdrew his prick and scrambled up and got behind me.

"Don't change position," he said, and I felt his hands come down on my sides above the hip.

"What are you doing?" I asked, still dizzy with the excitement of having made him come in my mouth.

"I'm going to fuck you dog-fashion," he answered. "It won't hurt as much this way. Now don't move...."

The image of two dogs flashed through my mind. I saw the long red prick of the male as it slid into the female and disappeared. A tremor ran up my spine. I felt the crown of his prick pushing into my bleeding cunt. Deeper, deeper, and yet deeper ... until he was resting his chest on my back and holding himself motionless for a moment. Then he started fucking, and this time it did not hurt as much as before. In fact, the to and fro movement of his cock within me generated an animal-like excitement. I wished I could see his face....

The army drafted Freddy. We exchanged letters for a month or so, then-nothing. My father died. His death made a terrible impression on me. My cousin attended the funeral. This consoled me somewhat, for I still loved him, although he was interested in my sister at the time. This upset me, too, because it proved to me once more that the whole world prefers beauty and smartness. For a time this made me averse to company and I withdrew into my shell. Meanwhile I had to reconcile myself to my fate. Fortunately I had, thank God, a fairly easy disposition and could readily shake things off me.

I made the acquaintance of several young men, but none understood my ardent longings. I was a love-yearning girl, anxious to be made happy and to give happiness in return. My girl friends became engaged and one after another they married. I envied every one of them.

Then I met Alice M-, which I consider one of the best things that ever happened to me. She gave me Dante; he was a little over a year old at the time. She also introduced me to Tom R-, who became my lover.

Alice owned Dante's mother, too, and wouldn't have parted with her for a million dollars. But she had no use for males, canine or human. She reminded me a great deal of Anne-though she was considerably younger and more definitely homosexual. When she approached me sexually I was flattered. However, I refused her overtures the first few times. But I couldn't stay away from her because I had taken Dante to my heart. He was such a friendly animal! I guess he appreciated my attention, since Alice gave all hers to the mother. Observing my love for Dante, and wanting to keep me friendly, Alice offered him to me.

"Oh, I couldn't take him away from you!" I exclaimed, wanting to take him very much.

"Don't be silly!" Alice answered. "You're crazy about him, and he-likes you. Take him, with my blessing. He's no good to me. I was going to get rid of him anyway."

"You mean it?"

"He's trained, you know," she went on. "He isn't as good at it as Dolly, of course, but then males never are. He's perfect for you, Elinor; if you don't feel like letting him give you pleasure with his tongue, you can always get him to take the place of a man."

I was so grateful to own Dante that I permitted Alice to make love to me. It was quite pleasant, as I suspected it would be. She performed cunnilingus until I burst into orgasm, then she lay beside me for a little while, her hand carefully stroking my tits.

"Why don't we bring Dolly and Dante in here," she said, making a statement instead of asking a question. "You may as well see whether you'll like it...."

The idea appealed to me. I had doubts, naturally, but not enough to overcome my curiosity. So Alice opened the bedroom door and summoned Dolly and Dante; they both came at a run. She locked the door when they were in the room with us, then watched with some amusement as Dante leaped all over me, pawing and licking.

"He knows it's a party," Alice said. "Look at Dolly, will you?"

I looked. Dolly was already on the bed, her eyes trained on Alice, waiting with her tongue dangling.

"I'll be with you in a minute, Dolly darling," she said. "First I'll give Dante and his mistress a hand." Turning to me, she smiled. "Get down on all fours and just pretend you're a bitch in heat. I'll make sure Dante gets it in the right hole."

Nervous and somewhat embarrassed I got down on all fours. Alice pushed her index finger up my cunt and moved it back and forth. Then she summoned Dante and gave him the finger to smell. He sniffed and she directed his head to my ass. He sniffed some more and whined.

"Don't move," Alice said. "He'll be ready in a second. I'll just give his cock a stroke or two, and he'll get the idea."

In a moment I felt his hairy legs slipping down over my sides.

"I'll get him started," Alice said. "Now don't move, honey."

I didn't move. I don't think I could have moved at the time, not even if my life depended on it. I felt the warm narrow prick at the entrance of my cunt, and I heard Alice saying:

"That's it, Dante, that's it. Now you're right on the beam. Go on, fellow, and show your new mistress what a stud lover you can be."

As she was talking Dante hunched up on me, shoving his prick deep into my channel; it wasn't such a big cock, but it was quite long and I could feel the tip of it pushing against my womb. Dante moved tighter against me, causing his prick to go further inside. I was tingling all over. I didn't know what to expect, I certainly was unprepared for the next thing that happened. Dante began moving to and fro, mostly to, and so rapidly that I was dizzy with excitement before I was fully aware of what he was doing. And suddenly my cunt was stretching inside under the swelling pressure of his long prick.

"Oh! Oh! OHHHHHH!" I moaned loudly, unable to suppress the quick flowing sensations of sexual excitement.

"Enjoy, honey!" Alice called from the bed. "I told you that you two belonged together."

I turned my head so that I could see what Alice was doing. She was flat on her back, legs bent at the knees and wide apart. Dolly was between her legs, her mouth busy at Alice's cunt. I could see hazily that Alice was swept up in sensual pleasure; her face was pink-flushed and the nipples of her tits appeared larger and stiff. But I was too involved with my own ecstasy to pay much attention to Alice and Dolly. Dante was fucking fast and hard, and I was soaring with excitement. I just let it happen. Finally, overwhelmed by the intoxication of Dante's fast moving prick, I went into orgasm. It felt so good, so unexpectedly good, that I wanted to scream. Maybe I did scream. I don't know. Alice didn't know either, because Dolly's tongue was lifting her to the peak of orgasm just as I climaxed.

One other thing: I remember thinking of the first time, when I sucked Freddy's cock. While Dante was fucking me I had this strange hunger for a man's cock, to suck on ... .

Now I've heard it said that a woman who once receives sexual gratification through bestiality will never again really care whether or not she has a man. It didn't turn out that way in my case. My supreme desire was to rise in the esteem of the men. I think I succeeded. When Alice introduced me to Tom R-, which she did approximately three weeks following the time of the above described scene, I was positively dumb with admiration for him. When we arranged for a date the lump in my throat appeared again, this time in a far more serious form. It caused me so much trouble that I thought I'd die. My mental life underwent a revolutionary change. Everybody thought I had become insane. Along with the lump in my throat there appeared my nervous indigestion. It was difficult to eat food. I became restless wherever I was. If I was in the house I wanted to run into the street; if I was on the street I wanted to rush back home. In short, I became too restless to find a moment's peace anywhere....

Tom R-prevailed upon me to go away with him. I agreed, but only on condition that I could take Dante with me. I told mother I was leaving. This upset her very much; she didn't like Tom

R--. Neither did Jean, but she wouldn't have liked any man who liked me, and especially not one as handsome as Tom. Jean was jealous, you see-or did I tell you this? Well. Anyway ... Tom and I went away, and I took Dante with me.

Tom knew about Dante, of course; he was told by Alice M-, who introduced us. Tom liked for me to suck him off. Sometimes he'd perform cunnilingus on me and I'd reach orgasm every time. But he only made me come once in the regular way. I used to think it would be better if only we were married. But Tom didn't want to marry me-or anybody else.

"Marriage is a crock of shit!" he'd say. "It spoils everything."

One time, when I brought up marriage, he laughed and said: "You don't want to commit bigamy, Elinor. Or do you? You're already married to that dog of yours."

He liked for Dante to fuck me while I sucked him off. He always got a big thrill from that. So did I. He'd lie down on his back and I'd be between his legs on all fours. Dante would mount me and start fucking, and I'd take Tom's prick into my mouth and suck him off. It was always better that way, because we'd both reach orgasm.

Tom and I had a lot of fights. I found out he was a pill freak. He'd gulp Seconal tablets like they were sugar-coated peanuts. "Downers" is what he called them. When I'd go into one of my nervous periods, which happened more frequently after I left home, Tom would urge me to take several of his pills. I finally succumbed. They really did calm me down, but too much so I thought. Tom merely laughed. He laughed at everything. He wouldn't work either, preferring to hustle people. With my innate sense of honesty it was difficult for me to respect him. I got a job in an office and earned sufficient money for our necessities. Tom brought money home, too, but I never asked him where he got it; I just didn't want to know.

We separated several times, but always got back together again. I'm with him now. I don't know how long it will last, and don't really care. He's so down all the time that he's seldom strong in bed anymore. He'll gulp down twenty to twenty-five Seconals a day. It's a real problem. ... I was just about at wits end when this man at the office where I work suggested I tell you my story. I've been seeing him a couple nights a week lately. I like him, but-well, he's married. Maybe knowing this is what prevents me from really enjoying sex with him. I don't know. He's gentle and kind, and very considerate in bed; he just can't make me come. But he lifted me out of the depths into which I had sunk. He got me to stop taking "downers," and I feel better. In my mind, anyway. But Tom is getting to me. The old attacks of dizziness have returned. In desperation I resolved to phone you for an appointment. ... I got your name from a girl at the office who said she knew you.

Now I am here, and you have heard my story.

Everything I have gone through thus far has meant nothing but disappointment and torture to me. Everything except Dante, that is. Sometimes I suspect that he'll also prove a disappointment ... eventually.

This is my last attempt to make sense out of my life. If this step, too, should fail me what is there left for me?

I have felt a certain resentment against all human beings. Why has fate treated me so badly? Other people are well and happy. I see them. Yet I, yearning desperately for right living, drag along an ailing existence. Except for Dante I have no real enjoyment from life.

At any rate, a small ray of light is visible. I've made up my mind: I mean to stake everything on getting well! I must get well! I want to be like other women. I want to respond normally in a sexual relationship. I do not want to be afraid any longer....

ANALYTICAL SUMMARY

Elinor Wis an interesting subject. Her story discloses a series of fascinating perspectives. Bestiality, in this case, is just another symptom of her neurosis. We must appreciate the fact that the moral trend of such neurotics is so strong that they expiate their deeds with added anguish. Such a woman can never attain an orgasm normally or abnormally so long as her conscience does not permit it. We need only consider the rare occasions when she experienced orgasm while being fucked by a man.

Her deepest, strongest longing was contact with a big cock. She remembered clearly those occasions on which she saw a man's cock exposed, i.e. the man pissing in the alley and her father. There is evidence that the non-erect, pendent prick aroused her more readily than the organ in a state of sexual readiness. The bull's penis was so long it frightened her, yet she was fascinated by it. She turned to a dog because, probably, the canine penis reminded her of the bull's. Her first lover had, according to her, "a big, long prick." Nevertheless she remained entirely unresponsive during copulation with him. Freddy Y was extremely potent, but she remained anesthetic. This shows why she yearns for a gigantic cock. Men do not arouse her enough. She expects the strength of the stimulus to bring about an investing of her craving upon the man and, what is more important, her mind associates length of prick with strength of stimulus.

She is not an overt homosexual but her strongest sexual trend is in that direction. She is in what Stekel calls "a larvated state of homosexuality." This condition is easily recognized through the fact that the orgasm always arrives whenever a woman is also involved in the sexual situation. On the other hand she has no difficulty in climaxing through masturbation. This is also true when she touches a woman or kisses her on the tits, as happened with Anne. She kissed the woman's breasts with great passion. She tells us that she suffers from globus hystericus (lump in the throat) which makes it difficult to swallow. This is a symptom which Dr. Sadger claims "is traceable to a fellatio fantasy." Stekel found that this symptom has a multiple determination. He writes: "Sometimes (globus hystericus) may be explained on a purely psychical basis; again the explanation may be a different one. These patients are of the type suffering from psycho-sexual infantailism. I have called them eternal sucklings. They frequently have the sensation of holding something soft and big in their mouth. This is an echo of their suckling period and its delights. In their fantasy they suckle at the breast." (FRIGIDITY IN WOMAN, II, 199)

Elinor W suffered also from hysterical deglutition. She goes through and repeats again and again the movements of swallowing with the sensation of holding a soft substance in her mouth. Often this symptom merges into the globus hystericus. In fact, with many women the practice of fellatio is an expression of their psycho-sexual infantilism. This explains why Elinor is greatly interested in the hanging penis. This sight rouses her as much as the sight of a woman's pendent breasts. To her the pendent prick is a symbol for the hanging breast.

The specific fantasy accompanying her masturbation practice during childhood is particularly interesting because it reveals the effect that a physician's physical examination has upon the thinking of some women. Elinor imagines that she is calling on a doctor. The doctor is of the opinion that he must give her a thorough examination. She hesitates bashfully; he insists. At last she lies down. He wants to raise her dress. She protests. During all this time she plays the role of the doctor with one hand and with the other she assumes the role of patient. When the doctor touches her cunt the orgasm sets in promptly.

Taken at face value one may be inclined to regard this as a heterosexual fantasy. Not by any means. Elinor imagines that she is the doctor. She herself assumes the male role. She identifies herself with a man. This is the chief prerequisite of homosexuality. Bearing this specific fantasy in mind one may readily understand the reason why doctors play so important a role in her life.

Elinor is a woman continually hungry for love. As a matter-of-fact she is narcissistic-in love only with herself. She needs men's love, because she must have proof all the time that she is pleasing and desirable. This is something her dog cannot give her. She is very greedy for love. Her illness serves the purpose of pressing everybody into her service; it is a means of dominating everybody.

She is afraid of sin. At the same time sin lures her on because she yearns continually for proofs of her irresistible charms. Her pronounced feeling of inferiority (probably generated by her relations to the sister and not at all organically determined) is checked to a certain extent by her bipolar feeling that she is "different." She wavers constantly back and forth between these two extremes.

However, she is secretly proud of her illness; it has enabled her to avoid work and shirk the regular duties imposed by our daily existence. She lulls herself into a self-complacent attitude of mind with the notion that her sufferings are greater than anybody's in the whole world. And she thinks she is uncommonly interesting. What do people think of her? So young, so beautiful, and yet-so ill! The poor thing! What is the matter with her? In brief, she cannot get along without her illness.

She became sexually involved with a dog which was given her by a woman who was an overt lesbian. She was so grateful that she permitted this woman sexual liberties, following which she engaged in coitus with the male dog. Later, when she had an affair with Tom R-, and he wanted her to go away with him, she would not go with him unless she could take along her canine lover. This could have been a deliberate insult to the man, or the result of addiction to bestiality. She never reached orgasm except once while being fucked by her lover, yet she always reached orgasm while "sucking him off" and being fucked by the dog. All the while she pleads a desire to be normal sexually.

One does not have to be a psychoanalyst to imagine how difficult it is to cure such a patient and train her to get along without her illness. In such a case the analyst usually brings to the surface few features unknown to the patient, but its educative task remains; it must generate in these sufferers the determination to face life without leaning on their neurosis as a convenient crutch.

Elinor W-regards herself as very unfortunate merely because she cannot achieve orgasm while copulating with a man. No other woman, she claims, is so miserable. She talks as if the orgasm were not an orgasm when achieved in any other manner. However, she requires constantly the nimbus of some abnormality, or illness. She does not want to be normal.

Her attacks of dizziness are also interesting.

These attacks are primarily a means of protecting herself against temptations and sins. They enable her also to act the role of an invalid. Moreover these attacks betray. I noticed the deliberate way she tossed such words as "fuck" and "prick" and "cunt" into her narrative; it was as though she expected me to voice an objection to such language. Always she complained of "feeling dizzy" at some point during her visit.

Elinor suffered also from shortness of breath. This trouble came upon her only after the death of her father. During his last days the father was tortured, she said, by a very severe rattling of the throat. His suffering roused extreme compassion in her so that the recollection of those painful hours promptly starts a similar attack in her. I am certain that these attacks occur only when her conscience troubles her.

She was deeply religious as a child. She prayed and promised Christ she'd always lead a pious life. She would take an oath to do some work of gratitude, then fail to keep her oath. But her oath to Christ is quite important: she swore to Him that she would hold herself pure and that she would regard herself as His bride. In spite of this holy promise she continued to masturbate; thus she appeared to herself as the most profligate sinner.

This oath of chastity and purity stood between her libido and her orgasm. Usually during coitus with a man she withdrew from proper participation by allowing her thoughts to wander elsewhere. Thus she partially kept her oath, without knowing it or, rather, without wanting to know it. Such oaths play a big part in the psychogenesis of dyspareunia.

To deny her homosexuality she accepted sexual involvement with a male dog. Her inability to reach orgasm with a man gave her a reasonable excuse to continue bestiality. She tried lover after lover because she wanted to enjoy sex in "the normal way." This convinced her that she was "trying" to turn away from the sin of animal relations. But her conduct only plunged her more deeply into her illness. For every forbidden indulgence in pleasure she punished herself secretly by an aggravation of her symptoms; and she was unable to achieve orgasm with a man. Her conscience would not permit her any gratification, and things went from bad to worse, the attacks of dizziness becoming more frequent and more severe.

"Dizziness is a symptom which appears whenever unwelcome thoughts are trying to break into one's consciousness," stated Dr. Stekel. "This is the reason why many neurotics complain of this symptom manifesting itself immediately upon arising in the morning. The nocturnal dream endeavors to break into consciousness where it is unwelcome. Dizziness develops and ... the dream is 'forgotten'. "

Her "sins" weigh heavily on her conscience, even though she refers to them lightly. But she reproaches herself very strongly for her bestiality. "I must be horrible, abnormal, or crazy or something," she reflected aloud. "Why else would I surrender myself to a dog? I'm degenerate...."

All her suffering was due to her uneasy conscience. Nevertheless, she has resolved to hold on to her illness and to remain incurable. She needs her illness because her illness serves her as a means for controlling her environment, because she thinks that it makes her interesting, because it enables her to seek love under the form of compassion.

On the other hand she wants to enjoy life, too, while she is still young and attractive. But she has found out through men that she will never be able to live normally unless she rids herself of her conflicts and resolves to live up strictly to her duties and obligations. She wants to be through once and for all, she says, with her "evil passions." She wants to start a new life and to try to live without recourse to her illness and her neurotic symptoms. She is afraid of death and of dying. "Death is not the end of everything," she remarked at one point. "There must be another life!"

Her secret consolation is that she will return another time to this world and that she will then lead a better life. She rebels against mortality with all the fibers of her being. She does not want to be "a common person." She wants to "amount to something." She wants to devote herself to art-she wants to accomplish something. She wants her name to become known to fame. In brief, she seeks immortality.

Her story has permitted a deep insight into the psyche of a frigid woman. We see how divided and torn her psyche is. She is a free-thinker and a liberal; at the same time she is inclined to piety and is superstitious. She yearns for good health, spends a fortune for doctors and health schemes; at the same time she is proud of her illness. She considers herself irresistible; does not for a moment accept the idea that she is a common mortal; at the same time she is tortured by feelings of inferiority which first asserted themselves in her childhood. These feelings do not arise out of an organic inferiority, in Otto Adler's sense, but are traceable merely to a sense of moral inferiority. She wants to be a normal woman and she loves being fucked by her dog.

Elinor finished her story and remained an added hour or so to discuss it with me. I told her exactly what I told GRACE V-(subject No. 3)-, that she needed help which I was unable to give her. I regret that she did not act upon my advice and seek the necessary help. I do not know what will become of her under the circumstances, though I could hazard a guess.

First, however, I want to say something about the significance of narcissism. The illusion that she is irresistible was clearly developed in Elinor. We were told at the very beginning of excessive tenderness on the part of her parents. This fostered in the child the belief, or illusion, that she was an extraordinary being. She began early to play with and pose in front of herself. Homosexuality is, as Dr. Stekel pointed out, only a form of narcissism: "love of one's nearest blood relations-incestuous attachment-is its sharpest background. We always love ourselves in others." Freud traces narcissism to a fixation of the infantile libido, and there is more than enough evidence to support him. But these fixations, transferences and investments of the libido never tell the whole story. The belief in one's great historic mission, the revolt against the commonplaces of existence, seem to me to play a greater role among the significant psychic determinants.

Elinor W-'s tragedy consisted of the fact that she was an ordinary, average human being; only her illness made her unusual. Thus she became attached to her illness, and she loved it more than she loved any man; loved it more than she loved any of her women friends; loved it even more than she loved her dog.

She was able to attain sexual gratification only through autoerotic indulgences and by fucking her dog; but she wanted to enjoy ordinary sexual relations and be "normal." The trend towards normality is a moral trend. Again, it was her tragic fate that she had abandoned herself to unmoral ways in her search for what is normal.

Now don't misunderstand me. I am not preaching morality. I do not take sides in questions of religion. I make my comments from the subject's own viewpoint. This subject fused "normality" and "religiosity" in one concept. It is quite possible that a great love would have swept her clear out of her narcissistic current; perhaps it would have cured her completely. Gradually she would have learned to love her lover for his sake and, eventually, others. Unfortunately, this is not what happened. Her manner of living denies her hope; it only plunges her more deeply into her neurosis. Unless she is properly treated, and soon, she will go from bad to worse.

Perhaps my prognosis is too gloomy. Perhaps she will wake up and get the help she needs. One can only hope....

The next-and final-case history concerns a woman who like any of the previous ones; a masochist with an extraordinary problem. And she had a very vicious dog....

CASE No. FIVE "HELEN'S STRANGE NEED"

"And in all thine abominations and thy whoredoms thou shalt not remember the days of thy youth, when thou wast naked and bare, and wast polluted in thy blood."

-EZEKIEL, c. 16, v. 22

Helen D-, the subject of this case history, was brought to my attention by her attorney who was also a close acquaintance of mine.

"You will find her interesting," he told me. "She is a woman of strange drives, and unusual needs. If you can get her to open up and talk to you, I am certain you'll have enough material to add another chapter to your current project. Would you like me to arrange a private meeting between you?"

I said I would like him to do that very much. His services were necessary because Helen was at the moment serving a thirty day sentence in the Women's Division of the County Prison. He arranged for me to meet privately with her in the warden's office, but don't ask me to tell you how he arranged it. I don't know.

Helen was surprisingly attractive: a natural brunette with gold-flecked green eyes, she was blessed with a clear, smooth skin and the physical attributes of a sex-goddess. I found it difficult to believe that she had been convicted of prostitution. She was living proof of the old law which says "appearances are deceiving." Although she was expecting me, and had been "briefed" by our mutual acquaintance, her suspicion and distrust of me were quite obvious. When I mentioned the attorney, she said:

"That ass-hole! He should have gotten me off! Now he sends you to ask a lot of personal questions. I'm sick and tired of answering questions. What are you, huh? You a shrink or something? Why should I tell you anything?"

She listened politely while I explained my work and why I was interested in her. When I finished explaining, she nodded her head in understanding.

"I see. You do the same sort of thing Kinsey used to do."

"Something like that, yes," I answered.

"But you're not a shrink, right?"

"Right."

She asked several more questions, all having to do with the nature of my research. I realized that she was trying to prove her suspicion of me was justified, so that she could refuse to tell me her story. I recognized her masochism in her attempts to incite me, make me lose my temper and possibly attack her verbally. The liberal use of vulgar words was an open invitation for me to reprimand her. I straight-faced her instead and went right on asking questions.

"Do you own a dog?" I asked, although I knew she did own one-a huge German shepherd named King.

Her green eyes flashed. "Everybody's got a dog."

I shook my head, and replied: "I haven't got a dog. What kind do you have?"

She answered truthfully, judging from the facts given me by her attorney. She told me the animal's breed, name, sex, and age. She concluded her remarks by saying: "I sure miss King. What a dog! ... A friend took him to a kennel for me, where they'll take good care of him until I get out of this pig-shit dump."

"You said something about a friend," I remarked. "Girl friend, boy friend, or husband?"

The green eyes flashed again, and the flash was accompanied by a disapproving frown.

"Husband! You must be kidding," she said. "What would I want with a husband, for god-sake?"

"You sound bitter," I said. "Were you ever married?"

She glanced away. "Yeah." She grimaced. "But that was a long time ago," she went on. "I was young and stupid and didn't know any better."

"And how long did the marriage last?"

"Oh, two years; maybe a few months longer," she answered, and shrugged a shoulder. "I don't remember any more. It was a fucking drag, I remember that much." She was reflective for a moment, reaching back into the past, searching the shadows for something. Finally, she sighed and said: "I can't even remember what he looked like."

"How old were you at the time of your marriage?"

"Nineteen. Well, almost nineteen."

"Did you have a dog at that time?" She gave me another sharp, suspicious look. "What has that got to do with anything?" she asked.

"I don't know," I replied. "I was rather hoping you could tell me."

She was obviously agitated. "You're weird!" she said. "You got a dog fetish or something?"

"We can talk about something else," I said. "It isn't my intention to upset you."

"Who's upset, for godsake!" she exclaimed rather vehemently. "I'm not upset ... . "

I waited for her agitation to dissolve. Then once again I explained the purpose for and the method of my research. "It is therefore necessary for me to know the whole story," I concluded. "Now obviously it will require more than one visit for me to obtain the whole story of your life, so we can delay those areas which make you uncomfortable until you know me better."

"I didn't understand," she said. "I thought you were interested only in my sexual experiences."

We talked on and on, getting acquainted and easing the tensions that exist naturally between strangers. I made arrangements to visit her again at the prison, and she promised to visit me at my office after her release. Our association lasted nearly four months, during which time she told me everything her memory could recall of her past.

Her recollections began:

My childhood years were miserable. I grew up in a small New England town, where I was born thirty-two years ago. My parents loved me, I suppose-in their own way. Father was a Baptist minister, a man who believed what he preached; and he preached the Bible-literally. Where his children were concerned, he was a strict disciplinarian. "Spare the rod and spoil the child," was his motto. Mother was a loyal, faithful wife j and servant; her life was a watery reflection of her husband's. There were five of us children, three boys and two girls. I was second oldest. j Father kept all of us on a very tight rein, though j from a distance-an aloof distance.

The only time my father paid the slightest attention to me was when I did something wrong-or something he considered wrong-and needed

I punishment. He used to tan my hide with a switch-you know, a long, resilient tree-branch.

I Sometimes he'd hold me across his knees and beat my ass with a belt. I still remember the first time he ever did that to me.

We had this mongrel dog, a family pet; and because he had this black ring around his left eye we called him Circle. He wasn't very big but he was gentle as a kitten. I was four or five years old at the time. Circle was in the back yard and I happened to see his prick ease from its sheath. Curious as any child that age, I got down on my hands and knees to get a better look at his red marvel. But the prick had already retracted and all I could see was the hairy sheath. If there was a sexual thought connected with this I was not conscious of it; I simply wanted to see the thing. So I held Circle with one arm and reached down to touch his prick. I stroked it and out came the long red prize. I was studying it with wide-eyed awe when mother stepped onto the back porch and saw me.

"Helen!" she screamed. "What are you doing!"

I quickly released Circle and stood up, frightened by her tone and the look of horror on her face.

"Oh, you naughty, naughty child!" She cried, rushing towards me. She gripped my shoulder and propelled me to the porch.

"You go in the house and wash your hands this instant!" she ordered. "Just you wait until your father hears how naughty you've been!"

I felt outraged. What had I done? All I did was examine the dog's prick. You know something, I felt guilty anyway. And I was scared, too. There was no telling what father would do. She made me go into the bathroom and wash my hands, then upstairs to my bedroom to wait until father got home.

I spent two hours in an agitated state, imagining all sorts of things. I clung to a secret hope: maybe momma wouldn't tell him. After all, I hadn't really done anything bad.

Lloyd, my older brother, who was seven, came into the room and stared at me.

"What did you do?" he asked.

"Nothing. I didn't do anything," I answered.

"You did, too!" he said. "Momma says you're going to get it good, when daddy comes home."

I hated him! He was glad....

"You'd get it worse if I told daddy on you," I said.

"I haven't done anything for you to tell," he replied, with worry flickering in his eyes.

"I saw you!" I charged. "I saw you and Mabel H-yesterday!"

He turned as red as a beet, his eyes frightened.

"What do you mean?" he blurted. "I didn't do anything! What did you see?"

"I saw you showing her your thing!" I said, feeling triumphant. "And then she showed you hers. I saw both of you."

He turned threatening, shook his fist at me.

"If you tell anybody I'll beat you up!"

"I'm not afraid of you, Lloyd," I said, facing him defiantly.

"Just cause you're in trouble is no cause to tell on me," he said, half-pleadingly. "If I had seen what you done I wouldn't tell."

"You want to know what I did?" I said, satisfied now that I had cowered him.

Lloyd became my ally the moment I divulged my secret. He looked at me with awe.

"You really played with Circle down there?"

"Yes. It was all red and hard."

"Mine's red-on the end."

"Show me," I challenged him. "I dare you."

"No. You think I'm crazy?"

"You showed it to Mabel."

"But you're my sister!"

"I'll show you mine," I volunteered.

So we revealed ourselves to each other. We looked and giggled, then giggled some more.

But I didn't giggle when I finally faced my father. I knew from the look on his face and the tone of his voice that momma had told him everything. I remember thinking how much worse it would have been if he had known what Lloyd and I had done.

"You did a terrible thing, Helen," he said, and removed his belt. "You have sinned against God, and you must be punished for your wickedness. You understand, don't you ? "

I didn't understand anything, but I said "yes" anyway; I didn't want to be punished additionally for my ignorance. He sat in a straight-backed chair and beckoned me to him. I obeyed reluctantly, dragging my feet. He yanked me by the arm and forced me face down across his legs. I was trembling with fright, but there was a certain excitement in it. Especially when he lifted my dress up over my buttocks, brushing them with his big hand. I thought of Circle's prick, saw it again in my mind; then saw Lloyd's ... . WHACK! The belt came down on my little buttocks. I was stunned for a moment. A fiery itching took possession of my rear-end and waved out into a searing, burning pain.

"OWWWWWWW!" I cried.

WHACK! ... WHACK! ... WHACK! ... WHACK! The belt struck rapidly, administered by a strong arm. I wriggled and cried and begged him to stop.

"I'm sorrrrryyyyyy!" I sobbed. "I won't do it again! I won't do it againnnnnnn!"

I don't know how many times he whacked me with that goddamn belt! But he did a damn good job of it, because I can still remember how it felt. My ass was red for days....

I guess that's when I started hating my father. And I hated my mother for telling him, too. I got even, though. The very next day I took Circle under the house and really played with his prick! Jerked the mutt off! Then I felt better. ... A lot better.

You could say that I got a great deal of attention from my father after that. I was always doing things I shouldn't, and getting caught. It got to where I took delight from being the problem child of the family. I even started fighting with Lloyd. He always won, of course; he was bigger and stronger. But I wouldn't give up, and finally he wouldn't hit me anymore. He used to just look at me and shake his head and walk away.

Lloyd was my favorite. He's the only member of the family that I remember with affection. Unfortunately, he died when he was twelve....

* * *

Some things you never forget. Funny things, some of them; and others are so unimportant that you wonder why they linger in your head. like that spider that lived in the bushes behind our house. I can't even remember how old I was when I saw that spider, but I can remember him ... her ... it. I would watch that damn insect for hours, just to see what it would do. It didn't do a damn thing! It was always in the center of that web, still, unmoving, as if it was waiting for something ... I'd go out back and look for it every day. Then it wasn't there anymore. I remember wondering what had happened to it. ... But I don't remember when it was.

My mother's strange laugh-the one she used whenever she was surprised, or embarrassed, or just being polite. It was the most laugh-less laugh in the world. It started with a grunt-like noise, only real soft, then it fluttered up and stopped. Just stopped. No tinkling, no mirth ... just mmmmmm-ha-ha-heee. God! You'd think I would be able to forget a thing like that. ... Sometimes I try to imagine her balling my father and right in the middle I remember that lifeless laugh.

I saw her naked once, in the bathroom. She had a nice body, considering. I inherited her bone structure, so you can get an idea of her physical shape by looking at me. Other than the physical resemblance, however, we had nothing in common. She lived in the shadow of my father ... sacrificed her whole life to his career. I hope he was worth it ... . Though for the life of me I can't see how he could possibly be worth any woman's time. How could anybody be happy living with a religious fanatic?

My father spouted scripture from morning to night. You'd think he'd be satisfied with his Sunday sermons. But no! He preached all the time. Every word was a sermon! Even when he whipped us he was preaching. Morality ... morality ... and morality! He made me ashamed of my own body, of my own feelings, and punished me for having them. He preached love and acted hateful; everything that was fun to do was a sin in his book. I get mad just talking about him. ... I know one thing: If there is a heaven, and my father goes there, he'll turn it into hell in twenty-four hours!

* * *

I got married when I was seventeen. Bill J-was his name. He was twenty-two at the time, but he acted like forty most of the time. I don't mean upstairs in the brain department either. Mentally he was fifteen. Too bad it wasn't reversed. Our marriage might have worked.

Bill dated me a whole month before kissing me goodnight, and then it was just a peck on the cheek. Three weeks after that peck he got around to holding me in his arms and planting a kiss on my lips. I don't know why I married him, to tell the truth; it wasn't as if I was madly in love with him. I think I. married him to get away from home. My father liked him, too, which helped; he told me Bill was a good, upright and Christian young man. He was that all right. ... He was such a good Christian he prayed on our wedding night. Swear to God! There I was in a nightgown with nothing on underneath, waiting and wondering and anxious as hell, and there he was-on his knees by the bed, mumbling to Jesus.

When he finally got around to fucking me, he fucked like a man doing something that he thought he shouldn't be doing. Not that I was, an expert on fucking; I don't mean that. But I wasn't exactly a virgin either. A man named Eddie broke me in about six months before I married Bill.

Oh-I forgot to tell you about Eddie! He was an older man. Well, almost thirty. ... Which is "older" to a sixteen year-old; we met three or four months prior to my seventeenth birthday at a girl friend's house. Her father was on the church board, or something like it; and he contributed a lot of money. If father knew how that man earned his money, I don't know. But if he knew, as I suspect-I mean, how could he not know?-it shows just how two-faced, double-minded and hypocritical religious people can be. Cathy-my girl friend-told me that her father owned all the pin-ball machines and juke-boxes in town. She also told me that he made most of his money gambling. Only he didn't gamble, he just took bets on horse races, football and baseball games and I don't know what all. Eddie worked for him, though he never said in what capacity.

I liked Eddie from the first moment I laid eyes on him. He was slim, fair, and very mean looking in a handsome sort of way. He had the coldest blue eyes I've ever seen. I used to get shivers when he looked at me! And he looked at me. And he talked to me, teased me about being "too young" and being a "preacher's daughter."

I always pretended lack of interest in his remarks and in him, but actually I was secretly delighted by his attention to me, even though it was seldom complimentary. So when I informed him that I was probably too much woman for him, he dared me to prove it.

"You're nothing but a preacher's baby," he smirked. "If you were ever alone with a man you'd run home crying."

I sensed the danger in Eddie but was determined to "show him" what I was made of. I know now, of course, it was the sense of danger that attracted me to him. There was nothing gentle about him, nothing romantic, and yet he was sexy as all get out. Anyhow, I made this date with him and arranged for Cathy to get my father's permission for me to stay over at her house that night. The night of my date, I mean. Then she told her mother that we were going to the movies with her boy friend. In fact, she did go to the movies with her boy friend, but after they walked me to the place where I was to meet Eddie.

He was waiting in his car when we got there. As I sat beside him, I said: "Surprised to see me?"

Eddie smiled. "I knew you'd come."

"You're pretty sure of yourself," I remarked, disappointed by his self-confidence.

"I was sure of you," he said, as he started the car and pulled away from the curb. "You see, baby, I know all about you." .

I soon discovered that he knew more about me than I knew about myself.

He drove out of town, and he drove fast and reckless. I was afraid we'd have an accident but there was a sensual excitement along with the fear. I think he did it on purpose. He took me to a small house which he said was his; it was off the main road and hidden from view by trees. He led the way, and I followed him inside. He locked the door behind us and switched on a dim-blue light which still left the room pretty dark. He instantly embraced me, held my startled body closely pressed to his, and said:

"Now I'll show you just what you want, baby!"

He kissed me passionately, brutally, and thrust his tongue into my mouth. He held a buttock in either hand and dug his strong fingers into their softness. My pubis was forced hard against his crotch and I could feel the swelling of his cock. It was thrilling and frightening.

He released me as quickly as he had embraced me, and I stood there taking deep breaths and feeling agitated and hot all over.

"Take off your clothes, baby," he said.

"No!" I objected, and glared angrily at him. "What do you think I am?"

"I know what you are!" he replied. "You're a would-be prick teaser. You want to play at being a woman because you're scared to be one. Well, baby, this is where the teasing and the playing ends. No games. I know what you need and I'm going to see that you get it."

"Oh, no!" I cried. "If I had known you'd treat me this way I'd wouldn't have come."

His answer was a sharp slap across my face.

I flushed hot all over, but I didn't say anything. He had this intense look in his eyes, and his lips were curled in a vicious smile. I shrank back, cowering before him.

"I said for you to take your clothes off!" he said, glancing down and up my body. "You got three minutes, baby. Then I'll rip you naked."

I turned and ran through the house. I thought I'd escape through the back door. Unfortunately the back door led directly into a yard with a high fench around it and a ferocious dog in it. The huge animal snarled and leaped at me out of the darkness. I nearly pissed! I flung myself back into the house and slapped the door. I looked up to see Eddie grinning down at me.

"You don't have to be afraid of Demon," he said. 'All he wanted to do was fuck you."

I was trembling inside and outside, and not all of it was due to fear.

"Your time is up, baby," he said, and gripped the top of my dress. "Do I rip or do you take it off? Make up your mind, my little pain lover. One way or another, this is the hour of your awakening."

I searched my racing thoughts for a legitimate excuse to remove my clothes. I found it: I didn't dare go home with a torn dress. My father would kill me if he knew I'd been alone in a man's house. It wasn't as if I wanted to, I told myself.

"All right!" I said, and began removing my dress. "But you're forcing me to do something I don't want to do."

He laughed. "Bullshit, baby! I know you. ... That's how you get your jollies. You like to suffer, and you wouldn't enjoy sex unless you did. Now shut up and get naked, or so help me-"

I was standing in my bra and panties in nothing flat. He reached out and cupped my covered tits and then squeezed them very hard.

"OWWWWW!" I wailed.

"Come with me," he said, turning abruptly.

Holding my dress and slip in one hand, I followed him into a dimly lit room again. He walked directly to a couch and removed the cushions. Then he pulled it out and made it into a bed.

"Get in there," he said, motioning me toward the couch. "And take off the rest of your rig. You wouldn't want to go home with messed panties, would you?"

I stepped out of my shoes, pushed down my body-stockings and panties and removed them. Then I unhooked the bra with trembling fingers and tossed it on top of my other discarded garments.

There I stood, naked for the first time in front of a man. I can't put my feelings into words, but I felt strange. But I was vain enough to wonder if he found my body interesting.

"Not bad!" he remarked, as he surveyed me from head to toes. "You're built for sex, all right Now suppose you put your ass down on the bed while I undress. Then we'll get down to what you need."

"I don't need anything," I mumbled. But I got on the bed.

He took off all his clothes and stood by the bed, looking down at me. He held his genitals in one hand, balls as well as cock, and shook them.

His cock was already erect; it jutted out from his groin like a rigid snake with a bright red head. All my childhood training told me that I should not be staring at him, but I couldn't make myself look away or close my eyes. I was fascinated by its length and size. I shivered perceptibly when I fantasized him attempting to get that thing inside my poor cunt, which had never had anything in it larger than my forefinger.

Eddie put one knee on the bed and brought his cock directly above my tits. "Touch it," he said. "Feel it. You've wanted to often enough."

I touched it with the tips of my fingers. It felt warm, alive, and the feel of it sent a tremor down my arm.

"I'm going to bury it in your cunt," he said, coming down on top of me. "But first I'm going to make you beg for it."

I couldn't imagine myself begging for it, though the idea appealed to me.

While I was anxiously reflecting on my predicament, he rubbed my tits with the warm knob, lightly brushing over each nipple in turn.

"Turn over and lie on your stomach," he said. When I didn't respond immediately, he raised his hand high above his shoulder and brought the open palm down hard on my thigh. "Do what I tell you!" he snarled, and roughly grappled me over on my belly. He straddled my legs and placed his hands on my buttocks, forcing them apart.

"Nice ass, too," he said. "And your cunt is wet. It knows what you need even better than your mind does."

"Please don't do it!" I whimpered, feeling as though I should object whether I wanted to object or not.

"Oh, I won't do it until you beg me to," he said, patting my buttocks.

He fumbled about under the mattress and brought forth several strips of leather and a set of handcuffs. He gripped my left wrist firmly and clamped one of the cuffs tightly around it.

"Hey! What are-" I started to raise myself and object in earnest.

"Keep quiet and keep still!" he snapped.

Fear welled within my guts and made me quite chilly. He had fastened a strip of leather to the cuff on my wrist and was binding the other end to a metal bar which controlled the movement of the couch-bed. Then he slid down and tied my ankles together. Next he did to my right arm what he had done to my left. I was thus rendered helpless; he could do what he would with me. I felt a frightened exhilaration wash through me, for I knew that I could not be held responsible for anything that happened.

He stood beside the bed, holding the remaining strips of leather in his right hand. I could see him by lifting and twisting my head.

"When you want me to fuck you, baby," he said, "just start begging."

He began by placing the loose ends of the leather strips between my shoulder blades and dragging them slowly down over my back, my ass, the thighs, to the knees, then back again. I flexed my muscles and shivered. He began lightly hitting me about the shoulders and ribs, gradually moving down to my buttocks. Then he gradually increased the power of the blows, until my buttocks were warm and tinkle-like. I was conscious of a strong yearning between my legs, and my pussy grew all warm and moist inside. I remember thinking at the time: This is all crazy.' I should be scared to death, not feeling almost ecstatic. But my juices were flowing, all right. The strange part was that I was also in pain, and the pain got worse and worse.

Eddie straddled my back, facing my feet and sitting on my thighs. He gripped the ankle of the right leg and pulled my foot up. He began tickling the pad and instep. I giggled and laughed and begged him to stop it. He merely switched over to the left foot. I tried to dislodge him by bucking, which was the only motion I could make under the circumstances. I became hysterical.

"All you have to do, baby, is beg me," he shouted over my sobs and curses.

The tickling was unbearable.

"Fuck me! Fuck me!" I cried. "I want you to fuck me! OHHHHHH! PLEEEEEEESEEEEEE FUCK MEEEEEE!"

He got off the bed and quickly loosed my hands. He removed the bracelets from my wrists, slapped my buttocks with the palm of his hand, and said: "Turn over, baby."

I turned over. He got on the bed and forced his way between my legs, standing on his knees. He leaned forward, his eyes staring into mine, and he caught the nipples of my breasts between thumb and forefinger of each hand. He pinched. He pinched hard. I cried out in agony. Sweet agony! For the pain galloped through me with pleasure on its back. Eddie came down, cock in hand. Into my moist-laden pussy went the big red knob, forcing the cunt lips apart. He was cruel. . . vicious ... and I enjoyed it! The hard cock struck my maidenhead like an arrow and pierced it.

"OHHHHH-DEAR-GOD!" I cried, as the flesh inside my cunt ripped away.

Eddie drove his cock to the hilt, then started fucking with quick, brutal thrusts. The pleasure bubbled up through the pain, overwhelming me. I dug my nails into his buttocks, urging him to greater, rougher effort. I swayed my pelvis and arched my back, trying to get still more of that long driving cock inside me. Suddenly I was suspended in space and time, going through an orgasm so powerful that I screamed. So carried away was I that I don't recall his having come. He later said he had come, and I know he did because his semen came back down my cunt channel and mingled with my hymen's blood on the bed-sheet.

Eddie broke me in, all right; he damn near ruined me. At least he ruined other men for me for a long, long time. Moreover he introduced me to canine pleasure, though that introduction was not forthcoming for nearly two weeks. Demon was a black and gray German shepherd, and his cock was a joy to behold. like his master, Demon was rough and vicious; he used to rake me something terrible. Thank God! my parents were Christians! Otherwise they might have noticed the welts and scratches all over my torso, not to mention my upper thighs and buttocks.

My first canine sexual experience occurred on a Friday afternoon. Eddie picked me up at the YWCA (which is where I was supposed to be) and we drove out to his place. I was sure that I loved Eddie by that time, even though I knew he didn't feel the same way about me. It was strictly a secret relationship, except for my friend Cathy who had known about it from the beginning. Anyhow, we drove out to his place and Eddie brought Demon into the house with us.

I balked when he told me to get down on all fours and let Demon fuck me, so he could watch. I had removed my clothes in the expectation that Eddie was going to screw me. We had often discussed bestiality, and I admit to having a secret temptation to engage in coitus with a dog, but fantasy is one thing and reality is another. Face to face with a real choice, I refused to do it.

Eddie curled his lips into that evil smile of his, and said: "Oh, you'll do it, all right. Even if I have to bind you into position and beat you again."

I looked at Demon. The dog was watching me. His mouth was open and his tongue was hanging out. I pictured the beast on me and shivered; it was a repulsive but exciting image. Eddie picked up his belt and dangled it in front of him, a menacing expression on his face.

I defied him through sheer spite. "No. I won't do it!" I said, standing straight and naked.

He moved too fast for me to get out of the way. The belt snaked out and seared itself around my ass. It was a blow delivered by great strength and therefore hurt me.

"All right! ALL RIGHT! I'LL DO IT!" I. screamed, and dropped instantly onto the floor. .

Demon was on my back just as quickly; his forelegs slid down over my sides, just above my hip-bones. I felt his cock touching my slit, moving over it, seeking the orifice. The tip wedged in, then started sinking deeper and deeper. Demon's forelegs tightened, his paws dug into my thighs, and his rear end came forward. I felt flushed and slightly dizzy. His cock was deep inside, the end was pressing into my womb.

"Whatever you do, baby, don't move," Eddie said, amusement in his voice. "Demon will tear you up if you do."

I barely heard him. Demon was fucking me, pulling back and thrusting forward with short, rapid strokes. My head was swimming and I felt as though my flesh was liquidfying. It was the strangest, most exciting sensation I'd ever experienced. I turned my head and saw through glazed eyes that Eddie was masturbating. He was rapidly pumping his cock with one hand and holding his balls with the other. His face was flushed and excited; his eyes were staring at my rear-end, but with an unfocused look in them. It was then that I became aware of a ballooning effect within my cunt. Demon's cock felt as though it were growing, as if it were going to explode. But I wasn't upset or frightened. Instead, the expansion excited my passion to an even more intense level. Something thick, warm and wet struck my shoulder; it was semen from Eddie's cock. He had jerked himself off and was directing the result directly at me. This had the effect of exciting me to an orgasm of my own. My whole body convulsed, and my cunt began contracting around Demon's deeply buried, now largely swollen cock.

Demon ejaculated at the same time, only he kept shooting his canine come after my orgasm had subsided. I could feel the liquid dribbling down the insides of my thighs, and I began to marvel at the amount of semen he shot into me. I felt weak all over; it was all I could do to keep myself from sinking forward and collapsing on the floor.

I had regrets, naturally. The instant it was over the guilt feelings began. I was ashamed of myself for submitting to such disgusting behavior and quite horrified by the knowledge that I had actually enjoyed it. I vowed never again to see Eddie, blaming him for my humiliation and sense of degradation.

And I kept my vow. Which was very fortunate, as it turned out; for Eddie's sadistic tendencies got him into serious trouble soon after. He's in prison now, serving a life term for killing a girl. I don't know what became of Demon....

I started datng Bill J-, probably because he was safe to be with. I married him, as I said, to get away from home. He prayed on our wedding night. Swear to God! He was so stupid he didn't know that I wasn't a virgin. I don't honestly believe he ever fucked a girl before he fucked me on our wedding night. And I wouldn't call what we did fucking. Oh, we went through all the proper motions and functions-at least he did! I felt bored. He was so considerate, so gentle, so afraid he'd hurt me, that it was sickening. Even his orgasm was weak. He was so hung-up on morality, that, like my father, he couldn't really enjoy fucking. It was get on, get it in, get it off, and get it out! He was the least exciting man in bed I've ever been with, and I've been with some lulus!

But never mind him. ... He was a drag, and I see no reason to talk about him at all.

"I'll answer the question you asked me early, though. Yes, I owned a dog during my marriage. I bought a German shepherd and trained him myself. It was either that or run around with other men, which I didn't want to do. But I had to have some pleasure, and I wasn't getting any from Bill, so I shopped around for a dog.

I found a two-year-old German shepard in the pound of a nearby city. He was really hung, as they say, and I knew I had to have him. I filled out the necessary papers, paid twenty dollars and took Toby home. Toby-that was the name on his tag and I never changed it. He was easy to train. ... He liked me quite a lot, which helped; he was always jumping up and putting his feet on me and licking at my face and hands. I would go about the house naked and encourage him to lick me all over. One afternoon I smeared steak-gravy over my cunt and lay down, placing three small strips of steak on my pubis.

Toby sniffed and gulped down the steak, then sniffed again and started licking the gravy. His tongue whisked over my slit and got me excited. But he lost interest before I could reach orgasm, and I had to go back to the kitchen and get more gravy. This time he licked me until I had a climax. ... After repeating this process several afternoons in a row, Toby caught on and began licking my cunt whenever I lay down and exposed myself to him.

I had him at least a month before I ventured to copulate with him. I got down on all fours and called to him. He came and sniffed my rearend and licked my cunt once or twice, but he wouldn't mount me. I turned on my back and tried to push my cunt up to his dangling cock. I made contact but realized at once that the position was impossible to maintain.

I sat on the edge of a chair and summoned Toby in between my thighs. He reared up and placed his forepaws on my shoulders, and, once again, I managed to make contact between my cunt and his cock. The red stem was eager now that Toby felt sexually aroused. Unfortunately, the angle was wrong and he couldn't get leverage. I had to find another way....

I masturbated Toby until his sexual instinct was totally aroused. He made the humping motions of intercourse as I stroked his cock. When I took my hand away he mounted my leg, clamping his forelegs about my thigh. I pushed him off and stroked his cock some more. Once again I got down on all fours and summoned him to me. He mounted me without a sniff, clasped me between his forelegs and began to try to fuck me. Eventually his cock sank into my slit, and he thrust forward with a strong lunge, driving the full-length of his now sex-excited cock down my moist channel.

The rest was automatic. Once a dog penetrates a woman, he fucks as though on a bitch. In Toby's case that's how it was. He thrust into me and moved closer, pulling and holding with his forelegs. I could feel the hairy case as well as the long, bone-stiff cock moving to and fro inside me. The swelling began immediately, filling my cunt with distended nodules. I almost lost contact with my surroundings as Toby spewed his semen into my depths. I longed for rougher treatment and pushed back, churning my buttocks. Toby's hair scratched my flesh. He gripped firmer with his forelegs, to prevent what he apparently thought was an attempt to dislodge him.

The nails raked and cut into my thighs, and the sharp pain spurred my passion to glowing heights. Within fifteen seconds I was coming and moaning and fantasizing all over the place. From that day Bill didn't matter to me one way or the other. He still fucked me, of course; and I let him. But he didn't do anything for me; it was just a duty I performed, like cooking.

. . . ah ... it would have been okay if ... ah ... if Bill had just ... ah ... well, he just didn't do a damn thing. Except pray, and cry. ... If only he had hit me! ... I deserved to be beaten, and he should have been a man and beat me. ... I don't want to talk about it.

Well, if you insist. He came home unexpectedly one afternoon and caught me copulating with Toby. I didn't hear him come in. I just heard him cry out from the door, where he was standing. He didn't call me names, strike out at me, or anything of the sort. He just turned and ran out of the house. That was a stinking thing for him to do! I was his wife, and if he thought I was doing something horrible he should have done something about it. The least he could have done is call me names. He didn't even do that, for godsake!

He forgave me! But I had to get rid of Toby. He acted as if the dog had something to do with it. I hated him for making me give Toby away. I went around day after day trying to pick a fight with him, but he wouldn't fight. He just looked sad and hurt and confused.

I began seeing another man. A truck-driver. He was big, strong, and real rough in bed. I couldn't get away with anything around him. He reminded me of Eddie in that respect. He liked to force me to obey him. like the first time he asked me to suck his cock.

I refused. I didn't want to suck his cock. I didn't want to suck anybody's cock. But he made me do it. He picked me up by the shoulders and flung me onto the bed. Then he punched me in the buttocks and chopped me up and down the thighs. His cock looked more exciting with every blow. Since he wouldn't stop beating and torturing me unless I agreed to suck him off, I finally gave in to him.

He stood about a foot from the side of the bed, his big flaccid cock dangling like a pendulum above his massive scrotum. "When I tell you to do something, woman, I mean for you to do it," he said. "Now sit here in front of me and make my prick hard. Do you understand?"

I sat on the edge of the bed, my feet resting on the floor and my body trembling with pain and desire. I cupped his genitals in my hands and rolled his balls in my palms. Holding the balls in one hand, I began to stroke his cock with the other. It didn't take him long to get a hard on.

"Okay, I'm ready," he said. And digging his strong fingers into my hair he got a handful and tugged me toward him.

"Get down on your knees!" he said, voice husky with passion.

I sank directly to my knees from the bed, his fingers still entwined in my hair. Now my face was directly before his long, fat erection. He pushed the pulsing knob into my lips, and commanded me to open my mouth. As I did so, the knob moved into the damp circle of my lips.

"Now suck me off!" he said.

I placed one arm on his buttocks, and with my hand I palmed the large sack of his scrotum. As I did so he pushed his cock deeper into my mouth. I sucked down hard in an effort to make him come quickly and get it over with. As I sucked and kneaded his cock with my tongue, he fucked my mouth with quick, violent jabs. I felt a spasm sweep through his strong body, and he shot off in my mouth, warm and sticky. It was swallow or choke, so I swallowed the thick fluid and continued to suck down hard. He tugged me up by the hair and flung me onto the bed, on my back. He threw himself over me and plunged his cock into my slit. I cried out in agony as the fat cock plunged brutally into my cunt. He kept right on plummeting me, and I swirled ecstatically into a convulsive orgasm....

I carried on the affair with this truck driver for several months. Bill didn't suspect anything.

If he did he certainly kept his suspicions to himself; he never said a word to me. The one who found out was my father. Some member of the church made it her business to tell him of my extramarital activities. He spied on me, and finally caught me in the act. He was outraged; he even slapped me and said I should be horsewhipped. That scene put an end to the truck driver and to my draggy marriage.

I informed Bill of the whole affair. With typical calmness he offered to forgive me and try again. Can you imagine? You can see why I had to leave him. Anybody could.

Yes, I left him-and the town. I've never gone back.

. . . I took a bus to New York. ... I didn't have much money and practically no experience that enabled me to earn some. I found a housekeeping room in the Village and went job hunting. Eventually I got work as a waitress in a steak house. You know the kind I mean-steak, salad and baked potato for two forty-nine. UGH! But the tips were good and I made out okay. As a matter-of-fact it led to something a lot more lucrative. Because it was while working there that I met Lew B--.

Lew made porno films. Hard core. After he got to know me he offered me a part. I said I'd think it over and let him know. I thought it over and decided against it. I actually had made up my mind not to work in Lew's film. ... But when he came into the steak house the next day, I told him I was ready to go to work.

The first film called for me to perform fellatio on a man while another girl performed cunnilingus on me. We shot the film in two days. Lew complimented my performance. He told me I was natural for porno films. I agreed to do two other films which he planned to shoot within the month. In the meantime he invited me to live at his place.

Lew was a nice man, no matter what the papers said about him when he got busted. He always paid, and he never gave out with the bullshit the way a lot of so-called straight and honorable businessmen do.

And he understood people. I used to talk to him, tell him about my home, my marriage, and everything.

"You're a masochist," he said. "Why not make it work for you?"

"I don't understand what you mean," I said.

"You get a sensual satisfaction from pain," he explained.

"Yes, I know. But how can I make it work for me?" I asked with genuine interest.

"There are people who will pay big money to see you suffer," Lew answered, then added: "Let me think about it. Maybe I'll come up with something. In the meantime I'd like to film a session with you and a dog."

Again I agreed. The dog he rented for my partner was a Great Dane, and although the dog was thoroughly trained he scared the hell out of me at our first meeting. In the first place he was as big as a fucking polo pony. In the second place, very few men were as stoutly endowed as that animal. Swear to God! But I didn't back out of my agreement despite my uneasy concern.

The owner and trainer was a man named Steve

L--. He discussed the action, and he explained that there was absolutely no cause for alarm; that the dog (Big Mike) would obey by signal, and that he would immediately call the dog off if I appeared to be unable to proceed further. He suggested that we spend some time together, so that both he and the dog could get to know me better.

Thus I became involved with Steve L-, who treated me quite shabbily eventually, in that he took advantage of my affection for him and exploited me for gain. Through him I became a prostitute. ... But that was later, and I should go on with the story of the film.

I got to know Big Mike, and he was a truly wonderful animal. He performed the sex scenes in a professional manner, obeying every signal Steve gave him. There was one scene in which I was sleeping and dreaming. I was dreaming of a big, beautiful muscle-man who was trying to seduce me. The scene alternated between the action in the dream and the action on my bed, where Big Mike was licking my cunt. He filmed the dog scene first. Big Mike licked my cunt to a frazzle. Not only did he lick the outside, but he also invaded my cunt with his tongue and damn near drove me up the wall. I had an orgasm on camera for the first time. But it was a different story in the scene in which Big Mike fucked me with that cock of his.

In this scene I was making the bed. As I leaned over to brush wrinkles from the spread, Mike suddenly mounted me. Because he was such a big beast and to avoid error, at the mounting the cameras stopped rolling so Steve could reach under and place the dog's cock in the proper place. Then the camera started and Steve signaled Big Mike to fuck me. The cock shot into me like an arrow. I let out a yelp and fell forward, ruining the scene. This necessitated a repetition of the entire scene.

Lew said: "Good, honey. Terrific! Only don't fall forward."

"I couldn't help it," I informed him. "That goddamn beast is hung like a horse!"

"Try it again," Steve said. "He'll take it easy this time." .

I was nervous when the moment came for penetration, but Big Mike pushed into me slowly and I was able to yelp and grimace as Lew wanted. Just as I felt I could relax that prong started expanding. Big Mike forgot he was only playing a part. He started treading my cunt as he would tread a bitch in high heat. The world went suddenly blurry and a Christmas tree lit up in my brain. It was the most excruciating painful ecstasy of my life; and I had two orgasms, one on top of the other.

Poor Lew! He got busted the following month, while in the process of filming a group homosexual picture. I'd have been arrested too if I hadn't skipped, because they confiscated the negatives of three of my films, including the one featuring Big Mike. Fortunately for me Steve was tipped-off; he came to warn me and offered to take me with him to New Orleans. I packed hurriedly and we left town together-Steve, Big Mike, and I. It was one of my biggest mistakes....

How do you explain why you did certain things? I mean, I could have split with Steve the first hour we were in New Orleans. I've asked myself a thousand times why I didn't. ... I still can't answer.

He was a promoter. He promoted sex shows, and Big Mike and me were the star performers. At least three times a week I'd walk naked onto a makeshift stage in a loft and there, in front of twenty or thirty people, mostly men, I would lay on my back while Big Mike licked my cunt. Then I'd bend over a wooden saw-horse and let Big Mike fuck me. To witness this performance an individual paid fifteen dollars. We were doing pretty well, but Steve decided we could do even better. He started pimping on the side, selling me to all kinds of weirdos.

Some of the men made me sick. You'd be surprised by the weird things they wanted to do with me and to me, or have me do to them. Sometimes I'd refuse. like the time that man offered a hundred dollars if I stood over his face and piss on him. Swear to God! Can you imagine? Piss on his face, for godsake!

I didn't mind the men who only wanted to fuck me. I felt sorry for them. It was easy to make them happy. All I had to do was lay down, stroke their cocks a little, maybe give them a lick or two with my tongue, and let them fuck me. I never had an orgasm with any of them. Orgasm-hah! I never even got excited....

The mean ones got to me, though. There was one man-a banker, I think-who got his kicks out of binding my hands and feet and pretending I was his slave. Can you imagine! And there was a doctor who couldn't get his nuts off until he had held me across his lap and paddled my ass. Every time he did that I thought about my father....

Steve turned mean and nasty when I wanted to leave him. He beat me up and threatened to kill me. I just laughed in his face. I bought a plane ticket and came here. I've been on my own ever since. When things get tough, I turn a trick or two. If I get busted-well, that's part of the game. I don't worry about it. All I've got is myself and my dog King, and as long as I've got him waiting I don't care about the rest.

King is six years old, and smarter than most of the men I've met. Better fucking, too. He even understands that I like it rough, and he nips me with his teeth and rakes me with his paws before and during intercourse. If it wasn't illegal I'd marry King and tell the rest of humanity to go fuck itself....

And that's my story; or as much of it as I'm going to tell you. Everything I've told you is the truth. Swear to God! If you'd like to visit my place and witness King and me in action, you're welcome. But it'll cost you twenty dollars ... .

HELEN DWAS A UNIQUE INDIVIDUAL. For the psychology of bestiality and masochism her case is a treasure. Nowhere in the scientific or semi-scientific (which is sometimes semi-pornographic) literature is one case found that can be compared with hers.

The exhibitionistic practice brings to mind the case cited by Krafft-Ebing Psychopathia Sex-ualis, of the Parisian woman who "showed herself in the sexual act with a trained bulldog, to a secret circle of roues, at ten francs a head." We could have made a valid comparison if Krafft-Ebing had given us more details to deal with. Exhibitions of human-animal sex intercourse have yet to receive the psychological analysis and other attention they merit. In Helen D-'s case, the observations of R. E. L. Masters (Forbidden Sexual Behavior) probably apply: "As for the prostitute ... or other person coupling with the animal under these conditions. It is-likely that (I) masochistic cravings are satisfied by means of the implied degradation which is greatly intensified by the fact that an audience bears witness to the 'shame' of the participant...."

This applies as far as it goes, but it doesn't take into account Helen's obvious need to experience pain in connection with her sexual desire. This is known as algolagnia, and it plays a great part in the sexuality of children. In a child the trait is natural, but the same trait in an adult is perversion. As Freud expressed it: "Perverted sexuality is nothing but infantile sexuality." He is simply saying that what is normal in the child may become abnormal when it occurs in the adult. Helen's interest in dogs started during early childhood; her bestial desires stem from a specific experience which was forced upon her by parents who were unknowing and unwise. Her need for 'pain' is associated with the same experience, because her father whipped her for touching a dog's genitals.

There is nothing abnormal about a child's interest in animal sex. As Havelock Ellis (Psychology of Sex) remarked: "Among children, both boys and girls, it is common to find that the copulation of animals is a mysteriously fascinating spectacle. It is inevitable that this should be so, for the spectacle is more or less clearly felt to be the revelation of a secret which has been concealed from them ... even in perfectly innocent and ignorant children the sight may produce an obscure sexual excitement. It would seem that this occurs more frequently in girls than in boys." Natural curiosity should never be mistaken for perversity where children are concerned. Helen's father, by his ignorant and very dangerous attitude, set the future course of his daughter's motivational clock by whipping her over such a natural expression of curiosity. He forever associated 'pain' with 'sex interest' in her subconscious and thereby destroyed the type of emotional stability he hoped to build.

Helen grew up with a feeling of worthlessness, and her need for pain was a need for punishment; it was a justification for sexual pleasure. Sex was wrong, and one must be punished for indulging oneself in its pleasures. There was a 'need' for pain, not a 'wish' for pain. A masochist does not 'wish' to suffer pain.

Havelock Ellis (Psychology of Sex, pp. 152-153) put it this way:

. . the masochist has no wish to suffer cruelty. In that slight degree of passive algolagnia which Krafft-Ebing, Moll, and others regard as simply a heightened degree of a normal attitude and entitle 'sexual subjection..., There need be no serious violence, either physical or psychic, but only a complacent acceptance of the caprices and domination of the beloved person. There is no clear line of demarcation between sexual subjection and masochism-apart from the important fact that in sexual subjection the normal impulse to coitus remains, while in masochism it tends to be replaced by the perverse impulse-and the masochist retains the same pleasure, and even in many cases ecstasy, as he experiences the manifold ill-treatment he desires. This ill-treatment may involve the reality, or the simulacrum, of a great many actions: binding and fettering, trampling, semi-strangulation, the performance of menial duties and tasks commonly felt to be disgusting by the beloved person, verbal abuse, etc. For the masochist such acts have become the equivalent of coitus, and the idea of cruelty, and in most cases even pain, never enters. If we bear this in mind the elaborate hypotheses which some psychologists (even Freud) have ingeniously constructed to explain masochism are seen to be completely unnecessary."

Helen was not seeking 'pain' but sexual pleasure. However, in order to achieve climax a certain degree of pain ("I like it rough") was necessary.

Bestiality served Helen in several ways. Her first experience, under the house, was an act of childish defiance and outraged pride. She masturbated the dog until it ejaculated because her parents had treated her unfairly in regard to the same animal. No doubt she was tremendously affected by the animal's orgastic juices, which had been triggered by her hand. Even so, however, this first act of bestiality was undertaken as a means to a non-sexual end; she merely got "even" with her parents for punishing her for doing something she hadn't done, or had no knowledge of having done. So she undertook bestiality at an early age as an expression of revenge.

The episode with Eddie and his dog Demon gave full expression to her infantile sexual imprint. Eddie was undoubtedly a sadist; it was not insight and understanding, as Helen thought, but mere chance which brought him into such personal contact with a masochist. The relationship could not have endured very long under any circumstances, because a sadist cannot find what he needs in a masochist. The masochist Yen joys' the pain as much as the sadist 'enjoys' administering it, and this defeats the purpose of the action. For sadism, as Krafft-Ebing recognized, may be closely related to masochism on the biological and psychological sides, but it has a far different social and medico-legal significance. "Though at one end its variations range from so innocent and normal a manifestation as the love-bite, they extend to the most serious and dangerous anti-social acts as illustrated by the notorious case of 'Jack the Ripper,' the extreme type of a group of cases, not so very uncommon, which involve wounding from erotic motives, though by no means always murder." On the other hand the manifestations of masochism, from their nature, are, as Havelock Ellis says, "of little social significance and involve comparatively little danger to the community." It has thus come about that, though algolagnic phenomena of this kind may be traced far back in the history of civilization, masochism was not regarded as a definite perversion until Krafft-Ebing presented his masterly exposition of its characteristics in his Psychopathia Sexualis."

Left to her own devices Helen D-would not be a threat to society or any of its members. Quite the contrary, as we have seen, she has become a victim of many members of that society. I am not hereby attempting to rid her of personal responsibility for her actions; I am merely pointing out what the facts indicate: she is a victim. She was certainly victimized by Eddie, by the truck-driver, and by Steve. Lew 'used' her as he would 'use' any woman willing to work in porno films, but he did not victimize her. It is interesting to note that she remembered him as "a nice man," which is far from the way she remembered the others.

Bill J-, her husband, was an unfortunate young man. He was involved with a woman he did not understand and would not have been able to get along with even if he had understood her needs. She tried to "pick fights" with him, to force him to attack her, to punish her for her 'sins' and thus show that he loved and cared for her. But Bill was not the violent kind; he forgave her instead of slapping her. The marriage was doomed from the beginning. ... Bill J-was an innocent bystander.

It is interesting to hear her describe certain sexual acts which "make her sick." The instance of the man who wanted her to "piss in his face" was discussed briefly, but each time I asked her about it she would become uncomfortable and change the subject. I would need more information than I have at present to properly delve into the reasons behind her attitude in such a matter. In fact, I need much more information in order to deal with her story, analytically, because she only said what she wanted to say and then refused to say anything more. I feel that a better knowledge of her parents is necessary, particularly knowledge of the mother. But Helen seldom mentioned her mother, and never with admiration or in complimentary terms. What gave birth to this animosity toward the mother? It could have been caused by any number of things, including jealousy on either side.

"We are still disposed to underestimate the infantile obstinacy of most women," Stekel remarks in The Struggle of the Sexes, "their predisposition to 'resentment,' their vengeful attitude, their inability to forget an insult and their play-acting propensities which enable them to mask the inner motives of their emotional aloofness. There are women who refuse to be made happy...."

If we decided on the basis of Helen's remarks that a fair conclusion was possible, we would probably conclude "she hated her father because he was unfair towards her mother." And this indeed may be the case, but lacking information to support such a rationale it would be wiser to not certify the conclusion as psychologically sound.

It was probably the other way around: she hated her mother because the mother stood between her and the affection she desired from the father. Her suppression of incestuous yearnings gave her a sense of degradation and shame, and she was not able to outgrow these feelings. All her attempts to understand her feelings have failed, and in a way which compounded the original problem. One thing is clear: Helen was unhappy about herself; she had such a poor opinion of herself that she could not accept a good opinion of her when it came. She accepts the animal affection of her dog because he is even "lower" than she and forms no opinion of her conduct whatsoever. Bestiality is her escape from the real torture of reality, which, more and more, Helen is unable to face.

Perhaps she could be brought back to reality by prolonged analysis. Perhaps not. But it is unlikely that she can accomplish the necessary changes alone. Her problem is not bestiality, which is seldom a serious problem when considered aside from moral judgment; her problem is rooted in her lack of self-respect and an inability to find sexual fulfillment without pain or punishment. In this regard there are millions of Helens among us, and their number is increasing day by day.

EPILOGUE

The subject of Bestiality has too often been approached emotionally. All sodomy laws are written from emotional viewpoints, and I have never read one that even touched the question fairly and logically. All sex laws smack of religious laws, all religious laws are derived from prejudice and a desire to force the morals of one group upon another.

In recent times, the practice of bestiality has been reported with a greater thoroughness than was the case in the ancient world, Masters reminds us, "and this despite the fact that in the West at least the practitioners have grown considerably more furtive." Herzog's Medical Jurisprudence, which goes into some detail concerning the various bestial practices of both men and women, tells us, that "bestiality in women is a great deal more prevalent than it is in men." Not only lap-dogs and large dogs, both male and female, can be used for cunnilingus, but large male dogs are frequently used for actual coitus. ... Not only dogs have been used by women in the practice of bestiality, but a case is related where a number of congenial souls amused themselves with fishes, by inserting the tail ends of the live fish into the vulva and then by pressing the head of the fish, would start it squirming, thus tickling the vulva."

Reports of fatal and near-fatal results are also now available. According to Masters (Forbidden Sexual Behavior), "a woman was surprised in Washington copulating with a large English mastiff, and when the terrified couple endeavored to hastily sever the connection the dog's phallus was so forcefully removed as to bring about a fatal hemorrhage in the woman."

Havelock Ellis (Psychology of Sex) also reported this case, as well as another involving a girl in Missouri which R. E. L. Masters verified: "A smart, pretty, well-educated country girl was found with a profuse offensive vaginal discharge which had been present for about a week, coming on suddenly. After washing the external genitals and opening the labia three rents were discovered, one through the fourchette and two through the left nymphae. The vagina was excessively congested and covered with points bleeding on the slightest irritation. The patient confessed that one day while playing with the genitals of a large dog she became excited and thought she would have light coitus. After the dog had made an entrance she was unable to free herself from him, as he clasped her so firmly with his forelegs. The penis became so swollen that the dog could not free himself, although for more than an hour she made persistent efforts to do so."

I bring these cases to the attention of the reader merely to demonstrate that there are dangers other than legal ones involved in bestiality. A novice should bear them in mind.

As for the legal dangers confronting a bestialist these vary from state to state. I do not intend to examine these various laws, because it would require the length of another book to do so and because it is sufficient to state that the penalties no longer include the death penalty. This is a giant step forward considering that God commanded that bestialists be put to death, and all such civil laws are based upon religious commantiments. Being a just God it was only fair that Jehovah order the animal to suffer the same fate as the human being. Oh, yes! It is so written (Leviticus 20: 15-16 : "And if a man lie with a beast, he shall surely be put to death: and ye shall slay the beast. And if a woman approach unto any beast, and lie down thereto, thou shalt kill the woman, and the beast: they shalt surely be put to death: their blood shall be upon them."

AMEN! AND HALLELUJAH!

In the Middle Ages this religious commandment was still being taken seriously and enforced. Penalties against humans were combined with penalties against the animals involved, so that sometimes human and beast were executed together. Masters covered this ground, saying: "The Parliament of Paris, 1601, and the Parliament of Aix, 1679, justified the burning of beasts involved in bestiality not on scriptural grounds, but on the basis that permitting them to live would perpetuate among men the memory of the odious crimes to which the animals had been parties, albeit involuntarily.

"Animals also, on occasion, underwent torture; their yelps and howls, as they were roasted over slow fires or suspended head downward by hooks inserted in their flesh, were taken as confessions of guilt. In one case at Chartres, in 1606, a dog was tried in absentia and hanged in effigy for its participation in an act of bestiality."

For example, let us consider a case reported in Bestiality and the Law, by A. F. Niemoller: "Sixteen-year-old Claudine de Culam came to trial at Rognon, France, in 1601. In this case, the magistrate-at the urging of Claudine's mother, who was stoutly certain of the girl's innocence-agreed to put the matter to a scientific or at least pragmatic test.

"Claudine, who allegedly had been caught red-handed copulating with a white, spotted dog, was taken, in the company of court-appointed female 'experts,' to a chamber adjacent to the courtroom. The dog was also brought into the chamber with the defendant. The matrons had the young girl undress completely in order to examine her, and immediately the dog, not waiting to be put to the test, jumped upon her, and went about knowing her carnally, 'which he would perhaps have accomplished had we not prevented him,' wrote the matrons in their official proceedings of the transaction."

On the basis of this evidence, both the girl and the dog were strangled and their bodies burned, and their ashes "thrown to the winds," that as little trace as possible might remain to remind mankind of their monstrous misdeeds."

Looking now at the present state of legislation aimed at preserving us from demoralization through bestiality, the U.S. offers punishments for "crimes against nature," ranging from a year's imprisonment up through life at hard labor, with a few states limiting themselves to "a fine and/or prison" penalty. Most sentences for bestiality range, I understand, from two to five years. Americans just can't keep from being moralistic jackasses, or so it seems.

The idiocy of American sex standards is perhaps nowhere more evident than in the area of bestiality. In most sexual acts which are punishable, there is at least a possibility that some other person will be injured in some way by the conduct of the person engaging in the illegal behavior. But in the case of bestiality, as Masters again reminds us, "no other person can possibly be injured, unless in the rare instance where domestic animals belonging to another person are used and subjected to sadistic or cruel mistreatment. And even here, in these extremely rare cases, the damage is one to property only, and property is quite adequately protected by legislation having nothing to do with sexual behavior."

On what possible rational grounds does a society send to prison for many years the individual who engages in the peccadillo of sexual relations with an animal? "Emotionalism run amok, magical and theological superstition, puritanism, and hysteria are invariably present, singly or in combination, in these cases, working to magnify the significance of the act and to create a psychical climate wherein few judges are able to function sanely, dispassionately, and humanely, as they ought to.

I HEAR THE QUESTION COMING: WHAT OF THE RIGHTS OF ANIMALS? Shouldn't animals be protected by law from abuse at the hands of sex perverts and rural voluptuaries? I answer, "Yes-but only if the question is shorn of the magical-emotional aura with which sexuality tends to enshroud it." The question will then be seen to be one of whether the animal is injured, or endures pain, as the result of the bestial intercourse.

In acts of sadistic bestiality, the animal does require protection. It may be pointed out, however, that there are ample laws prohibiting cruelty to animals, and it is "those laws which should be invoked, whether the cruelty be sexually or otherwise motivated."

What hypocrites we Americans are! Christians are even worse. They loudly pronounce bestiality to be an act of cruelty to the animal, but in most cases they are not at all concerned about the use of animals for heavy labor, their unnatural confinement as household pets, their slaughter for food, their being placed on display in zoos, and, most horrible of all, their being hunted down and maimed or killed by so-called sportsmen-all practices which, beyond the slightest doubt, are more painful and more inimical to the beasts' welfare than is sexual relationship with a human, in which the animal may even find some pleasure.

"Moreover," remarks Havelock Ellis, "it has to be remembered that, except in the occasional cases which involve cruelty to animals, or are united with sadism, bestiality is not a directly anti-social act at all; so long as there is no cruelty, it is, Forel remarks, 'one of the most harmless of the pathological aberrations of the sexual impulse.'"

I agree with Ellis and Forel, although I oppose the use of the word "pathological" when a general subject is being discussed. There is no such thing, speaking precisely, as a perverted sexual act. There are only the sexual acts of perverted persons, which are referred to as "perverted acts" for reasons of linguistic convenience. Since when do we have the right to use linguistic convenience as a legitimate excuse to propagate a falsehood? I leave the answer to you....

You wouldn't be prejudiced, would you?

No. No. Of course not.

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THE END
The Human Animal Sex Instinct ....(94k)    by William Decker




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