The much revered American teenager; the frugging, affluent, advertising-centered subject of the "Pepsi Generation" has gone into prostitution. Youthful sexuality is getting the hard sell, and it's a seller's market in a society that has established sex and youth as a status worthy of any endeavor. Today, girls of thirteen, fourteen, and fifteen, operate as full time prostitutes under the sponsorship of huge, criminal syndicates that have named their wards "The Baby-Pros." Many more girls of similar years operate as "independents," selling their audacious bodies to high school boy classmates at their place of secondary education. Some sparkling teenagers work with an accomplice; a pimp, usually her boy friend or adult male lover. And still others consider money as only casual importance; rationalization for the promiscuous, sensual lives they long to live. But for all of the early teenaged girls who have learned to take pay for play, there is always the lure of sex, the excitement of a male who wants her, the mystery of darkened motel rooms as a naked, moist, male body first yearns then churns to her own anxious, and very, very sexual youthfulness.
Every big city police force is well acquainted with the Baby-Pros. And even hardened and sexually sophisticated police officials feel shock and frustration for the young delinquents who show up on the desk sergeant's blotter. Some, like Ernest Hapke, a former Assistant Attorney General now in private law practice, express their concern for the spiraling incidence of early teenaged prostitution.
"If every teenaged girl who operates as a prostitute was arrested and tried if such a thing was possible the criminal court dockets would be so jammed that it'd take a decade to hear all the cases," said Mr. Hapke recently. "I don't know where these kids are coming from, why this has developed, or any of the psychological motivations behind it, but I do know that some place, some time, some way, it has to be stopped. It can't continue as it is. If it does-well, it must be a sign that the world is crumbling into ruin."
Another man familiar with the activities of the Baby-Pros is Lt. Calvin Waldron, recently of the Detroit Police Department. More than any other emotion, Lt. Waldron felt frustration for the lewd lives of the Baby-Pros.
"You have no idea what some of these little kids are doing," Lt. Waldron said when interviewed for this report. "I've seen 13 year old girls having sexual intercourse with men of 60. I've caught them naked in the back seats of cars, at motels and hotels, under the bushes in the parks-everywhere. And it's not just intercourse that these little girls are involved in, either. They sell every type of deviation imaginable. Some are even specialists in certain fetishes. And you know, I just have the feeling that for most of them money is not the big factor-that there's some other reason behind it."
A Midwest psychiatrist believes that there is something more behind it, too. Writing in a Psychiatric Journal recently, the doctor cited "hostility" as the motivation behind the early sexual experience of all girls not just the Baby-Pros.
"A boy may steal a car or strip one or break into a drug store or get drunk, or do any number of things to express the subconscious hostility he feels for parents or perhaps even all of adulthood," the psychiatrist stated. "But this not true of girls. Girls, almost always, express their hostility by the means of sex. The girls who are delinquent are almost always sexual delinquents, too. And it is hostility that drives them."
While agreeing that hostility is a strong force in the early display of a girl's sex, other psychiatrists, sociologists, and clinical psychologists, feel that other factors such as The Electra Complex, The Castration Wish, Penis Envy, and pure material desires, also contribute to the development of a Baby-Pro.
But, regardless of motivations and the pressures of a high-pressured society, all of the professionals agree that the evidence points to an ever-increasing incidence of Baby-Pro sex. All of them deplore it. And most feel little hope that the situation will be changed, at least not in the very near future.
Today's Baby-Pros are not unique. Early aged girls have served as prostitutes throughout history. Some European nations accorded teenage courtesans special privileges and wealth because they served noblemen and kings. Many 17th Century treasures felt the pinch of supporting their monarch's baby-mistresses and the expensive network of pimps and procuresses needed for the procurement of the land's most delightful early teenagers. And some far lands, such as India, considered the early pubescent and prepubescent female the legal and natural chattel for any use by the man who she lived only to serve.
India and the sexual mutilations, obscenities, and deviations practiced upon this country's young, is worthy of special note in this report.
The young girls of India were committed to a sexual life at an incredibly early age. It was not uncommon for girls as young as 5 to be forced into a sexual union. Girls of 9 and 10 were given in marriage-given to the lust of their husbands at an age that still found their physical ability for cohabitation undeveloped.
In some parts of the country among the Hindus, parents sought special favor from the gods by presenting their girl children to the temple for service as a prostitute. Such a child would be delivered to the temple and put in the care of temple women, those who had once entered the temple at a similar child-age. These women would teach her singing and dancing, teach her the charms that most pleased men. Then, often by the age of 5-an age considered most desirable by Hindus-the child would become the priests' own prostitute.
If the child survives the lustful aggressions of her master, she may in later life become a singer or dancer and serve in this capacity. As such she is held always ready, at a price, for the use of men pilgrims during their devotional sojourns in the temple. She is given jewels and leads an active life until her charm fades. Then she is turned out of the temple upon the public with a small allowance and the right to earn a beggar's livelihood. Girls of India who became prostitutes of the temple come from varied economic classes and from every "caste." Indian society and the girl's parents, consider the proceedings and the child's servitude as a whore entirely reputable.
The Baby-Pros are of today. But, because of their youthfulness it is also significant to this report to enunciate some of the sexual brutalities inflicted upon the young of India. Today's child whores have known some of the same abuse, have submitted to some of the sexual aberrations for a fee. The ages vary, but only by a few years, so, properly, we can ask ourselves how far removed we are from the customs of nations less sophisticated and advanced as our own. It would seem that man's lust knows no boundaries of normalcy.
The following is from a medical report citing the abuses of child mistresses and brides in India. It is representative of the types of cases seen regularly by the medical profession.
I. Girl, aged 9. Examined day following her marriage. Left femur dislocated, pelvis crushed out of shape, flesh hanging in shreds.
3. Aged 9. Girl so completely ravished as to be almost beyond surgical repair. Her husband had two other living wives, spoke perfect English, and was considered well educated.
4. Aged 10. A girl, unusually small for her age and entirely undeveloped physically, bleeding to death from the rectum. Her master was a man of about forty years, weighing not less than 154 pounds. He had accomplished his desire in an unnatural way.
5. Aged about 9. Lower limbs completely paralyzed.
6. 12 years old. Laceration of the perineum extending through the sphincter ani.
7. Aged about 10. Very weak from loss of blood. Stated that great violence had been done her in an unnatural way; sexual intercourse through the anus.
8. Aged about 12. Pregnant, delivered by craniotomy with great difficulty on account of the immature state of the pelvis and maternal passage.
9. Aged 7. Died in great agony after three days of marriage.
10. Aged about 10. After one day in the hospital where she was treated for profuse bleeding and vaginal lacerations, the child was demanded by her husband for his "lawful" use.
ll. Will be a cripple for life because of great violence done her person. About ll years old, this child will never again know the use of her lower extremities.
12. About 10 years old. Crawled to hospital on her hands and knees. Has never been able to stand erect since her marriage. Most sexual incidences were accomplished by her husband through his bride's anus.
Servitude, injury, abnormalities, and sometimes death, has been the plight of the young girls in India. Sexual abuse is the one certainty of their lives. They live for the satisfaction of men's sexual desires. And, it should be restated that the child-brides and prostitutes of India come forth from every station of life.
America's Baby-Pros come from every socio-economic group, too. As the case histories of this report are reviewed it will become evident that not economic condition, education, I.Q., or social background, is either an inducement or a deterrent for Baby-Proism once a girl eyes prostitution as her goal.
The following two case histories are examples of young girls from opposite stations of life who followed the same path to young aged prostitution and some of the deviations it offered.
CASE HISTORY
When Millie Y was eleven years old her family relocated from the slum neighborhood where she was born to another section of the large city. This was not progress. It was more of the same. Poverty had been Millie's lot from the day of her birth. Poverty continued to imprison her. So did her father; a drunk, a molester of children, a beater of his wife, a non-worker who saw fit to lounge in his home while his wife worked as a cleaning woman to support Millie and her two sisters and three brothers.
Millie was 12 when she first discovered that her father had a sexual reaction to her youthful, still not fully developed body.
Millie and her father were alone in the four-family flat that was their home. It was winter and very cold outside. But this had not stopped Millie from collecting discarded pop bottles and beer bottles which she intended to return to the corner grocery store for their deposit value. She had worked hard, wandering the streets and alleys of her neighborhood from the time school had been dismissed. She had collected a lot of bottles, enough to finance an excursion to a theatre for herself and nearest-aged sister.
Mr. Y, dressed in only shorts and tee-shirt, was in a vile mood when Millie entered the flat. He was without beer or funds, and the television had chosen this time for the picture to go dead.
Millie left the wagon filled with bags of bottles in front of the flat, then went inside to seek her father's help.
"Where the hell you been, kid?" he growled at her when she entered the cluttered living room.
"Collecting bottles," Millie answered. She took a step closer to the big, strongly built man, then asked, "Daddy-will you take the bottles back to the store for me?"
"Do it yourself," he said. "You collected 'em, you return 'em."
"But I can't," Millie protested. "Most of them are beer bottles and they won't let kids return them at the store."
The magic word-beer-caused Mr. Y's eyebrows to rise in interest.
"How many you got?" he asked. "About a hundred-maybe a few more."
"Where are they?"
"In front in the wagon." She moved still closer, then said, "Please take them back for me."
He paused, then said, "Okay, kid. Wait until I get my pants on."
Millie thanked him then went to the bath room where she undressed and made ready to take a bath. Once in the tub with the water hot and covering her to the waist, Millie noticed that her breasts seemed nearly fully developed, that they were round and enjoyed a perfection of nipples in their middles. And, to her amazement, the nipples were hard. As she observed them, then touched them with her fingers in order to test their firmness, Millie felt a stirring at her thighs.
Millie has stated to the psychiatrist with whom she pursued three years of intense psychotherapy that she felt there was something special about this moment in her life, that some combination of circumstances, her father, the bottles and their return, her anticipation of attending the theatre the next day, her bath and the opportunity it offered for a new evaluation of her approaching maturity, and the conditions that found her alone in the house with her father, all contributed to some sexual awareness that she had not previously experienced.
When she left the bath room, Millie went into the bedroom she shared with her sisters. She wore only a towel wrapped around her body as she moved from the one room to the other. Inside her bedroom, Millie toweled herself while standing in front of the full length mirror on the closet door. And again she became sensually aware of her body, of her hips that flaired, the good lines of her legs, her breasts and their nipples, and the total rosy pinkness of her body. She toweled her back with the towel, holding each end of it and shifting it from side to side, at the same time thrusting her breasts outward at her reflection in the mirror. Then she dried the front of her body. When she reached her thighs, she moved the towel more slowly, enjoying the new sensation of thrill that she felt. She felt heat soar through her body and she sensed that it came from more then the temperature of the water she had just left.
Finished with her toweling, Millie donned a shortie nightie, her favorite article of clothing, given to her as a gift by an aunt. The nightie was of a very transparent material, allowing a view of much of her body.
Millie returned to the living room at the same moment that her father entered the front door. He carried a grocery store bag. Instinctively, Millie knew that it contained beer-purchased by her father with the deposits collected from her hard after-school search. She burned with anger.
"Where's my money?" she asked, looking at the man from across the room.
"In my pocket," her father replied.
"What's in the bag?"
"Beer."
"Where did you get it?" she probed. "At the grocery store, for Christ's sake, where do you suppose I'd buy beer?"
"What did you use for money."
"Oh-I had some."
She walked across the room and stopped directly in front of him. "like hell you had any money. You used mine, that's what you did. Give me the rest of my money-give it to me now-right now-it's mine, I earned it-give it to me, goddamn it."
Mr. Y laughed, then said, "Christ but you're an uppity kid."
He pushed past her and walked into the kitchen.
Millie, fuming, waited until he returned. When he did, he was again dressed in his underwear and he carried an open bottle of beer.
Millie began where she left off. "Give me the money that's left, give it to me right now or I'll tell Mom when she gets home."
"Tell her," Mr. Y snorted as he moved toward a big chair.
When he turned, ready to seat himself, Millie dashed for the kitchen. She entered the room and saw her father's trousers draped over a straight back chair. She dove at them, then jammed her hand first in one pocket, then the other until finally she clutched a collection of coins. She gathered them in her hand, turned and hurried to the door, then stopped dead still as her father barred her passage down the hall.
"I'll teach you to snitch out of my pockets," Mr. Y said, turning red and exploding the words like hot coals.
"It's mine," Millie protested. "You've got your crummy beer-this is mine, leave it alone, you don't need it now."
"I might. Later," he replied.
Millie attempted to dash past him and down the hall so that she could attain the security of her room which had a lock on the door. She was unsuccessful. Six foot, Mr. Y, swooped down upon her like a vulture. He grabbed at her clinched hand but missed as she pressured forward. But he did manage to grip her hard around the waist.
Millie kicked hard as her father lifted her off her feet, but she was unable to keep him from half-carrying, half-dragging her back into the living room.
When they arrived there, Mr. Y made another attempt for the money, and succeeded. He pinched his thumb hard into the underside of Millie's wrist, then when her fingers loosened, he snatched the money from her hand. Millie started to curse and cry. Above these sounds she heard her father's gruff laughter. Then it stopped. Then Millie noticed something else. Although he had achieved the money that he wanted, Mr. Y did not release his hold about his daughter's waist. He increased the pressure of it and his hands moved upward until they cupped at her breasts. Still playing at the struggle between them, Mr. Y worked his hands upon Millie's young breasts, kneading at them, even fingering at the hard, thrusting tips. Then, as Millie increased the fury of her combat, he cupped one breast hard as his other hand moved downward and jammed between her thighs. Millie kicked a few more times, then slackened her efforts. Her thighs, moving against her father's hand, had excited the most exquisite sensation Millie had ever known. It frightened her, even as it gave her a thrill.
"You're a regular little spitfire, aren't you?" Mr. Y said. "I like spitfires-the kind that fight-kids like you who don't give a damn about anything."
His words moved Millie to a greater effort to free herself from his hold. And again, as she kicked and struggled she felt a growing feeling of passion course itself throughout her body; at her thighs, especially there, and at her breasts, particularly the one that was still held tightly by Mr. Y's big hand.
Finally, Millie's right hand shot free. She thrashed to the side and behind her, attempting to strike her father. And she did. But in the most erotic way. Mr. Y had shifted his position a bit and stood partially to the side of Millie. Most of his front was free for hitting. And Millie struck hard. The first contact told her that she greatly excited her father for his manhood had erected and thrust sharply outward, pushing the light material of his shorts ahead of him like a small tent. Millie struck again, the full flatness of her palm striking against Mr. Y's masculinity this time. She felt its hardness. It was like nothing she had ever imagined, although, at 12, Millie considered herself a sexual sophisticate. And then as she continued to reach to the side and swat her hand at the immense stretch that had become her target, Millie noticed something else. Her father was breathing hard. The tone was different, lower, thicker, more intense as if it represented his person on the verge of some crisis. And now, Mr. Y's hands began to move. But they moved in a way that was not meant for punishment, but for love. His hand that had held firmly to her breast had crept inside her nightie and now held the full roundness of her young-girl flesh and the thumb and forefinger bitterly molested the nipple. And his other hand which had been jammed at her thighs had turned delicate and was gently massaging the undersides with long, loving strokes, strokes that carried downward to her knee, then rose to where her thighs were joined and even beyond this area and into the sparse forest of her young womanhood.
Millie, psychotherapeutically recalling the incident has expressed how she felt at this moment of her incestuously oriented sexual awakening.
"I thought I was going to faint," Millie has related to her psychiatrist. "I felt all hot and kind of woozy, like I was going to pass out, go limp in my father's arms. And this feeling just seemed to swamp me, go all over me like a million ants. I thought I knew all about boys and sex and everything. You can't help hear about things like that when you're a kid-especially living in the neighborhoods where I lived. But
I'll tell you, I had no idea that I'd get such a feeling out of it-I thought sex was always for the man, but of course I don't think I really knew that I was involved in sex at this moment of my fight with my father."
But, Millie did not faint. Nor did she reach any true sexual climax as a result of the caressing her father imposed upon her body.
The fight ended suddenly, and not at all as Millie had anticipated. With all the signs of considerable effort, Mr. Y finally withdrew the thrust of himself from the path of Millie's swatting hand. And he removed his hands from her breasts and released her.
"All right, kid," he said. "You've earned your dough, I guess."
He stooped and picked up the coins he had dropped to the floor. Then he handed them to Millie.
She stared at him, hardly believing that he was actually giving her the money. And she could hardly believe the great length that pushed against his under-shorts. It seemed truly unbelievable to Millie, yet she felt a glow of satisfaction for she knew that she had caused this to happen to him, that it had been her body that had taken him with such excitement.
"If there ain't enough money there for whatever it is you want, kid," Mr. Y said, "I'll scrape some bottles myself tomorrow and give you what I used of your dough."
Millie felt stricken. These were the first words of kindness her father had ever spoken to her. And she knew that she had earned them, that he bestowed them as a prize for the touch of her nearly naked body, for the touch she herself had imparted to his soaring passion.
Mr. Y left the room. When he returned, he was fully clothed. He slumped in a chair, picked up the paper and settled to read it as he gulped from his beer bottle.
A week passed before Millie again had a sexual encounter with her father. It was a week that found Millie grown wise in the way of men and the inducements of her own body. She knew that the use of her body could provide her with many things from her father. She intended to exploit it to its fullest advantages.
"Do you have a dollar, Daddy?" Millie asked her father at a time that found them both alone in the house again.
"Yeah, I just happen to have. Why?"
"Can I have it?"
"Huh-you out of your mind or something."
"No, I want to buy a purse that's up at the store," she said. "It's only a dollar."
"A dollar buys a six-pack, girl."
"I know."
"But you still want my only dollar, eh."
"Yip."
He laughed and sat forward in the big chair where he had been resting as he finished off a can of beer. Mr. Y had been drinking heavily all during the day, celebrating the event of a better-than-ordinary pay day achieved by his wife.
"You're a real hell-cat," he laughed. He finished the beer, placed the empty can on the table next to him, then hunched even more forward in the chair.
Millie stepped closer and very deliberately looked in the direction of her father's groin, trying to ascertain if her presence alone was enough to induce him to a sexual state of readiness.
"What you looking at, kid?" Mr. Y asked, looking straight into her eyes.
"Nothing," she said.
"The hell you're looking at nothing, kid," he said. "You're a wise one, you don't fool me. You know what in the hell's going on in the world. I can tell."
"Can you?" she said. She walked to a position directly in front of him.
"Yeah. You and that little innocent expression you carry around with you like a dress. Hell-it's a phony act-you know what's going on, all right."
Millie smiled. Again she looked into her father's lap. This time her inquisitiveness was rewarded by the sight of a huge, knotted bulge at the crotch of her father's trousers. She felt a rage of heat and considered herself as very, very competent in the business of raising the excitement of a male. She decided to pursue her advantage.
Mr. Y recoiled for an instant when Millie boosted herself upon his lap. But he recovered quickly and even put one arm around her waist. He achieved a position that allowed the upper part of his hand to nudge gently at the bottom of one breast.
Millie dropped one hand in his lap, then, boldly, coupling her father's drunkenness with the knowledge of her ability to arouse him, she spoke of that which she had thought of nearly constantly for a week.
"Do I make that happen to you, Daddy?" she asked, moving her hand across his lap to rest atop the bulge that pointed upward.
For a moment, Mr. Y did not answer. His breath jerked to a short stop, then wheezed long and longingly from his massive chest.
"Yeah," he said softly. "Yeah, I guess you could say that you do it to me, baby.'
"Is it nice?"
"How do you mean?" he asked.
"Does it feel good. You know, does it make you feel good to be like that?"
He laughed and raised his hand to cover her breast, then he said, "Well, it all depends. It-feels all right, but-well, hell, it only feels real good if I know it's not going to last."
"Not going to last?" she asked, cocking her head.
"Yeah."
"How do you keep it from lasting?"
"Goddamn it, there you go, acting all innocent and everything," he said, raising his voice and pinching at the hard nipple of her breast.
"But I really don't know," she insisted.
"The hell you don't."
"I don't."
"Bull!"
She gripped the bunched material of his trousers fully in her hand. Then she relaxed her grip and raised two fingers to the zipper tab. She lowered it.
"Hey, what the hell are you doing?" he hissed.
"I want to see," she said. "You won't tell me anything so I have to see for myself."
Mr. Y leaned back in the chair and closed his eyes as Millie lifted him to exposure, then gasped, then gasped again.
But when Millie began a light caress and manipulation of him, Mr. Y jerked forward, grasped her hard and forced her to his side in the big chair. Instinctively, Millie's legs parted to receive him, but as Mr. Y rose, a stricken look crossed his face and he paused.
After a second, he said, "Oh, no, you little bitch, you're not going to hang something like this on your old man. Oh, no, you're not that smart."
Millie raised her head. Then she felt her body being moved away from her father, out of the chair and before him, then forced to her knees at his feet as he moved closer to the edge of the chair.
Millie has stated that she did not know exactly what it was that her father expected of her. She has stated, too, that she did not know fear, or even any special desire at this point, that her only concern was enticing her father out of the dollar he had in his pocket. But she learned quickly what it was that Mr. Y desired when he locked his fingers into her hair and directed her downward.
Millie learned quickly. While her father thrust and arched and churned beneath her bobbing head, she grew inventive, twisted and shook her head like a wildcat-like the hell-cat she was, as claimed by her father.
At the very end, while Millie gurgled the muffled sounds of her father's eruption, she heard him holler out, screech, really, and it was a sound that told Millie of her power over the excited male.
When she finally raised her head and accepted the handkerchief offered by Mr. Y, Millie's future was decided, she has claimed. It was at this point, she has related, that the future patterns of her life were set. It was at this moment that her future as a whore was established.
Millie brought order to her appearance, then faced her father, smiled, and asked, "Can I have that dollar now?"
Wordlessly, but with a certain expression of fear upon his face, he reached into his pocket and extracted a dollar. He handed it to her. Millie snapped it from her fingers, then turned and left the room. Five minutes later, the front door slammed behind her as she left the house to make her purchase of a dollar, black purse.
Fellatio became Millie Y's means of monetary gain during the next year. She bequeathed her oral copulations upon her father regularly, usually receiving some small amount of money for her effort. Sometimes she received nothing-only his threat of disclosure to her mother or the police. But, riding the wave of a wealth she had never known, Millie sold fellatio to the milkman, the mailman, the local newspaper boy, several neighborhood boys, and even one male teacher in her elementary school.
Millie was thirteen before she experienced the loss of her virginity. She received five dollars for the deprivation of that status. It was imposed by a neighborhood boy with a reputation as underling gangster in a large syndicate. When they finished the experience, the boy suggested that Millie had all the attributes of a prostitute. He suggested that he become her manager. She agreed.
Millie prospered. Until she was arrested for solicitation at the age of fifteen, she experienced sexual relations with hundreds of men. She submitted to their every desire. She became even more proficient at the art of fellatio, and added cunnilingus to her bag of sexual tricks. She also learned that flagellation brought a special fee from some very special clients. So did rectal intercourse and other deviations.
Within twenty-four hours of her release from a girl's reformatory when she was sixteen, Millie returned to the life of a prostitute. She was arrested again, sentenced to a longer term at a woman's prison, then was once more released to the streets under a probation that provided for psychotherapy, from which this case history has been compiled.
Millie gained insight to her problems. And the police files and psychiatric records have gained this case which takes its place in the files of thousands of other Baby-Pros.
CASE HISTORY
"Why do you look at me like that?" asked Veronica of her wealthy father's business partner.
"Because you're a very pretty girl," the man replied.
Veronica, at 14, was a frequent blusher. She blushed then stammered, "Aw, I'm only a kid."
"Yes, a mere child," the forty year old man said, as if to himself. "A very, very beautiful child."
Veronica blushed again, then turned from him to look over the rail of her parent's cruiser into the deep, blue-green water of Lake Michigan.
The man looked at all of her body as it was revealed to him from the skimpy bikini Veronica wore. She felt his eyes upon her and knew that he sighted the very things her mirror had so recently expressed; that she was growing into a lovely woman, one of large breasts, a flat, tight stomach, long, shapely legs, hips that both curved and flowed and buttocks that jutted sassily outward.
The man sighed longingly, then took his leave of the fourteen year old to rejoin the other partying, drinking, wildly dancing and singing guests.
Veronica waited until he had gone, then she turned and hurried to her small cabin.
She undressed at once, then posed before the full length mirror of her vanity. She looked at her body with a kind of wonder. And she felt excitement for it, too. Great excitement, most of it pulsating at her loins.
After a very thorough inspection of herself, she turned and flopped her naked body upon the small, built-in bunk. She sighed, then breathed deeply, watching how her breasts with their hard pointed tips raised into view, then fell from sight as she exhaled. Then, after she tired of this game, she made herself go very quiet. Then she lowered her hand to the place of her young, still growing womanhood.
Self-masturbation and the fantasies that accompanied it were part of a game frequently played by Veronica. Sometimes it absorbed her total preoccupation. Veronica had learned to masturbate when she was twelve. She pursued the habit until now, at 14, she began to think of greater satisfactions, those invoked by man alone.
She moved her hand slightly. She felt a shiver of response and instantly directed her mind to the man who had just flattered her, one upon whom she had had a crush for a full year. His name was Carver. He was tall, dark, dynamic, handsome, and very, very attentive to Veronica. Always, despite the number of guests or the circumstances of his presence in her parent's home, he would take the time to seek her out, talk to her, and listen attentively to anything she had to say. Veronica was charmed by his interest in her. And, she knew that he was charmed by her.
Veronica closed her eyes, then brought her fingers higher and more delicately upon her. Then she moved a single finger even higher and began a light circling motion that made her hiss sounds of mounting passion. As she worked upon her own body, she envisioned images of Carter, his tall good looks, his obvious infatuation with her. He had been her favorite subject of masturbation fantasies and the very thoughts of him made her sensations zoom higher and higher while she arched her body in a mad up-and-down ta-too of action. Soon, her hips snapped involuntarily, moving fast as if they sought to join the fast motion of her circling fingers. And then, when response and ultimate release was only a few seconds away from achievement, she raised her other hand and grasped one large breast. She imagined Carver bending and kissing that breast. And then she erupted, fighting her body against her hand as if it were an enemy.
Her play over, Veronica rolled to her side. Her hands clutched the bed covers and knotted them into a ball. Although experiencing a climax, it was something less than satisfactory. She was left wanting, steaming for some greater explosion of her body. She remembered that this was the way it had been lately, that she almost always was left unsatisfied after her episode of self-love. She twisted to her stomach and ground her naked body into the bed, simulating the actions of an aggressive woman in an act of love. And as she moved, she continued to think of Carter. She knew he was her only hope, knew, too, that she would continue to be frustrated until she experienced an act of sexual intercourse with her dream lover. She remained in the bed a long time, quieting her body and planning the event of her defloration.
Later the same night Veronica forced an interlude that permitted her an opportunity to taste of mature love. The guests on her father's cruiser, including his partner, Carver, had been drinking heavily all through the day. By the time the moon had risen high and glistened over the dark water of the giant lake, everyone aboard the ship was very, very drunk. Most of them eventually fell asleep or sliced off into couples where they found dark corners of the boat as their place for sex.
Veronica waited until she sensed that the partying had reached a peak. Then she dressed in her most revealing swimsuit-a bikini that revealed half her breasts and dipped low beneath her navel. Then she went to the deck of the cruiser.
For a few moments she stood in a dark corner, surveying the deck, hoping to sight her secret love. Carver was no place to be seen. Others, however, were very much in view, particularly two couples involved in off-beat love making. In one corner Veronica observed the activities of a middle-aged woman performing fellatio upon a man Veronica recognized as the copulating woman's best friend's husband. A dozen paces away, another couple were similarly involved. But here it was the man who accepted the active role.
Veronica turned her eyes from the sight. She thought how vulgar it was and considered that she and Carver would never do such things, that there love would be pure and fine and passionately exciting.
When she could not find Carver, Veronica went to the bow of the boat. She looked up at the deck covering the bow. Here she saw a man, alone and looking out into the lake. Her heart thumped heavily. She could tell by the dark profile that the man was Carver. She decided upon aggressiveness, immediately directed.
Veronica climbed the small ladder and pulled herself upon the smooth wooden bow. The man turned quickly, then seemed to withdraw a bit when he saw that the intruder was Veronica.
"Hi," she said. "What are you doing up here all alone?"
"Thinking," Carver replied. "Thinking, and trying to sober up a bit."
Veronica laughed, then hurried to seat herself next to Carver.
"And what are you doing up here?" he asked, smiling as he repeated her own words.
"Looking for you," she boldly told him.
"How nice. I'm flattered." He turned and looked at her and Veronica could see that his eyes traveled over her nearly naked body. They told her that he was still quite drunk. They told her, too, that he lusted for her.
Veronica braced her back against the framework, looked over the lake, and breathed deeply. Then she pretended a shiver and said, "It's chilly. I wish I had brought a sweater."
"Why didn't you?" Carver asked.
"I don't know."
"Yes you do," he said, laughing a bit.
She turned and looked into his face, then said, "Now what does that mean?"
"It means that I know that you know very well why you came dressed like that without a sweater," he said very quickly, shooting the words as if they were well-rehearsed.
"All right, Mr. Wise-Man," she said kiddingly. "What was my reason?"
"This," he said, putting his arm around her shoulders.
Veronica could not speak for a moment. This first touch of Carver's was more exciting than anything she had anticipated, more thrilling even than the final efforts of her own episodes of masturbation.
"Well, am I right?" asked Carver.
"Yes," she admitted, cuddling a little deeper into his arm which circled her protectively.
They remained very quiet for a long time, then Carver sighed deeply much as if it marked the end of some inner combat he had been raging with himself. Then he lowered his hand and immediately slipped it inside Veronica's bra top.
She grasped it with both her hands and pressured it tightly against her flesh. Her body shook violently from the contact and heat swamped her. She felt it rise and rise, much as if heat itself was the bubble of her passion. Veronica felt Carver's fingers moving upon her, kneading her flesh, then going light to finger-tip play at her small nipple. And again she thought that she would explode, split wide open, scream, holler, scratch, tear apart the cruiser and all the people in it.
But she did not. Instead, she turned her face to the side and raised it to receive Carver's kiss.
When his lips crushed upon hers she again thought she might faint. His lips were so hard and desperate. He shot his tongue into her mouth in such a wild, yearning search. Veronica nipped his tongue with her teeth, then drew deeply upon it, making it lengthen as she took it to herself. And at the same time she locked one arm around Carver's neck and moved her other hand to clutch at his thigh. Carver wore burmudas and a sport shirt. He was barefooted. The feel of his bare thigh beneath her fingers was cause for new trembling to come to Veronica's body. And then she moved her hand upward until she touched at the bulge of his manhood. Her hand darted away as if it had been burned. But then she returned it to the pleasurable feeling of the forty year old man's excitement.
Now, Carver's body stammered with passion. He brought his mouth away from Veronica's, twisted her and ripped her bra away from her breasts. They loomed at him, golden brown and heaving from excitement.
Veronica arched her naked body at Carver at the same moment that he uttered a cry and buried his face to her breasts. Veronica leaned backwards. Carver rose and hunched above her body.
When Carver mouthed her flesh and rolled the nipples of her breasts in turn, between his lips, it was the realization of all Veronica's fantasies. Again she thought that she would lose consciousness. And in a way, she did. Bright spots of color combined from distant boats, the stars, and the moon, dotted before her eyes in a rainbow mixture of multi-shades, making her feel far away and from another world.
Carver was a good lover, Veronica has stated to her psychiatrist. He spent a long time with her body that night upon the cruiser. He kissed all of her rapturously, kissed her from throat to knees after discharging the bottom of her bikini from her body. He applied it so exquisitely to the hot, humped clitoris of Veronica that she did truly experience a minor orgasm, one that she knew was exciting but was still a long way from what she would feel once they were joined and moving together.
Finally, Carver could not endure the intensity of love-play any longer. He raised to his knees, fumbled at his clothing, then assisted Veronica into position as she raised her knees and braced her bare feet solidly upon the cruiser deck.
He went to her slowly and delicately. Veronica arched high, her young anxious thighs quivering from this first strain of love. And then as Carver continued his descent and achieved total entry, she yelped the cry of her first true orgasm.
The case of Veronica has been questioned by medical authorities as to whether or not this child, fourteen years old and a heavy masturbator, could experience an orgasm upon man's very first entry into her body. Sexual response, some experts claim, is a "learned" reaction. Veronica's psychiatrist, however, believes that it is true, that Veronica did not elaborate upon the intensity and frequency of her orgasms with her first lover. The psychiatrist has stated that in his practice he has known many women with a hyper-sensitivity of the vaginal tract, that this alone when meeting man's initial descent can produce an immediate orgasm, fie has reported too that Veronica's clitoris was already highly developed as a result of her masturbation and that undoubtedly Carver's body, touching at this highly sensitive area at the same time that he was providing thrill by entry, doubly provided the child with the elements necessary for a violent orgasm.
From the moment of her first orgasm, Veronica's body reacted involuntarily. It thumped and arched and spun and churned beneath the ever quickening movements of Carver. Thrice more she experienced an orgasm this event of her first act of sexual intercourse. And even when Carver was finished, had erupted and fallen atop the girl's naked body, her body still twisted and arched and churned, leaping to achieve even more of the thrill she had already so adequately received. And it was his-her drive for more and more sexual excitement that, psychiatric authorities claim, led Veronica eventually into the world of Baby-Pros.
Veronica and Carver became lovers. They met regularly for a year. But always, after their adventures during which Veronica reacted with multiple-orgasms, she still thirsted for more, still sought even greater reaction in her young body. During the year, too, Veronica learned about the infidelity among lovers. She sought and found, dozens of lovers to fill those periods between Carver's visits. When one of her stranger-lovers offered her money, she laughed hysterically. But then she took the twenty dollar bill he had extended to her. It made her feel a little better about her promiscuity. Although she did not need money indeed, she was the child of wealthy parents-it served to help her rationalize this part of herself she sensed as morally unsound.
When Veronica was sixteen, she left home. Without money, shunning her parents and the temptation to contact them for help, she found a natural outlet for her violent and constant sexual desires. A stranger-lover was an executive in a prostitution ring. He offered her work. She gladly accepted the offer. Baby-
Pro prostitution provided her with an outlet for her body's excessive demands.
Veronica labored as a Baby-Pro for a year. Then she was arrested, returned to her parents and placed under psychiatric treatment.
CHAPTER II
The "Virgin" Baby-Pros
"Get your hands off me, you crummy bastard you can't bust me for this I'm a virgin," shouted a Baby-Pro recently upon the event of her arrest.
Incredibly, and sadly, the fifteen year old girl spoke the truth. She was indeed a virgin. Perhaps it would have been more within the realm of normalcy if she could not have claimed this status of young innocence, for she was a specialist within the group of Baby-Pros with whom she worked an expert in the area of most every sexual deviation and fetish known to society.
"Despite the worldliness of teenage girls today, many of them still cling to their virginity as something very special," claims a clinical psychologist at one of the Midwest's largest universities. "I have known girls in their early teens who regularly by regularly, I mean on every single date perform fellatio on the boys as the means of substituting the sexual intercourse the boys expect. And we have interviewed girls who think nothing of masturbating a boy or man, of allowing him to masturbate himself against her breasts or some other part of her body, or of doing almost anything to produce ejaculation for their dates anything, that is, except through the means of sexual intercourse."
Many teenage girls, Baby-Pros included, are undoubtedly victims of fetish and the lure of deviations, conditions that provide them sexual satisfaction where they fail to achieve it in intercourse. But for a goodly number of such delinquents, something else is involved.
Recent interviews with a dozen Baby-Pros, conducted by a Criminal Court Psychiatrist, revealed that some of the early teenaged girls practiced deviations and fetishes for the sole purpose of protecting their virginity. In spite of participation in the grossest kinds of sexual aberrations these girls considered their virginity something special, something that was worth any kind of protection.
One of the girls of these interviews, a child of fourteen, commented candidly upon her sex life as it related to her professional prostitution.
"Someday I'm going to be all through with this," she explained. "And when I am, there's a boy for me some place. We'll get married and when we do, well, I want to be a virgin for him-every girl really wants to."
Another interviewee said, "No, Sireee, I don't dig that jazz at all. At least the things I do won't get me pregnant. I couldn't stand that."
And still another Baby-Pro of fourteen said, "There had to be something that a girl doesn't give, especially a girl doing the work that I do. So, I do everything for myself something that they can't buy."
Some Baby-Pros withhold the gift of their virginity by their own choice. Others are driven to substitute deviations for usual sexual methods because of the complexities of their emotional lives, because of the problems that have been instrumental in making them a Baby-Pro in the first place.
The cases which follow demonstrate some of the sexual aberrations Baby-Pros submit to in order to answer the desires of their customers. Some of them are answering the call of their own confused sexuality. Others are saving their virginity for the boy they hope one day to marry. And still others are merely doing their job, answering their own material wishes in an extraordinary manner. The cases are presented in their grossness without an attempt at psychological diagnosis or society's complicity in the plight of the Baby-Pros.
CASE HISTORY
"Don't worry about a thing," Betty's pimp told her. "The customer will let you know what he wants."
"And you're sure I won't have to, to-, " betty asked nervously.
"For the tenth time, NO!" he growled.
With this, fifteen year old Betty K., a truant from school, stepped out of the car and proceeded to the motel unit where her first customer waited.
He was a plump, middle-aged man who wore a constant smile upon his face. His hands were plump, too, and he rubbed them together in a nervous gesture as soon as Betty entered the room.
The preliminaries were quickly concluded. Then the customer asked, "Did Henry tell you anything about me, about how I like to do it?"
"No. He said you'd explain things to me," she answered.
The man flushed a bit, then said, "Well, it's pretty difficult to put into words. Suppose I just suppose we just well, get acquainted."
Betty nodded although she didn't understand what the man meant. He poured them each a drink from a bottle that he took from his suitcase. Drinking was not new to Betty. She regularly drank with the man who had become her manager.
When they finished their drink the man rubbed his hands together then moved to embrace Betty. She allowed it. Much later in her life she described this first customer as a "very pawy person." His hands worked all over her body, touched at her breasts, her thighs and at her buttocks. But Betty, already observant in the way of males' reaction to her body, did not see a sign of phallic response from the man. It puzzled her.
Soon, she broke away from his embrace, and, practicing professionally for the first time that which she had often done of her own accord with others, she turned and unzipped the side of her slick, tight dress. She dropped it from one shoulder, then turned and looked at her customer. He ogled her. But when she stared to lower the dress further he stepped toward her.
"No, dear," he said. "Not like that. Do it slowly. You know, tease me a little."
"Like a strip tease dancer?" Betty asked. "Yes, that will do fine."
Betty moved more slowly. She slipped her dress off one shoulder then walked close to the man. She turned in front of him, then lowered the dress until it showed the beginning bulge of one large breast. Then she proceeded in the same manner with the other shoulder strap until the dress was free of her shoulders. She held it bunched at her breasts and posed before the man. He was still without phallic reaction. Betty circled again then dropped the dress to the floor.
The customer gasped when Betty stretched a bit, allowing him a full view of her body in a half slip, strapless bra, nylons, and high heeled shoes.
Teasingly slow, she removed her bra permitting sight of her first one nipple-pointed breast, then the other. Again the customer issued a sound of intense passion. Betty looked closely at him and again saw that he had not responded physically to her nearly naked body. She dropped the bra to the floor. Then she removed her half slip and panties. And then, moving like a model, she paraded in nothing but nylons, a garter belt and the high-heeled shoes.
After she had performed as she had been expected to, Betty removed the remainder of her clothes. She looked at the man, a look of inquisitiveness in her eyes. He answered her unspoken question by hurrying out of his clothing, then facing her. As he raised, Betty was shocked to observe that potency still had not come to him.
She moved close to him.
He smiled and said, "I'm ready."
"You are?"
"Yes." He turned from her and went into the bathroom. She heard him rummaging in another suitcase. When he returned he carried a long, black whip.
Betty gasped, crossed her hands in front of her and took a step backwards.
The man smiled, more broadly, then said, "No, sweetie, it's not for" you-it's for me."
Betty emitted a long breath. Then the man handed her the whip and stepped back several paces.
Betty had heard of men who liked to be whipped. She pulled the whip far behind her, then snapped it forward. The end struck crisply against the man's chest. His body jerked. His expression looked pleasurable. She struck him again, this time across the stomach and again he jolted and looked very, very pleased.
"Lower, doll-lower, please," he whispered at her.
Betty stung him hard across the thighs. As she drew the whip behind her again she saw that this last cruel swipe had caused what her body had failed at producing. The man erected, bolted upright like a strong jack-in-the-box.
It inspired her. She struck him again, then again and again, each stroke harder than the one before it. He bled profusely. He was raw and open and gasping erotically, but he stood straight and anxious before the singing whip. And then he moved closer to Betty. She continued to strike him even as he approached, bringing her aim downward until she could strike again and again at the rigid extension of his manhood. She felt a gathering thrill within him bend in submission to the whip, that, instead, he seemed to gain added strength as he was ravished.
At last the man stopped before her. Betty paused. Then he bent before her. Betty brought the whip down hard across his back. It sliced him open from shoulder to waist. He uttered a small cry of sexual delight, then reached and lifted Betty's bare foot. He hesitated.
"Let me adore you," he said, looking up at her. "Let me love you while you strike me-there-on the back."
He bent and kissed the arch of her foot. Betty brought the whip upon his back, quickly raised it and struck again. And all the time the man bent low over her foot, kissing it, rubbing his tongue over the arch of it, bending his own head low in order to kiss the sole, then raising to sweep his tongue over all of it as high as the ankle.
And at last it was over. Betty issued a series of strikes that marked him and massed him bloody over all of his back as his kisses became more desperate and passionate.
When he cried out as his body jerked convulsively, Betty knew that she had completed him, had bestowed that which she had been paid to place.
And when he raised and stood straight before her again as she dropped the whip to the floor, she could see the mark that her own marks had caused.
A bit sheepishly, he turned from her and headed for the bathroom.
Within fifteen minutes, Betty had left the motel room. Many years later, explaining her introduction to off-beat sex, Betty said that it was the "easiest money I ever made. And, I'm still making it and I'm still a virgin."
CASE HISTORY
Patty K. had been developed as a specialist by the prostitution ring for whom she worked. Only fourteen with long blonde hair descending to her waist, and with small, little-girl-puffs of breasts stretching taut and brazenly forward, she was a favorite of many customers-a favorite for cunnilingus, her only sexual activity.
According to later statements made by this fourteen year old beauty, cunnilingus served two purposes; satisfaction of her customers and immense sexual thrill for herself. It wasn't always that way for Patty K. She was midway through her second score of customers after three months of operation as a Baby-Pro before experiencing an orgasm. It was a vital moment for Patty. It established the course of her entire sex life.
Intent about her virginity-intent, too, and fearful of pregnancies-Patty K. was easily convinced by her immediate supervisor that cunnilingus offered many advantages. She didn't know exactly how many until the night she met the tall, very dark man whose body was covered with hair. He attended her like a lover, not a visitor of whores.
Patty started with him as she did with all her customers. She smiled, pretended a passionate appraisal of the man, then quickly undressed. When she was nude and working her fingers on his clothing, helping him to undress, the man laughed.
"You're a cute little bug," he said. "Tell me, do you ever get anything out of all this?"
"What do you mean?" she asked.
"You know-kicks. Do you get a kick out of letting men make love to you?"
Patty had learned that men often paid tips when they were credited with providing excitement. "Sure," she answered.
"You're a little liar," the man told her. Then he grinned knowledgeably and added, "But maybe I'm the one who can change all that for you."
It was Patty's procedure to prepare her customers by undressing them. Although her function as a Baby-Pro was to present herself as a subject for cunnilingus alone, she learned early that nudity in the male enabled them to arrive more quickly at their climax, thus freeing her for a greater number of customers per night. Some of the cunnilinguially centered customers expected her masturbatory attentions while they invoked their orality upon her body. Nudity was desired under such circumstances.
When the hairy-bodied man was undressed, Patty looked at all of his body. She made her eyes go round as she pretended excitement for all that was revealed to her. The man laughed again, then led her to the large bed.
Patty recoiled from his. kiss after they had stretched together on the bed. She had never allowed kisses between herself and her customers. But the man insisted and Patty relented. He explored her mouth with his tongue, plunged it alternately hard and gentle within her lips much as if this preliminary activity was meant to preview the cunnilingual act he would soon bring to her lower body. Patty found that she did not mind the kisses a bit. They even excited her a little, compelling her to reach out and grasp the hard thrust of her customer's manhood. She continued to hold him as he left her mouth and began a gradual descent of her body, kissing as he moved from neck to breasts. But when she began a light manipulation of his phallus, he rebuked her, moved her hand away from him altogether.
Soon, he was busy at her belly, kissing there with the same intensity he had displayed for her young lips. And then at last he was at the prize for which he had paid.
Patty's movements were well practiced. She faked a gasp of pleasure and shifted her body a bit on its side. She parted her legs, making a parenthesis of them within which the man could move if he so desired. He did. Patty clasped him to her, and when the man shifted in a way that stretched his legs to her head she again reached out to grasp him. Again, he brushed her hand aside.
First, the customer kissed the thighs which imprisoned him. It was a new experience for Patty and quite pleasurable. She liked the feeling of love it gave her to have the man's tongue flicking at her flesh. And it apparently stimulated her to a considerable degree for when he left that area to pierce sharp-tongued at the orifice of her girlhood, she gasped again. This time it was real for she felt suddenly hot and taut, like a spring being pushed down and made ready for release. This, too, was a new experience for Patty. And when she heard the man moan in his mounting passion, it excited her, made her feel that she was something to be loved rather than a paid-for-subject.
Suddenly, the man paused. The lull made Patty feel that something important was about to happen. The man made a deliberate spread of her young body, then lowered to her once again. Gently, very, very tenderly, the man nicked the tip of his tongue against her clitoris. Patty cried out and arched tighter against him.
The man was deft. He was teasing. He was very, very thorough and obviously anxious to please her for he alternated his speeds, went racing fast, then paused until Patty's thrust her body, then slowly caressed her again, starting slowly and moving faster and faster.
And Patty ceased all thoughts. She could no longer think of the act in purely professional terms. No longer did she think of her night's schedule and the other customers who awaited. She thrust and arched and moaned and cried and whimpered sounds of passion's magnitude.
Near the end the man made one adjustment of their position. He crammed one of Patty's legs between his own thighs and pinched hard. It was the signal for the act's end.
Patty screamed when he brought the final dash of his tongue to her clitoris. Unmindful of the danger of a scream, not even caring if it brought police down upon her, she screamed and cried and hollered out the verbalization of her sensation's bursting.
When they disengaged their bodies, Patty noticed that she had been too intent upon her own erupting emotions to observe that it had also marked an end for her customer. He was depleted, and the smear of his ejaculation was upon her leg where he had held it between his thighs.
Patty became addicted to clitoral satisfaction through the media of cunnilingus. Months later as an experiment with herself, she tried both sexual intercourse and self-masturbation, but neither act provided her with a climax. She continued to serve as a subject for those men who required an oral giving for their own satisfaction. Patty served for years as a Virgin Baby-Pro, then she was arrested and sentenced to a woman's prison.
CASE HISTORY
Vera T. always wore dark glasses. It made her look mysterious. It also served to conceal her eyes which were usually puffy and blackened.
Vera learned about sadists when she was twelve. Her father beat her upon the slightest excuse. When she was thirteen, she began to look forward to the beatings and would contrive to commit some act which would enrage her father. It wasn't difficult. Mr. T. became enraged over most anything.
When she was fifteen, Vera met the man who was to become her pimp. He beat her, too. And with him, while suffering the final volley of his blows about her waist and loins, she experienced an intense orgasm. From that point onward, Vera served as a Baby-Pro subject for those men who attained their sexual satisfactions through the beating of females.
Vera's customers were select. They were limited, too. Rarely did the fifteen year old beauty serve more than one or two men a week.
Almost always, Vera's pattern was the same. Her pimp would make the arrangements. Vera would meet her client. They would chat, sometimes even have a drink together. Then Vera would undress, giving special attention to the way her body was revealed to the man, making sure that he fully appreciated her large breasts, flat stomach, shapely legs, and jutting buttocks. The bruises on her body did not detract from her beauty. Sometimes they served to hyper-excite the customer.
When she was nude and had paraded in front of the man who was to beat her, she allowed him to touch all of her body. Usually he enjoyed this gentle predecessor to violence and took a lot of time fondling her breasts, picking at her indented nipples, rubbing the flat of his hands over the smooth surface of her belly and thighs, and exploring all of the beauty he would soon damage.
When the preliminaries were over, Vera usually took a position against a wall and faced her violator. Sometimes he struck her lightly at first, playing at hitting her breasts and making them crush inward or swish from side to side. But when his violence increased, Vera was not safe from his fury. Anything could happen. And orgasm always happened.
Describing the event of her first commercial venture as a subject for sadists, Vera has provided this report with the pattern of her Baby-Prohood.
She met her first customer at a cabin. He was a small man and meek looking. He was one of the city's most distinguished citizens, one who had sublimated his female-dominated life into civic endeavors and achievements.
"He hardly seemed the type to hurt me," Vera has recalled.
But he did.
Vera smiled and moved her naked body away from where the little man was sitting in a big chair while he sipped at a highball. She moved to the far wall of the cabin and stretched on her toes, making her stomach indent as her breasts loomed out at him.
The man smiled and finished his drink. Then he walked to where Vera stood. His eyes traveled over all of her body, looking brazenly at her hips and legs and breasts and at the sparse mark of her young womanhood. Then, keeping his eyes glued to her body, he undressed.
When the man was nude, two things surprised Vera; the size of his phallus and its unresponsiveness. It seemed incredible that he was not erect and anxious.
But then the man curled his fingers into tight fists and walked closer and Vera ceased other considerations. The man smiled a soft smile, then drew his fist back and struck Vera hard across her right breast. She gasped and bent over a bit, but then she was straightened when the little man moved in closer and zoomed an uppercut to her chin. For a moment she thought she might faint, but then the man struck her breast again and the feeling changed, went from queasiness to interest and then to excitement.
For a long time the man struck only at Vera's breasts, pounding series of hard blows. And as he crushed and bruised her flesh and dented her nipples inward Vera ceased feeling the injury that was being done her. In its place she felt the first rumble of mounting thrill.
When he was panting hard and seemed near exhaustion, the little man stood back and looked at the work he had done. And Vera looked at him and saw that he had changed, that he was now extended to her in the hardest, most masculine way. The sight of him had another aphrodisiac effect on Vera. Her loins heated and her nipples, although battered and bruised, flamed hot and stretched tautly outward.
The man's breathing evened and he stepped close again. Now, his blows sought a lower area. His fists rained havoc at Vera's flat stomach and at her hips, and then, after another slight pause, at her thighs and upon the triangle that called her woman.
Vera moaned a low, passionate call, one that sounded as if it had been a long time coming. At the same time her body jolted in reaction to violence upon her womanhood. She felt swollen and bubbly, rising like a balloon and ready for bursting. And she loved the feeling and arched deeply, presenting a better target of herself for the man's anxious fists.
He moved close to her body. Vera could feel the thrust of his virility as it swished against her thighs. Then he breathed deeply, bent his head, opened his mouth and lashed his teeth to one breast, bit hard, and at the same time crashed a series of low uppercuts to her thighs which parted in welcome for the pain he could bring.
"Ohh, Christ!" she screamed. "H-H-H-Hiiiiiiittttt, me. Yeees, harder! HARDER!"
He did hit her harder. And he clinched his teeth more sharply upon her breast, too, so sharply that blood dribbled, mixed with his saliva, then ran a ragged course down her front.
The little man hit Vera hard a final time between her partly opened thighs and it marked the climax toward which she had been gradually building. She cried out, clinched her thighs tightly together, opened them, clinched them shut again, then weaved them in and out spasmodically as if she were fanning the feeling to a higher level. She screamed and hollered and mumbled incoherent cries of the most fantastic kind of sensation. When the man stepped back, she grasped both her breasts and squeezed them hard, pinching the nipples out as if they were meant to pop from their moulds.
And then she crumbled to her hands and knees upon the floor, crying, breathing deeply, her body stammering as it sought quiet from the intensity of her feelings.
Finally, her body calmed and she raised her head. The customer was standing to one side. He, too, had calmed his body. His head was bent in a shameful pose as he looked at the marks upon himself that were the symbol of his sexuality, that release which had come from violence, not love.
This incident was the beginning for Vera, a beginning that established her masochistic sexual responses which endeared her to the long line of men she serviced-those men who found release for their sadistic impulses.
CASE HISTORY
When Tina Steer was arrested, sentenced, and finally met a clinical psychologist to tell the circumstances of her life which had led to her imprisonment for prostitution, it seemed impossible that a fourteen year old girl could, in these few years, have experienced such sexual variety. But her story was established as true-depressingly true.
Tina took great pride in the fact that she was a virgin. She was a dreamer, too. Although she had already experienced sexual interludes with hundreds of men, Tina still dreamed the Cinderella-dreams of a Prince who would one day claim her as his own. Her fantasies, the psychologist claimed, directed her toward sexual deviations that allowed her to remain a virgin: permitted her the one true gift she could still bestow upon one who might someday love her and seek her as a mate.
Tina was just thirteen when she confronted her first customer as a Baby-Pro. She met him after her junior-high school classes were finished for the day. Oddly, Tina, although operating as a young prostitute, never missed school, did well in her studies and was the favorite of several of her teachers. No one had any reason to suspect her of a secret life.
Tina's first job required very little of her. The man was fiftyish and not inclined toward any sexual act except stimulated self-masturbation. He was kindly, too, and explained in a gentle voice that he wanted Tina merely to undress as he watched her, that she need fear nothing, not even a innocent touch from him.
Tina did as she was told. She even elaborated a bit in her disrobing and of her own accord put some of the tease into the act.
Slowly, she moved around the room. Facing the man, she undid the buttons of her school girl blouse and parted it. The man's eyes glistened as he looked at the bra which was exposed to him. Tina's breasts, still undeveloped, only slightly filled the bra, yet they were rounded and smooth and very fresh looking with all the promise of firm, bloating, full-nippled maturity.
Tina disbanded her blouse. She paraded again, then loosened and stepped out of her skirt. This time when she paused in front of the middle-aged man she saw that there was a hard and pressuring knot pushing his trousers outward from his thigh. She has reported that she felt amused rather than excited, and a bit proud that her young body had created this in him.
Deliberately moving slower when the man began to breathe heavier, Tina kicked off her loafers and got rid of her bobby sox. Then she paraded again in her half slip and bra. And then she paused and unfastened the bra. She shook her shoulders free of it, unhooked the clasp in the back, then held it bunched in front of her a few seconds before lowering it and throwing it to the floor.
The man emitted a sound of pleasure for her young breasts, for their innocent roundness and the pinkening nipples which still hid within their moulds like frightened children. And when Tina slipped out of her slip and revealed the flow of her hips and the long line of her limbs as they were accentuated by the very brief panties she wore, the man gasped aloud and moved his right hand in front of him to cover the jam of his masculinity. His fingers entwined the thrust of himself.
Tina walked in a circle. When she had completed it and again turned toward her paying paramour she saw that he had lowered the zipper of his trousers and had exposed himself. She was startled at the sudden display of manly flesh. But very soon it was partially concealed from her as he grasped hard and began a slow but heavy manipulation.
At this point, Tina reported, she felt "powerful." She knew that without the slightest contact of her body to the man's she could still motivate him toward a climax-that fascinating end that marked the ultimate of all that men sought. She smiled as he panted, bent a bit, and wrung himself like a washrag. Then she stooped over and lowered the panties from her hips to her thighs to her knees to her calves and finally to her ankles where she stepped out of them.
As Tina straightened to present all of her nudity to her customer, he gasped again, made a long and eerie wheeze of passion as he jerked harder upon the instrument of that passion. And Tina knew that she need move no more, that her mere naked presence was enough to send the man flying to that frantic and intense land of self-love gratification.
The man arched. He thrust. He jerked and wrestled and fought himself in a circle, back and forth, in a circle again, then forward and back in a constant motion of extension and withdraw that seemed, Tina thought, meant to break him, rupture him, tear him in half and leave him split and open. It excited her to see the man so intent upon the action on his body while he used her own as an aphrodisiac. She moved closer. Then still closer. And at last she was within inches of the steaming action he jambled to himself and she knew that this added closeness was the last thing that was needed to finish him, bring him over the hill of his climb to thrill so that he could know relief, quiet, peace.
He finished while crying out sounds of insane pleasure. Tina watched as he fought himself to depletion, as he twisted and turned and withdrew and extended and crunched and ground himself in a whirl of final giving. And even as he attained a final contact of his body to hers by means of his wild flying seed, she watched, fascinated, a little bewildered, but very, very gratified that she had caused this immense reaction.
Tina's first customer was not precedent for those who followed. During her brief span of professional baby-prostitution Tina met less than a dozen other men who found their satisfaction in self-manipulation. But between them, she knew nearly every type of deviation. She submitted enthusiastically to fellatio, cunnilingus, voyeurism, and the fetishisms that a tuned her to the whip, to leather, to high-spiked heels grinding into a nude man's groin, to breast-addiction, mutual masturbation, and other sexual encounters that ruptured her innocence at the same time that they saved her virginity.
CHAPTER III
Motivation Of The Baby-Pros
When queried as to the motivations behind the illicit patterns of the Baby-Pros, one of Chicago's leading psychiatrists said, "The sexually delinquent girl is a complexity of emotions, any one of which could lead her to prostitution. Now, many times a girl who is not sexually delinquent will have these same impulses. The difference is the total psychological make-up of the individual; experience, growth, adult examples-everything that touches her as she goes through the maturing process."
From a study of thirty-nine Baby-Pros reviewed recently by a police psychiatrist and his staff it would seem that the Baby-Pros are indeed made up of nearly every complex. Some seethe with hate. Others are confused about love. Many drive for revenge and still others are attracted to the sale of their young bodies because of the pure material gain they can achieve. But of all the confusion that boils within the Baby-Pros, four definite motivations appear to stand out as the strongest compelling forces in their lives: Hostility, The Electra Complex, Material desires, and the Castration Wish.
The Electra Complex is a psychological term used to describe a young female's subconscious wish to replace the mother and experience sexual intercourse with the father. It is latent in most girls. It is usually resolved late in life. And for some Oedipally inclined females, the subconscious wish is brought to consciousness and actually acted out, either with the father or with a father-figure.
Hostility, latent and real, plays an important role in the development of a female sexual delinquent, most authorities agree. Today, early teenagers churn with hostility-for their parents, for society, for most adults and all authority. Boys commit crimes, engage in rumbles, become truants and drop-outs, and do any number of acts to express their hostility. But girls almost always use sex as the media for their hostility. They'll copulate with boys in the back seats of cars, they'll seduce older men, they'll dress in a way that exposes their young bodies, and sometimes they'll become Baby-Pros. And hostility is the motivation behind most of their promiscuity.
Some sexual delinquents who have become Baby-Pros have done so for the pure materiality the act brings; money, gifts, sometimes a different status. Although other motivations are usually compelling factors, material gain also serves to spur many early teenage girls into prostitution.
The so-called Castration Wish motivates a large number of girls toward promiscuity and eventual Baby-Proism. This complex has been described as the subconscious drive to castrate, or take away the masculinity of males. It is part of the girl's first subconscious feelings, usually first directed toward her father. The wish to castrate stems from deeply-rooted feelings of inadequacies within the female because she does not possess a penis, has lost it or been denied it, she believes. Early sexual intercourse will, for some girls, feed her castration wish because once involved in the act she is "psychically" performing a castration upon the male (hiding, or taking his penis from him).
A university psychologist recently said that there are as many reasons behind a sexual delinquent's actions as there are motivations in us all, that the only difference is the path that is taken. True or not, it is significant to this report on Baby-Pros that the following cases enunciate the motivations of Hostility, The Electra Complex, Materiality, and the Castration Wish.
CASE HISTORY
Sally Keever's first memories were those of family prayer led by her father, a deacon in a small town church who was kiddingly accused by acquaintances of "trying to be holier than God."
God, the bible, and Mr. Keever's constant damnation of anything that did not conform to his rigid, sometimes fanatical principles, dominated Sally's early life. She once told her psychiatrist that she was "forced to spend more time on my knees than on my feet."
Sally's mother was dominated, too. A frightened, unattractive woman, she feared not to do her husband's bidding on even the smallest matter.
Sally hated her life and she had no opportunity to know any other. A special grievance of her young life were the family "open confession" sessions her father imposed upon his family thrice weekly. During these long, boresome meetings everyone in the family, especially Sally and her two younger brothers, were coerced into "confessing their sins and begging for forgiveness." Confessions confused Sally. So did sin. She really didn't know what is was. When, on rare occasions she would claim no sins to confess, she was the subject of brutal verbalizations from her father. He said she lied, that sins were within her heart and mind, that she had temptations, that she was unworthy of her father's home and God's kindness, that she had to have sins to confess. And for all the family there was always the sin of creation that Mr. Keever could call upon to support his claims; everyone was a sinner because they were born of sin, of the vile act of fleshly lust. Her father's sermons on lust and sin began to interest Sally a bit when she was eight. When she was ten she became intrigued with the subject and would even "bait" her father into sermons on the subject. This was also the age that Sally began to dream of boys, those who were in her classes at school, those of the Sunday School, boys, boys, everywhere.
When Sally Keever turned twelve she began to masturbate. Upon the occasion of her self-induced orgasm she felt the crush of shame and fear; shame because she could not denounce the religious influence of her life, and fear that she might somehow be forced to admit her crime. And she did. It happened at a Thursday night family prayer meeting.
"Confess your sins, my children," Mr. Keever exhorted. "Confess and be saved. God is forgiving and kind, there's nothing that cannot be safely confessed to Him."
God may have been forgiving and kind. He may also have been capable of hearing any confession. But Mr. Keever was not.
"I've done something terrible," Sally said, jumping up from her knees and facing her father as if he were God.
"Good. Confess child and all will be well with you again," Mr. Keever told her.
"I've-I've-oh, God help me, I've-I've known the feeling of lust-I've touched myself and made myself feel things that I shouldn't feel-and I've liked it-Oh, father forgive me, I like the feeling, the way I seem to rise and go high up into the heavens--. "
"Shut up!" Mr. Keever hollered, his face flushing purple. "Shut up, shut up, shut up! No daughter of mine can confess such a thing, no child of my seed could have done such a thing-so-so-shut up-be quiet-go to your room and stay on your knees until I release you."
Sally went to her room. She went to her knees in a corner. But she did not pray. Instead, she thought of the confusion of her father's principles, she thought of his hypocrisy and double-standard Christianity. And she thought of the feeling that she knew when she had touched at her clitoris and swelled until her sensations busted.
Mr. Keever's punishment was severe. Sally was forced to spend a month on her knees except for school, church, meals, and the other necessities of life. But the punishment didn't bother Sally nearly so much as the new feelings that growled within her; feelings of hate and vengeance and disrespect for her father. It was as if she had discovered him a fraud. And she hated him for it. The seeds of hostility multiplied every second of her punishment, then were reinforced when she observed the new way her father looked at her, the hate that showed in his eyes, the aloofness of him that made her feel vile and leper-like. Deliberately, while on her knees during the month of her punishment, Sally did not pray or think of God or of any of the things her father had commanded that she should. She replaced those things with sexual fantasies. It marked the beginning of her hostility. Sex was the media.
When Sally was thirteen and a half she provoked her seduction. The circumstances of that seduction are a stunning example of the role hostility played in her introduction to sex and her eventual emergence as a Baby-Pro.
Sally had a regular job cleaning the small church after each of the several meetings that were held there during the week. She didn't like the job, but she did like the opportunity it offered her to be in the company of boys. The Wednesday night meeting was held for the boys' basketball team. The seventeen year old captain of the team was a special dream-figure for Sally. She had had a crush on him for months and had even used him as the subject of her fantasies when masturbating; a habit that a month of punishment did not quiet.
Sally contrived to be in the church's cloak room as the basketball team exited their meeting. She contrived also to be dusting a top shelf as the boys passed by the open cloak room door. This required that she stand on a straight back chair which offered a bold view of her body as it was revealed from that position. Her skirt pulled high above her knees, her buttocks jutted outward, and her breasts pushed boldly against the soft sweater that she wore.
It was the custom of Ted Stewart, captain of the team, to leave the meeting last. Sally knew it. He didn't disappoint her this Wednesday night.
"Hey, you're going to break your neck," he said, stopping and looking into the cloak room.
Sally laughed, then purposely stumbled a bit. Ted rushed to her rescue and caught her about the waist.
Sally trembled at his touch and leaned heavily against him, causing her breasts to lower and touch at the top of his hands. She could feel his body bolt alert to the touch, but he made no move to slacken his hold upon her body.
Slowly, she turned and stepped down from the chair. Ted did not release her. She faced him.
"You all right now?" he asked.
"Sure, just fine," she answered.
Sally felt Ted's hands trembling on her waist. She sensed that the moment marked a turning point in their lives, and at the same time she recalled the bitterness she felt for her father.
She smiled at Ted, then, calling upon a sophistication she did not know she possessed, she raised her face and said, "Don't you want to kiss me, Ted?"
He gulped and pressured her close.
Their lips met as innocent strangers, but they soon opened and their tongues thrust, lively and hot and anxious to demonstrate their young yearning. Sally felt the stab of Ted's heated passion against her thighs. She felt the sensation that ran through her breasts as she cuddled them to his hard, young chest. And then she felt his hands change position so that one crept within her sweater to grip at her breast as the other clutched hard at her buttocks. Sally felt dazed. She thought of the resistance that she should offer, considered that it was really more appealing for a girl to act indignant at such intimacies. But again a flashing memory of her father invaded her mind and she knew that, for her at least, subtleties could never be indicated.
Sally lowered her hand between their pressing bodies. She grasped hard at Ted's young manhood.
"Ohhhh, Sally," he breathed, moving his mouth to the side and whispering into her ear. Then, his, voice trembling and sounding as if he sought a worldliness that was not yet his, he said, "I've-I've just got to have you, Sally."
"I know," she answered. "I feel the same way."
Ted gained confidence. His hand found its way inside her bra and squeezed at flesh and nipple. And Sally reacted by a greater clutching of her hand upon him. Ted bent her far backwards and Sally was ready to slacken to the cloak room floor when the imp of her mind reminded her once more of her father and the hostility she felt for him.
"Not here," she said quickly. "Come on-I have a better place."
She separated her body from Ted's, then grasped his hand and led him out of the cloak room and down the middle aisle of the church. At the railed entrance to the altar, she paused, then breathed deeply and led the boy up the threee altar stairs where the huge cross shined brightly upon them. She hesitated another moment then led her young lover into the choir loft.
"Here," she said. "Nobody can see us here even if they come in." She sank to the thickly carpeted floor where she was hid from outside observance by the high railings.
"Here?" Ted exclaimed.
"Yes."
"Oh, my God," he groaned.
Sally was a skirmish of movement. She hiked her skirt high above her hips, then arched and removed her panties. And then she brazed white and womanly and very brazenly up at the seventeen year old boy. He could stand it no longer. He sank to his knees before her.
There was a moment's embarrassment for both of them as Ted fumbled at his clothing. And then there was the naked freedom he achieved and Sally's hands upon him, guiding him, offering stimulation and confidence as she urged him closer and closer.
When Ted finally thrust hard as she arched to meet him, Sally cried out. But as he came to her again the sound changed to a murmur of delight.
Their mouths met again as Ted's young, slim hips bounded fast and recklessly. And Sally, feeling him close, then closer, then away from her before he came close again, arched and ground her body with all her might, all her passion and energy and great, great hostility.
Sally did not achieve an orgasm from her first act of sexual intercourse. She was close, was beginning to bubble high and had nearly reached the point of overflowing when Ted gasped, shot to her again, then gasped again as the flow of his youth left him for the first time. But, even as she experienced some physical irritation because of the climax she had been denied, Sally also felt great emotional satisfaction, for she had found an outlet for the vital hostility that she felt for her father.
Sally and Ted met many times in the future. Always, Sally insisted that they make love in the choir loft. Finally, she became impregnanted, was sent to an Un-Wed Mother's Home, delivered a baby which was immediately put up for adoption, and was released from the home. She did not return to her parents. For awhile she drifted the streets and worked as a waitress. Then she met a middle-aged man with connections. She became a Baby-Pro, thrust beneath hundreds of men before her arrest for prostitution. And, with every man, with every lurch of her young body, hostility played its part in the sex act.
Regarding the case of Sally Keever, a psychiatrist recently said, "This poor child was motivated toward sex and prostitution because of the hostility she felt for her father. The setting for sex-the choir loft-was a direct slap at her father and his over-Christianization. It was a revolt against him and against the hypocrisy he exhibited. And when Sally became pregnant and faced her father to tell him of this event, it was hostility which motivated her, too."
CASE HISTORY
Jennie's father considered himself a liberal and deemed to raise his daughter in that kind of environment. He insisted that he and his wife speak frankly about sex when his daughter posed a question. And he was not at all careful to hide his nakedness from his child. Neither was he inclined to forego sexual intercourse with his wife at any time that he wanted it; not even when Jennie, as was her habit, slept with them.
"People should be honest about sex," said Jennie's psychiatrist after an initial interview with her. "But, in Jennie's case, her father's liberality became indiscreet resulting in an over-stimulation of the child's latent Oedipal leanings."
Jennie was a great pal of her father. They went many places together and shared nearly everything. Jennie's mother often felt left out of things because of this close father-daughter relationship.
Jennie has reported that she loved to share the bed of her mother and father. Nightmares were the excuse for Jennie's entrance to the marital bed, but a father-fixation was the motivating factor.
"I use to hate it when my mother and father were making love," Jennie had admitted. "But mostly T hated my mother. I guess I was jealous of her."
Jennie's young life was shattered when her father deserted. The rumors that she heard-that her father had run away with a young and attractive woman-were cause for gigantic hurt. Her sadness did not lessened until her mother, forced by financial problems, was forced to take a roomer into her home.
The man was fifty-ish. He was attractive. He was very attentive to Jennie who, at fifteen, had grown into a beautiful and voluptuously built young woman.
And for the father-deprived girl the man answered the call of her neglected girlhood. He answered, too, her need for a father.
Jennie and the roomer became great companions. They went many places together, duplicating for Jennie that life she had known when her father was present. Jennie's mother was indifferent to the relationship. She was unhappy, unaccustomed to working the long hours that were necessary, always tired, and constantly resentful that she must raise a child without her husband. The mother's resentment was not alone. Jennie resented her mother. She could not free herself of the thought that it was her mother who had caused her father's desertion. (Psychiatrists have claimed that this was a convenient psychological way for Jennie to avoid the ego-destroying realization of her father's guilt in the matter.)
The roomer, a salesman, had been out of town for a week immediately preceding the circumstance that united him and the fifteen year old Jennie in their first sexual adventure.
Jennie had been despondent during the roomer's absence. When he returned, early and unexpectedly, in the middle of the week and at a time that found her alone in the house, she was overjoyed.
When he entered the house, she flew into his arms. It was the first touch of their bodies that was not plutonic. Jennie has related that the incident was similar to many she had known with her father.
The man reacted violently to the young-girl-body cuddling close to him. But he did not touch her intimately at this time. He waited until he was in his room, then called for Jennie to join him.
"I've missed you," she said, settling on the edge of his bed.
"I've missed you, too," he said. "But I'm back now and I have a present for you."
"You do."
"Yip."
He went to his suitcase and extracted a small package. When Jennie opened it, she found a gleaming bracelet. She was overjoyed. She leaped from the bed and in a burst of affection threw her arms around the man's neck.
Now he was not plutonic. He crushed her to him and kissed her hard, rupturing her young lips with his tongue, nibbling at her ear lobes and finally bringing both hands to knead at her breasts.
Jennie was excited. Heat flushed throughout her body. Her thighs quivered.
The man pushed her away from him. Neither of them spoke. But the man's hands told Jennie what he wanted. His fingers deftly undid the buttons of her blouse. He removed it, then took her bra, skirt, and panties from her body. When she was nude, he sighed, stood back, looked at her a moment, then hurried out of his own clothing.
Jennie was aghast at the stretch of his masculinity. It was beyond any experience, even beyond the sexual fantasies she had created from the age of ten.
"I'm not going to hurt you, Jennie," he said.
"I know," she answered. "You wouldn't-you couldn't hurt me."
They embraced again, then fell upon the bed. The middle-aged man was a patient and attentive lover. He kissed her over all her body, paying special attention to her hard little nipples that pushed hot and hard at his mouth. And he kissed her at the stomach and at the under-sides of her thighs. And Jennie breathed heavily and trembled excitedly.
Soon, Jennie received a surprise.
"Now you do the same to me," the roomer instructed. "Kiss you."
"Yes. All over."
The man stretched on his back on the bed.
Jennie did as she was told. She perched at the man's side, her own naked body pinkened from caresses, showing passion, too, in the way her breasts were large and bloated with the tips hard and pressing, and in the manner that her thighs rippled with energy and a certain impatience.
Jennie duplicated her teacher's pattern. She kissed his mouth and played her tongue within it. She kissed at his ears where she plunged, then flicked, the sharpened point of her tongue. And she strolled her tongue across his chest, at his waist, a bit lower, and then, avoiding the strength of him, at his thighs.
"You can kiss me there, too," the man said softly.
"Kiss you there?"
"Yes. Very hard there."
Jennie's head bobbed low, then paused. The pause ended when the man wound his fingers into her hair and urged her downward. At first she acted as the novice which she was. But experience came to her quickly and she was soon bobbing and rising and bobbing low again in a fast pattern of frantic giving. The man's arching body and strong fingers guided her expertly. And they stopped her and pulled her away from him at the very moment when it seemed that she was unstoppable.
"No more, no more," he chanted. "No more of that now."
Gasping, Jennie raised and looked at him. The man raised, too. Then he urged Jennie to the edge of the bed. She sat there as he crawled out of the bed and stood facing her. Then, very gently, he shifted her so that she faced the bed. Acting instinctively, she hoisted to her knees, jutting her buttocks over the edge of the bed.
The man hesitated a moment. Then his hands were upon the smooth firm flesh she presented. And then Jennie had another surprise. The man did not touch at that place or receivership as she had anticipated. Instead, he stretched her buttocks wide and pressured against the opening they revealed.
"This way this time, Jennie," he said, breathing hard. "I can't take a chance the other way-not with me out of-we can't take a chance on you getting a baby. So--. "
He lurched forward. Jennie felt the grind of his entrance, but she felt it minus the sexual thrill she had expected. But she bounced her hips with every thrust that was made behind her. And she circled a bit, too, adding thrill for the man who was her father-image. She could tell that she thrilled him, knew that it was so because of the sighs and moans and short cries that issued from him.
The middle-aged man reached his climax quickly. Jennie felt vast disappointment that she was not moved to cry out as was her lover. And when they had rested, she expressed her disappointment.
"I always thought it would be different," she told him.
"It should be different, Jennie," he advised. "Really?"
"Of course." He switched his body to the bed, then urged her to take a position opposite him. He began at her ankles and kissed upward. In a moment, Jennie joined his action. And then they were engaged, locked in opposite-number fashion, each pouring their orality to the other.
When the man paused, made a slight separation with one hand, then brought his kisses hard against
Jennie's clitoris, she yelped, cried, and stammered sounds of genuine passion. And while she cried and continued to give of her own inventions, brought originality to her act as she flicked her tongue against the length of him, paused, consumed, fought him hard for awhile, then went gentle and kissing once more.
They ended with their legs locked around each others head. An Jennie, true to the man's promise, found her thrilling climax. Her young thighs tortured against his head as he brought her to the finale of all her great feelings. So intense was Jennie on the bursting of her body, that she was hardly aware that she had caused a new climax for her lover, unaware of this even as she sputtered and gurgled him to release.
Jennie and the roomer continued as none-penetrating lovers for six months. Then, after much preparation by the roomer, they joined in an act of sexual intercourse. At first it was unsatisfying for her. The man took care of this the best way possible. Upon withdrawing from her and hearing her cries of frustration, he lowered to orally provide at that place which he had just left.
Jennie, after some score of interludes, began to achieve an orgasm through the means of sexual intercourse, without the added orality needed. She became an addict, pursued her lover wantonly, engaged with him as often as possible, even forced him to sex when he was disinclined and incapable.
Finally, Jennie, with her lover, attended a party of some of his friends. She met a new man, a gambler and syndicate-oriented man of middle years. He made a date with Jennie. They engaged sexually. Taken with her youth, and the experience she exhibited, he suggested that she let sex provide for her financial wants. She agreed. He put her in the care of an experienced Madame who operated a ring of teenaged prostitutes. She became the favorite of many customers, was sought after because of her abilities at achieving a climax through both the means of intercourse and cunnilingus. She prospered for a year before arrest placed her within the opportunity for psychiatric counseling.
"Jennie was acting out the ages old Electra Complex with every man she sexually serviced," said her psychiatrist. "Father desertion-her early sexual attitudes-her growth and experience-all these things fed the latency of her Oedipal strivings until at last they were consciously demonstrated through early aged sexuality and the eventual prostitution toward which she drifted."
CASE HISTORY
Libby began saving pennies when she was five. At ten, she helped herself to change in her mother's purse. At twelve she was nearly a psychopathic liar about the things she claimed to have-those things that would never be her lot; an expensive home and furnishings, servants, trust funds, stocks, bonds, jewelry and cars. Some of Libby's friends knew she was lying, but most left her to her dream world. Some of them felt sorry for her because they were aware of the slum in which she resided.
Libby was thirteen when she consented to masturbate a neighbor boy for the sum of one dollar. She did the act without emotion, intent only upon the dollar that she had tucked into her amply filled bra. During this same year of "innocence" Libby sold her virginity for the five dollar bill a twenty year old grocery clerk extended before her greedy eyes. The boy's boss, a hulking man of forty-five, had her for ten dollars. Her reputation zoomed. But Libby never considered prostitution as her calling until she was reported to authorities and placed in a juvenile home for delinquent girls.
In the home Libby met an older girl. They became close friends. Soon, they became lovers. The lesbian act provided for the first climax of Libby's young life. And it set the pattern for the only means of sexual gratification she was ever to know.
This is the way Libby, in psychotherapeutic recall, described the event.
"I liked this gal, see. Really liked her. She did a lot of things for me, tuned me in on what the deal was around the home, got me special things to eat-you know, really put me in touch. So, what the hell, I didn't think too much about it when she kissed me and started to snuggle up to me after the lights were out."
Libby may have been casual about her introduction to lesbianism, however, it marked the beginning of a life that was oriented toward this abnormality.
When Libby was released from the detention home she immediately called the telephone number her friend had given her. The man made arrangements to meet her. When he did, he made arrangements for her career as a Baby-Pro.
Libby was very beneficial to her employers. She would do anything for money. (Money, to Libby, her psychiatrist once claimed, represented a sexuality and security she couldn't possibly understand, a psychic dilemma that was akin to her gross lying, her dreams, her poverty-heavy environment.)
Between her fifteenth and seventeenth birthdays, Libby learned and participated in the rudiments of nearly every sexual deviation and fetish known. She submitted to beatings, she beat customers with a whip, donned leather to receive the touches of a fetishist, gave fellatio and received cunnilingus, allowed her naked body to be violated with paint, caviar, and spermatozoa. Once she even allowed penetration of her body by a donkey while the males of a smoker cheered. But through it all, Libby remained immune to sexual climax, remained that way, that is, until her friend from the juvenile home finally completed a long sentence and was released.
"I got hot all over when I finally was with Tracey again," Libby has said.
The recreation of that scene is pertinent to this report in that it demonstrates the rapidity in which Libby knew a climax with another girl while at the same time she remained frigid to all sexual activity by men.
Alone in the room they shared as Baby-Pros, Libby and Tracey brought their naked bodies together in a blast of heat. Their breasts crunched and ground together. Their thighs locked and they lurched back and forth together. And then they fell on the bed.
Only hours free from official authority, Tracey was an aggressive lesbian lover. She kissed Libby's bare body rapturously, then at last, and hurriedly, crouched at the younger girls' thighs.
Tracey bolted forward like any man-lover. She ground the hard extension of her clitoris to the arching body of Libby. They thrust and fought together much as if they were man and woman lovers. And Libby's sensations soared, flew high and exploded, faded a bit, then erupted again, and then still again before they finally quieted and rested.
Libby remained a Baby-Pro until her last teen year, at which time youth was gone, forcing her to the hardened life of a full grown prostitute. During her years of prostitution, Libby never experienced sexual satisfaction from a male. She remained the lesbian lover of her roommate Tracey until they were parted by new arrests and detentions.
CASE HISTORY
It has been said that women, although they blush at the word "castration," are largely motivated by that complex's drives.
So it was with Alice Q. She was fourteen, had long, auburn hair, green eyes, and a body that shouted sexuality. Alice was shy until she embarked upon her menstrual cycle at thirteen years of age. Then she became giddy and bold. Then she became aggressive toward boys.
One of Alice's earliest memories is that of taking a shower with her father. It was an occasion, she recalled, for much laughter. She recalled, too, her feelings of inadequacies when she observed her father's penis and her own absence of such an organ. She was to remember this feeling again upon the occasion of her first menstruation. She was quite upset by the event. Somewhere in her subconscious there lurked the opinion that some harm had been done her, that she had been meant to have that organ of the male but had been denied it. And, she looked to her father-and to all men-as the species that had caused this inadequacy.
During her fourteenth year, Alice became a truant from school, a police subject, and a fledgling Baby-Pro. And at the base of her mighty, unquenchable sexual drive there was the psychic wish to castrate all men.
Using police reports and the records of Alice's psychiatric interviews, it is possible to recount her feelings during her sexual acts, all of which enunciated her emotions that were directed, and dedicated, to the destruction of masculinity.
Alice gave her virginity to the middle-aged caretaker of the apartment building where she lived. After that, she was indiscriminate about her copulations. She submitted to any and all who wanted her. Many did, for she was sexually attractive with a body that was molded perfectly and fluid moving.
A friend of Alice's father made the opportunity to be alone with her because she had hinted that she was not only willing, but anxious, to meet him in a sexual interlude. The psychiatrically reproduced experience demonstrates her castrating drive.
"I really don't like you," she said to the man after he had kissed her and fondled her.
"That doesn't seem-likely," he smiled. "Not the way you kissed me."
"That doesn't mean anything."
"Doesn't it?"
"Of course not. I fool around with lots of men I don't like."
"Oh, do you?" he said.
"Sure. It's even more fun that way."
The man shook his head, then proceeded to undress her. She wouldn't allow it. Instead, she stripped herself of all her clothing and rose nude to face him even before he had removed his shirt.
Alice's eyes were cold when they reclined on the bed. And her body was cool, too, still uninspired by the touch and kisses of her father's friend. But she was a demon of activity upon the man's body. She allowed only a few more kisses, then tortured his body with her tongue as she ran it the length of his naked body, paused, then swept upward again. When the man persuaded her to fellatio, she did not hesitate.
She moved upon him with a viciousness that seemed almost mad. Once, he shouted a caution, and when she refused to move more carefully he jerked away from her and pulled her upright.
"What's the matter, can't you take it?" she asked brazenly.
"Yes-but not the way you give it, baby. Christ-you're crazy."
With that he rolled her to her back and braced himself above her. As he paused, Alice clawed at his manhood, ripped at him with her nails as her fingers hurried to bring him close. The man cursed and slapped her hands away. Then he entered her.
Working beneath her lover, Alice seemed taken with hate and violence. She moved her body from side to side and up and down in a rhythm that could only hurry him to his climax. And each time she took him within herself, she smiled a pathetic smile, one that told of some secret satisfactions that had nothing at all to do with the act in which she was involved.
When Alice became a Baby-Pro she became noted for her willingness to meet any customer, any time, at any place and for any price. And through it all she remained frigidly indifferent to anything that was done to her.
"Alice satisfied a psychic need rather than a physical gratification," her psychiatrist said. "With Alice, the taking of a man's penis into her own body served two purposes: It 'castrated' the man, and, at least for a little while, it provided her with the penis she had always sought."
Alice's psychiatrist also stated that the girl's early experiences bathing with her father was one important seed of the Castration Wish that grew within her. The doctor stated, too, that all girls feel the trauma of "Penis Envy," but that most outgrow this
"denied" feeling and learn to live normal lives. But Alice and others like her, are besieged with this throughout their lives, surrendering to promiscuity because it offers them the opportunity to "castrate" and gain the revenge that steams within their young bodies.
CHAPTER IV
Customers Of The Baby-Pros
What manner of man becomes a customer of the Baby-Pros? Is he deranged, immature, a cad or a lover? Is he married? Does he have children of the same age as those to whom he pays to make love? Is the number of Baby-Pro customers decreasing or on the increase?
These questions and others were asked of Inspector George Simmins, recently of the Chicago Police Department.
"The first thing men in the vice squad learn about the men who use Baby-Pros and other prostitutes is that we cannot generalize about them," said the Inspector. "They come from nearly every walk of life, many of them are married and have children, and I'd say that most of them are not very different from you and me."
Regarding the amount of business Baby-Pros can expect in the future, Inspector Simmins said, "Prostitution follows the economy of the nation and the city where it exists. When times are good, so is the prostitution trade. When the economy is pinched, the prostitutes feel it too. But I would say that there are more men paying for Baby-Pros today than ever before. The reason-I don't really know. Maybe it's the emphasis that's placed on youth today. More men are influenced by youth and are more aware of their own fading sexual capacities. So, they have their own youth rejuvenated by a visit to a highly stimulating Baby-Pro."
Psychiatric authorities feel that most men who become customers of early teenaged girls have deep-rooted psychological problems. The immature, the sexually inferior, and the pedophile, are more-likely to seek youth as a sex-subject than are other men, claim the professionals.
The cases which follow, taken from police and psychiatric reports, disclose several types of men who contribute to the flourishing trade of the Baby-Pros.
CASE HISTORY
York B. after his arrest and a resultant psychiatric interview was classified a "pedophile." A pedophile is a man who manifests his sexual drive toward young children, sometimes both boys and girls. The former he often uses in acts of sodomy, the latter in sexual intercourse, fellatio, cunnilingus, or sometimes through masturbatory manipulations. And some pedophiles need none of these active endeavors to receive the satisfaction they seek from young girls; a mere touch or exposure of themselves to the girl-subject is enough to bring them to a climax.
York, although he was married and the father of teenaged daughters, sought his total sexual satisfactions from the Baby-Pros. He was affluent and a frequent visitor to the house of prostitution that housed the young girls.
It had been years since York had had sexual intercourse with his wife. She, a frigid-type woman, did not mind in the least. She had her family; that was enough. Sex was cumbersome and bothersome and much too messy for the neat Mrs. B. And for a long time the absence of sex didn't bother York either.
Then he turned fifty and began noticing the pre-pubescent and early pubescent girls of the street.
It become York's habit to spend much of his leisure time in the park where the children played. It was here that he experienced his first sexual release as a result of a young girl's body.
York's eyes had followed the movements of a particular girl who appeared to be about twelve. He was infatuated with the vitality of her body, the way her young buttocks sparked out from her short skirt, the way her bare thighs flashed in and out of sight as she ran about the park. And he thought the puffs that were to one day be her breasts were the sweetest signs of youth he had ever witnessed. He could not keep his eyes from her. And when she chased a ball that had escaped her hands and lodged under the park bench where York sat, his heart fluttered madly and he felt a sudden heat sweep him like a brush fire.
"Here-I'll get it for you," York said to the girl.
He bent over and reached for the ball beneath the bench just as the girl started to do the same thing, causing her shoulder and thigh to strike lightly at York's arm. Immediate erection resulted for York. It had been years since he had known anything but impotency. He was amazed. He was pleased. He was very excited and a little aghast at this old reaction that was made new to him once more.
York raised and handed the child the ball. The brush of her fingers against his hand as she took the ball further stimulated him. For a moment, he was sure he would erupt as he sat there smiling at the child. Even the scent of her, that of youth and freshness, was a stimulant that churned York with even greater, more intense passion.
The girl took the ball, thanked him, then darted away. York continued to watch her as she played.
Soon, her playmates departed and she was left alone. She looked around, then walked over to York.
"Would you like to play catch?" she asked.
"I-I wouldn't mind at all," he answered.
They threy the ball back and forth a few times, then York, wishing for a touch from her body again, became inventive and made the game into a keep-away kind of combat. Purposely, he held the ball high over his head, making the girl laugh and screech and come close to reach for it. York felt the bump of her knees, then knew the total crush of her body as she leaped high and came crashing down the front of him. Nearly fainting from the thrill that he knew, York cuddled the ball to his lap, causing the girl to reach for it. Her hand darted out and struck hard against York's phallus. He ejaculated, felt stunned and near-unconsciousness and very, very far away from the scene that placed him with the child.
He left the park as quickly as he found composure. That night, sparked with thoughts of the potency that had been returned to him, he began the preliminary acts of sexual intercourse with his wife. She was astounded. And disgusted. She told him he was a silly old man. It didn't matter. York knew that he was incapable of an erection with his wife.
The next night, through the cooperation of a taxi cab driver, York visited a house of prostitution. The girl he bought was very pretty, in her middle twenties, and incapable of stimulating York to a sexual act. He left the place deeply dejected.
For the next week, York spent hours at the playgrounds of the city. And here, sitting amid the bouncing bodies of the city's young, he knew once again the hard, pulsating erection that signified his need for a female-one of very young years. When he offered to push a child of about eleven on the swing and she accepted, he found his outlet. Bringing the swing and the girl to a jarring halt against his stretching manhood, he once again found release.
York visualized fantasy scenes of himself and a girl of twelve or thirteen enjoying an act of sexual intercourse together. He tried to dream how great it would be. But the strains of his law-abiding background and his fear of disclosure and arrest were too strong. He knew that he would never truly know a child as he wished. The risks were too great.
By chance, some weeks following the return of his masculinity, York read a newspaper article concerning the arrest of early teenaged girls. They had been apprehended and detained for prostitution. York was astonished. He never believed that young girls participated in the sale of their bodies. It seemed preposterous. And, it offered him hope.
A few days later, York again sought out a cab driver. The Cabbie couldn't help him, but he knew a bell boy at one of the major hotels who could. Money changed several hands and York finally found himself in a room at a distant hotel awaiting the presence of the young girl he had purchased for an hour.
York has stated that when the Baby-Pro entered the room, he thought he would faint because of his desire for her. She was so lovely, so young, so exquisitely fresh, that he was sure he could not move, could do nothing but sit where he was, erupt because of the sight of her, then faint. (York's frequent reference of "fainting," caused by the intensity of his feelings, was of considerable interest to the court's psychiatrists who finally decided his fate. Their conclusion was that York's basic "goodness," his respect for law and order, prompted this reaction both because of his guilt and the consciousness of what he was thinking and wanting to do, and as a wish that he would truly faint, enabling him to escape the torment of his wrong-doing.)
The Baby-Pro appeared to be about twelve or thirteen. She was very blonde and pretty, although plain. Her smile was vivacious. There was an uncontrived motion to her hips as she moved that seemed to York to shout of the glory and goodness of things that were past for him and gone forever.
"Hi," she said brightly.
York smiled and nodded.
The girl came close to him and paused in front of him. She wore a short, terry cloth bath robe which caused York to wonder if she wore anything beneath it.
Trembling a bit, York rose from the chair. Then he reached one hand out and touched lightly at the small bumps that were her breasts.
She laughed and jumped back a pace, saying, "You're funny-is that all you want to do-just touch?"
"No," he said soberly.
"Well, I just wondered. Some men are like that you know."
"Are they?"
"Oh yes. Some of my best customers are like that."
"How do you feel about that?" he asked.
"Oh, I don't know. Sometimes mad, I guess. You know, after all I am kind of pretty and when they just do that to me-well, it makes me feel kind of restless. After all, a girl should get something out of it, too, shouldn't they?"
"Yes. They certainly should."
She laughed, then said, "You're kind of nice, you know."
"Am I?"
"Sure. I can tell. You're kind of-sweet."
"I'm glad you think so," York said. "You see-well, all this is a little new to me."
"Yeah, I can tell that too," she said. "Jeeez, most of these guys make it like a football game. You know, I walk in and they throw me on the bed before I get a chance to even talk."
"They're beasts," he said, feeling, he has claimed, a certain jealousy for those other men who had known this Baby-Pro.
The girl laughed again, told him once more that he was "funny," that he seemed "nice," then placed one hand on the belt of her robe.
York looked at it, and waited.
The girl smiled and loosened the belt. Then she let the robe part down its middle, revealing to York flashes of young flesh that made his blood heat and surge through him like a rocket.
York loosened his tie. Then the buttons of his shirt. When his fingers fumbled, the girl hurried to aid him and finally separated him from his clothing.
When he was naked, the girl took a step backwards and looked openly at the strength of his manhood.
"Jeeeez, you're great," she said, Her words released York from his feelings of inadequacy, released him, too, from all inhibitions that cursed his mind. He stepped forward, his anxious hands outstretched and reaching for her small breasts. The girl gave them by a slight arch of her body as she slipped the robe from her shoulders and dropped it to the floor.
York cupped her small breasts in his hands and trembled more violently. Then he pinched the tiny, pink nipples which were beginning to stretch outward from their flesh-moulds. The girl half-closed her eyes in a sign of the pleasure she felt. Then she returned
York's caress, reached out and gripped him gently at the very point of his immense strength.
"Oh, no, child," he exclaimed, gently gripping her wrist and moving her hand away.
Surprised, she asked, "Don't you like that?"
"Oh, yes, very much, but I can't stand it right now. I might-might-"
"I know what you mean," she said.
They moved to the bed. The girl stretched upon her back with her arms over her head, causing her to seem almost breastless while her small belly indented drastically. York sat on the bed's edge and looked at all of her lithe body. Then he ran his hands over all of her and as he did so he felt titanic emotions growl within him, urging him onward, more aggressively, to give more of himself as he sought also to please the girl. He bent and kissed her rosebud breasts.
"Ummmm," that's nice," the girl whimpered. Then she was moved to moan deeper and say, "Ohh, Jeeez, that feels good," when York shifted his position and kissed gently at her thighs.
As he adored her young body with lips and tongue York felt pride for his body for the first time in years. He felt young and strong and very, very virile. He was the master, she his love. He was King, the girl a loyal subject.
When York became more dynamic in his oral giving to her young womanhood, the girl wheezed a bit, arched, moaned lovingly, then began a light up-and-down motion of her body that brought her in light, bumping contact with his hungry mouth.
At the same moment that York, unable to stand anymore play, pulled away from the girl, she stopped her arching and braced into position for love.
Shakily, York moved above her. The girl's feet locked within the bend of his knees. Then she arched again.
Slowly, expertly, while he sought and could not find any moment of his life to compare with the delicious quality of the moment, York lowered to the girl, paused at the font of youth as if it were an idol, then pressed downward and inward, feeling all of the girl clutch to his moving self as if a million fingertips played their tune of love upon his flesh.
"Jeeeeeeez, but you're good," the girl whispered. Then she arched more vigorously, exciting faster movement from York.
The journey to returned youth was a short one for York. And for the girl, too. Stroking smoothly for a dozen movements, he could no longer contain himself. He rammed and jammed and fought himself to her, anxious for the moment that was to release him, yet sorrowful for it, too, because it would mark an end to the greatest glory he had ever known.
He yelped when the swell of him reached its peak and exploded. And the girl joined his cry as she hurried her hips to her own completion.
When their bodies separated and York rolled to his side, gasping, feeling the after-effects of exertion rake his body, he mumbled incoherently, insanely, of things long vacant from his life; of love and excitement and youth.
When the girl left the bed and started to make ready to leave York, he felt that he could never let her go. And for awhile he didn't have to. He paid for another hour, resurrected his strength and tried again. This time he was slow and masterful, even sending the girl to a screaming climax, one more intense then that which she had known earlier.
Following his first experience with early pubescent love, York became an addict. He visited the girl often. He found other Baby-Pros for the variety that his new found potency required. He dabbled in cunnilingus, fellatio, anal intercourse, and breast masturbation. He was well known by all the Baby-Pros throughout the city. His work as a bookkeeper suffered. His expenses rose. And finally he was diverted to the extra sex indulgence of unwary children in the parks and by the pools of the city. It was a park, deep within the woods while forcing the seduction of a twelve year old girl, that York was arrested and finally sentenced for statutory rape.
CASE HISTORY
Clarence L. came to the attention of a Midwestern city recently when he was found to be living in a low-income, city housing project with his fourteen year old niece. He had gained admission to the city dwellings through falsification of his marital and family status. But Clarence claimed innocence of any sexual wrongdoing with a minor child when he was confronted by police.
"Look at the kid-have her examined by a doctor if you don't believe me," he told an assistant prosecuting attorney.
The police did just that. Clarence's claim was affirmed. His niece was a virgin, her hymen was in order. But, still suspicious, the police conducted an intense interrogation of the girl and unraveled a story of gross, incestuous promiscuity.
Clarence, at forty-eight years of age, had never successfully met with a mature woman in an act of sex. From the age of about seventeen, his sex drive was directed toward prepubescent and early pubescent girls. He had known homosexual affairs with young boys, too, but it was the light, floating bodies of the twelve and thirteen and fourteen year old girls that really intrigued him and sent him into spasms of sexual gratification. When he could not bribe or pay for the body of a child, he forced his attentions upon her. But usually, a bribe was enough. Clarence found an abundant supply of the young who would submit to his sexual advances because it was not intercourse that he wanted. Clarence L. was driven by a desire for a multitude of sexual deviations. All of them excluded sexual intercourse as a media of contact.
Clarence L. found both a constant sex partner and a means of livelihood when his niece, who was thirteen at the time, confided to Clarence that she was going to run away from home-that she could not endure the drunkenness, the poverty, the quarrels and brawls of her parents' home. Clarence invented an intrigue under which his niece left her home and moved into the small apartment he kept in a slum section of town. When he successfully applied for, and received, city-supplied housing, Clarence went into business as pimp for his niece. He introduced her to his sexual wishes as she left the bathroom wrapped in a towel on a Saturday afternoon.
"Hey, where you going?" he asked.
"To dress, Silly, where do you think?"
"You don't have to do that," he laughed. "Stay just as you are. That's a mighty cute costume you're wearing there."
"Silly."
He walked over to her and put his hands at her waist. Then he looked into her eyes and said, "Guess you know I expect a few things from you for doing all that I've done to get you out of that crummy place you lived in."
"Crummy, eh?" she snorted. "And I suppose this dump is any better?"
"It's not now, but it can be."
She showed interest. He explained the advantages of free-lance prostitution under his sponsorship. The girl sparked with interest. But she had doubts, too.
"None of that jazz for me, Unks," she said. "You ain't going to find me having any babies."
"There are ways to prevent it," he said.
"Yeah, and they don't always work either."
"Don't tell me you haven't already done things with boys," he said accusingly.
"Sure I have," she admitted. "But nothing that's going to get me with a baby."
"You're a virgin?"
"I sure as hell am, and I'm going to stay that way."
"Well I'll be goddamned," he exclaimed. "Come on, tell me-what have you done with the boys?"
She glanced down to where her breasts bulged against the towel. Then she said, "Oh, I've let them touch me a little-and I've touched them."
"Is that all?"
"No." She paused, then said, "I've-you know-played with them."
"Yeah, go on."
"And they've played with me."
"Touched you, you mean."
"More than that."
"You mean played with you down here," he said, bringing his hand to nudge between her thighs.
"Hey-stop that," she shouted.
"Stop pretending, kid," he said gruffly. "And come'er, you might as well learn right now that what I say, goes."
She withdrew a step, but not far enough to prevent Clarence from lashing his hand out and catching her by the hair.
"Hey-that hurts," she cried.
"And it's going to hurt a hell of a lot more if you don't hurry up and learn the facts of life. Come'er and learn em'. "
Clarence half-dragged his niece into the bed room. Then he stripped the towel from her body. His eyes gleamed and softened a bit as he looked at her body which was exceptionally well-developed for her age; which showed large breasts with finger-pointing nipples that stuck out sharply from the softness of her flesh, and a flat belly with its navel round and pinched.
Clarence made a quick movement to the zipper of his trousers, exposed himself, then gripped his niece by the hair again. Then he settled himself on the edge of the bed as he forced the girl to her knees in front of him.
"Come on, kid, give," he said. "I got an idea you won't mind a bit."
And, some what to her own surprise, she didn't. Soon, her head was bobbing upon him of its own accord without the guidance of his fingers entwined in her hair. And at the end, when the flow of him passed to her she had admitted experiencing a certain thrill, one that promised greater thrills of more intense magnitude in the future.
This initial sexual incident resulted in a partnership between niece and uncle that lasted until it was disrupted by a police investigation. Clarence had a source of income and the constant, deviate sexual availability of his niece. The girl had Clarence's pledge that she need never submit to sexual intercourse, that he would procure only those clients who themselves had no interest in a normal sex act.
The girl's first customer desired only fellatio. The second was a fan of cunnilingus and succeeded in exciting the girl to a pitch that just bordered on orgasm. With her third customer, she learned about anal penetration and her fourth required only that she manually manipulate him to masturbation finish. But it was her fifth customer who added a flair to the girl's young life. It was he who entered the whore-chambers carrying a large, department store box.
Thinking that she had been brought a gift, the young Baby-Pro brightened when the man entered the room.
"Do you want me to take that?" she asked.
"No, my dear, not now, at least," he answered.
There was little time for small talk because the Baby's uncle, Clarence, had trained her to the time limits of love; an hour was the accepted time for the fee received.
The customer slipped off his coat. Then, the girl obliging quickly, loosened the front buttons of the simple dress she wore. In a moment she hurried out of her clothing and waited for the man to join her. She watched as he took his time undressing. He disturbed her, for he seemed not at all taken by the nakedness she presented. Although he looked at her firm breasts and the smoothness of her thighs, he seemed not the least excited. She felt hurt and neglected. And when the man finally disbanded his undershorts and straightened, presenting his nudity, she felt that she was a failure, that her young naked body was not as alluring as she had been led to believe. The man was not the least excited, he remained liimp and unresponsive to her presence.
The man smiled and turned his back to loosen the bindings of the large box. From it, he withdrew what appeared to be a garment of leather, but which upon closer inspection proved to be nothing more than high, leather boots with spiked heels, those that snugged tightly to the thighs like a trout fisherman's boots.
'What in the world is that?" she asked. .
"Something for you," he said.
"For me?"
"Of course. For you to wear."
"Oh."
"You mean you've never done anything like this before?" he asked. "Never."
"What a shame."
"Why?" she asked. "Why is it a shame?"
He lifted and cradled the boots in his arm like a baby. "Because these leather boots are so very exciting, my dear."
She shrugged and shook her head, then said, "Well, buster-you'll have to show me."
"I intend to," he said.
He slowly explained that he wanted her to don the boots, that she was to wear nothing more than them and that from the sight of her in them he would become excited. Then, as if taken with some compulsion to explain, he told her that from the time he was a very young man, boots, and the leather of them upon a naked young body, had been his only path to sexual erection and the resulting act of intercourse.
Professionally, she accepted his explanation and that slowness must be part of this aphrodisiac act, she took the boots from his hand. Slowly, as she sensed placed one foot into the leather boot. Slowly, she drew the crinkly material over her calve, her knee, and up and over and to the very top of her thigh. She raised on the boot, unbalancing herself a bit as the high heel shot her several inches taller than her natural height.
The customer gasped his pleasure at the sight of her.
She pulled the draw strings tightly and the top of the leather boot pinched at her flesh as it fastened close, so close that the inside of the boot rubbed against the side-outline of her young womanhood.
The man gasped again, longer and more wheezing this time. He took a step closer and the girl could see that excitement was beginning to come to him. He had partially erected.
She slipped her other foot into the remaining boot and adjusted it as she had the first. Again, there was a wheeze of response from the man. This time when she viewed him she saw that he had erected fully. It seemed amazing and she felt somewhat confused.
Then he stepped closer. He smiled, then raised his hands and very gently kneaded her breasts. The girl has admitted that she liked the feeling, the duality of the leather boots snuggling close to her skin while the man's hands caressed her breasts.
It didn't last long. Suddenly, impatience seized the man and he hurried his little prostitute to the bed.
He practically threw her on her back, and just as quickly he hurried to kneel at the edge of the couch. For a moment the little Pro was fearful that Clarence had misjudged his customer, that this one was bent upon the taking of her in an act of sexual intercourse. But when the man raised a bit, grasped his manhood, then with the other hand forced the girl to a position that faced him in a way that allowed her breasts to bunch together, her mind was relieved. She knew that intercourse was not her lot this night. And she was right.
Slowly, the man pointed himself to a position between her breasts. He held himself with one hand and brought the other hand to touch at the high part of the leather boot. Then, working frantically from the very beginning, he thudded himself in the valley between her breasts while at the same time he smoothly caressed at the leather where it held her thigh.
The Baby-Pro was baffled and a bit anxious. She could not quite comprehend the act as anything that would bring vitality to his finish. But it did. Tremendously so. The man lashed himself back and forth between her breasts, achieving a fantastic pace. And all the time the other hand slowly and lovingly caressed her leather encased thigh.
The customer bellowed a cry of relief as he reached his end. Only then did his one hand quiet and release himself, only then did the other hand fall away from the leather that had given him manhood and manhood's right to sexual outlet.
CASE HISTORY
It was when he joined the Y.M.C.A. at the age of fifteen that Robbie began to realize that something was drastically different between himself and the other boys. Built small with narrow shoulders and frail bones, Robbie's penis was abnormally small. He was the brunt of many jokes, name-calling, and all manner of humiliations. He suffered them silently, but within him burned an anger that was never to be quieted during his lifetime.
At eighteen, Robbie made a date-the first he had ever had-with an unattractive girl who was a classmate in the senior class at the high school. After attending a show, Robbie parked his father's car beneath the cover of trees at a city park. Experimentally, he kissed the girl. It was the first he had ever known. The girl permitted it, largely because this date also marked her first venture in boy-girl relationships.
Robbie blazed with passion. He had heard of the wonders of kissing and touching and making love to girls. And when he sneaked his hand inside the girl's blouse and grasped her warm breast in his hand, he was sure that everything the other fellows said was true-that 'making out' with girls was the greatest thing going.
The girl became excited too and engaged her hand to Robbie's thigh, moving it investigatively, searching, fingers wandering as they sought his young manhood to grip and fondle. But she found nothing to meet her touch. Robbie did, however.
Becoming bold, he reached his hand to the girl's knee, then to her thigh, and then, when she hunched down in the seat and parted her legs, to that warm place of her thighs meeting. She shivered and wound her arms around his as he began a light, stabbing penetration of her body. And she breathed hard and uttered small sounds of pleasure as Robbie increased the speed of his jabbing finger. And then, suddenly, he moved his hand higher and found a plateau that he never suspected of being a part of a girl. He touched it. The girl reacted with a cry of passion. And then he circled upon it and she began to groan and moan and stutter new sounds of an ever rising, mounting, rapturous pleasure. But when she arched her body and seemed ready to bound upward through the roof of the car, Robbie stopped the action.
"Oh, don't stop," she pleaded. "Don't, don't, don't-what are you doing to me?"
"Come on-we got to do it the right way," he answered, shaking, but determined that he would know what others of his own age were already well experienced in doing.
The girl slouched lower in the seat and removed her panties. Then she hiked her dress high above her hips and waited as Robbie took a position close to her, then paused to fumble at the front of his trousers.
Finally, he was free. And he was moving downward to meet his virginal taking. He achieved it, too, even moved his hips back and forth in trip-hammer speed as the girl arched and thrust her body to meet him. But none of it was to any avail. His underdeveloped organ was beyond the ability to cause even the slightest feeling for the girl. And, shamefully, she did not hesitate to tell him so.
"Robbie? Robbie-are you-in?" she inquired anxiously.
"Yes."
"But I can't tell," she exclaimed.
"Sure you can. Try." He thrust with all his might against the girl's throbbing thighs. "There. How's that?"
"I can't tell anything," she sobbed. "Nothing, Robbie. Not a thing. Are you sure you're there?"
"I'm there all right," he panted. "I can tell-I can feel you."
He made several more movements, then anxiety and the premature ejaculation that is so common in the young converged upon him to cause his overflowing. He cried out and whimpered the sounds of all he felt. But for the girl, there was nothing. And again, she was not discreet in her criticism.
"You son-of-a-bitch," she yelled. "Goddamn you anyway. All that stuff and you get it and I don't-I don't because you're too goddamn small and shrunken-because you ain't no kind of boy at all. Now goddamn it, you get down here and do what you were doing to me before so I can get something out of this."
Embarrassed, to taken aback to speak, Robbie obediently returned his hand to her thigh, once again found that plateau of sensation and spun his finger upon it. But he was without enthusiasm for his masturbation of the girl. And his lack of enthusiasm must, it has been stated, have prevented her from the climax she desired. Instead, she knew only frustration as she was risen to a high point of feeling without achieving that mark that would release her and send her cascading downward in a swooping dive of thrill.
During the drive home, the girl, perhaps to work off some of the frustration she knew, verbalized Robbie's inadequacies. Inexperienced as she was, she seemed very worldly as she sat in the dark telling Robbie of his inefficient, miniature-size. And he thought he would die when she told him that she had seen other boys undressed, particularly her brothers-her young brothers, only in their teens-and that they were built like men, not midgets!
This experience was the last of its kind Robbie was to try until at the age of thirty he sexually engaged with a Baby-Pro and knew the gratification of a full sexual act with a girl who was much too professional to criticize the anatomy of the customer who paid for her services.
"The physically inadequate-the hunch backs, the malformed beings, the single limbed and grotesquely deformed-are the very special customers of the Baby-Pros," said a Criminal Court psychiatrist recently. "These men, shunned by mature women, find in an immature female their own opportunity for confidence and acceptance that they might never otherwise experience."
CHAPTER V
Lydia Tom and Daughter-A Case History
Mother Seductive Permissiveness has been blamed as the cause of much premature promiscuity among the teenagers of today. Psychiatrist and Sociologist alike point to the status driven American Mothers as the cause of many of their daughters' sexual capers.
"Why?" asks the doubtful. "What has happened to the image of the good old American Mom?"
"Mom"-no longer exists. She has turned to slacks and sports cars, bikinis and extra-marital affairs. And with her transformation she has brought a change in the attitudes of her children. It's chic for the American Mother to be very candid about sex. And when her candid information is often based upon her own "misinformation" she cannot help but contribute to her child's confusion, misinterpretation and sometimes her over-interest in sex at an age where a doll would be a more acceptable playmate than a real, live male.
In the seductive permissive mother" professionals also find that the mother very often works out her own sexual frustrations through the media of her daughter, provoking early dating, looseness, and an inclination for sex that is not accompanied with the fear that once cautioned a girl's activities.
Investigators of the Probate Court in a Michigan community were recently asked to look into the activities of a middle-class divorcee and her fourteen year old daughter. The story of Lydia Tom and her daughter, Bea, which unraveled, is one that pinpoints the influence of the seductive permissive mother in American society today and, as such, is important to this report.
Lydia was pregnant when at seventeen she married a man who was not responsible for the conception. She tried to pretend a premature birth with an eight pound child, and when the story was not believed by her husband she told him the truth. He left Lydia the same night.
For awhile Lydia tried working to support herself and her child. But this was boresome and inconvenient to the frequent dates she had. Very beautiful and desirable with a shapely body and a lively spirit, Lydia had started dating almost immediately after her husband's desertion. She never hesitated to engage in sexual adventures with her dates. She had convinced herself that she "needed" sex, that she was a passionate woman. This was not true according to a psychiatrist's report. Lydia used sex as a method of ego-boost, without genuine physical satisfaction being achieved.
When an executive in the office where Lydia worked suggested a date, it occurred to her that she really shouldn't work at all, that she should use her beauty and her physical attributes for the purposes of a livelihood rather than pounding a typewriter. She accepted a date with the executive. It didn't bother Lydia at all that the man was married. He was also wealthy. This seemed like ample grounds for her to become a part of an infidelity.
Lydia waited until the end of the date that evening to venture forth with her sexual attractions. The executive had a reputation as somewhat of a wolf. Lydia knew it. She knew, too, that he wasted little time, that he no doubt intended to know her sexually that very evening. She hoped it was true. She intended to make it work for her.
As they left the club where they had enjoyed cocktails and dinner, Lydia clutched tightly to the man's arm, making very sure that her large breast crushed to him, letting him feel the roundness and firmness, perhaps even the sharp nipple, she hoped. During the evening Lydia had told her escort of the hard times a woman has when she raises a child alone. She told him of the struggle, the constant tiredness, and the hopelessness of a life alone. The man was a sympathetic listener. He suggested that they should extend their evening. Would she like a nightcap at the apartment he kept in the city? Would she? Indeed she would! Lydia told him so, but in a contrived manner that hinted at shyness.
The apartment was the most exquisite Lydia had ever seen. It made her own dwelling seem drabber than it truly was. They had their drinks together in the large living room, sitting close together on a lavish couch. When the man put his arm around Lydia's shoulder, she turned her face to him and received his kiss.
Considering the psychiatric report that claimed Lydia had little true feelings for sexual contact, it is of interest to investigate her thoughts at the time of this first kiss with a stranger who showed the promise of being something more.
Lydia has admitted that her thoughts were not of the man's tongue shooting into her mouth, nor of one hand that crept to the bodice of her dress and sneaked inside to clutch her breast. Her thoughts were of the expensive apartment, the man's affluence, his obvious delight in her company, and of how she could utilize all of this for her own material comfort. For awhile she considered playing hard to get, but she sensed that this would only create a permanent separation between them. So, when the man slid her shoulder strap down and exposed one breast to which he bent open-mouthed, she did not restrain him. Instead, she gripped his head and forced him hard to the consumption of her nipple and breast.
Soon, they were nude and facing each other in the bed room. He told her of her beauty. She told him of the confidence she had in such a man as he. They came together in a clash of bodies that sounded a smack throughout the room. Lydia moaned and cried. It was pretense worthy of the finest actress. She had learned a long time ago that a man was made to feel more of that species, that he would know masterfullness, and through it love, if a woman was physically responsive to his love-making.
Lydia played her role well. When she was braced and ready, she whined a sad, frightened call. Then, when he entered her she cried out in feigned thrill as if this was the first male-excitement she had ever known. And at the very end when she sensed that her lover was near his climax, she cried out, screamed, bellowed and yelped, sobbed and mumbled all sorts of insane things about love and sex and the man and herself.
The glow of satisfaction was on the man's face as soon as they separated to rest. When he turned to her again, Lydia knew that she was about to receive a permanent proposition. She was right.
"You're very lovely, you know," he said.
"No, that's not true-I'm just an old drudge of a mother who tries to take care of her child."
"I'm glad you mentioned that," the man said.
"I'm not-it's embarrassing."
"It shouldn't be. Nevertheless, I have a suggestion."
She looked at him, then turned and shyly looked at the floor.
"I have this apartment," the man continued. "I rarely use it, and it's a long lease I carry. Why don't you and little Bea move in here?"
"Here? Good Lord-I couldn't afford it."
"You don't have to. I said that the lease was paid."
"Oh." She hesitated, then said, "But, really, I could-n t.
"You're thinking about the strings that are attached, aren't you?" he asked. "Yes."
'"There's only one," he said. "It's me, I'd be lying if I pretended otherwise. But, judging by the way we are together-the way you were, especially, I don't think I'm very hard to take."
"Oh, you're not-not at all," she said quickly and in exactly the right tone.
"Good. Then it's settled, isn't it?"
She hesitated, then said, "But it's going to be messy-both of us in the same office and everything."
"You're not there any more, he said.
"I'm not?"
"No. I just fired you and put you on my personal pay roll as custodian of this apartment."
They clinched their agreement by a new embrace, then by rolling to the bed and engaging once again in the sexual togetherness that was really the basis of their contract.
Lydia remained eleven years as the wealthy executive's mistress. She enjoyed the luxury of her apartment-home, a generous allowance, and the opportunity to raise her daughter in a better than average socio-economic bracket. And it was during these eleven years that young Bea grew into a young woman, became at fourteen an exceptionally beautiful girl with long auburn hair, green eyes, and a figure that was the envy of every woman whom she encountered. It was during this time, too, that Lydia's seductive permissiveness-born perhaps from her own guilt and the desire to compensate or rationalize her kept-woman existence-invaded her child, stimulated the young girl and sent her into indiscretions that led to her eventual evolvement as a Baby-Pro.
"You're really Uncle John's mistress aren't you?" Bea asked one day shortly after she reached the age of fourteen.
Lydia did not answer at once. She had feared this day, but had not prepared for it. But, within her there was even a stronger force than that of protecting her child, sparing the innocent problems, or embarrassing her child. The stronger force was her own ego-her own necessity of always being "right."
"You are, aren't you?" Bea asked again.
"Yes," Lydia admitted.
There followed a two hour conversation about sex, men, money, the facts of life as they related to living, the problems of a mother who had been deserted with a young child, and the constant reminder to Bea that her mother was still a young woman, one who should be allowed to enjoy both the finer things of life and the man who provided them.
"I guess I don't mind very much," Bea said when her mother finished. "I guess maybe I always knew how things were between you and Uncle John."
"Perhaps you did," the mother said.
Then, as if finished with the subject and more intent on other things, Bea said, "Mother-is it fun to make love to a man."
"Of course, darling," Lydia said. "It's great fun."
"Why?"
Frigid Lydia called upon things that she had heard rather than those she actually knew. "Because it makes you feel very excited and wonderful."
"How?" Bea asked. "You mean when a boy kisses me it feels good."
"You should know," she kidded. "I'm sure that nice boy you went to the show with the other night kissed you."
"You don't care that he did?"
'"Of course not. It's really rather flattering."
"Well then, he kissed me, all right. He handled me a little too."
"He touched your breasts?" Lydia asked, being careful to keep her voice calm, to show no alarm, which would have been quite impossible because she felt none.
"He went up my skirt, too."
"He touched you there?"
"Yes." In a mood of giving a confidence, Bea nudged closer to her mother where they sat on the couch, then said, "Mother-why did I feel so funnyso kind of high and trembling-when he touched me there."
"Because that's the very place that's given to a woman so that she can make love to a man," Lydia told her.
"But that's not where he touched me, mother," Bea exclaimed. "He touched me higher-and-and I thought I was going to pass out."
Lydia, despite her worldly ways, knew very little about the anatomy of women. She did not pursue the matter of her daughter's fondling any further.
"And you don't care if I go out with that boy again, eh?"
"Of course not. Why should I? I think you should date him as often as you like."
Bea did. Several times a week. And by the end of a month the fourteen year old girl and the seventeen year old boy were engaging actively, and regularly, in sexual intercourse.
Bea, when she recalled the first such incident for the police psychiatrist who interviewed her, was nostalgic about the moment. And she was accusing of her mother, too.
"I wouldn't be where I am right now," Bea said, "if my mother hadn't acted kind of pleased about all the playing that boy and I were doing. What the hell-how does a girl knows it's going to get her into trouble if her own mother doesn't tell her?"
According to Bea, the scene of her first act of sexual intercourse was a beach where she and the boy had gone to swim beneath the full moon which had been promised. Always a seductive-type dresser, this night she wore her first bikini, only recently purchased. It barely covered her large breasts. It dipped devilishly beneath her naval.
Bea and the boy named Jack played in the water for a long time. During their play, they occasionally kissed and the boy's hands often wondered to her breasts and buttocks. She liked the feel of his hands upon her, she has claimed, liked it because it spoke of love and affection, qualities that were apparently missing in her life.
When the young people finished with the water and their swim, they settled on the blanket they had placed on the smooth sand beach.
Bea has related that at this moment, even before it, she knew that Jack was going to try to make love to her. She knew, too, that she would allow it. But she did not realize how fervent was her desire for an act of sex.
Jack gripped her by the shoulders and kissed her hard. She immediately opened her mouth and received his tongue, latching her lips to it and drawing upon it as if it were some vessel of nourishment. Her enthusiasm for his kiss amazed her. So did the warmth that swept her body and the quickened beat of her heart. She grasped his hand and forced it to her breast. Then, as they continued kissing, she lowered her bra and exposed her breasts. Jack kneaded them. Then with a groan of urgency, he forced her to her back upon the blanket. Caarefully, he withdrew the bottom of her swimsuit from her body.
"You're going to do it to me, aren't you?" she asked.
"Do you want me to."
"Yes."
'"You're a funny kid," he laughed. "Come on-hurry up."
He yanked his swim trunks off, then reached to his pants which were folded on the blanket.
"Come on," Bea said. "What are you doing any way?"
"Getting something so you won't get pregnant."
"I heard about those," she said. "And to hell with em'-come on, get to me-fast."
Amazement swept Jack's face. He left his trousers where they were and lunged to Bea's side. They embraced. Bea, who had felt the wonder of discovery when she sighted the young and massive strength of the boy's manhood, reached and grasped him. Then she twisted him hurtfully. He did not mind. He returned her mean touch with a light one of his own, one that moved between her thighs then upward to a high ground of sensitivity. She moaned. He circled, moving slowly at the beginning then increasing his speed. Bea's hips bounced up and down, thrusting in a demand for more of the thrill he was providing.
And then she stopped him.
"Oh, no more of that," she wheezed. "No more-just you-let me have you now."
Jack raised above her and settled to the braced cradle she had made of her legs. He paused, then lurched forward
Bea hollered out as she received him, screamed both the hurt and the pleasure of the loss of her virginity. And then she settled into the act of giving and receiving as if she were mature and had been making love most of her life. Their bodies spun together, crashed, crunched close and paused, then separated, then smacked together in a series of hard slaps, then moved slowly again.
And Bea, un-like her mother, had thoughts for nothing but the next contact, touch, movement, variation of that movement and the great, great sensation that was building within her.
When she had been taken as high and as far as she could go-as far as the boy could go too-she wheezed a long, eerie call, then began the hard thrusting motion that would carry her over the high peak she had reached.
As her emotions burst and she started on the roller-coaster descent of thrill, she screamed and her cries mixed with the heavy, exiting groan of the boy. They remained close together, still in the position of love. They rested. Then, the boy being young and strong, restored in vigor and moved again. So did Bea. And soon they were on a new journey to the never, never land of wondrous sexual thrill. This time they traveled the road slower, more practiced, and in a lingering way that allowed each of them to feel and react to the slightest movement from the other. And Bea reacted to both the thud of him within her and to his hands kneading at her breasts. And finally as they ascended and descended the scale of thrill again, she reacted to the tight clamp of his mouth against hers as their tongues sought to catch up with the rioting race of their bodies.
This was Bea's first time. It initiated her into the sex her mother had always known, the sex that had unconsciously been permitted by her parent's own permissiveness. And it marked a regular pattern of the fourteen year old girl's life.
When Bea turned fifteen, she began to dream of freedom. She did not know exactly what kind of freedom she wanted for her mother was permissive about her child's activities, too. But there was a restlessness within the child that demanded outlet-more than she was obtaining from her sexual activities several times a week.
It was at this time that Bea met a middle-aged friend of her mother's paramour. He seemed very rich and very business-like. He asked if he might take her to dinner one night. She was undecided, perhaps sensing that there was something wrong, or at least something different about her dating a mature-man. She asked her mother what she thought.
"Go with him, dear, have a good time," Lydia told her. "Older men are charming-I'm sure you'll find him very, very attentive."
Bea did. The man seduced her in the front seat of his car, although it could hardly be called a seduction since Bea consented, indeed, even encouraged the act.
When they were finished, the man made a proposition. He had contacts that could use a girl such as Bea. Then he explained about the syndicate operated prostitution ring which had a special section for young girls. It offered Bea the opportunity for money, travel, expensive clothing and the freedom she desired. She accepted without a second thought.
Cases such as Bea's are not unusual, authorities claim. Neither is the mother-permissiveness which initiates sexual acts for the child before she is ready for them.
"We have to start with the mothers before we can truly influence the child," says a prominent psychologist. "The seductive permissiveness of mothers is at an all time high today. Some of it is the wish for status, some of it's caused by the mother's own problems, but whatever the cause, there is no doubt that many mothers are actively provoking their daughters to sexual activity years before they are ready for it. And, in reviewing the cases of the so-called Baby-Pros, I cannot help but feel that many of them entered prostitution because of the early permissiveness of their mothers-if not actual, at least subconscious permissiveness which has the same effect on an innocent child."
CHAPTER VI
Incest and the Baby-Pros
The relationship between the Baby-Pros to then-sponsors is unique in that it often combines the elements of both lover and parent-figure. Most of the young prostitutes working outside the jurisdiction of an organized syndicate, live with and are supervised by a procurer, or pimp. Often he is a relative. Almost always he is an adult male, well oriented in the realm of crime. And for the Baby-Pro, because of her young age, he is both her lover and a parent-type of figure.
"There is an incestuous quality to the relationship of a young prostitute and her pimp," claims Milton Albright, psychologist on the faculty of an Eastern college. "She is too young to be really on her own. So, the pimp takes her into his care and custody. He is most often her lover, too. Thus we have the situation of a young girl, living with a man who is representative of a father, and one with whom she cohabits. So, I truly believe that in any situation that finds a girl working as a prostitute under the supervision of a man, we have an atmosphere of incest about it. Many times it is the strongest force between the two principals."
The following cases, taken from the records of a Midwestern police department, review several cases where the relationship between the Baby-Pro and her pimp was incestuous, both by law and by blood.
CASE HISTORY
Carta and her brother Gino were born to the slums. Their parents, hard working but low-paid, illiterate, and confused by the country that they adopted as their own, had no time for their children.
Carta at thirteen, and her brother, three years her senior, were inseparable. Sometimes it seemed that thy alone stood against the harsh cruelty of poverty. They shifted for themselves from morning to night, they roamed the streets, they saw crime and became a part of crime by committing petty thefts from stores and occasionally taking part in the "rolling" of a stranger. But they never considered prostitution and pimp-hood as a means of an income until they came together sexually themselves. It happened late at night while their parents were engaged in low-income night occupations. The setting was the single bed room shared by all the family in the two room apartment of the tenement building where the family lived.
Always, there were the neon lights of the street blinking into the unshaded room to disturb the coming of sleep. Always there was this as a reminder of the slums, poverty, and the hopelessness of the poor, the hopelessness of young lives destined to mature in circumstances that could not change.
The army cots upon which Carta and her brother slept were placed only a few feet apart. Each could hear the breathing of the other. It was mid-summer and hot. Gino retired naked. Carta wore a cheap cloth nightie that ended high at her thighs.
After carrying on a short conversation they grew quiet. Then the silence was pierced by the uncanny scream of an ambulance and police cars as their sirens screeched as they passed on the street below the window. Carla gasped, then there was the sound of movement as she left her cot and curled on the foot of Gino's.
"They always scare me," Carla said. "Let me stay here a little while."
"Sure."
Again, quiet prevailed. Soon, Carla turned restlessly on the bed and lengthened, shooting her feet toward Gino's head. He stretched too. The sheet that partially covered him slipped to the floor. He made no move to conceal his nakedness which was revealed to Carla from time to time as the neon lights blinked. Carla's foot moved, then climbed over Gino's thigh to bump gently against his young manhood. It stimulated him to an immediate erection. She did not move her foot. Instead, her toes wiggled gently against him. And then Gino shifted his position and brought his bare foot further downward until he touched at the hot, smoothness of his sister's thighs. Then it moved between them and he, too, wiggled his toes, making an answer to her erotic call.
Their feet played against each other for a long time. Both were responsive and highly excited. Gino's masculinity grew stronger. His toes became more vigorous and ground to and within the femininity of his sister. And she curled and uncurled her toes about him and whacked her foot from side to side, bending and unbending him, making him harder and longer and more tremblingly aware of their love-play. Neither spoke. Only their exerted breathing filled the room, mixing with the sounds of the night that issued from the streets through their open window.
Very soon, a new screech of police car sirens pierced the night. Carla trembled violently, then shifted her position and cuddled close to her brother's side. His arms wound around her protectively. Their bodies pressed close. She felt the stretch of him pressuring against her thighs, her bare thighs for her nightie had crept high above her hips. And he felt her young breasts nestled against his bare chest.
When the sound of the sirens reached their highest pitch, Carta raised her face to her brother. He kissed her. Not inexperienced in the ways of women, for he had a year earlier bequeathed his virginity to a neighbor woman, Gino was nevertheless thrilled by the freshness of his sister's lips. And he loved her tongue which she shyly peeked into his mouth. And then his body shuddered for the excitement of her fingers as they moved between them and curled about his youthful strength. He did not receive without giving: He touched her breasts with one hand and brought the other hand to the delight of her thighs. She moaned He kissed her harder.
There love-play ended when Gino could no longer stand mere touches. He pulled away, then pushed against her shoulders, moving her to her side with her back and buttocks facing him. For some reason, psychiatrists claim, Gino did not wish to face his sister as he invoked upon her the lust of his incestuous love. Carta, apparently, wished the same. When she was settled on her side, she boosted her hips until they could feel the thrust of her brother.
Gino was careful in the rupture of his sister's body. One can wonder why he would be and must assume only that there was true love existing between them. Carefully, he adjusted her to him. He arched slightly, pulsating against the outline of her womanhood, then arched deeper, piercing her, going deep then stopping when he was jammed, as close as possible. He paused. Then he wound both arms around her body and gripped her breasts with his hands, feeling the beginning roundness of them, the small nipples that were beginning to bud, and the quiver they made as he held her. He bent his head and clamped his mouth to her neck. Then he began to move. So did Carla. They moved faster, then still faster, then with all their might, and the army cot shook until it threatened a breakdown. And Gino's mouth remained clamped to her neck and her hands shot to tighten his fingers against her breast. And then at last they had gone as far as their youth would permit. They erupted, Gino fully and strongly and in immense satisfaction; Carla more cautiously, but, nevertheless bursting the bubble that had been slowly inflated to capacity.
When it was over, Carla returned to her own cot. Neither of them mentioned what had occurred between them. They slept. The next day they roamed the streets as they always did in the summer. That night they again commingled sexually. And the next night it was the same and so was the next. They continued to treat the event as if it didn't happen. But at the end of the week as they walked in a section of the neighborhood where the adult prostitutes sold their goodies, Gino brought up the subject of improving their financial lot by means of prostitution. Carla, ingrained to her brother's leadership, did not object. They went into business.
For several months they used their own apartment as the setting for customers to meet the frail young body of Carla. But, as they grew more affluent, as Gino found more and more customers for his sister, they improved their environment by taking an apartment of their own several blocks away. The parents did not object when Gino explained that he had found a good paying job, that their quarters were crowded, that he and his sister would live apart from their parents.
Gino was a careful pimp. He interviewed the prospects with a diligence worthy of the F.B.I. And Carla proved to be a delightful Baby-Pro. Her middle-aged customers became repeaters.
Until arrest broke up their operation, Gino and Carla continued in a pattern that seldom varied. During the day and early evening Gino would solicit customers. Carla would service them that night. Then, around midnight, when the day's business was over, the brother and sister would engage in sexual relations. Their act was always spirited and frequently varied with deviations. And always, to them both, it seemed a necessity to "cleanse" them from the work that engaged them.
Prison terms that separated Carla and Gino did not prevent them from resuming their profitable Baby-Pro business upon their release. Neither did a new prison sentence. And when they faded from the notice of the police of their city, it was assumed that they merely moved their operation to another city.
CASE HISTORY
The application of Mr. and Mrs. Turner seemed perfectly in order and they were accepted as prospective foster-parents. They didn't have long to wait before they met their ward, fifteen year old Susan. The Turners had specified that they were especially interested in providing a home and their foster-parenthood to a girl of early teens who had a history of delinquency. They wanted to do their part for society-after all, it was a delinquent who was most in need of the sound home environment they could provide. The Foster Home Agency people were overjoyed-most people avoided delinquents, wanted only the "normal" children who were without parents.
Susan, at fifteen, was already hardened to the way in of the world. She had been a notorious truant from school, was under-achieving when she did attend school, was troublesome to authorities because of petty thefts and other misdemeanors, and in general was a trouble-maker. She was also promiscuous, and had been since about the age of twelve when she permitted several boys to have sexual intercourse with her as a bounding, very enthusiastic subject. Susan was a hostile, bitter child when she met the Turners for the first time.
Mr. and Mrs. T. fell in love with her on sight. She was ideal. She was built maturely with large breasts, gliding hips and long, sure legs. Her hair was blonde and she wore it to her shoulders. Her eyes were blue. She was a lovely child.
For a week, the Turners required nothing from Susan but her presence. They even waited on her quite a bit, treating her as if she were a visiting Princess. Susan loved it. And she even abused it a little, but her general attitude was that it was too good to last, that something was up. She waited.
The second week of her foster daughtership, during a time that found Susan alone in the house with Mr. Turner, she came from the shower, dressed in robe and nightie, prepared to go to bed. It was then that she encountered Mr. Turner in the hall, blocking her path.
"Where are you going, Susan?" he asked. "To bed-where do you think."
"You're snippy," he laughed. "Maybe," she said.
"Yes, you're snippy, all right, and it's a good thing that I like girls who have spirit."
"Why? Because you might kick me out of your house?" she asked.
"No, I'd never kick you out, Susan."
"Not much," she laughed. "No, really, I wouldn't."
"Then you're up to something," she said. "People who take a foster kid in always have something up their sleeve and you're no different."
"Oh, I admit I have something up my sleeve, all right," he said.
"What?"
"This."
Mr. Turner smiled, then reached one hand out and touched at the bulge her breast made against the material of the robe. He kneaded it slowly.
"I thought so," Susan said, looking directly into his eyes. "You want to make me."
"That's part of it," Mr. Turner said calmly.
"What's the other part?"
"Let's take care of the first part first," he said, leading her toward the bed room.
Susan followed the direction of his guiding hand without objection. She was much too worldly not to know what was to her advantage. Sexual intercourse with her foster-father was definitely to her advantage. If things got rough, or if there was something she wanted, she could always threaten disclosure to Mrs. T., Susan reasoned. It was good reasoning. Susan would have power, a valuable asset to a foster-child in the home of strangers.
When they arrived in the bed room, Mr. Turner immediately started to undress Susan.
"You don't have to do that," she said. "I can take care of it myself-I know what the score is."
"You certainly do," Mr. Turner said, stepping back and beginning to strip his own clothing from his body.
Naked, they faced each other. Susan looked into her foster-father's eyes, not paying a bit of attention to his nudity and the hard desire of him it exposed.
After a moment, she turned and moved to the bed.
Mr. Turner laughed again, then said, "You certainly do know the score-I'll say that for you, Susan."
"Come on-stop talking, let's get this show over with before your old lady comes home."
At this he laughed very hard, then said, "You're careful, too. That's very good."
"Christ but you talk a lot," she exclaimed. "Come on."
Mr. Turner did, but not as Susan expected. He walked to where she was on the bed. She started to push back to the bed's middle, but he detained her by gripping her hair.
"Hey, what's coming off anyway?" she shouted.
"Now it's your turn not to talk so damn much," Mr. Turner said, his voice turning gruff. He jerked her head forward at the same time that he arched his hips to her lowered face.
Fellatio was a new experience for Susan, but she was obedient to Mr. Turner's will and bounded her head to his taking in an enthusiastic manner. She even pretended excitement as she sensed that this would please her foster-father. Mr. Turner didn't need to pretend. He was greatly excited and thrust and arched in a mad whirl from where he stood before the bobbing girl. Only at the end did he release his hold upon her hair. And then it was to raise his arms over his head in a great effort at lengthening himself for the finale the girl had approached.
Susan sputtered as she finished. Then she raised her head and looked coolly at her foster-father. Then she hurriedly exited to the bath room, as did Mr. Turner when she had finished there. Then they sat down to talk about the future.
Even the sophisticated Susan was surprised to learn that Mr. and Mrs. Turner operated a ring of prostitution which was Baby-Pro centered. They had carefully concealed their operation by living respectable lives, paying their bills, owning a small business which "fronted" for the real means of income, and even being active in certain civic affairs. They were in the process of recruiting new Baby-Pros, they wanted Susan to join their operation. If successful, other members of the ring would turn to foster-parenthood of delinquents as a means of securing new talent for the prostitution ring.
When Mr. Turner finished his story, Susan laughed and laughed. It seemed the best joke ever that foster-parents should be Madame and pimp all rolled into one. It seemed the very best kind of revenge upon the society that Susan hated. She accepted Mr. Turner's proposal at once.
During the period that Susan operated as a Baby-Pro under the state sanctioned guardianship of Mr. and Mrs. Turner, Susan continued to cohabit regularly with Mr. Turner, then, after several months when she learned that Mrs. Turner was a lesbian, the fifteen year old girl turned to a bi-sexual relationship with both her foster-parents.
CASE HISTORY
The Sanity Commission which deliberated Charlie Y's ability to understand the charges against him when he was arraigned on a charge of procuring, agreed on one point: Charlie very definitely had an eye on his fourteen year old prospective step-daughter when he married her mother.
Charlie was married to Mrs. Y., a widow with three children, less than a month, when he started to pay attention to Louise, his step-daughter. He contrived to come into her room at night, to bump into her when she left the shower, to brush his arm against her breast and even playfully touch her at every opportunity. Louise: didn't mind at all. She thought it was "cute." Obsessed with boys, Louise welcomed the sexual attentions of any man, even her step-father.
Charlie worked as a mechanic in a garage. He hated it. But, with a limited education and a police record, which he had, little more could be anticipated for his life. Mrs. Y. was in similar circumstances; her social security insurance was inadequate to raise her family, she was a poor manager, and she was without qualifications for a job. Hopefully, she married Charlie, anticipating that in some incredible way two minuses might add up to a positive.
The first time Louise really flirted with her stepfather was the occasion of them coming together in a blazing display of incestuous sex.
They were together in the barn at the end of the three acre lot that was left Mrs. Y, by her late husband. Mrs. Y. was in town shopping. Louise's two brothers were occupied at a neighbor's home. Louise was propped on a rail watching him.
Her appearance in the barn was not entirely innocent. Louise, fascinated by the interest her stepfather showed in her, planned to entertain herself by flirting with him a bit. So, she sat on a rail with her thin skirt pulled high above her knees and her young breasts budding out from the low bodice of her cheap dress. She chatted. She laughed a lot. And she made the most of every opportunity to twist and turn and show off her body.
Charlie wasn't even a little discreet when he decided that he was to sexually know his step-daughter. He walked over to the little teenager, jerked her down from the railing, then carried her to the concealment of a stall that was filled with hay. She kicked as he carried her, but Charlie merely laughed. Then he dumped her into the hay and lowered his body atop her. Louise twisted. Charlie permitted it until she was on her stomach, then he hoisted her dress and forced her to a kneeling position. He hesitated a moment, then forced himself to her.
Her body quieted when Charlie entered her. She made no further move to get away. Then she moved to the rhythm that Charlie created from his knees where he lunged and withdrew from his step-daughter, pressured close and moved back, pounded hard, to and fro, faster and faster while his hands pinched at her skin, moved to her front where they tore at her dress until he gripped the flesh of her downward hanging breasts.
Charlie took her like an animal. Never delicate when it came to sex, Charlie ravaged her body. But he did her no harm. Louise had been ravaged before by the boys of her school. And, she liked the idea that she now had a hold upon her step-father, something that could be used if it was ever needed.
When Charlie separated his body from hers, Louise pretended anger and threatened to tell her mother.
Charlie just laughed. He knew that she wouldn't.
The very next Saturday night, Charlie procured for his step-daughter, and without her knowledge, her first paying customer. Drunk in town, Charlie promised his daughter to a traveling man for a ten dollar bill. He got in his old car, found an excuse for Louise to come with him to town, then turned her over to the man where he was staying at the town's only motel.
Louise was indignant. She yelped and hollered and stormed and said she was going to tell the police, her mother, the entire community. Charlie just laughed, then told her that she wouldn't, that he could have her put in a reform school because of the sex he knew she had with boys. Then he told her that if she cooperated he'd split the fee with her-give her five dollars for her very own use. Louise sparked interest. She went into the motel and serviced the stranger her step-father had arranged for her to meet. It was the beginning of a rather casual step-father, step-daughter establishment for prostitution.
CASE HISTORY
The following psychotherapeutically recreated dialogue reveals a fourteen year old girl's indoctrination into prostitution by her uncle.
"I don't know what you're talking about, Uncle Frank," Gilda R. said, her eyes going wide in wonder.
"Oh, I think you do," the uncle replied.
"But I don't."
"All right, let's consider it from this angle," he said. "You date boys a lot. I've always let you. Now, if you used your head you could make those dates pay off for you-for you and me."
Gilda's eyes, still round and curious, looked up at him then lowered to the floor. She made no remark.
"I happen to know that you let your boy friends do almost anything they want with you," Uncle Frank . continued. "So, what's so difficult about the same thing with people-men-I arrange for you."
Now she looked directly at him and there was fire in her eyes. "You mean you want me to become a whore, is that it."
"You don't have to be quite so crude about it."
"But that's it, isn't it."
"Yes, and for a damn good reason," Frank said, "Ever since your folks died and you came to live with me, we've had a hell of a struggle. All right-we can have it easier, a lot easier and with money for you to do whatever you want. So, be honest, what do you let your dates do with you anyway?"
"They kiss me. And I kiss them too."
"What else?"
"Sometimes they touch me."
"And you touch them too, don't you," he said.
"Sometimes," she answered, her voice raising a bit.
"So, you play with them-they play with you-so for Crissakes, let's make it pay off, only not with kids-with men who can pay for it."
Gilda, who had lived with her uncle since her parents death when she was nine, was not convinced at once. But, there was a bond between her uncle and herself that served as a motivating factor toward her emergence as a Baby-Pro. If it had not been for her uncle, Gilda would have been sent to an orphanage. She was always grateful for this. And there was another bond between them, too, one that Gilda was perhaps not consciously aware. Gilda had had strong Electra Complex ties to her father. When he was killed, her subconscious was shattered until her emotions sighted upon her Uncle Frank as the heir of her father-fixation.
Gilda was not a virgin. Her uncle sensed this. Several days after he initiated the prostitution-centered conversation, he entered her bed room late at night when she was sleeping.
She stirred in her sleep as he carefully climbed into the bed next to her. Then she twisted and faced him. The thin nightie that she wore bulged open at the breast, showing her flesh and revealing nipples that had hardened in sleep, that were pointing straight and exposed. And when Frank pulled the sheet completely away from her young body, he saw that her nightie was knotted at her waist, that her bare legs were positioned like those of a runner.
Frank reached out and touched Gilda's breast. It was warm. The nipple was flaming. Her eyes opened and she gasped as if she were seeing an image from a dream. And she started to scurry to the side of the bed, but Frank caught her roughly by the shoulders and pressured her to her back.
"You bastard," she exclaimed.
"You don't mean that," he said, smiling.
And indeed she did not.
When Frank pressured his hand between her thighs, they held firmly for a moment, then parted. And then as he touched at that secret place of her youth, she relaxed her body and moaned.
The sound was one that thrilled Frank. It told of responsiveness and passion, it told him that his niece would soon be pursuing a career that would bring them both profit.
And if doubts still remained as he braced himself above her then descended to the piercing of her young womanhood, they vanished at the very end when she jabbered out her cry of climax.
"Yes, yes, yes," she yelled. "Don't stop-Don't-Don't let it end, not ever-never-please-Ohhhhhhh. OHH! AHHHHHHHHH, here it is-now-I'm GONE!"
And she was-to a life of prostitution, a Baby-Pro existence until she and her uncle were arrested when Gilda was still only sixteen.
CHAPTER VII
The Fetish Mistress
When the Probate Court of a Northern Michigan county started to hear the testimony that resulted in the institutionalization of Sharri C, the judge called a recess until the principals could be taken to his chambers where he intended to review the case away from the innocent ears of court room spectators. The case of Sharri C, was too shocking for public consumption, the judge felt, for at sixteen years of age the girl-subject of the court had already been three years a mistress to a man thrice her age-and she had participated in the grossest kind of sexual deviations and fetishes.
Sharri was a farm girl. She worked hard helping her family work land that would never provide more than a below-average income. She was almost constantly despondent. Although pretty and popular with her classmates at school, she was underachieving and had little interest in an education. Her parents concurred. Education wasn't necessary for a farm girl. They encouraged her to miss school frequently in order to help with the chores. Sharri was willing. School was as much drudgery as was the farm.
When she wasn't working, Sharri spent a lot of time with the farm animals. She liked them. Their lot was as bad as hers and so she had a rapport with them.
Sharri was eleven when she discovered that sex was something that could break the boredom of the farm. She was in the field where the horses grazed when she recalled her father had mentioned that one of the mares was ready for mating. She opened the gate that separated the horses, then propped herself on the fence to watch the intimacies that would result.
The horse was wild. He was also mammothly inclined toward the mare that waited for him. Sharri, looking at the huge organ of the horse, watching as the stud mounted the mare then shivered himself within her as they both snorted, felt a rustle of thrill at her thighs. She knew that the act represented the eternal act between men and women, yet it seemed very remote from any kind of copulation she might ever know. But, at the climax of the act between the animals, Sharri felt she knew something of what the male felt as he whinnied and jammed and then withdrew. She knew that release was what he had attained. Release. It represented many things to Sharri.
About a month later, Sharri, alone in the barn and sitting in the hay with her knees propped, laughed when the big collie dog came up to her and clamped his paws about her legs. And then she didn't laugh, for she felt a reaction like none she had ever before known. She felt sexually excited. She raised her skirt high above her thighs, then pushed her panties away from her body. Then she reclined in the hay, breathing hard, wondering exactly what might happen to her. The collie sniffed. Then he labored hard with his long, thin snoot as he nuzzled to her.
Sharri became very excited. She closed her eyes and envisioned far away places, rich clothes, handsome men-anything and everything that could blur the reality of herself, a poor farm girl, receiving the lapping attention of a dog.
Sharri reached some peak of excitement that psychiatrists claim must have been just short of orgasm. But it was sufficient to make her gasp, then sit up and push the dog away.
For several months, quite frequently, Sharri would go to the barn and engage with the dog in a manner of receiving his thirsty orality. It was her only diversion from the boredom of farm life.
When Sharri turned thirteen, she met a farm equipment salesman who was very handsome, seemed very worldly, and was very taken with the fresh beauty she displayed. He talked to Sharri a lot. She listened to his stories of the city, of the excitement of life that was not rural squalor. And her dreams were fed. She began to look forward to the salesman's monthly visits to the farm. By now, Sharri knew that she was the only reason he ever made the call. Her father couldn't buy a thing.
"I'd go to the city in a minute if I could make a living," Sharri said one day to the salesman.
"Maybe I can help," he told her.
As she sat wide-eyed with interest, he explained that he had a friend who sometimes helped young girls-you know, those girls who are too young to work but who don't want to go to school either. The girls with guts to make it on their own.
She assured him that she had the guts-that she only needed the opportunity.
"It's illegal," he said seriously. "It's illegal and you won't be a sweet little virgin any longer."
She laughed and told him it didn't bother her at all-not a damn bit, she said, trying for sophistication.
Arrangements were made for Sharri to meet the salesman's friend-not the friend himself, just one of his lieutenants, but the man would have the authority to hire her if she qualified.
"What do I have to do qualify," Sharri asked.
"You'll see," the salesman said.
She met the junior executive of the prostitution syndicate at a hotel fifty miles away from her home. He was handsome. Sharri had worn her best dress, but the best was cheap and simple, although revealing of her body which was already fully mature.
The man got to the point immediately. Although Sharri was shocked at the things he said-and at the way he said them-she fought with herself not to show alarm. Anything would be better than the life she knew-she could not miss this opportunity to leave it all behind her.
"So what do you say," the man asked.
"It sounds wonderful," Sharri replied.
The man grinned as if he knew how hard the girl fought with herself to be cooperative and not embarrassed.
"Well, do you want to audition for the job," he asked.
"Audition?"
"Yes. Right now. Here on the bed."
"I guess so."
"You might work out for something special," he said. "You see I'm trying to recruit a girl for a client if you qualified, well, you wouldn't have to work like the other Babies you'd be for just one man a very rich one. You'd live with him and he'd take care of you."
"Oh, like a guardian, eh."
He roared, then said, "Yeah something like that."
"I'm ready to audition," Sharri said. "Good."
The man stood up and went to the desk where the telephone rested. He dialed a number, then spoke into the mouthpiece, saying, "Joe listen, are you free for an audition? Good. Come on over."
"Is that the man I might work for?" Sharri asked.
"No, he's one of my crew. He helps with the auditions."
"I hope I'm successful," Sharri said.
"Baby when the audition's over when Joe and I are through, you'll have to be successful cause, baby, there ain't nothing else left for you then."
The pimp spoke from wisdom. The audition was an orgy of sex that was meant to shatter all the past for the girl. And it did. Joe, the assistant, was wild and insatiable, apparently the victim of some ravaging disease that kept him in a constant state of readiness for sex. Within five minutes of his appearance, he had stripped Sharri of her clothing, blackened her eyes, then took her in an act of sexual intercourse that was hard and almost interminable. When he finished with her, the original recruiter, forced her to fellatio. Then she was beaten again. Then Joe forced her to an act of anal intercourse while at the same time she was forced to perform an act of fellatio upon the other man.
And finally they stopped.
The pimp looked at her bruised body, at her breasts hanging downward with the nipples hiding within flesh, at her thighs which showed the black-blue marks of pinching and hitting. Then he gathered her clothes up, walked to the dresser and took up her purse from which he extracted the few dollars she had.
Holding her clothes and with her money in his pocket, he grinned and said, "Well, what about it little girl? Do you take the job, or do you want to go home to mama and daddy like that."
Sharri took the job. She became a very rich man's mistress and learned all about fetishes.
Sharri's paying paramour was a wealthy man, so wealthy that he had every hour available to pursue his experiments in sexuality if he wished. And he did so wish. Sharri was treated very well. She was given expensive clothing, was allowed most any entertainment she wanted, and knew the kind of paternal companionship she had never received from her father. (This, psychiatrists have proclaimed, was a strong factor in Sharri's submission to the sexual indignities imposed upon her, for it touched of certain Electra-incestuous elements of her subconscious.)
Sharri soon learned to expect anything from sex. And she received much, even found herself responding in climax to many sexual deviations and fetishes. The one that seemed to thrill her the most was that of flagellation. Her young body was scarred badly, but she never resisted an opportunity to receive the lash of the whip. She described these situations for the Probate Court investigators, from which the following is created.
The wealthy Mr. North entered Sharri's room and looked at her where she was propped on the bed, her body veiled lightly in an expensive negligee.
"Good evening, my dear," he said, smiling. "Don't tell me you're ready to retire so early."
"I didn't know if you were coming home or not," Sharri answered. "You said you didn't know."
"That's true, child, but I couldn't resist returning to you."
"That's nice," she laughed.
Mr. North settled himself on the edge of Sharri's bed. He reached out and lightly separated the bodice of her negligee, partially exposing both of her breasts.
It was a gesture Sharri was very familiar with, one that usually preceded a sexual encounter. She smiled.
"Tell me, what do you think of your education in sexology thus far," Mr. North asked.
"It's been interesting," she said. She thought of how she did become very excited by all the things her lover did to her. And then she thought how she always seemed left wanting, a bit dissatisfied as if more should be forthcoming from the act.
"I thought we might try something different tonight," Mr. North said.
"What could be different than all the things we've already done?" Shari asked, laughing.
"A number of things." He paused and looked at her thick hair which was loose and about her shoulders. "As an example, if I were to grip you by the hair and drag you across the room, it would seem on first look as if it was cruel, yet, it might be very, very thrilling for both of us."
"It might hurt, too," Sharri said.
"Yes. And the hurt might be exciting."
She raised a bit and one shoulder strap of the gown lowered beneath a single, full breast. The nipple was already hard and thrusting.
Mr. North looked at her breast a moment, then bent and very tenderly kissed it, mouthing the nipple then taking it between his lips to pull upon it.
Sharri, already well-informed as to the responses her lover liked in her, gripped his head and smothered him close to her breast as she arched. Then she became impatient and pulled back in order to lower the negligee all the way to her waist, offering more of herself for his lips and tongue. Then she shook her breasts madly from side to side, brushing and pulling them against the tug he brought to them.
Finally, Mr. North pulled back, smiling and saying, "My but you're a wild one."
"I'm only wild because you make me that way," she said learnedly.
"Suppose I make you even wilder."
"All right," she answered.
Mr. North stood up. Sharri straightened in the middle of the bed. Then the man's hand shot out and gripped her by the hair. He jerked her to a sprawling position, then dragged her from the bed, across the room and into the library which adjoined it.
Sharri made no attempt to lessen the hurtful pull at her scalp. She was an obedient mistress and she knew that this night it was this that Mr. North wanted.
Mr. North released her after dragging her to the wall of the library.
"Stand up now, Sharri," he said. His voice had changed, was odd and mysterious sounding.
Sharri stood up and placed her back to the wall. Her negligee clung by a single tie at her waist. Both her breasts were bloated and the nipples were erect and waving because of her exerted breathing. Mr. North looked at her for a moment, then turned and went to the big desk in the corner of the room. From the long top drawer, he extracted a thick, black whip.
Sharri, seeing it, was tempted to shudder. But she did not. She had already experienced many sexual things with her lover. She would experience this, too, and without objections.
Mr. North walked in front of Sharri.
"Try not to feel the hurt, my dear," he said. "Try to think of it in terms of excitement."
"I will," she responded.
He drew the whip back and lashed it hard across-both her breasts. Sharri's body jolted. The breasts opened in a long gash just below the nipples. Blood oozed, then dribbled down her front. The whip struck again, this time at the side tie of her negligee, slicing it in half and making the gown fall to her feet. And then she was nude, her thighs pressed closely together, her breasts hurt, but uplifted, the nipples still strong and brave and standing out. And then the whip struck at her waist, slicing her flesh at the navel and making it fill with blood, Sharri could see that Mr. North was becoming very excited. He was breathing hard and she saw that at his trousers there was a bulge, a bulge that she had learned was indicative of his passion, its intensity and urgency.
Mr. North lashed Sharri several times more, at the thighs, the breasts again, across her belly, then above her breasts. Then he stopped and rested. Then he dropped the whip while he undressed.
Nude, he picked up the whip and took a step closer to Sharri. Sharri glanced at his manhood, then turned away, thinking that this new strength of him frightened her more than the whip. It was un-like him, and, it indicated a high pitch of passion never before reached. It excited her a little, too. She discovered this when he shortened his hold on the whip and struck it in an undercut between her thighs.
This time, Sharri cried out. But it was less for the pain than for the thrill she received. She struck her in the same manner again and she obliged the whip by separating her thighs a bit. Then his blows grew frantic, he struck again and again from the underhanded position, sizzling the whip's end at the undersides of her thighs, between them, high, hard, and snappingly between them and into the enclosure that was herself, her womanhood, that delightful place of love.
And as he lashed, Sharri felt a swamp of heat captivate her body as she had never before known it. Instead of shriveling from pain, her body grew and bloated and received each lash of the whip as if it were a giant and exceptional lover. She even tried to maintain the touch of it by clasping her thighs together with each blow that was made. Once she was successful, and Mr. North withdrew the harsh whip more slowly, allowing her to feel the full, teasing rasp of it as it departed her body. Sharri panted hard. Her body quivered as it anticipated each new sting of the whip. And as she sighted the continued growth of Mr. North's masculinity, she knew that her thrill was also his, that they were growing and bloating together, that they were? reaching and being shot higher and higher until soon they would burst. And they did.
Mr. North doubled the whip in his hand and walked closer. He stopped in front of her, then with the end of the whip curled to the thick handle, he brought a gruesome blow between Sharri's thighs again. She nearly collapsed, but did not, would not because then there would be a pause that might interrupt the thrill she was receiving.
North struck in uppercuts again and again. Sharri clutched her breasts, dug her fingernails into them and bent over a bit while she made a wider welcome for the zipping, crashing, twirling, hurting whip.
And then she screeched the beginning thrill that had surpassed endurance.
"EEEEEEEEEEE," she yelped. "AHHHH yes, YES HARDER!"
North cooperated. He lashed so hard and so fast that his arm was a melting circle, constant, unceasing, whirling and whirling and whirling.
"UGH, yes!" Sharri groaned.
"GRAB ME!" North suddenly exhorted. "Grab me hard while you go, darling!"
She reached both hands out and squeezed with both hands as North brought the final volley of the whip to her femininity.
Sharri erupted in a frantic orgasm that sailed her to the skies even as she brought her lover the same thrill by squeezing and pulling and twisting him to a well-timed finish.
Sharri became extremely fond of the whip. Although she submitted to, and was thrilled by, other deviations and fetishes, it was the whip that became her greatest love. And, her romance with it did not end until she was taken from the rich Mr. North and incarcerated in a state institution for the mentally ill.
CHAPTER VIII
Case Histories From "The Little Red-light School House"
When a well known high school in the northeastern section of Detroit, Michigan, recently received widespread publicity for the extortion, knifings, dope addiction, and other crimes that were taking place on the school property, police also discovered a ring of Baby-Pro prostitution that was student operated, student patronized, and almost completely high school oriented. Hardened police officials were overwhelmed it seemed impossible that sex solicitations could have been made during civics, economics, math, and sociology classes without it coming to the attention of school administrators. But it did. The Baby-Pro ring had flourished for many years. There was an abundant supply of both Baby-Pros, and high school boy customers. There were leaders and followers. And the curriculum was SEX!
The case histories which follow are of the Baby-Pros and their customers in a big city high school that is not very much different from the one attended by our own sons and daughters.
CASE HISTORY
New students to the high school wondered about the popularity of Diane Benton. She seemed not to be the type of girl who boys were crazy to date. A fair student, and of only plain looks, not even a leader of student activities, it seemed unnatural that she should attract so many boys, even the captain of the football team. But the boys thronged around her between classes, took turns holding hands with her as they walked her to the next classroom and acted generally as if Diane was the Miss High School Student of the year. Newcomers to the school decided that it had to be her figure, for Diane was big busted, with a narrow waist, jutting buttocks, and long, smooth legs, all of which was usually revealingly displayed in too-tight clothing. Yes, it had to be that, the newcomers decided, that and perhaps the fact that Diane had a reputation for looseness.
Diane was loose, all right. And she was so brazen about it that she successfully concealed the real extent of her operation as a free-lance Baby-Pro.
Diane followed a procedure. When a boy asked her for a date, as they always did, she would smile, then say, "It's going to cost you."
Some boys knew what she meant. Others thought that she had expensive tastes. What she really meant was that she was a young whore, that she only dated if she was paid, and that the date would always include sexual intercourse, or, for a higher fee, fellatio.
After investigation by the police, several of her former high school customers reconstructed Diane's modus operandi.
A new boy to the school named Bob who was somewhat of a sexual adventurer himself, asked Diane for a date.
"Sure," she said. "But it's going to cost you, Bob."
"That's okay," he answered. "I'll blow my whole allowance on you. Where do you want to go?"
"The nearest park will be just fine," she said, narrowing her eyes, raising one hand to touch lightly at his shoulder muscle.
Bob gulped, then kidded, "Promises, promises, promises always promises."
"Okay, ask some of your friends if you don't believe me," she said indifferently.
"I don't have to," he said. "I want a date, Diane."
"So do I. It'll cost you five bucks."
"You mean pay you?"
"Right, little friend."
"Gee."
"In advance."
"Oh, sure. When?"
"Now, if you've got it. If not, when you pick me up will be all right."
"I'm flat now," he said, embarrassed. "But I'll have the dough Friday night. Okay?"
"Yeah, Okay, Bobby boy," she answered.
Bob picked Diane up in his father's car at the scheduled time. As soon as she got into the car, she mentioned money.
"You haven't forgotten something, have you, Bob?" she asked.
"The money oh, Gee, no here--. "
He fished in his pocket and handed her a five dollar bill which she promptly secreted inside her purse.
"Okay, where will it be what do you want to do a show, a hamuburger, you name it, Diane."
"I already told you that the park would be just fine," she said.
"The park?" he questioned with a new gulp.
"Sure. Why beat around the bush. You know why you want a date with me. So do I. You paid for it, so, let's get cuttin'. "
Gulping Bobby said, "Maybe we should go to a show first."
"Look," Diane replied. "I didn't want to tell you this cause it kinda takes the edge off, but I've got another date later tonight after you take me home. So let's make it at the park, eh?"
Bobby drove to the well known lovers lane area of the Park that was well secluded, even if patrolled by police cars.
As soon as he turned off the lights and settled back into the seat, Diane went into action. She unbuttoned her blouse, exposed her breasts, then took Bob's hands and placed them on her flesh. After he had kneaded them a bit, she cuddled close and lifted her mouth to receive his kiss. Her tongue was hot and practiced. It twirled and swirled around his, then withdrew so that she could grab his fully with her lips, enabling her to draw upon it. Soon, obviously feeling that she had stimulated him enough, Diane reached to his lap, delicately lifted his zipper tab between thumb and forefinger and drew it downward. Then she reached within and exposed the anxious manhood of the boy.
"Oh, gosh," he gulped passionately.
"Yeah, gee-whiz," she said, kidding him.
For a few moments, she merely held him. Then when his fingers tightened on her breasts again, she gently manipulated him, being careful not to over-stimulate him at this point of their encounter.
Soon Bob wheezed a long sigh of desire and lurched to come atop Diane's body.
She lifted her skirt and guided him to the cradle of her bare, pantless thighs. Then she paused and released him.
"How does it feel so far, Bobby boy?" she asked.
"Oh, great, just great."
"I'll take everything off for another fiver," she said.
"No. I haven't got it, besides, somebody might come."
"Somebody's going to come, and you better believe it," she laughed.
Bobby lurched his youthful hips forward a bit, probing at her womanhood.
"Hold it, Chum," she said coldly. "There's a little something we have to take care of at this point of this nasty little ole' game."
Without dislodging Bobby from his position of readiness, Diane reached to her purse and from it extracted the well-known tin foil package of contraceptives. She freed one from the paper and brought it between her body and Bobby's. Then she paused.
"This won't be so good for you," she said. "Sorry."
"Do I have to?" he asked. "Of course not I'll take a chance for another fiver."
"I told you, I haven't got that much."
"Tough."
"I'll give it to you in school on Monday," he pleaded.
"Well--. "
"Please."
"Promise."
"Yeah, honest."
"Well, okay then," Diane said. "It's supposed to be my safe time anyway at least according to that stupid chart they've got in Physiology class."
Diane regrasped him as she lowered backward on the seat, thrusting her legs upward and bracing her feet between floorboard and back seat while she jammed her head out of sight beneath the armrest.
Bob's hips quivered desperately. But Diane offered confidence with her experienced fingers as she guided him to her. Then she placed him and released him.
"There. How's that, Bobby?"
"Fine. Fine, Diane."
"Then, go, Bobby, go. Go, go, go."
She arched her body upward to meet his downward stab. Bobby rode her like a rodeo cowboy, whipping his body madly, rising, falling, churning and turning, helping the heady call of his venture, thrusting hard and grinding, pausing, then withdrawing and jamming close again.
And all the time Diana encouraged him with kind words that told of his proficiency, his masterfulness, his strong, hard, very exciting masculinity. It was all a lie. Diane didn't feel a thing. But she had learned that this stimulated and encouraged and hurried her young customers to their end so that she could be free for the next one, the next five dollar bill.
CASE HISTORY
Lynn, a friend of Diane of the previous case history, was rash about the setting she chose as her place of prostitution. According to her testimony to police, she had engaged boys in sexual acts for money back stage of the high school auditorium, in the audio visual room which was crammed full with equipment, in the lunchroom, behind the counter, during evening classes, and under the bleachers of the football stadium. Diane didn't need much room for her sexual encounters. Afraid of pregnancy, she sold only her expertness at fellatio.
"This chick was the wildest thing I've ever seen in my life and I've already been in high school almost five years," a poor-student senior revealed to police. "She'd go a guy any place on the slightest hint just so long as you had the dough. Ten bucks on the line no credit given."
Lynn, like several other girls of the high school, worked as a free-lancer, without the aid of organizational authority. And she was quite successful. By the time she was sixteen, she drove to school daily in a brand new convertible.
A seventeen year old senior who gave testimony to the police, told of his first adventure with the dynamic Lynn.
As they had arranged earlier in the day, the boy, Bill, met Lynn where she was waiting for him on the football field. It was deserted at this hour of the day, most of the other students having already finished with their classes.
Bill was a romanticist. He put his arm around Lynn, thrilling at the touch of his hand upon her slim waist, and led her to the bleachers where they sat down. Bill raised his hand a bit and slowly kneaded one large breast. Lynn allowed it, even rested her own hand on his thigh in order to add to the excitement of their meeting.
They tongue kissed, slowly at first, then more fervently as they twirled together, picked and pecked at each other, spun, withdrew, reentered, rested, then clashed again. During their long kiss, Bill's hand sneaked inside Lynn's sweater and fondled her flesh and played with the sharp, hot nipple which reached out for his touch. And her hand moved to his lap where it rested lightly but fully atop his bulging phallus.
Lynn was fervent in the receiving of Bill's love-making, so fervent that one would little suspect that she was preparing her subject for a final act for which he must pay.
Finally, when he could stand her touch and her mouth no longer, Bill pulled back and said, "Come on, Lynn, let's go under the bleachers-okay?"
She looked pensive and played at it for a full fifteen seconds before saying, "All right, but just for a little while."
They stretched upon the grass beneath the bleachers and locked their arms around each other. They kissed. They touched. Lynn even allowed Bill to raise her sweater, wrestle down her bra and expose both her breasts to receive his hungry mouthing. And she added zest to this excitement by unzipping his trousers and exposing him so that her fingers could play at stimulation.
Soon, Bill, desperate now, had forced her skirt above her hips and was forcing her to her back, fighting to move between her thighs which she had firmly clamped together.
"No, Bill, I can't, I already told you I wouldn't do that," she exclaimed, pushing against his hard, young shoulders.
"You've gotta," he groaned.
"I said I wanted ten dollars, Bill, and I mean it. I like you and all that, but I really need the money."
Without giving up the advantage he had gained a-top her, Bill reached to his hip pocket and extracted his wallet. He placed it in Lynn's hand.
"There's a ten in there, now come on," he urged.
Her tightly clamped legs did not part.
"Come on, goddamn it," he said, raising his voice.
"I can't, Bill," she said sweetly. "Honest, right now at this time of month well, I just can't, you know what I mean."
"Huh?"
"Come on, don't be a kid," she said, chiding him. "Oh, yeah, I know what you mean, but what the hell, you can't leave me like this."
She grasped him and squeezed hard. "I don't intend to." She moved her hand, manipulating him in a circle.
"Cut that," he suddenly exploded. "What the hell I can do that myself!"
"This is just for now," she said, smiling brightly. "Come on, let me sit up."
Reluctantly, he withdrew from on top of her body. He watched as she took the ten dollar bill out of his wallet, then handed it back to him.
After she had secured the bill in the purse that rested on the ground next to her, Lynn looked around. Then she looked at Bill and asked, "Ready?"
"Hell, yes but how--. "
Lynn smiled, then stretched on the ground in a position that gave the impression of her lying on her side with her head resting in Bill's lap. An innocent position, it would seem, one that was a frequent sight around the campuses of colleges and high schools in any large city; one that spoke of budding young love, the sweetness and nostalgia of it all.
But it was business that little Lynn was about. The nasty, dirty business of performing fellatio upon a boy for a price while in a setting only two hundred yards from the high school principal's office.
Lynn first touched lightly at Bill again. For a few seconds she merely held him as he groaned softly and reclined a bit backwards, supporting himself on his elbows braced at his waist. Then, she raised a bit, moved him. aimed him, then lowered to the act of orality for which she had become known.
It didn't last long. And at the very end, Lynn became quite excited, too. She shifted her position in order to capture Bill's right leg between her thighs. She pressured hard there, undulating her body in the same rhythm with her bobbing head. And then it was over, there was no more that she could do for the shaking high school boy. And there was no more she could do for herself, either, for Lynn, extremely oral, had devised a method of love that also provided her with an orgasm and with no fear of pregnancy, and a ten dollar bill safely hidden in her purse.
CASE HISTORY
Val was a senior. She was a good scholar, very attractive, popular with her peers, had soared high in her college entrance examinations, meant to attend a good, Eastern college, had a successful business-man father and a mother who was active in the P. T. A. And Val worked as supervisor to four high school Baby-Pros. Val never sold her own sexuality. Sometimes she gave it away to a date, but she never took pay for the adventure of her body. She didn't have to. Val received half the fee collected by four Baby-Pros under her jurisdiction in the high school.
Val made it a point to greet every tenth grade freshman girl as they entered high school for the first time. She helped them with class schedules, finding the right rooms, lockers, tipped them off as to the teachers who should be avoided, acted like a big-sister advisor to them all. And to the pretty ones, she was especially attentive, made friends with them immediately. Val even kept a file card svstem on most every girl in the school. She was as thorough as a successful politician. And for the Baby-Pros who provided her with an above average, adult income, Val kept a special file, recording bits of news she could use to hold the girls in line should one decide to turn informer. She even kept a record of her charges' menstrual periods. She thought this most important. Pregnancies were always a risk, but Val had connections for abortions. She insisted upon an accurate recording of the Baby-Pros' cycle. If an abortion was indicated, Val wanted it done at the earliest possible time.
Lovely Val never had more than four girls working for her at the same time. More than that could cause a lessening of discipline and made for a greater risk. So, four lovelies were always available to the boys of the school once they met with Val to discuss the conditions of the date.
The procedure was quite simple. If the boys did not already know the girl for whom they bargained, Val produced a picture, generally one she had taken herself showing the girl off to the very best advantage. Val named a price, one that was scaled according to the desires of the boy. She collected the fee before the hour of the date. And Val dictated the setting that was to be used. She almost always insisted upon a Drive-In Theatre as the best place to make unobserved love. If the boy didn't have a car, she loaned him hers at a fee.
Val sometimes acted like a mother hen over her brood of chicks. Daily, she inquired of their health, their menstrual periods, their general welfare. And she insisted upon always knowing if a customer had abused one of her Babies. If he had and if the girl reported it Val had ways of teaching him a lesson. Several of the football players were on her pay roll for special jobs like beatings.
This seventeen year old, exceptional student, operated a ring of prostitutes within the confines of her alma mater for a period of two years before she was finally discovered and reported to the police.
The police officers who interviewed Val were quite taken with her beauty, her charm, her brains, her poise, and her organizational ability. But, more than anything, they were impressed by the well known criminal law firm Val had put on retainer when she first decided to go into business. About this they were very impressed. Very impressed, indeed. It showed that the girl also had foresight.
CASE HISTORY
Fifteen year old Marion kept a diary all through her tenth grade, freshman year in high school. It wasn't a diary so much as it was a record of the boys with whom she had made love. Marion got a kick out of recording their names, then dreaming about the interlude which resulted in the entry in her journal. She developed a code of her own that revealed the varied talents of the boys she had known. It amused her to look at the strange symbols and realize all that they told of the boys' strength, hardiness, ability, and particular-likes and dislikes.
One day, Marion showed her journal to a friend. The friend, noting some thirty-seven different names for a six month period, kiddingly suggested that if Marion were a prostitute, if she figured the entries in the terms of money well, she would already have given a small fortune away.
Marion brooded upon this for a full week. It was almost as if she were cheating herself, she reasoned. After all, the boys did enjoy her. And she enjoyed them. So, why not enjoy them, let them enjoy her, and make some money out of it too. Why shouldn't she? She could find no reason, except the risk, not to enter the business of high school prostitution.
Marion waited until her very next date, one she had consented to with a boy of whom she was unusually fond, to mention her plan. She kind of admired Jack. He acted very worldly. He was older than most of the boys in his class, too. And he had even quit school for six months to work as a musician. But, the orchestra leader discovered that Jack was under-aged to work in nightclubs and fired him. Jack returned to school. Marion was glad she liked him a lot.
When Marion and Jack were safely concealed in the parked car that Jack had nosed beneath the trees of the city park, Marion told him of all that she had been thinking that maybe she could make a little money for both of them if he would act as go-between for her.
"There's a better name than that for it, honey," Jack laughed.
"I suppose so."
"Just call me pimp, honey," Jack said. "That's what you're thinking about so use the right term for the right operation, eh?"
"Stop being crude," Marion said.
"Yeah I'll stop all right, after you've let me get a little cruder." He brought his arm around her shoulders and pulled her close.
"What do you think about the idea, Jack," Marion mumbled from where she cuddled her face against the open throat of his shirt.
"Crazy, crazy as all hell," he replied.
"You mean you'll do it," she said.
"Maybe."
"Why not for sure?"
"Cause I don't want to get busted, that's why. Hell, chick, I got enough on me already without taking on more responsibilities."
"Oh, but you're so responsible," she said, lengthening the words in a kind of verbal caress, at the same time moving her hand to rest on his thigh.
"Well, I might consider it," Jack said. "But you've got to be ready for all sorts of things."
"like what?" she asked.
"like special requests."
"What kind?"
"Come on, stop acting like a kid."
"Oh, I know about that," she answered proudly. "Well, you ready to do it to anybody who asks for it?"
"Sure." Her tone was brave.
"All right, let's practice I'm asking."
Marion laughed hard, then said, "Man are you ever a joker."
"A joker who's not kidding," he replied.
Marion laughed again, but stopped when Jack wound his fingers into her hair and bent her head to his lap.
"Stop it you don't have to be so damn rough," she shouted up at him from his lap.
"And you better not be too damn rough either, baby," he said, at the same time arching and doing crazy, open things with the front of his jeans.
"There," Jack suddenly breathed, relaxing into the car seat again.
Marion touched the hard flesh which had been exposed for her. Then she gripped it. Then she paused.
"Come on, go," Jack muttered excitedly.
"Okay, but just for a little. Okay?"
"Okay, okay, okay, but let's get cuttin', " he bellowed.
Marion moved upon him, slowly at first, then faster and still faster until she was onlv a bobbing blur of dark form laboring above his thighs. His fingers directed her at the beginning, but then flew away to claw at the car seat as his body arched and churned and pumped up-and-down in a frantic effort to achieve that which he wanted before Marion decided that she had had enough.
She decided and quit when Jack was at the very topmost peak of his reflexes. He yelled and attempted to force her to his finish, but she wrestled free of his grabbing hands. Then she faced him and smiled.
"What's the matter, baby? Does it hurt?"
"You know goddamn well it doss," he growled.
"Poor baby." she cooed sympathetically.
"You little bitch," Jack declared with a hiss. "You're going to finish me or or--. "
"Of course I am, sweetie," she answered. "I wouldn't leave any one in this condition especially you, baby. But first--. "
"First what?" he said.
"First, what about our deal?"
"Sure, sure I already told you I'd do it," he said quickly.
"For sure? No backing out?"
"Hell, no. I'm for profit, you know that."
"Good. It's settled then, isn't it."
"It is, but I'm not."
She smiled. She reached and again took him in her hand. Then, facing him, crowding her body close, looking into his eyes which she really could not see in the dark, Marion twisted and turned and jerked and lengthened and bunched and straightened him until at last he could not even cry out for the orality she had started, then stopped, until he could do nothing but explode all the congestion of his pent-up masculinity.
That night marked the beginning of the arrangements that added Baby-Pro prostitution to Marion's three years of college preparatory courses in high school. Bright, both in studies and in the ways of the world, Marion did not graduate with her class, however. Unfortunately, she spent that day incarcerated at a juvenile detention home, awaiting the disposition of her case.
CASE HISTORY
Junie invited a dozen boys and girls to a party at her parents' upper-middle income home. Junie's mother gave her blessings to the party, then joined her husband for an evening out on the town. The guests of Junie's party were all members of her sophomore high school class. There were six boys and six girls. Junie liked things even, sex evenly distributed. Junie suggested the idea of the party to her girl friends. There was a special reason to have one. The girls all of them were sorely pinched for money, and Spring vacation was approaching.
Junie got her idea for this special type party when one of the popular boy members of the senior class completely demolished his uninsured car. His many friends gave a dance, the proceeds from which would be given to the boy for a new car. It was a popular method of meeting crisis in the high school in all high schools, really, and Junie thought it was just divine.
Junie charged the boys ten dollars apiece for an invitation to her party.
"Man that's high," one boy complained. "What you goin' have there strippers?"
Junie giggled, then said, "Better than that but you've got to take your chances."
The boy, and five others, paid the required ten dollars. Junie had been selective about the guests. She invited only those boys who had incomes from after school jobs. Not only would such boys have the ten dollars, they were most-likely to have other money in their pocket on the night of the party.
Junie collected the ten dollars from each of the boys as they entered the house then descended to the basement recreation room.
Downstairs, liquor was provided two bottles of Scotch Junie had stolen from her father's liquor cabinet. The boys felt very "big", the girls sophisticated. Most of them drank quite a lot. Pretty Junie was glad a little drunkenness wouldn't hurt her plan a bit.
After refreshments had been served, those taken from Junie's mother's refrigerator, and the Scotch had been well consumed at a time when they had all danced with their bodies snuggling close together, Junie called for attention and jumped to the top of the ping-pong table to make an announcement.
When the laughs had quieted down, when the boys stopped shouting jokes back and forth, most of which called attention to Junie's short, very tight skirt and her large breasts which billowed her white blouse teasingly outward, Junie made her announcement.
"We're going to play 'slave girl' and you studs are if you're all game for this particular game."
"Listen to her," a boy called out. "She made a pun hell, in English they say a pun is--. "
The others shouted him down and Junie continued.
"We're going to play 'slave girl' and you studs are going to bid for us. Get it?"
"We gotta see the merchandise," a boy said seriously, rubbing his chin, acting like a buyer for a department store.
"You will," Junie laughed. "But not until you bid for each article of clothing we take off. Now do you get it?"
Shouts of approval rang through the house.
And then a question of procedure was presented.
"And after we've bid you down to the raw, what then?" a boy asked.
"Then you bid for the real thing, baby," Junie told him.
"Gosh!"
"You're not kidding?" asked another boy. "Not in the least," Junie said seriously. "Hell, where's my goddamn wallet," another boy shouted.
"Okay, get your money out and start bidding for the first slave girl's clothing. The winner can deposit his fee right here on the table."
Junie jumped down from the table. One of her girl friends climbed upon it and raised her arms high over her head. She was a pretty girl with dark hair, dark eyes, a solid, comforting kind of figure, and a sweater, skirt, sox and loafers which were soon to be bid off of her body.
"Two bits for the sweater," called out a boy.
"Thirty cents," said another.
The sweater was dispatched from her body when the bidding had reached a dollar and a half. And then there was the business about the strapless bra she wore. That went for three dollars and excited groans, and cat calls, and wild, wild yelps of joy issued from the boys. The girl's breasts were very firm, very nipple-pointed, very, very round and full, and they quivered in just the right amount of reaction that rested someplace between fear and thrill.
Soon, the girl was down to her half-slip and panties and the table secured a fair pile of change and dollar bills. And then the half-slip vanished when an affluent bidder daringly declared his extravagance with a five dollar bill. The panties were whisked away at six dollars and twenty-five cents.
Nude, the girl turned around on the table. The boys were awe-stricken. They had never quite seen anything as delightful as the bare sixteen year old girl. Her nipples stuck out like thumbs now, and her belly was indented so that her navel was a mere slit in the middle of smooth roundness. And her thighs were fascinating, especially the way they cuddled the fresh downy womanliness of her in such a perfect V-shape.
"And now you bid for the girl herself," called Junie from the side of the table. "And Boys, I'm this little chick's best friend, I've seen her in action on a double-date, so I can tell you that she's worth any price you're prepared to bid."
There was silence. There were a few gulps and nervous coughs. There was the sound of heavy breathing, suddenly piercing the silence. And then there was the bidding.
"A dollar-I'm not being insulting, I'm just broke."
"Two."
"Three and a half."
"Five."
"Six seven eight ten eleven dollars and thirty-three cents," bid a boy, climbing the scale to his total wealth with the enthusiasm of an antique collector.
The naked girl went at twelve. There were sighs and shouts and calls for a new slave girl so a new bidding could began.
But Junie, that little promoter of the party, was intent upon clutching every penny available from every girl.
"Hold it," she called out. "We're not quite through with this one yet."
"You are-I'm not," yelled the winning bidder as he reached up and gripped the naked girl's hand.
"No, there's a little more bidding," Junie declared. "Now, this is the way it goes. The others can watch while you two do your capers right here on the ping pong table-that is, they can watch for fifty cents apiece. But, no payee-no watchee, and the guy who doesn't pay goes upstairs and sits in a corner like a naughty boy until it's all over."
"Hey, what the hell, that's dirty," complained the boy who had won the slave girl.
"Yeah, ain't it," said Junie.
"But suppose I don't like this goddamn ping pong table-suppose I don't like to display my talent."
"Simple," Junie said. "Fifty cents apiece from the lookers adds up to two-fifty, add another fifty cents for yourself and you take your little ole' slave any place you want in the room."
"Jeeez-what a hold up," said the boy.
But he tossed three crumpled bills on the table, assisted his new slave girl from the table, then hurried her naked body to a far, dark corner of the recreation room. Even before the next fully clothed girl jumped upon the table to face her bidders, squeals and laughter and moans of passion could be heard issuing from the first winner and his cooperative slave.
Although funds began to run low, the bidding remained spirited and soon each of the six girls had been bid down to nakedness, then bid to an individual boy with whom she happily performed the happy sexual tasks of slave girl to her master.
Junie stood at the side of the table, smiling, watching the pile of money grow high, watching, too, as each of her girlfriends departed with a winning boy-and everyone was a winner, even the disenchanted and broke. Junie saw to that. With a sharp eye for business, at the last, when all the money was stacked high on the ping pong table, she accepted I.O.U.'s. adding a twenty-five per cent interest charge. She even talked frankly about having credit cards made up for those boys who proved that they paid their bills.
Soon, all the couples were again gathered around the table, looking at Junie, wondering what was to come next; wondering if anything more could possibly be offered by this hostess who seemed to think of everything. There was something more to offer. Junie had planned it from the very beginning. She was the extra girl-the lucky, or unlucky, thirteenth member of the party. Junie proved to have a real flair for public relations, an instinct for providing that extra thing that assured repeat customers for future parties, that assured good public relations and publicity throughout the high school they all attended.
"And now, so to speak, the house is going to provide the entertainment," Junie announced.
Agreeable shouts issued from all, girls and boys alike.
"Yeah, how about that," said a boy. "You ain't been bid for yet."
"Nor am I," she answered.
"That figures," a gruff voice said from the back of the circle the others made.
"You're damn right it figures," Junie shouted, jumping to the top of the ping pong table.
She looked so wild, so wanton, and so very, very desirable when she spread her arms wide, emphasizing her breasts, her hips, her fine, lean legs, the anticipation of what nakedness would do to her figure, that suddenly applause broke out from the boys and even from some of the girls.
"That's right, clap you madmen," she laughed. "Clap-cause your little ole' Junie is about to give a bonus to you studs-and boys, when you get the bonus, remember who gave it to you, remember the party that you're at-then-well, start saving your pennies for the next one."
The party group shouted anew.
Junie raised her hands and clasped them above her head. Then, deliberately swaying her hips, she turned. Then she turned again, but when she faced her guests, she paused, brought her hands down and smiled. And then she slowly brought both hands to the buttons of her dainty white blouse. Slowly, she undid them. She shrugged the blouse from her shoulders and allowed it to float to the table. She turned again, answering the cheers from the onlookers. Then she unhooked her bra at the back and cuddled it shyly in front of her, cupping her large breasts together so that the bulge of flesh was clearly seen by all. And then she dropped the bra. Her breasts bounced, then quivered to the excitement of her newly hastened breathing. And then, in quick succession, she dispatched her skirt, half-slip, loafers and sox from her body. She was revealed to all in nothing but her exceptionally brief, bikini panties-those panties that hinted at transparency, that shouted womanliness, urgency, and growled the low, mean whisper of femininity's outline.
For a few moments, it was so quiet that the distention of the crumbled bills upon the table could almost be heard. But then there was the sound of movement-Junie's movement as she raised her face to the ceiling while at the same time she slowly edged her panties downward, a fraction of an inch at a time, down, down, down-over hip bone, down a bit more, then a full inch of garment rolled under as they moved another full inch, then to thighs, lingeringly here a few seconds as the crowd glued to the pause, then further down until the topmost bristle of woman was revealed, then quickly and more deeply downward until the panties paused again at the very base of the V that was pulsating, breathing, winking, beckoning to all. And then she zipped the panties all the way to her ankles and stepped out of them. And then the loud, mad, sensual cheers issued throughout the room.
Junie opened her arms to everyone in front of her.
"All right, Studs-Okay, babies-come on, you crummy bunch of guests-come on-Junie's giving you all one on the house!"
"Okay, studs," she cried out, almost hysterically. "Take me-come to me-get to me, kids, and in the order that you won in the bidding-first, first now-just to make sure all you studs are recovered. Let's go-give!"
Junie lowered her back to the table and braced her legs. In an instant, the boy who had won the first girl was before her, propping her at the bend of her knees with his arms as he pumped his body forward and back in a mad whirl of giving.
And for Junie, the receiving was very, very satisfying. The events of the night-the pile of money upon the table; the money that now spilled every which way as her hips bounced and her small fists beat a rhythm at each side of her-had acted as an aphrodisiac for the wanton, sex-centered teenager. Junie was expertly atuned to sexual responses. This night, even her high sensitivity had been made sharper, more thinly and finely ready for the first entrance of a boy. Before the boy had struck the sting of his young masculinity within her thrice, Junie erupted with a howl, then pumped to receive more from the charging youth.
His finish offered her a new climax, offered them all the view of Junie's body grinding fiercely, squeezing, eeking out every breath of energy it was possible to receive from the depleted boy.
And then were was a new boy. And with it, there came a new howl of climax from Junie. Then, at the end, when the boy met his, still another.
With the third boy, Junie devised to offer variety. She rolled to her stomach, then boosted on forearms and knees as she jutted her hips teasingly to the boy who reached and gripped them.
Junie remained in this position, facing away from the passion that converged upon her body, the passion that sent her again and again into convulsions of response, the passion that sent her to crying, shouting, whimpering, to bellowing obscenities as her body quivered, rippled like waves, shook madly, and continued to meet and depart from the recipient of her sexual lure. She remained facing away from it all until the sixth and last boy took his position behind her. Then she turned and faced him.
Her eyes were diamond sparkles of excitement as she moved from the table and breathlessly pushed the boy to a sitting position upon it. Then she faced him. She smiled once, the instant before she lowered to accommodate the desire she had deemed as his reward. She was wild and savage. At times she seemed mad, so madly did she move upon him, so savagely did she take him and shake him and take him unto herself again and again and again.
And soon, it was done. The boy leaned far back, braced himself and arched a final time as Junie crumbled atop him, her breath coming in shattered fragments of normalcy, her body soft and sated and very, very wet.
The party ended a full two hours before Junie's parents returned to their home, finished with their night of cocktails, dinner, and suburban friends.
The money return from the party came pretty close to what Junie had anticipated; one hundred and thirteen dollars and thirty-three cents, including the I.O.U's. Because Junie had done fairly well in her economics class, she knew all about depreciation, business expenses, risk of stealing liquor, food, parental wrath, etc. So, it seemed only economically equitable that the proceeds of the evening be split evenly-twenty-five per cent for herself, the other seventy-five per cent divided among the six slave girls. Not one of them objected. They knew that Junie had earned her dividends as leader of their group.
Junie's parties became the secret talk of the school. Invitations to the party were widely sought by all the boys. And no one minded a bit when she doubled the price of admission. The parties thrived for a year, were held weekly, and alternated as to location, each of the charter girl members taking their turn as hostess.
Business boomed until the boom fell when a rejected customer reported the matter to school authorities who in turn consulted Junie's parents.
"My God, why?" Junie's mother exclaimed. "Why would our daughter be involved in such a thing? Why?"
It is a good question. It is one every parent can sometimes ask during the course of raising children. Why?
SUMMARY
The fast paced, status driven American Society has nurtured and prospered the Baby-Pros who work among us. Youth is the pass word, vitality is a must, sex is the glory and the goal, and to be "in" one must dabble in it.
"True, there appears to be an abundant crop of teenaged prostitutes in our society today," says Dr. H. Robert Drews. "But, when we stop and think about it, we've always had youngsters selling their sex. It was common in the old days-it's common now. So, I think, rather than to be awed by it, or shout about it, or curse it, we should analyze it and see just where our own responsibility is in the matter."
Where is adulthood's responsibility in the creation of a Baby-Pro?
"In our values," claims James Wood, a well known advertising man. "All of our values today are sex values. We sell cars with it, get people to donate money to all sorts of organizations by using it, even promote political candidates through the subtle use of sex. So, we've given our youth sex with a capital S. How can we blame them when they use it other than we would want them to? We can't blame them, not as adults, not as parents, and when we can't blame youngsters, how in the world are we going to discipline them to different, more rigid and proper morals?"
There is little hope for the lessening of Baby-Proism within our society. The population is exploding, more people are crowded into smaller areas, there's less physical activity and a greater mass media attack upon our instincts-our sexual instincts. So, we can expect to find more and more early teenaged girls selling their sexuality. We can expect it until we draw rein on our own adult values. Only then-only when we look clearly at ourselves-can we expect to pass on to our children a different set of values, values that perhaps will save some of them from the frantic influence, over valuation, and importance of sex.
