There is an old school of thought which maintains that deeply-embedded inside the psyche of every woman is the need to be dominated, to be raped, abused, and sexually overwhelmed by the male. The favorite among examples is the cave man analogy, the image of a strong, powerful male dragging his mate off to the cave where she is helpless before his lust.
Strange as it may seem, there are patients whom I have treated who act out such needs, and these patients are barely more than children. Deeply disturbed by feelings of parental rejection during their formative years, they act out their masochism in painful, masochistic rituals.
Such are the case histories contained in this volume.
Debbie L. Seventeen years old and strongly lacking in parental guidance and direction. She fell in love with her Dramatics Teacher and gave herself completely to him, permitting him to whip her and abuse her body to his heart's delight.
Clara T. Sixteen years old. Without parents at all, she was left in the care of her older brother. First he raped her and then he sold her to his friends for five dollars apiece, to be used in any manner they chose!
Linda M. Sixteen years old. Driving through a southern state, she was detained by local police, held captive in a jailhouse and continuously subjected to unspeakable sexual molestation. That she managed to survive at all is surprising.
Anita S. Fifteen years old. Her father died when she was a child and she became wildly possessive of her mother, until her mother remarried. Then, in an attempt to replace her father, she gave herself to her mother's new husband, permitting him to spank and torture her, just the way she'd heard him whip and abuse her own mother, every night, in the bedroom next door!
Sherry V. Seventeen years old. At the age of fifteen, she had already had more sexual experience than most grown women. When she ran away from home, she was kidnapped by a gang of motorcycle riders. They tied her down and performed every conceivable atrocity upon her young body. But it wasn't until they started to feed her drugs that she began to enjoy what was happening to her, and wound up begging for more!
These are the kinds of things that happen to youngsters without proper parental upbringing, and it is the purpose of this volume to serve as a lesson and a warning to those who have children or are about to have children. Youngsters need love and guidance and healthy discipline. Without it, there is no telling what they may do!
CASE HISTORY ONE SUBJECT: Debbie L. AGE: Seventeen
INTERVIEW ONE
When Debbie first came to me for consultation, it was impossible to tell from her appearance the kind of experience she had lived through. With short, blonde hair and bright, clear blue eyes, she appeared to be the typical kind of teen-ager that one sees in most any magazine. She had a fine figure and carried herself well, seeming to display none of the outward symptoms of emotional disturbance that is so commonplace in a practice such as mine. It wasn't until she had begun to tell me of her particular difficulties that I realized her physical appearance was a cover up, a purposely-contrived charade intended to hide the horrors that were occurring in her life. This is what she told me ...
"Until I met Brad, Doctor, I really didn't think it was possible for me to fall in love with anybody. Not that I hadn't had my share of schoolgirl crushes on some of the boys I'd met, but somehow, none of them ever really got to me. What I mean by that was every guy I dated was a pushover. I would simply hold out on them, you know, play my little hard-to-get game and in no time at all they would be practically at my feet, hot and horny and ready to do anything and everything I asked of them.
Needless to say, as soon as they reached that point of dependency, I completely lost interest in them, no matter how good looking or popular they were at school.
Brad, however, was an entirely different story. I can't say in all honesty that it was love at first sight, or anything quite as dramatic as that, but even at the beginning, there was something that told me, instinctively, that this man was different from anyone else I had ever known, I would probably ever know.
I've got to give you a little background first, see, so you understand where I was coming from. My real father died in an accident when I was about three. I honestly don't remember him except vaguely. Mother remarried two years later and my stepfather, a very wealthy builder, became the center of her life.
Actually, that wasn't as pathetic as it might seem, because Larry, mom's new husband, made sure I had everything a kid could need. Plenty of clothes, servants in the house, good schools and all that. As a matter of fact, this school that I'm going to now is where I met Brad. He was the Dramatics teacher.
Like I said, Larry is a builder, and he's forever traveling to one place or another, putting up a new hotel or an office complex or something like that. Ever since they were first married, mom made it her rule to always travel with him. Maybe that's because she never really got over the shock of losing my father. In any event, I was left behind a hell of a lot, and so I had plenty of 'free time' you might call it. Perhaps if I hadn't had so much free time, I wouldn't have gotten myself into the mess I'm into.
I guess in your business you run across girls like me all the time. That is ... kids who don't see hell of a lot of their parents and go around trying to substitute for them in some way. I've got it pretty much analyzed myself, and I suppose that's the root of it all. Still, I can't seem to get myself out of this bad frame of mind I've been in since I started carrying on with Brad. And now that he's gone and disappeared, I'm not sure what I'm going to do.
But I suppose I'm running ahead of myself and I ought to start at the beginning.
Like I said, Brad was the man who ran the school theater. I always liked that sort of thing, maybe it was because playing a role helped me avoid other thoughts. I don't really know. Anyway, as soon as I was enrolled in Hackston Country Day School, I made it my business to try out for the first school play that came along.
I've got to admit that when I saw Brad (he was Mister Pressman, then) I was impressed. Both by his looks and his manner. Still, if you had told me what I perceived at that time, I would have laughed and called YOU crazy!
Brad isn't really very tall. Maybe five nine or five ten. But he has a certain presence about him. Not at all like most arty theater types that you run into. His is more of a confident, take-control aura that you sense as soon as you enter into his company.
Objectively speaking, he's pretty good looking, in a plastic sort of way. What I mean by that, is he has all the standard movie-star type features. You know, shining black hair, impossibly blue eyes, and perfect, probably capped, white even teeth.
His body always reminded me of a dancer who had changed his mind and taken up weight lifting instead. By that I mean he is solid muscle from his neck to his ankles. And he moves like a stalking animal.
Shit, even now, I get goose-bumps when I think about the sight of that man, especially without his clothes on, parading up and down a room, displaying himself in a way that could get a rise out of a dead person.
I knew right off the bat that this was one guy I wasn't going to be able to get around by flirting with. I mean, even though it never leads to anything out in the open, a good looking kid with big tits like mine can sort of sweet talk a lot of men teachers into special kinds of considerations if she has to.
Not with Brad. Every time I came to his class unprepared, you know, not having memorized my lines or something like that, he'd chew me out right in front of all the other kids. And he didn't stop until he'd completely broken me down and reduced me to tears.
It was during one of those humiliating sessions that I decided I was going to have the last laugh if I had to lose my cherry in the process. Somehow or other, by hook or by crook, I was going to get the upper hand with that guy and have him exactly where I wanted him, right under my thumb.
And I also knew it wasn't going to be easy.
I saw my chance one night, when the cast of the Freshman play I was in went back to Brad's house for a party. There was nothing unusual about that part of it, really. In a fairly small private school out of the city, the teachers and students get kind of chummy and kids go to the teachers houses for one thing or another all the time.
Well, there I was, doing my damndest to get a rise out of Brad; and it wasn't working. I mean, I had made it my business to put on a tight sweater that really showed my tits off, without the benefit of a bra, and a pair of slacks that were so tight they were practically fucking me every time I moved. I slithered around, wiggling my hips in his direction and teasing him in every way I could think of, short of grabbing his crotch, and still, nothing was happening.
Let me tell you, I was pissed, and frustrated. But, stubborn little cunt that I am, I became most determined than ever to have my way with the guy. Needless to say, when the time came to volunteer for clean-up time, I managed to make myself a committee of one.
So there we were, finally, just about alone. I was in the kitchen, scraping the remains of food off the plates, and Brad was saying his goodnights to the last of the students who had attended the party.
Suddenly, I got nervous. Real nervous. Without really thinking of the repercussions (or maybe I had it planned all the time) I went over to my pocketbook, pulled out a joint and lit up, telling myself that a joint would give me the courage. I wanted and help calm my frazzled nerves at the same time.
I don't know if Brad was drunk or not. There had been a punch spiked with wine at the party, earlier. But when he came into the kitchen and sniffed the air, he realized what I had been doing and he really bit the ceiling.
"What the hell is this all about?" he screamed, grabbing what little was left of the joint and throwing it into the sink.
I was flying already and just high enough to give him some lip. "Well, you're the one who's always telling me I can't be a good actress unless I let myself feel my emotions. I'm feeling my emotions. You ought to try it, yourself. It'll really loosen up your feelings. Want some?"
"Stupid little brat," he snarled. "You just come on outside into the living-room. I want to talk to you."
"What about the dishes?" I teased, loving the way I had finally managed to get a rise out of the guy after all.
"They'll wait!" he yelled. "Just get out here. And now"
The intensity of his voice sent a thrill rushing through me. I congratulated myself on having really gotten to him. Hell, attention was attention, wasn't it? This, at least, was a good start. Now, I couldn't wait to find out what was going to happen next.
By the time I walked out into the other room, I thought that Brad would have calmed down a bit. Instead, he seemed just as angry as ever.
"Do your parents know that you use drugs?" he asked, as I walked across in his direction.
I shrugged. "Who cares?" I answered, flippantly. "What I do with my life is my business, not theirs."
"Look here, young lady," Brad said, pointing a threatening finger at me. "You may be starting high school, but you're still not too old to spank. Where I come from, if a girl your age was caught smoking marijuana, her parents would spank the life out of her bottom."
I laughed in his face. But it wasn't quite as supple as pure insolence, I knew. There was something about what he had just said ... the business of a girl like me being spanked that I found strangely, wildly exciting. Just the sound of those words, for some reason, started a strange, unusual quivering between my thighs and I could feel the crotch of my panties starting to get moist.
I started to shake.
I don't know what possessed me. Without a word, without really thinking about it, I turned around, went back into the kitchen and pulled another stick out of my bag. My heart was beating like a Sousa band as. I lit it up, took a couple of deep tokes and then paraded myself back into the living-room. Flaunting the joint, I stood at the entrance to the room, smiling at Brad, daring him to do anything about it ...
"Why, you arrogant little bitch," he snarled between clenched teeth. "What you need is a really good lesson, for once in your life. Time for you to find but that sometimes you have to listen to your teachers and respect them."
He started to get up from his chair and I screamed with excitement and delight. Was he really going to chase me around the room? Was it possible that capturing his interest and attention was really going to be this quick and this easy?
I couldn't believe my rapid, overwhelming success. But little did I mow at the time what I had just started in my life. I think, Doctor, that if I'd had any idea of what was to follow, I never would have started up with that man. Or would I?
The scene that followed happened so quickly, I'm not sure I can really describe it accurately. The next thing I knew, Brad had leaped up from his seat and was coming after me, yelling all kinds of things about how I needed to be disciplined, and how all little rich kids like me were spoiled rotten and had no sense of what was right and wrong.
I shrieked with delight and started racing around the furniture, knowing full well that Brad was behind me and wondering what he was really going to do when he caught me, which I really wanted him to do. It never really occurred to me, I don't think, that he was serious about the spanking part of it, but I was about to learn my lesson, the hard way!
He caught up to me in front of the sofa and grabbed me around the waist. I screeched with delight and excitement and didn't feel the slightest bit embarrassed that my sweater rode half way up my breasts as he yanked me down toward the pillows.
The next thing I knew, Brad had forced me, face down over his lap, and was holding me in that position with his strong left forearm plastered across the small of my back.
I kicked and screamed, making more of a show for Brad than out of actual fright. I wasn't worried about attracting any undue attention, because Brad's house was on a couple of acres of wooded property that he rented on a huge estate.
What I wasn't prepared for, though, was the sudden, painful sensation across my bottom as his heavy palm connected loudly with my behind. Again and again he slapped my ass, grunting about how girls like me should learn their proper limits and all of that stuff.
Initially, I've got to tell you that I was shocked. Damned shocked. I mean, I really hadn't expected that a thirty five year old man was going to actually put his hands on me. But when the initial pain of his hand slapping my rear end dulled, I really felt something even far more shocking than what Brad was doing to me ...
What I realized was that I was starting to get off on it. Really!
Underneath my belly and thighs, I could feel the bulge of Brad's genitals. There was no mistaking the rising hardness that was beginning to press against me, as he continued to spank, my upturned bottom.
I don't know what possessed me, Doctor, but I started wriggling my pelvis in such a way as to cause more friction against his rapidly hardening prick.
That's when Brad really went wild. I think he lost control of himself for a moment, too!
Before I had a chance to realize what had happened, I heard the sound of material tearing, and a moment later, my torn slacks were somewhere down around my knees. Now, my ass cheeks were covered only by the flimsy pink bikini panties I was wearing.
My face turned beet red and I could feel my forehead and cheeks turning red hot. There was no doubt that Brad would be able to guess my secret, now. Shit, my panties were soaking wet from my pussy juices and I could feel the thin fabric sticking to my flesh. Damn, he could probably make out the outline of my crack as easily as if I had been wearing nothing at all!
I didn't have much time to think about it, though, because a second later, he was slapping my good-as-naked ass again, only harder this time. His hand kept landing with loud, vibrating sounds, alternating between one side of my burning ass and the other.
But it wasn't only my behind that was burning, Doctor. I could feel the lips of my pussy and the whole area between my legs and inside my virgin crack starting to tingle like it had never done .before. I guess the excitement was more intense than the pain, because I just spread my thighs apart and let him have the full view, complete with those panties pasted up inside my crack.
"So, you think this is some kind of a game, do you?" Brad yelled, as he twisted his strong fingers into the elastic waistband of the panties and gave a hard tug.
The underpants came off as though they had been made out of tissue paper, and in another second, I was bare-assed naked, from the waist down.
I started to cry then. I don't know if it was from embarrassment or excitement, or a combination of both. Anyhow, I couldn't hold the tears back.
"Are you ready to apologize for your behavior?" Brad challenged me, in that tone of voice that was enough to get my dander up all over again.
"Go fuck yourself!" I shouted, determined not to give him the satisfaction of making me give in even if I had to die for the sake of maintaining my pride.
That did it. Brad went wild.
He dragged me, kicking and screaming, out of the living-room and into his bedroom.
Despite my hysterical state, I cannot deny that there was something very exciting about being in that man's bedroom. You know, getting into that very personal area of his life where the role of student and teacher gets lost and the real feelings between people are allowed to come out.
Only I didn't know at the time what Brad's real feelings were. Or mine!
"Okay, you little tramp. Now we'll see just how much you can take before you realize who's boss around here."
That was all Brad said.
And I wasn't given a chance to offer any answers, even if I'd been of a mind to, because the next thing I knew, Brad had ripped my sweater over my head and was throwing me down on the bed.
I landed, spread, eagle on my back and in no time flat, Brad was on top of me, straddling my body in such a way that his leverage prevented me from throwing him off or fighting back.
He reached over into the night table drawer and pulled out a long piece of rope. The kind you put on clotheslines. Then, he grabbed one of my wrists and wound the rope around it into a knot.
I felt my arm being pulled out to the side and in a couple of moments Brad had tied that arm to the bedpost. Red-faced and sweating, he repeated the action with my other arm, until both my wrists were ,securely bound out at right angles, away from my body.
Then he got off me.
I started to kick at him, and one of my feet caught him in the rump. Brad spun around and slapped me across the face. Hard. My head started to spin and my loud, fresh manner turned instantly into one of whimpering, frightened obedience.
But Brad was too far-gone now to consider anything like forgiveness. No matter what I said, there was no changing his mind as he wound the rope around one ankle and then the other, tying my legs much in the same manner as he'd secured my arms.
Before I knew it, I was bound, spread eagled and naked on his bed. And Brad was taking off his belt.
As the full awareness of what he intended to do really hit me, I got crazy with panic. "Let me out of here, you lousy sonofabitch!" I screamed. "I'll kill you for this! I'll have you thrown in jail for three hundred years! I'll tell the whole fucking world!"
"The hell you will," Brad snarled, sounding more self-confident than ever. "I know your type, sweetheart, and so do you. This is exactly what you want. Just what you've been looking for. And if you don't believe me, just you stay cool and contained while I do a little work on your pussy."
With that, he reached over and down and thrust his hand up between my widespread thighs.
As soon as I felt his finger on my cuntlips, I started to shake as though the room were five degrees below zero. I tried to will my body not to react, but Brad sure as hell knew what he was talking about. Just the sensation of his touch on the sensitive flesh of my pussy crack was enough to start my cunt juices flowing like the Hudson River, and in a couple of seconds the bed sheet underneath my ass was sopping wet.
I stopped screaming and looked over in Brad's direction. In another second, I felt my eyes pop wide open with terror, as Brad continued to do what he had started a few minutes ago ... remove his thick leather belt.
"What are you going to do with that?" I asked, feeling my throat closing up and getting tight with, horror.
"I'm going to teach you what happens when little girls like you smart talk big men like me."
That was the last thing he said before I heard the whine of the belt snaking through the air and felt the biting sting of its leather across the front of my thighs.
"Please," I begged. "Do anything you want, but don't beat me with that thing again."
Brad went conveniently deaf. Again, and again he struck me with his belt, raising huge, purplish welts on my thighs, my belly, even across my breasts.
But even stranger than his behavior, Doctor, was my reaction. The moment the shock of being whipped wore off, I felt my excitement growing. And after a few minutes, I heard myself begging, actually pleading with Brad to make me come. I asked him to fuck me!
I suppose that was what he was waiting for, because he was out of his clothes in a second and untying my legs. Before I knew it, my knees were up over my shoulders and his cock was ripping its way up into my virgin hole.
That was the best orgasm I ever had, Doc, and it was the very first time. The first time of many because Brad was like a drug. And the first time I sampled it, I was instantly hooked.
INTERVIEW TWO
In the following week, which was the next time that Debbie entered my office, the pretense of calmness and poise seemed to have been completely stripped away from her. She looked worried, as though she hadn't slept for nights. She even seemed thinner than a few days ago when I'd seen her last. I asked her to continue with her story, to pick up just where she'd left off.
I didn't know the time when I finally got home that night, Doctor, but I'm sure I couldn't have cared less. I felt as though I could hardly walk, but I loved every hurting moment of it. My legs and belly and thighs and breasts were throbbing from the places where Brad's belt had smacked them. And my cunt was burning from countless rough fucking's of the man's tireless prick. I guess I was in some sort of state of shock, but even as I showered and eased myself into my bed, I knew that it wasn't finished between Brad and me. He'd been right. I had gotten from him just exactly what I wanted. And I could hardly wait to go back for more.
Well. I saw him again in school on Monday. It was as though nothing had happened between us. He greeted me in the rehearsal hall as normally as he would any other student, and as casually. I figured that he just wanted to play it cool in front of the others.
As the class went on, I kept looking, and hoping for some little sign from him, some secret signal or wink or whatever, that would let me know we had the same thing in mind ... a repeat performance of that other evening.
Nothing.
Zero.
Cold shoulder.
Then the class was over, I hung around in the hall, waiting for him to finish talking to the other students and come outside where I could speak to him alone for a few minutes.
No such luck. When Brad finally did show himself, he was surrounded by three or four pretty girls from the class, all of them falling all over themselves to try and get his attention, just like always.
If his little move had been calculated to make me jealous, you better believe that it worked, and perfectly. For the rest of the day I was burning up with anger. And that night, lying alone in my bed, I found myself fingering my hot, dripping pussy and visualizing what it would be like to be tied up all over, again, with Brads long fingers poking in and out of my quivering bole.
There must be a thousand different types of ways a guy can torture a girl, Doctor, but I think that psychological torture has got to be the most painful and humiliating kind of all.
And that's what Brad seemed to have in-store for me. The torture of deprivation. And it lasted for the next four days, until Friday afternoon.
Finally, when I thought I was going to go stark raving mad if I had to live through the weekend without some kind of personal conversation with him, I decided that I would have to take the initiative again. So I waited, after school, until he came out and started walking over to the faculty parking lot.
"Yes, Debra?" he said, when he saw me leaning against his fender. And his tone of voice was as calm and off handed as though nothing out of the ordinary had ever happened between us.
"What do you mean, 'so?'" I snarled, between clenched teeth. "You've been ignoring me all week. I should be the one who is asking you what the hell the matter is!"
Brad patted my cheek in an almost fatherly way and smiled down at me. "I can see that you haven't yet learned the proper respect with which to speak to your teachers," he said, and a bright, familiar gleam flashed across his big eyes. "Perhaps if you want to come over to the cottage tonight, we can do something about that."
And then, he was in his car and gone.
For a long time I just stood there, staring after his departing convertible, wondering if I had truly lost my mind altogether. This man had just told me, with all the emotion of ordering a hamburger, that if I wanted to have my ass whipped again, I could show up at his house tonight. And from the tone of his voice, I suspected that he had absolutely no doubt that I would arrive.
Well, fuck him in spades! I thought, furious that he should presume that way. This wasn't working out the way I had planned at all. He was supposed to be desperate for a repeat performance, and here he was, telling me, without words, that he could take me or leave me. That it was all the same to him!
Well, I'd show him, I swore inwardly. If Brad was the last man on earth, he'd drop dead before I ever so much as looked at him again outside a classroom.
I guess you won't find it surprising when I tell you that as the afternoon wore on, my resistance and anger steadily wore down. By the time it was getting dark; I was beside myself with fear that when I arrived at his house, he might have decided to go out and I'd just be left high and, dry, with a wet pussy and nothing but my finger to ease the tension.
My heart was pounding by the time I reached Brad's house and it was with no small amount of relief that I noticed the lights inside were on. Forcing myself to stop and catch my breath, I waited until the panic had passed before walking up to the door and ringing the bell.
Just the sight of him was enough to stop my heart from beating, almost. He answered the door, stripped to the waist and wearing nothing but a pair of tight cut-offs. His broad, hairy chest rippled with muscles and I could not resist peeking at the thick, prominent bulge and the clear, devastating outline of his long penis.
He didn't even say hello. And he didn't seem the least bit surprised to see me. All he did was step back far enough for me to get inside. Then, he locked the door behind me and snapped the chain into place.
When he turned to me, he reached out without a word and grabbed one of my tits in each of his hands. Then, he found the nipples with his thumbs and forefingers and started to squeeze. He pressed harder and harder, and I held out for as long as I could against the pain. But when I couldn't stand it any longer, I let go with a loud cry of agony. And that's when Brad broke into a smile and started to speak to me.
"I'm going to tell it to you just like it, is," he said, in a tone that was as cold as ice and absolutely devoid of emotion. "You want to play with me, honey, the game is my way, and by my rules. "The choice is yours. Personally, I didn't give a shit if I never lay eyes on you again. But, if you want to hang around, you just get yourself naked, and fast, and plant your ass over in the middle of my bed. Now, what's it gonna be?"
I wasn't ready for his ultimatums, or his manner of delivery. As usual, Brad caught me completely off-guard. But one thing I did know, and right away. He was serious. Dead serious. Either I did exactly what he wanted me to, or I was going to be out on my ear.
"Okay," I whispered. "Whatever you want."
Brad grinned, knowing he had won. "I thought you'd come to see it my way," he said, grabbing me by the elbow and pushing me through the living room. "Now, you have exactly one minute to strip naked. If you don't make it by then, we're just going to say goodnight."
And by that, I knew he really meant we were going to say goodbye.
I guess I don't have to tell you that I was stripped in under a minute. Then, Brad ordered me to get on the bed on my hands and knees, and put my head down on the mattress with my bare ass facing him.
Leaning over that way, he had clear access to my ass and my genitals. Brad took off his belt and started to beat me with it, this time, even harder than before.
I screamed in pain, and he stuffed a handkerchief into my mouth and warned me not to make too much noise or else he'd have to gag me so it hurt. I knew he wasn't kidding, so I forced myself to endure the pain of this beating as silently as I could.
When he'd tired himself out pounding away at my bottom, Brad whipped out his prick and fucked me silly, without even bothering to get undressed. Then, despite my screams and cries of protest, he wiped some of my own pussy juice on my anus and ripped into my little asshole, tearing my flesh and fucking me in my own blood.
It went on for four months like that, Doctor, until the end of the school term. Then, without so much as a goodbye to me, Brad left the faculty at Hackston.
Somehow, I managed to live through the summer, hoping against hope that he'd return the following term. But he didn't. And here it is, Doctor, getting on toward Christmas, and I have the feeling that if I don't find him again, I'm going to go stark raving mad.
CONCLUSION
At this point in her awareness, Debbie is focused in on her symptoms, but has no clear, in-depth awareness of the underlying problems that have led her to this kind of behavior. Obviously, she is suffering from deep seated feelings of rejection, first because of her father's death and then because her mother chose to leave her behind while she went traveling with her new husband.
In order for Debbie to enjoy a non-masochistic relationship with a boy close to her own age, she is going to have to work through her anger and subconscious resentments. This, of course, will require a good deal of time in analysis, but the patient is young and I feel she will respond well to treatment.
CASE HISTORY TWO SUBJECT: Clara T. AGE: Sixteen
INTERVIEW ONE
Part of my training as a doctor deals with the techniques through which the therapist avoids getting emotionally involved with his patients. For the most part, I have been successful with this aspect of my practice. However, the case history that follows represents one of those rare instances in which I found it exceedingly difficult not to experience a host of emotions with which I responded when Clara unfolded her tale of horror and abuse at the hands of her brother and his friends.
Look, Doc, I want you to know something, straight off. The only reason I'm talking to you is because they tell me if I don't, I'm gonna be slapped with an attempted murder rap, even though I'm a minor. Shit, I'd do anything to get out of this fuckin' detention home before I really go crazy. Shit, even the dykes are starting to look good to me. But then, even if I went queer, who the hell could blame me after what's happened. From where I stand, Doc, all men are just a bunch of fuckin' animals, anyhow.
Let me tell you, Doc, growin' up on a lousy chicken farm in Tennessee is no picnic. My mom passed on when I was six and my father spent the next eight years drinking himself full of hooch until he finally keeled over and croaked right in the middle of the kitchen floor.
That left me with my three brothers, Luke, Jimmie Jay and Rob.
Well, first thing I knew, Luke ups and joins the fuckin' Army. Said he didn't want nothin' to do with animal shit and bothersome crops, no more. Jimmie Jay ... well, he tries his best, but he's a little touched in the head, if you know what I mean, and Rob has to tell him just about everything, including when to eat and shit.
Then, there's Rob. I don't care if he is my brother, full-blooded, Doc. He has got to be the lousiest son of a bitch motherfucker that ever drew breath. He's really the cause of why I burned the house. It was Rob's fault. He's the one who should be behind bars, sweatin' it out here, not me. But I guess you want me to go back to the beginning ...
Like I said, I was just turned fourteen when Pop drank himself to death and that left Rob in charge of the farm. And, to hear him tell it, that left him in charge of me, too.
Now let me tell you, Doc, I didn't cotton to no nineteen year old farm boy tellin' me that I had to mind him like he was my old man or something. And I told him so, too. I can remember it as clear as if it was yesterday, too.
"You just worry about your own self, Rob, and I'll take care of me. You may be my older brother, but you're not my boss, get it?" And I just stared him straight-out in the eye, real arrogant like.
I swear I never expected he'd do what he did. He just hauled off and let me have it across the face. Once, twice, and even a third time, till I was bawling all over the kitchen and seen stars.
"Now let that be a lesson to ya," Rob growled at me: "From now on, you mind what I tell ya or I'm gonna tar the livin' shit outta your lilly-assed hide. Get it?"
I got it, all right. But I hated that fucker's guts. And I swore to myself that the first chance I got, I was gonna figure out a way to get myself away from the likes of him!
My chance came, or at least I thought it did, the following term at school when I met Frankie, the new kid in town. He was sixteen and handsome as they come, let me tell you. As soon as I laid eyes on him I knew I had found me a hunk of man who was going to take me away from that lousy farm and marry me and let me have a home of my very own.
I played my cards right, showing him just the right amount of encouragement without actually gettin' too forward, if you know what I mean. Shit, I knew I was going to let him bust my cherry, but I couldn't very well just come out and ask him could I? My plan was to make him fall in love with me, get me pregnant, and then he'd have to take me up to that altar.
Only my plan backfired. And it was all because of Rob.
The first part of my scheme went exactly according to schedule. Frankie liked me, sure enough, and started paying all the right kind of attention to me. Like he'd take me to all the church dances and social functions. And every day after school he'd walk all the way home with me, and stuff like that. It was real nice, having him around. That is, until all hell broke loose.
Like most kids that age, Frankie and I got around to talking about when we were going to get married and have a family of our own. When the subject of sex came up, I kept putting him off. You know, telling him I was a good girl and all kinds of shit like that, and that I wouldn't do it until I knew I was doing it with the guy who was going to be my husband.
The fact is, Doc, that I really wanted to do it, you know, go all the way with Frankie right from the first, practically. But I figured that no man is going to buy the cow when he can have the milk for free, if you know what I mean. So I figured the best way to keep him good and interested until he could figure out a way to marry me was to give him a lot of free samples. Enough of what I had to offer so he'd buy that ring the first minute he could figure out a way to support us.
And that's what was goin' on when Rob caught us.
Frankie had walked me home from school and the first thing I noticed was that Rob's old truck wasn't parked out in the yard. I remembered that he'd mentioned something about having to go into the County Seat to pick up something or other, but in order to be absolutely sure that, he wasn't out back somewhere, I asked Frankie to walk me out to the barn.
Sure enough, the place was deserted. I figured that Jimmie Jay must have gone along with Rob. Shit, Jimmie Jay wouldn't have known what to do with himself for five minutes if one of us wasn't around to tell him.
As soon as Frankie got the message that the two of us were the only people on the place, he put down my books and pulled me into his aims. Shit, did that boy know how to kiss a girl! It never failed, Doc. Every time he put his mouth on mine, I started to get this nervous, heated-up feeling and my little cunny would start spurting juice like a pierced tomato!
We sorta fell back into the hay in one of the stalls, and the next thing I knew, Frankie's hand was up under my dress and he was fooling around with the cotton of my panties.
I pulled him to me real hard and spread my legs, so he could get up in there with his fingers. Shit, I loved the way he used to do that to me, too. Just sort of put his middle finger up as far as he could get it into my hole and diddle it around in there, till I was ready to have an orgasm.
Also, you see, he would always stop when I told him we'd gone far enough.
Well, that day I was really of a mind to have myself some good hot fun, so I didn't object when he started to take my panties down so he could be a little freer with my privates. I even went so far as to help him unhook my brassiere, cause I used to love the way he'd suckle on my nipples just like a little calf at its momma's udder.
So, Doc, that's just what he was doing, too ... sucking on my titties and fooling around between my legs with his fingers, Shit, I was so worked up, the two of us were, that we didn't hear a sound. That is, until Rob started yelling at the tops of his lungs.
"What the hell are you trying to do to my little sister?" he screamed, standing there in the doorway to the barn, looking as righteous and God-fearin' as Pastor Henry, himself.
I felt as if I was like to die right then and there on the spot. Shit, Rob had caught us with my panties off and Frankie's fly wide open. Damn, my hand was wrapped around his pole, too, just jerking him off like there was no tomorrow.
Frankie gulped like a stuck pig and jumped to his feet, purple and shaky and tongue-tied. He tried to talk, but nothin' came out except little gasps and croaks.
Rob grabbed him by the collar and started punchin' away at his face, till the blood was runnin' out of Frankie's nose and his pecker was as limp as a wet dishtowel. I was screamin' like all hell, but not loud enough so as I didn't hear Rob tell Frankie that if he ever showed his face around that farm again he'd be good as a goner.
And then, the next thing I knew, Frankie was gone and I was alone in the barn with Rob.
"So, this is what's been goin' on while my back is turned," Rob said, taking a step in my direction. A dress covered my nakedness. Still, without any panties on underneath, I felt terribly exposed and ashamed.
I tried to explain, all the while I kept backing away from him, but there was suddenly something different about Rob. Something gleamin' in his eyes that told me I was in for something I'd never known before. The front of his pants was all swollen and his face was flushed and hot.
"I swear, we wasn't doin' nothin" I cried, trying to get away from Rob but knowing it was impossible with him standing between me and the barn door.
"Oh, is that so?" he taunted. "And just what was he doin' there with your little pussy ... countin' the hairs?"
I choked on my own breath as I realized that nothin' I could say would change Rob's mind in the mood he was in. His temper was nothing new to me. I'd seen him before, when he got his ideas fixed on something. Heaven and earth couldn't change his stand.
"Well, since you say you two weren't doin' nothing, there's only one sure way I can figure out to prove it," Rob went on, suddenly moving forward and grabbing me roughly by the elbow. "How's about you just show me that little pussy of yours and I'll be able to tell if it's been stuck or not."
"You crazy, boy?" I screamed, more from fright than courage.
"Crazy, you say?" he answered, with a wild gleam in his eye than even before. "We'll see who's crazy." And with that he started to slap me across the face, harder than ever before, until my lip was, bleeding and the tears were running down my cheeks.
I screamed, but if Jimmie Jay was around, he sure as hell didn't hear me. "Please, Rob, don't," I begged, as he grabbed for my dress and started to tug the skirt up.
My strength was no match for his, though, and soon my dress was bunched up around my waist.
"Can't see anything like that," Rob said. "I want a good look."
I didn't have a chance to resist or try and fight him off or anything. He pushed me real hard and I lost my balance and went toppling over backwards, landing on the same pile of hay where Frankie and I had been makin' out just a little while back.
Before I knew it, Rob was on top of me, holding me down while, at the same time, he was pushin' my skirt up over my belly.
I screamed until I thought I would lose my voice. Once, he turned around and slapped we so hard I thought he musta broken a tooth for sure. Then, he grabbed me by the inside of the thighs and forced me to part my legs.
I thought I was gonna die, with my pussy all exposed like that, and to my own brother! I started cryin' real hard, but there was no stopping him once he took it into his mind to spread the lips of my pussy hole and have himself a look inside.
"Well, we sure as shit can't see anything like this," Rob said, pulling my virgin hole as wide open as he could get it to spread. "Guess we better just stick a finger up there and see for sure, now."
There was nothing I could do as he sucked his middle finger till it was real wet and then shoved it into my narrow little hole. He couldn't have gotten further than a knuckle's worth inside me when I felt him hit my cherry and I started to shout at him.
"Ya see? Ain't nobody been inside me, there. Now get the hell outta my business and let me go!"
"That so?" Rob answered, sounding pleased as punch with himself. "Whaddya say we just take us one more test to be one hundred percent sure?"
With that, he rammed his middle finger into me as hard as he could poke it ... tearing right through my cherry and ripping my poor little cunny wide open.
I felt the blood starting to trickle down my legs and I screamed my head off, but Rob didn't seem to give a shit. Instead, he just started shovin' his long finger in and out of my torn and bleeding hole, rubbing all the way high inside. Then, the next thing I knew, he had two fingers stuffed up in there, and he was spreadin' them apart, like as to kill me and tear me to pieces right there in the barn.
That's when I went wild. I reached over and picked up a milking stool and smacked him across the back as hard as I could.
But the damned thing bounced off his muscles like a pesky fly on a horse's tail.
Rob was fit to be tied. He yanked his fingers out of my hole and jumped around on top of me, sitting himself straight across my belly. Then he started to wallop the shit out of me, smacking my face my breasts my shoulders. By the time he stopped hitting me, I could hardly breathe, and I was too weak to get-up.
Rob grabbed a piece of rope that was hanging on the stall gate and wound it around my wrists. Then, he secured the other end to the metal ring where you tether a cow in the stall.
"Now, you're really gonna take a beatin" he said.
I saw him get up and go across the barn toward where the leather reins and bridles were kept. I tried to get loose, but my wrists were tied so tight, I only cut myself trying. In a few minutes, Rob was standing right in front of me, holding along leather whip in his hand.
I can't tell you what it was like, Doc, except to say that my motherfuckin' brother whipped the dress right off my back. He cut me till my clothes were all torn into rags.
I watched in horror as Rob undid his overalls and let them drop to his ankles. Next, his long johns went down, and a prick the size of a young horse's was pointing in my direction.
"So you wanna play rough, do ya?" Rob said, kicking the crumpled clothes off his legs and grabbing hold of his stallion cock. "I'll show ya what happens when you start to fuck around with the big boys."
I Thought I was gonna go plum outta my mind just then, Doc. I started kicking out at him, but it really didn't do any good.
Rob caught one of my legs by the ankle and yanked it hard. The next thing I knew, I was hanging there by my wrists, with one foot in his hand and the other trailing somewhere above the floor. It was child's play for Rob to catch my other ankle and double both my legs back against the front of my body.
He worked his grip up to the backs of my knees and pinned my legs up near my shoulders. In that position, my bleeding pussy was spread wide open and just about level with his stiff dick.
"Say goodbye to your cherry," Rob snarled, and aimed the fist-thick head of his tool between my cunt crack.
I felt the head of his cock starting to force into me and I screamed as loud as I could. But my voice got cut off quick when I felt the pain of his cock, ramming half way up inside me with one thrust. Rob was grunting and groaning like a rutting bull. He tensed up all his muscles and rammed home with all his might, burying himself so deep into my cunt that I could feel his balls slapping against the upturned cheeks of my bare ass.
I felt like he had split me in two. I begged him to hold up, to let me rest and catch my breath, but there was no stopping him. He ploughed into me with the force of a freight train, driving his dick all the way inside my crack, ripping apart the walls of my pussy and stretching me till I thought I'd surely die.
I think he must have shot about half a dozen loads of his spunk up my hole, that afternoon. When he finally cut me down, I thought I must surely have lived through the worst hell imaginable. Little did I know what he was going to do to me, the very next day!
INTERVIEW TWO
When Clara arrived for her second interview, the strain of what she was thinking about showed clearly across her young features. Dark circles framed her eyes and it had been obvious that she'd recently been crying. I waited until she composed herself and was ready to begin her story again.
I suppose that a lotta girls in my place would have gone to the police right then and there, Doctor, but to tell you the truth I was just too scared and too ashamed. I mean, how can you walk into the sheriff, who you know since you're a baby, and tell him that your very own brother just stuck it in you and beat you up? But if I had had any idea of what Rob was gonna pull next, I would have turned him in. As I said last time, it was the very next day. Under other conditions, I would have stayed home from school, but the last thing I wanted was to spend the day in the company of Rob. So I just washed myself up and took myself into my classes, even though my privates were hurtin' worse than if a hive fulla bees had got in there.
I tried to talk to Frankie, but I guess Rob had scared the shit out of him, cause he wouldn't have anything to do with me except to say a quick hello and then disappear. So I guess I don't have to tell you I was feeling extra rotten when I came home.
I should have known somethin' was up when I saw all those jalopies and pick-up trucks parked out in front of the house. But I went inside and up to my room to change anyhow, figuring that there'd sure as hell be work to do around the farm before it got dark. And the last thing I wanted was to get into a hassle with Rob about getting the chores done.
I had just stripped down to my slip when my bedroom door busts open and in walks Rob, followed by half a dozen of his hoodlem friends.
"Here she is, guys ... the sweetest pussy in town. Just broke her in myself, yesterday. Who's gonna be first?"
Everyone seemed to yell at once, nodding and staring at me like I was some kind of prize heifer or something.
"Money first, boys," Rob said. "A five spot in advance, or no pokin' around."
Half a dozen hands reached into the pockets of levis and came out waving five dollar bills.
I got the message and started to run toward the door. But I wasn't fast enough. Rob grabbed me around the waist and lifted me straight up off the ground. The next thing I knew I was flat on my back on the bed, and he was holding me down by layin' across my chest.
"Looks like you sure as shit could use some help, Rob," Dennis, Rob's best buddy said.
"You know it," Rob agreed, sounding as happy as if he was going to a party.
I could hear Dennis's boots clumpin' across the wooden floorboards as he hurried toward the bed. The next thing I knew, his strong fingers were, digging into my shin, forcing my leg down against the mattress.
I lifted my other foot and caught him right in the crotch, good and hard. He grunted and shrieked, and fell back against the wall.
Rob slapped my face until I was shrieking and crying with pain. Then he called out to his friends. "Somebody get some rope from the kitchen. Looks like we're gonna have to teach this bitch a real lesson. Which one of you got the biggest pecker?"
All six guys swore they were the one.
"Well, I'll tell you what," Rob said. "Soon as someone gets back from downstairs with the rope, I'll get her tied down and show you all a fine little pussy. That should get you up good and hard. Then, the one who's biggest can get the chance to have his pecker licked by my sweet little whore of a sister. But ... that's gonna cost ya another fiver!"
No one seemed to object. As a matter of fact, a couple of the boys ran down the stairs, all at the same time, hurrying to find the rope.
I pleaded with Rob to let me go. I even whispered that I would suck him off and let him stick it into me anytime he wanted to if he'd just get rid of those other guys, but he wasn't interested. The notion of making money combined with the power he now held over his pals was more exciting than just doing it with me. Besides, I guess he must have figured he could fuck me any old time he wanted to, now that I was broken in and there was nothing I could do about it.
In a very few minutes the guys came back from the kitchen, loaded with rope. While Rob held me down, two of the other guys tied my wrists good and tight and knotted the ropes around the metal bedposts in the headboard. Then, Rob got off me.
I kicked and yelled and tried to get loose, but they all just stood around and laughed at my hopeless attempts to free myself. Then, Rob called Jimmie Jay out of the crowd and whispered something in his ear.
Jimmie Jay looked puzzled at first. Then he, smiled.
"You see, my brother here is gonna help us," Rob announced to his attentive audience. "I told him that if he could get Clara's slip up over her belly and take off her panties, I would give him two whole dollars. Didn't I, Jim?"
My idiot brother smiled and nodded enthusiastically.
"Okay boy, go to it," Rob said.
Jimmie Jay started to move toward me. "Please, Jimmie," I pleaded with him. "Don't do it. This is wrong. This is sinful!"
"You want the money or not?" Rob yelled. "You just shut your mouth Clara, or I'm gonna stuff it full of your own panties!"
That got a big laugh out of the crowd and removed whatever hesitation Jimmie Jay might have felt. He reached down, grabbed the front of my slip and ripped it right off my body.
Everybody cheered. I heard a couple of zippers rasp open. On my right, I could see a big, purplish cock getting harder each minute as busy fingers rubbed it up and down.
"Now the panties. Jimmie boy," Rob said. "Let's have a look at your little sister's pussy."
Jimmie, poor thing, was pretty excited himself. I could see his pants swelling between his thighs. The size of his erection frightened me.
I didn't have too much time to think about that, though, because in another couple of seconds, he was pulling down my panties, and tearing them off my thighs.
I squeezed my legs together, but strong hands grabbed them and forced them wide apart. I screamed with shame, realizing that suddenly, everybody in that room had an unobstructed view of my naked pussy hole.
The boys held my thighs apart. Rob walked over and placed his hands on either side of my cunt. Suddenly, he spread the lips, exposing the sensitive pink flesh inside.
"How's that for sweet beaver?" he called out, standing aside so that everyone could look up my hole.
Now there wasn't a boy in the room who didn't have the biggest hard-on of his life. I seemed to be surrounded by stiff dicks, all of them throbbing and red and just waiting to get inside my cunt.
"Mine's biggest!"
It was Dennis, the guy I had kicked earlier. He was standing right in my line of vision, displaying a cock as thick as a fist, easily a foot long.
"Right you are, old buddy," Rob agreed. "Well, hand over the money and you can stick it in little sister's mouth."
I clenched my teeth together as Dennis straddled my chest and slapped me on the chin with the head of his tremendous poker.
Rob grabbed my hair and pulled as hard as he could. I screamed at the top of my lungs ... but the yell was immediately stifled as Dennis shoved his fat dick between my lips.
I almost choked to death, but he didn't care. He just kept humping his hips forward until the tip of his cock was forced down my throat.
"Lick it!" Rob ordered.
I had no choice. I started to lick his pecker, hating Dennis, hating Rob, hating the world.
And that was only the beginning.
While Dennis was jerking himself off inside my mouth, one of the other guys got up on the bed and forced his prick in between my pussy lips. He must have been hung like a horse, because I felt as though I was having my cherry busted all over again. It hurt that bad.
After awhile, I lost count. All I knew was that my belly was full of come, pumped in from both ends.
The jizz was running over my lips and down my cheeks. My pussy was as far open as a barn door. And still, the boys kept on fucking me and making me suck them off ... over and over, for what seemed like years.
For the next three months, my life was one torture in hell after another. I never knew when I came home what I would find. Rob was making a fortune selling me to his friends. And at night, when they'd all gone home, he would make me wash myself all clean for him and then he'd take his turn ... fucking me up the cunt and in the ass, then making me suck his filthy dick off until it was all clean from my spit.
That's why, Doc, when I came home one day and saw all those cars outside the house again, I just sort of lost my head. I locked the doors and set the place on fire. Then, when I was sure it was burning real good, I hopped into Rob's truck and took off.
It almost took a full year for the cops to find me, and now, here I am. To tell you the truth, in a way I'm relieved that the hiding and the running is all over. I don't really give a shit what the judge decides to do with me. Just as long as I don't have to be fucked anymore. I've had enough sex to last me a lifetime.
CONCLUSION
This is a very unfortunate child.
There is no doubt that Clara has been deeply scarred, psychologically by the actions of her brothers and their friends. She refuses to even talk about the positive, tender feelings she once experienced toward her boyfriend, Frankie, or the possibility of her ever marrying a man.
I am certain that after considering the circumstances leading to her behavior, she will be remanded to an institution where she can receive psychiatric treatment which, hopefully, will help her to readjust her thinking in the area of love relationships. That she is still very young is a plus factor on her side. That she is very disturbed goes without saying. All we can hope for is that time and treatment will bring Clara back to her old, normal self.
CASE HISTORY THREE SUBJECT: Linda M. Age: Sixteen
INTERVIEW ONE
Linda F. is the pseudonym of the teen-age daughter from a prominent East Coast family. For four months she had been missing, and her family thought she had run away. The fact of the matter is that she had been held, illegally in a Southern jail; beaten, tortured and sexually abused. Finally, she had been able to sneak word out as to her whereabouts and get a message back to her parents, who immediately arranged for her release and pressed charges against the sheriff who had used her mercilessly. However, almost six months after her return to her family, Linda was brought to me for consultation suffering, according to her father, from periods of deep depression and anxiety. Following is a transcript of her account of, what happened.
It started out to be what I thought as of the most wonderful, exciting vacation of my life. I had just turned sixteen, a month before the Easter vacation from school and mom and dad had given me a new sports car for my birthday. I don't suppose I have to tell you that the dream of every kid who just gets a driving license is to have a car of her own, and I was in seventh heaven.
Before that terrible thing happened to me, I was braver and more independent than a lot of girls my age. As soon as I had the car and realized that two weeks of school vacation was just, around the corner, I decided to drive down to Florida all by myself, just for the fun and the experience of being behind the wheel of that snappy red car. At first my folks were a little hesitant about the whole thing, but I promised them that I would phone every day. And besides, my destination was my aunt and uncle's house in Palm Springs. They knew I would be safe there, and so they finally gave their permission.
I wish they hadn't.
For the first two days, everything went along just perfectly. It was like a fantasy come true. The weather was beautiful and I would spend the day driving along the highway with the radio turned on full blast and the sunshine streaming in through the windows. Even though I was all by myself, I felt as though I owned the world. I wasn't lonely and I wasn't homesick. Life was fantastic.
And then it happened. It was a Monday. Monday night. And I'll never forget it as long as I live.
I was driving along the highway heading South and looking for a motel to check into before it got dark. In some states, you're not allowed to drive after nightfall under the age of seventeen or eighteen, and I sure didn't want to get myself into any trouble. Certainly not when I'd just gotten my own car.
It was all like a bad dream. Suddenly, from out of nowhere, I heard a siren wailing and in my rear-view mirror I could see the flashing red and white dome of a police car. I checked my speedometer, relieved to see that I wasn't over the limit.
The trooper pulled up alongside and waved me off the shoulder of the road. At first I was more curious than frightened, because I figured that he probably just wanted to check out the new car and make sure it wasn't stolen or something. As soon as I showed my ownership to him, I figured, he'd just thank me and let me be on my way.
It wasn't that easy. From the moment he came over to me and said, "Okay, brat, get your tits outta that car," I knew that I was going to be in for a rough time. Doing my best not to panic, I stepped out and started to reach into my pocket of my jeans for my wallet and license.
"Oh no you don't!" he snapped, slapping my hand away from my body. The next thing I knew, he grabbed me by the shoulders and spun me roughly around, facing the fender.
"Get your palms flat on that hood and spread those legs!" he ordered. "You outta town cunts really think you're some kind of hot shit, don't ya! Where' do you get your nerve, doin' ninety in a sixty mile zone?"
"Ninety!" I yelled out. "I wasn't a mile over fifty-five."
"One more word outta you and you're gonna get cuffed!" he barked. And then, the next thing I knew, he started to frisk me.
I shuddered as he ran his hand up over the sides of my legs, taking a few extra seconds to cup the cheeks of my ass through the thin denim jeans I was wearing. Then, his hand slipped in 'between my thighs and he actually squeezed my crotch, cupping my genitals in his thick palm.
"Hey, you got no right to do that!" I protested.
"I got the right to strip you bare-ass naked if I think you're carrying a weapon," he threatened. "Don't make me prove it to you."
I was fuming. I couldn't wait to get to a phone and call my parents. Already my head was filled with visions of them hopping down on the next plane, accompanied by the family lawyer. This guy wasn't going to get away with that shit!
Little did I know that my misery was just beginning. He continued to feel his way up my sides, and then he clasped his hands right over my breasts, squeezing till I winced.
"Well, I guess you ain't got no gun. Come on, girlie, looks like we better take you into town."
"On what charge?" I demanded.
He smiled confidently. "Never mind. We'll find something."
He ordered me to follow him in my car while he drove the police car. For a few moments I considered flooring the accelerator and taking off down the highway at a hundred miles an hour, but I was just too scared.
Shaking like I bad my toe in an electric socket, I followed him into a one-horse horror show called Strout's Corners.
Inside the police station, a man sat behind an old, wooden desk, partially hidden by the comic book he was reading. When I saw his badge and read the word Sheriff on it, I experienced a moment of hope. But as soon as he looked at me and I saw his beady eyes stopping to focus on my big breasts, I knew I was probably no safer than I had been outside with that other cop.
"What seems to be the problem, Carl?" the sheriff asked, his tone thick with that southern drawl that takes a month to finish one sentence.
"Caught this one red-handed."
"What's the charge?" he asked.
The cop took out his pad. "Speeding, swerving between lanes, unsafe driving, possession of a dangerous drug, and driving while under the influence of a dangerous drug."
"What!" I yelled. "You're out of your fucking mind!"
Even before those words were all the way out of my mouth, I knew I shouldn't have said them. From nowhere, the cop's hand snaked out and walloped me so hard across the face that my teeth snapped together and felt like they'd gone right through my jaw.
"Next time you talk to an officer of the law like that, baby, you're gonna get the mint kicked right off you. Savvy?"
I touched my bruised and burning face and fought to hold the tears back as my knees turned to jelly.
"Hey, not out here, Carl," the Sheriff warned. "You better take her in the back. We'll attend to this matter where there's a little more privacy." He winked.
Carl snickered and nodded. "Yeah, sure. I get ya," he said.
"Wait a minute," I whined. "Don't I have the right to make a phone call or something first?"
"Not until we're finished booking you," the Sheriff answered. Then, he turned to the burly man in the grey uniform who was loosening his tie. "You, got the stuff on you?"
Carl grinned. "Sure thing, Sheriff. Right here in my pocket." And with that, he reached in and pulled out a plastic bag filled with grass.
"Hey, that didn't come out of my car!" I protested, but weakly.
Carl chuckled. "Where else would I get this kind of stuff from, girlie? And that ain't all, either!" He reached into the other pocket and pulled out two vials of red capsules. "Looks like Devils to me, wouldn't you say, Sheriff?"
"That's good enough for me," the Sheriff answered. "Take her out back and put her in the isolation cell. She's gotta be investigated."
The next thing I knew, my arm felt as if it had, been caught in a vise. Despite my protests, Carl hauled me down a narrow, unlit hallway and through several locked doors, which he carefully relocked behind us. We passed several cells, all of them empty, before moving through to another section of the jailhouse, obviously designed for, more serious prisoners. There was only one, dirty window, high up on the wall, covered with thick mesh and then a set of bars. The cell itself was bare, except for a filthy-looking mattress on the floor, a rusty sink and a seatless toilet.
"Welcome to your new home, Yankee," Carl said, shoving me into the cell ahead of him then locking the door behind us. "Since you're gonna be here for some time, I guess you ought to make yourself comfortable. Strip!"
"What for?" I demanded.
"Got to search you for more drugs. Maybe even a concealed knife or something like that. Wouldn't want one of our guests to hurt herself now, would we?"
"I demand that a matron be present," I said, as haughtily as I could, remembering those movies where women guards took care of women prisoners, especially in matters such as intimate examinations.
Carl placed both hands over his belly and laughed till his eyes teared. "Did you say a matron? In this place? You must be outta your fuckin' skull. Now get those clothes off, 'fore I rip 'em off ya!"
My hands were shaking so wildly, I could hardly manage the buttons on my blouse, but somehow, I undid the thing and took it off. Then, I stopped, purple with embarrassment, unable to continue.
"Let's go, let's go. The rest. All of it!" Carl demanded.
I couldn't help but notice the way the front of his pants had grown. His penis was clearly outlined against the grey fabric of his crotch, and to tell you the honest truth, I was terrified.
Still, I had the feeling that if I didn't do everything he told me to, I was going to get beat up. And bad. Somehow, I found the coordination to open my jeans and slide them down over my legs to my ankles.
Carl looked me up and down with undisguised lust and started to rub his groin with a fat, thick hand. "Not bad," he said, his voice noticeably thicker. "I can see that cute pussy right through your panties, baby. Bet, you've fucked every young stud back home in school, right?"
"Never!" I answered, reflexively protecting my honor, ridiculous as it might seem under the circumstances.
"Sure," he answered. "Sweet sixteen and never been humped. Let's go, kid. All of it. I want you bare-ass naked in ten seconds or I'm gonna finish the job for you!"
I don't know exactly what happened to me then. The sound of his voice, the implication in his manner. I just got hysterical, and started to scream and cry. I flatly refused to remove one more stitch of clothing until I'd been given the chance to call a lawyer.
Carl wasn't in the least bit perturbed by my attitude. As a matter of fact, he seemed kind of pleased, cause the corners of his mouth turned up in a smile as he started to move his six-foot frame in my direction.
I backed away but the cell was small and there was nowhere to run, no place to hide. A second later, he'd wound his left arm around my middle and lifted me off the ground, as though I were a sack of potatoes.
I kicked and screamed, but it was useless. Carl carried me across to the other side of the cell, sat himself down and then hauled me, face down across his lap. Then, with his powerful forearm, he pinned me, motionless, while his other hand yanked the panties right off my body, tearing them to shreds.
I was screaming so loudly, that I didn't hear the sound of the Sheriff approaching, until he'd turned his key in the cell door. "Havin' trouble with that one, I see," he announced, as he walked into the little cubicle and locked it up again. "Looks like you could use some help."
That was all he said, before he tore the strap of my bra and pulled the flimsy garment off my shoulders. Now, I was naked, except for socks and shoes, which were quickly removed also.
"Stand her up," the Sheriff ordered.
Carl got to his feet, pulling me along with him. Expertly, he grabbed my wrists and doubled my arms behind my back, fixing them in a hammerlock position so that the slightest attempt on my part to break free felt as though it was going to crack bone right in half.
As the Sheriff started walking up to me, eyeing my naked tits and belly and the place where that triangle of blonde hair grew over my vagina, I reflexively backed away ... and immediately, I felt Carl's enormous erection pressing in against the crack of my buttocks. I shuddered and gagged, as my stomach tied itself in knots, daring not to let my imagination present pictures of what was going to happen in that cell.
The Sheriff walked up to me without a word and took one of my naked breasts in each of his hands. Unceremoniously, he started rubbing the nipples back and forth between his rough, calloused fingers, until I winced with pain and the most excruciating humiliation I'd ever known.
"Not bad, not bad at all. This is a woman's equipment you got here, baby. Now let's see if the rest matches up." And with that, he fell to one knee, his face level with my crotch area.
I squeezed my thighs tightly closed, trying in vain to protect myself from his dehumanizing explorations ... but as it turned out, that was the worst thing I could have done. The Sheriff grabbed a handful of my pubic hair and yanked as hard as he could, until I was screaming at the tops of my lungs for him to stop.
"Better lay her down," he said, releasing his painful hold on my bush. "Get to see further up inside that way, anyhow."
Carl wrestled me to the mattress, but it really was no contest. He was as strong as a bull and I never stood a chance. In ten seconds, I was flat on my back, staring at the rippling muscles that strained against his shirt as he straddled my naked body, facing toward my feet.
As though they'd done this many times before, Carl reached down, grabbed one of my knees in each of his hands and pried my legs all the way apart. I was terrified beyond speech now and frightened beyond resistance. All I had to be grateful for, if you could call it that, was the fact that Carl's broad back was blocking my view of the Sheriff who was now lowering himself onto the mattress between my legs. At least I didn't have to look at his sweaty face as he examined my hole.
'Examined!' That's the laugh of the century. No sooner had Carl pried my legs open, then the sheriff took one of his fingers and shoved it right up into my tight, dry crack. The pain was overwhelming, and I had to fight not to pass out right then and there.
"I do believe we got us a real live cherry here, my friend," the Sheriff said, as the tip of his finger was stopped barely two knuckles inside. "What do you think we should do?"
Carl laughed, that peculiar laugh of his that was enough to turn my insides to ice. "I think we should look further." And with that, he hoisted my legs high and wide up over my boy.
I was completely exposed now and without hope. I wished I could die, that the ground could just open up and swallow me right then and there, but there was no such thing as mercy in the offing. Instead, I heard the horrible sound of a belt buckle being opened. Then, I saw the Sheriff rise to his full height, and I didn't have to look to realize that he was taking off his pants.
I wish that I could say that the next half hour was a blur, or that I passed out cold from pain and fear, but nothing of the sort happened. Actually, I felt everything ... every last, painful inch as that son-of-a-bitch forced his cock into my virgin pussy and started to shove. And shove hard.
My screams and cries of pain fell on deaf ears. As a matter of fact, the more I yelled, the rougher he rammed his prick into me, until I could feel my own blood mixing with his sweat and semen.
He grunted and huffed like an animal, shooting load after load into me. Then, when I thought he was done, they switched positions, and the Sheriff held me down while Carl stuck his fingers and then his prick into my torn and bleeding hole.
By the time they left me, locked and naked in that cell, I could hardly breathe. All I can remember, was praying for death.
INTERVIEW TWO
I don't know how long I was laying there, doctor, in my own mess. I guess I must have dosed off after awhile, or something, because the next thing I became aware of was the sound of a bunch of keys clanging against the cell bars as the door was being unlocked.
"Okay, kid. I gotta give you an enema." It was Carl's voice.
I looked up at him and gasped. He was standing above me, looking as tall as the ceiling, holding a rubber bag in his hand with a long tube and a frighteningly thick nozzle attached at its end.
"What are you doing?" I croaked as he walked over to the sink and started to fill the bag with water from the tap.
"Regulations," he said, chuckling at his own lie. "You wouldn't be the first dealer to be hiding some kind of dope up inside her asshole. Let's go, up and over!"
"You've got to re kidding," I said, knowing full-well that he was not.
'Carl filled the bag and then tied it with a string to one of the window bars, high up on the wall. "Look, you've got your choice," he said, patting the rubber container. "You can take it like a good kid, or we can tie you down and force this up your ass. How's it gonna be."
I shuddered at the thought of that thing invading my body. "I never took anything like that before," I whispered, feeling as though my head were going to burst from the pressure inside it.
Carl winked. "There's some who get to like it. Come on, kid, on your feet and grab your ankles."
I started to get up, but my legs wouldn't support me. My knees were wobbly and suddenly the whole room was starting to spin.
"Sheriff!" Carl called out. "You better get in here. And bring a chair with you."
In no time at all, the Sheriff appeared, carrying a heavy, straight-backed wooden chair. As soon as he was inside my cell, he put the chair down in the middle of the small room and both he and Carl hoisted me onto my feet. Then, they half carried and half dragged me across the room and bent me, face down over the back of the chair.
"Maybe we ought to do something to make sure she don't try and resist it," Carl said, with that gleam in his eye that was enough to turn my stomach raw. I heard him unbuckling that thick leather belt he wore.
The Sheriff did the same thing with his belt, and in a couple of minutes, both of my wrists were bound to the legs of the chair, so that I was tied in nearly a doubled-up position, with my hips high above my head. Then, each of them repeated the action with one of my ankles, spreading my legs wide apart and exposing my buttocks and genitals to their view.
"Sweetest ass and pussy I've seen in a long time," Carl said, cupping his hand over my backside and slipping his middle finger in between the lips of my blood-stained cunt.
I shivered and groaned, but there was nothing I could say, nothing I could do. I was a prisoner in the most horrifying sense of the word; I knew, and any effort at resistance was less than useless.
"Plenty of time for finger-fuckin' later," the Sheriff said. "Come on, Carl, let's get that water up inside her."
Reluctantly Carl pulled his hand away from my crotch and reached for the nozzle. As the Sheriff looked on, taking in every detail of what transpired, Carl shoved the long, hard plastic tube all the way up into my tight, resisting anus.
I shrieked in pain, begging him to stop, to at least go slow with me, but my pleading was useless. Carl pushed and shoved, tearing the delicate inner membrane of my anus until the entire length of that six-inch nozzle, intended I later found out for use as a douche, was buried deeply inside my rectum.
"All ready, Sheriff," he announced, when he was certain that the torture instrument was completely embedded inside me.
The Sheriff walked over and reached for the long rubber tube. I heard the click of a metal clamp and then suddenly, icy-cold water was pouring up into my bowels, flooding my insides with painful cold.
"Please, stop ... I can't' take it so fast ... you're killing me!" I cried, shuddering with pain as the icy fluid continued to pour high up into my insides.
Carl just chuckled and patted me on the, ass. "You better hold it all, too," he warned. "You lose one drop and I'm gonna make you drink it, understand?"
The concept of what he was threatening was too revolting for words. I retreated into tearful silence and gritted my teeth against the pain while the entire contents of the bag was emptied high up into my rectum.
"Hey, I can see her belly swelling!" Carl said, craning his neck and watching the fluid reshape my stomach.
"She's gonna be shittin' for a week!" The Sheriff laughed loudly at his own statement. Then, suddenly, there was a loud, raspy sound.
"Bag's empty," Carl announced.
"So, what the fuck are you standing there for? Fill the damned thing up again!" the Sheriff ordered.
Carl removed the rubber tube from the nozzle, leaving the long, penis-shaped plastic cylinder deeply buried up into my gut. In a few minutes, the bag was filled once again, and the water was pouring back into my bowel.
I started to choke and gag from the pain and from the sensation of my insides being stretched beyond their endurance level. My head was pounding like a mallot was at work on my skull and my stomach felt as though it was going to split apart at any moment.
Somehow, I don't know how, I managed to live through the emptying of that second enema bag into my body. Then, at last, it was done.
"I suppose you'd like to get up now," the Sheriff said, walking around to the front of the chair and looking down at me.
"Yes," I croaked, in a voice that sounded like an old, scratched record.
"Well, we'll just see how bad you want that," he answered. And with that, he reached down and opened his zipper, pulling into view a stiff, throbbing prick that looked to me every bit as big as a billy club.
"Suck!" he ordered.
I didn't move.
He grabbed his thick, hard cock and shoved it roughly against my clenched lips. "Eat this prick, girlie, or it's gonna be shoved right where that enema tube is, right now."
I tried to, but still I couldn't bring myself to do it.
"You want me to fill the bag up again, Sheriff?" Carl asked, obviously in an effort to convince me to obey.
The Sheriff shook his head. "No, I think I can convince her all by myself." And with, that, he grabbed me by the hair with his left hand and pulled, until I started to scream with pain. At the same time, he started to slap me back and forth across the face with his other hand.
All this while, mind you, that damned enema nozzle had remained deeply embedded inside my rectum. Now, behind me, Carl grabbed the tip that was protruding from my asshole and started to shove it in and out of my opening, making me tremble with pain.
"You gonna suck?" The Sheriff said, slapping me hard. "YOU GONNA SUCK!"
I opened my mouth.
His cock dove inside, gagging me, choking me, making my jaws feel as though they were about to snap apart at the joints.
"Yeah, nothing like fucking the face of a sweet Yankee girl like this," the Sheriff said, as he rammed his enormous cock in and out of my wide-open mouth. "Almost as good as pussy."
Behind me, Carl continued to ram that nozzle in and out of my asshole. I groaned with pain, but the sounds were all but muffled by the thick presence of the Sheriff's stiff dick, plugging my face over and over again.
Even though my mouth was all the way open, it wasn't possible for him to get more than about half of his penis into my face. He grabbed the shaft and started rubbing it back and forth.
I knew what was going to happen, but there was absolutely nothing I could do about it. Tied as I was, agonizing from the pain in my belly and the pain in my asshole, tied and helpless, all I could do was try and endure this disgusting humiliating experience.
I didn't have long to think about that, however, because all of a sudden, the Sheriff started to grunt and buck his hips faster and faster. Then, my mouth was filled with thick, hot, sticky goo.
"Swallow it!" he ordered. "Eat my come!"
I choked and fought back the vomit as I felt his cream sliding down my throat, between my teeth, over my tongue and then out past my lips. There was no way possible for me to consume all that he was shooting into my mouth, and the geyser of his come splashed against my palate and then rolled down my chin, dripping to the floor.
It seemed like forever before he was finished and pulled his thick cock away.
"What about me?" Carl complained, behind me, when the Sheriff had tucked his penis back into his pants.
"Patience, my friend. Patience," Carl said. "First we got to let the little girl sit down on the pot, remember? After all, wasn't the purpose of this enema to make sure she wasn't hiding any drugs up inside her asshole."
I thought being tied up was disgusting. I thought that being forced to take an enema in front of two grown men was the bottom of the barrel. I thought that sucking a man's penis had to be the most revolting thing on earth, especially when it shot all that fluid into my mouth.
But let me tell you, Doctor, that I survived being forced to sit on that toilet, stark naked, while two men waited and watched me rid myself of those two enema bags full of water has got to be the worst experience that can ever happen to a girl in her whole life.
Of course, I tried, though I don't to this day know why, to hold it in. Maybe I thought they'd get tired of waiting and go away or something. But after a couple of minutes, after the nozzle had been removed from my anus, there was no way I could keep all that cold water inside me.
Clutching my stomach and moaning from the cramps I was having, I let that dirty fluid run out of me, while both of them laughed and made filthy, disgusting jokes about my body.
And as if that wasn't enough, when the last of the fluid had drained out of me, Carl forced me to bend over and accept him from the rear, just the way horses and dogs do it.
Doctor, this went on for months. I can't begin to tell you of the things those two men forced me to perform while they held me prisoner. Sometimes, they would come into my cell in the middle of the night, singly or together, and force me to service them.
Once, I was brutally whipped with leather belts, then made to accept Carl in my asshole while the Sheriff fucked my vagina at the same time! I thought my body was going to be torn to shreds!
Another time, the Sheriff made me take two bags of water like a douche, and then he screwed me while the fluid ran out of my cunt. When he had come, he made me lick his penis clean, and then go on to tongue the rest of his body. Even his asshole!
Often, I was forced to strip naked and masturbate myself, while both men looked on. I was never permitted to come, unless I cried and begged for it. Then, they would screw me and beat me until I begged them to stop.
They kept threatening me in the most awful ways, too. Every day, I lived in fear that some man would be imprisoned on one of their trumped-up charges, because they both swore that if that happened, they were going to watch while the guy fucked me. They said that the same thing would hold true if they found another woman to arrest. I would be forced, they said, to perform oral sex with her and put on a real show for them!
After awhile, I started feeling like an animal. Caged. Half-dead. Hardly caring if I lived or died.
As you know, I did finally manage to sneak a message out and have my father called. Both of those men are in jail now, and are going to stay there for a very long time. Still, I worry that I'm going to spend the rest of my life without getting a decent night's sleep.
I can't stop dreaming about what happened.
I can't stop remembering everything they did to me and, even worse, everything they forced me to do with them or to them.
And most upsetting of all, Doctor, I can't stand the thought of ever having sexual relations again.
Do you think there's any hope for me?
CONCLUSION
That Linda survived the kind of trauma she has described without completely withdrawing from reality into a psychotic state is a minor miracle, in my opinion. Few girls, forced to endure such inhuman torture ever fully recover from the experience.
Still, Linda is determined to put this all behind her and try and rework her thinking back toward normalcy. All I can do is try my best to help and hope that she makes it.
CASE HISTORY FOUR SUBJECT: Anita S. AGE: Fifteen
INTERVIEW ONE
To look at Anita, when she first came into my office, one would never think that she suffered from the kind of psychic masochism that soon came to light during our discussions. She was a very pretty girl, short, with curly, dark brown hair and the whitest, clearest complexion. Although she was a fairly young teen-ager, she had the body and the carriage of a woman, highly sexual and self-aware. Still, as with so many troubled people, it was all there in her eyes, the dulled, pained expression of living with a terror that seems more than one might survive. Following is her story.
I think, Doctor, that maybe the deep-down cause of all the things that have happened to me are a result of jealousy. My jealousy. And my possessiveness. I've always been a clinging, possessive person, for as long as I can remember, not really willing to share things with other kids and needing more attention than I was ever really capable of getting.
My father died when I was very young. I hardly really remember him, except that he seemed very, very big and had dark hair. Mom was crazy in love with him, and had been ever since they went to school together. For years after the accident that killed him, she grieved herself sick, and to tell you the truth, I think she started to have a drinking problem.
Nevertheless, life wasn't really all that bad, because I had mom to myself. Even though we didn't see a hell of a lot of each other, because she had to work in order to support us, there were no other people in her life that were very important to her. Whatever time she could, she spent with me.
And then, Tom came into the picture.
I could tell that she had met someone, by the way she suddenly took a whole new interest in the way she dressed and the way she looked. Then, all of a sudden, she was going out on weekends, making excuses that I knew were really bullshit, about why she wasn't able to spend the kind of time with me that I was accustomed to sharing with her.
At first, I tried to tell myself that it was really okay, that a woman has to have a love life and a social life, even if that woman happens to be my mother. But it really wasn't okay, Doctor. Not okay at all. I was jealous, and I, guess a little frightened, and pissed off beyond words.
The truth of the matter was that I felt abandoned. Once more. Just like when my father went and died without notice.
Now I know that sounds kind of off the wall, but you said that I have to tell you the, whole truth about everything I feel if I'm going to get better, so that's where its at for me. Which means, I guess, that even before I was introduced to Tom, I hated him. Hated his guts. For taking away my mother.
They tried to break it to me kind of easy. By that, I mean at first mom sort of just introduced his name into the conversation kind of casual-like, saying that she had met a new friend who she was very anxious to introduce me to.
New friend? Bullshit. He was fucking her, to be sure. I could tell, without her having to say a word. The way she looked. Shit, she practically glowed with happiness. I suppose I felt a little guilty begrudging her that kind of joy, but nevertheless, I was livid inside. The notion of playing second best to anyone at all was more than I could adjust to. So, needless to say, the first time she brought him home for dinner, F wasn't thinking about welcoming him with open arms.
Until I saw him. Then, something happened inside me which, to this day, I don't understand and I'm not sure I ever will.
It was a Friday night. I remember that, because mom had just gotten paid and had spent a tremendous amount of money on all kinds of groceries, you know, the fancy ones, that she never usually bought. I didn't have to ask to know that all the fussin in the kitchen was on Tom's account, but still I didn't realize that it was going to turn into a whole weekend thing.
At eight o'clock, after mom had driven me crazy helping her to make sure that the house looked just right and that everything for dinner was arranged just perfectly, the doorbell rang.
"Why don't you answer it, Anita" she said to me, as she raced for the bedroom, straightening up her hair with her fingertips as she moved.
I would have been just as happy to spend the evening in my room watching TV, but I saw that there really was no choice. So I went to the door and opened it.
I almost dropped dead. He was gorgeous! Tall, with dark brown curly hair, just like my father's, and a thick, fine mustache. His body was out of sight too, as though he was some kind of ball player or athletic type or something. Little did I know that his athletics and his exercise were all the kind that goes on in the bedroom!
A tight tee-shirt clung to his muscular chest and the snug fitting slacks he wore made him' just about the sexiest guy I'd ever laid eyes on. Really, he could easily have been a model for one of those cigarette ads or something.
It took me a minute before I found my voice and invited him to step inside.
Now usually, I'm not a shy person. Far from it. But there was something about this guy. Not just the way he looked, but the way he looked at me, out there at the door when I greeted him. His deep, green eyes seemed to go right through me, stripping me naked and making me feel like every thought inside my head was being broadcast, loud and clear. Like it would be impossible to have any secrets, any hidden and private feelings when this guy was around.
I don't remember dinner, in detail. What I remember is experiencing an agonizing combination of hate and interest in this man. On one hand I despised the fact that he was obviously taking my mother away from me, and on the other, there was no denying the fact that every time he looked at me, I started to feel the funniest sensations up and down the insides of my thighs and high up inside my virgin pussy.
Needless to say, I felt as though my own feelings were going to tear me right in half, a couple of weeks later, when mom told me that the two of them were going to get married.
Mom was like a schoolgirl about Tom, and I alternated between understanding the kind of excitement she felt and hating her for being so completely wrapped up in him. Really, it was like something out of a romance magazine! She couldn't hardly talk about anything else or think about anything else. Everything was Tom, Tom, Tom. Tom this and Tom that, and what did I think Tom would feel about moving into a house where another man had lived, and should we redecorate beforehand or not.
I tried to be patient with her and not let on the way I really felt, but 'deep inside, I couldn't wait for the whole thing to be over with, so I wouldn't have to hear his name with every breath she took. It' was like I didn't hardly exist for her, anymore. All she could concentrate on was him.
One night, on a weekend when Tom was sleeping over, I heard them making love. It was late, and I had gone to bed, hours before, unable to stand the sight of my mother fawning over this man like a demented, love-sick puppy. I don't know what I was dreaming about, but suddenly the sound of my mother's groans brought me right up to a sitting position in my bed.
I shivered, fighting off the pictures that were starting inside my head. Sure, I knew what sex was all about, but still the notion of my mother actually doing it in the next room with a man who wasn't my father. Well, that was a little too much.
Then I heard the first slap.
Were they having a fight?
Again, that slapping sound. Loud. Shocking. Followed by my mother's warning voice.
"You better take it easy, Tom. We're liable to wake up Anita."
I gulped. What the hell was going on inside that bedroom? There had been no mistaking the sound that I had heard. Someone had hit someone else. But my mom didn't' sound in the least bit upset, about anything other than disturbing me.
And again, the sound of a palm slapping against naked flesh.
I knew it was wrong, knew that I shouldn't, but still I was really unable to control myself. I had to know what was going on. Had to find out what the hell was happening.
I waited a few minutes, until those sounds started up again, and then I crept out of bed and tiptoed out of the room.
Its true, Doctor. Old houses have big keyholes. And if you get down on one knee and press your eye very close to the opening, you can really see what's happening in the other room.
I wish I'd never done it, though. Wish I had never found out about that kind of sex.
Anyhow, when I looked inside, what I saw was the most shocking scene of my life.
Mom was on her hands and knees, naked on the bed. Her face was pressed down into the pillow, and her hips were high up above her shoulders.
Tom was behind her, rubbing the cheeks of her bare ass with his hand. Then, without warning, he would lift his right arm high up into the air and bring it down with a loud slap against my mother's behind.
I shuddered, wondering how she could possibly bear the kind of pain that being hit like that must be causing her to feel. But she didn't seem to be minding it at all.
Quite to the contrary, as a matter of fact. Each time Tom would wallop her backside, my mother would moan loudly and shake her ass back and forth like a bitch in heat, as though she was inviting him to keep doing it to her.
And he certainly did. He whacked her bare ass and the backs of her thighs. Once, he moved over to the side of her and started to aim his slaps in such a way so that he actually was spanking her on the pussy.
If that wasn't shocking enough, I was even more overwhelmed because that position afforded me an unobstructed view of Tom's mammoth prick, in full erection.
I had never seen or imagined anything like it in my life. Sure, I knew what men had down there between their legs, but I never realized that a guy's prick could be so big! How the hell could a woman take that up inside her hole without being torn to shreds, I wondered.
I reached down and slipped my hand into the bottoms of my pajamas. My own little pussy was dripping wet with excitement, and the tingling sensation was rioting all the way up into my belly. I touched my finger to the narrow, untried opening and slipped the tip inside. I could hardly get in further than the first knuckle. Shit, I thought, if any guy ever tried to stick his thing up inside me, and he was built only half as big as Tom was, I'd certainly die.
And yet, from that day forward, I was obsessed with that man's organ. It was like some kind of madness with me It was practically all I could think about. During the day at school. I would often drift off during one of my classes, envisioning the sight of Tom's naked body, sometimes even wondering what it would feel like to be made love to by' him. Then, when my fantasies would come around to the part where he would stick it into me, I would get very frightened and snap out of it, shaking as though I had just narrowly avoided some kind of terrible danger.
Their marriage went off on schedule, and for the first couple of months, things were pretty much as you could expect them to be. Mom, of course, was thrilled with her new life, and Tom was always around, driving me crazy with his good looks and that special something he had that was irresistible.
But, after the first couple of months, their relationship started to go sour.
First, Tom lost his job. Work was hard to get then, and even though he went looking every day, nothing came along. After awhile, he started to get depressed and didn't even bother to go out job hunting, except maybe once or twice a week. He would sort of sit around the house, watching television and drinking beer, and finding things to complain about or pick on mom or myself for.
And their sex life wasn't the same. I knew that, because I had gotten into the habit of waiting awake in my room, long enough to let them think I was fast asleep so I could listen and often watch when they were having their strange kind of sexual relations.
Then, one night, I heard mom complaining.
"Take it easy, Tom. You're doing it too hard. You're hurting my arm."
"You do what I tell ya or I'm going to break the fucking thing off!" he snapped.
"For crying out loud," mom whined, "what are you trying to do? You want Anita to wake up and hear all this?"
"I don't give a shit what Anita hears, if you want to know the truth. You and I have an agreement, remember? I thought we straightened all of that out before I said we could get married."
"Well, the agreement's off. If that's all I mean to you, the hell with it."
"You better watch what you're saying, Anne."
"I know exactly what I'm saying. Now get your hands off me. I mean it."
Silence.
I waited and waited. But all I heard was the faint sound of the night table lamp being clicked off. And then, after awhile, the deep, even sounds of Tom's loud snoring.
I know a little bit about psychology, Doctor, and I've heard about that theory that there are no accidents, really. Maybe there's something to it, after all. At any rate, the next day, I fell down during a ball game in gym class and sprained my ankle. The teacher gave me a pass and said I could go home for the day.
And that's how Tom and I got to be alone in the house that day.
I wasn't surprised to find him half-drunk when I limped in the door. He was sitting there in the living-room, stripped to the waist, wearing a pair of those tight-fitting dungarees he favored and piling up the beer cans next to him on the table.
"What the hell happened to you?" he asked, when he saw the way I was walking.
I explained, feeling suddenly nervous and strangely excited at the notion that the two of us were alone together and mom wouldn't be getting back or at least another six hours.
"Well, you better go upstairs and soak it or something. We sure as hell don't need a doctor bill in this house, now."
I was a little hurt because his only concern seemed to be with the money, but I didn't say anything. The pain in my leg was the most important thing to me at that moment, and I had a good idea of how I would get rid of it.
A joint. That was my plan. I had one or two hidden upstairs in my bedroom, and I figured that if I smoked a little, it would ease the pain. So, without another word to Tom, I went upstairs.
First I went into the bathroom and filled a basin with hot water. Needless to say, Tom was not the kind of man to be disobeyed. Then, I took it into my bedroom, and stripped down to my underwear. Not wanting to sit around just in bra and panties, I put on a light robe and sat down at the edge of the bed to soak the injured foot. At the same time, I lit up the joint and waited to see which would help me first and most, the hot soak or the grass.
Since I wasn't anything like a big grass smoker, I got high very fast. But still, the pain wasn't going away all that much. Figuring the worst that could happen would be that I'd nod out, I lit a second joint and kept pulling the smoke deep into my lungs.
That was my downfall. I got so stoned that I didn't hear Tom coming up the stairs and down the hall toward my room. And, sitting there with my foot in a basin of hot water, I had neglected to open a window, so that the smell of the marijuana would not be hanging like a thick cloud in the air, announcing what I had been doing.
As soon as Tom walked into the room and took one breath, he knew exactly what had been going on. His face turned purple with rage as he stormed across the room. "So, this is what the sweet little girl does when no one's looking!" he yelled, scaring the hell out of me as he fixed that cold, irresistible stare in my direction.
There was no point trying to deny it. The truth was obvious. So I guess what I did was get defensive.
"Big deal," I answered him. "I can smoke a joint if I want to."
"Look here, young lady, don't you go talking back to me like that or I'll teach you a lesson you'll never forget. You may be fourteen years old, but that doesn't mean you're too big for an old fashioned spanking."
Just the sound of him saying that to me, combined with the visions of what. I'd seen going on in his and mom's bedroom was more exciting than I can ever hope to describe.
"Don't tell me what to do, Tom," I heard myself sassing him, much to my own surprise. "You're not my father, you know. I don't need your permission."
"Well, we'll just see about that!" he snarled, striding across the room in my direction.
He grabbed me around the waist and we both fell backward onto the bed. I tried to fight him off, or at least I pretended to, but a two hundred pound man is more than a hundred and ten pound girl can ever hope to overcome. In no time flat, he had propped himself up against the headboard in a sitting position, and I was lying, face down, across his thighs.
"Don't you dare!" I screamed, as he yanked my bathrobe up over my hips, while holding me down with his forearm firmly planted across the small of my back.
"You're going to have to learn a lesson in respecting your elders," he growled. And with that, he applied the palm of his hand to my panty-covered bottom, full, force.
That first slap was so shocking and so painful, that the feel of it seemed to vibrate through the entire length of my body. I shrieked with pain as his hand slapped me again and again, first on one ass cheek and then on the other. Every time he hit me, I would bounce up and land back across his thighs, only to be whacked again, and again and again.
My ass was on fire, and I felt certain that it must be fire engine red from all the times Tom was hitting me there. 'But there, was something else going on, too. Something that was impossible for me to deny, or try to ignore.
Between my legs, deep inside my pussy, another kind of fire was growing. I was hot, sexy, trembling with arousal. Each time that Tom would hit me, and his hand or fingers moved anyplace remotely close to my crotch, I would get a rush of sensation that was like a thunderbolt.
I had been masturbating for about two years, so I knew what the feeling was all about. But I'd never had the experience of feeling so intensely turned on by my own hand. And here I was, with this guy walloping the daylights out of my can, wild and screaming from pain and embarrassment, while at the same time, my groin was on fire and the hairs around my virgin crack were getting sopping wet with pussy juice.
And I wasn't the only one who was excited, either. The more I jumped around and bounced on Tom's lap, and the more he spanked my jiggling ass, the harder his prick was getting in his pants, until I could feeling it pressing into my body like a wooden pole.
I don't know what possessed me or where I got the nerve, but all of a sudden, I found myself rubbing against his hard-on and wiggling my ass in tight, sexy circles. Now, I could even feel the excitement tingling in my breasts, turning my nipples into hard little points of arousal.
Tom whacked me one more time, right between the cheeks of my ass. But instead of lifting his arm to hit me again, he allowed his fingers to remain there, cupping the undersides of my asscheeks, dangerously close to my dripping pussy hole.
There was no way on earth that he could have missed what was going on with me. The crotch of my panties' were soaking wet and pasted to my cunt hair. I could even smell the heavy fragrance of my own cunt juices filling the room, stronger even than the smell of marijuana that still lingered in he air around the bed.
Tom was panting heavily now, and his long, middle finger started to stroke the outside of my pussy through the sopping wet material of my panties. I didn't even think about pretense or resistance any longer as I spread my thighs apart, giving him easier access to my genital area.
"So, mama's little girl digs a good spanking, does she?" Tom sounded very excited, and very pleased.
I did not answer. My cheeks were burning and my entire body felt as though electric currents were shooting through it. All I could do was close my eyes and concentrate on the maddeningly wonderful feeling of his long finger, rubbing up and down the length of my cunt crack, teasing me until I thought I was going to go absolutely bananas with excitement.
Tom didn't say another word. He reached for the elastic around the waistband of my panties and pulled the little things down, just to underneath the bottoms of my asscheeks. Then he spread the cheeks and took himself a good, long look at my most private area.
I was dying with embarrassment and excitement, and I felt grateful that I didn't have to be looking at his face, just then. My bottom felt raw and swollen, but a, stronger, more intense kind of pain was throbbing between my cunt lips.
Tom slid his left hand underneath the front of my body and started to massage one of my breasts. Brazenly, I reached around behind myself and unhooked the clasps of my brassiere. Reaching in then through the front of my robe I pulled the thing down my arms and let it fall to the floor.
Now, Tom's fingers started to squeeze my nipples, rolling them back and forth until they turned into hard little pebbles of throbbing sensation.
I couldn't help groaning as his touch grew stronger on my nipples. Then, all of a sudden, the pain became very intense and I started to whimper.
"Please, you're hurting me," I rasped, in a thick tone of voice that was filled with desire.
Instead of easing off his hold on my nipple, Tom slid his finger into the wet crevice between my pussy lips and started to masturbate me. His knowing finger found the throbbing, hard button of my clitoris and rubbed it back and forth in a way that made me jump and buck my hips with excitement.
And all this while, at the same time, the pressure of his thumb and forefinger on my sensitive nipple was getting harder and harder.
It was the weirdest, most compelling combination of pain and pleasure that I had ever felt. At the same exact time, my tits were suffering while my cunt was dripping in ecstasy.
I humped my bottom wildly, smashing down over Tom's enormous erection time and time again, while his long finger continued to slip in and out of my slimy crack. He didn't go too far, since I was a virgin ... at least not that time he didn't. But by the time I could finally stand the agitation and excitement for not a minute longer, and I gave way to the wild, orgasmic delights of a wild, uncontrollable release, I knew that I was Tom's slave.
And I knew that this was just the first of a lot of times we were going to play together.
I suppose I don't' have to tell you, Doctor, that Tom and I made every excuse we could possibly think of to steal time alone, after that. A couple of times, I started to wonder if maybe I shouldn't nip this thing in the bud, so to speak, and stop while I was still ahead.
But every time I would hear Tom and my mother making love in the bedroom next to mine, I was so consumed by jealousy and need of my own, that I resolved the next time he and I got together for a session, I would do everything I could to make it memorable for him.
That's right. I was competing with my mother. And pretty soon, Tom had me so far under his thumb that I was willing to do anything and everything, in an effort to make sure I was the one he preferred. Once again, I had to be Number One. At least with one person.
I'll never forget the day I gave Tom my cherry.
Mom was out again, somewhere or other, and we knew that we had the whole day to fool around together in the privacy of the house. No sooner had mom's car pulled out of the driveway, than Tom pulled me over to where he was sitting at the kitchen table and told me to sit down on his lap.
"Take those panties off first," he said, in a way that was very authoritarian. By this time, I think I ought to mention that Tom and I had gotten into the habit of dealing with each other in a very different manner outside of bed, also. Whatever he said, I did. He gave the orders and I followed them. Without questioning and without thinking. Instinctively I knew that in order to get along with this man, I would have to be willing to offer no resistance.
That was the way it was. We played the game his way or not at all. And the name of the game was Domination. He was the boss and I took the orders. And I really wasn't complaining.
Without a word, I reached under my skirt and slid my panties down over my thighs to my ankles. By that time, even that little act of submission and obedience was enough to set my juices flowing and make my nipples stand up hard inside my blouse.
As soon as I sat down in his lap, Tom slid his hands up underneath my skirt and started to caress my thigh.
I leaned my head back against his shoulder and spread my legs wide open, waiting for his finger to find the slit of my pussy and start to stroke that place that always drove me crazy.
This time, however, Tom seemed to be taking an unusually long time to get to my cunt. Instead, he just started playing around with the short little hairs that grew around the opening of, my slit, rubbing my outer pussy lips and cupping my groin in a way that made me writhe with anticipation and need.
"Please, Tom ... it's been almost a week already," I said, referring to the last time I had had an orgasm. There's something else I forgot to tell you, by the way. Tom had forbid me to masturbate myself. That was one of the, rules of his game. He told me that if I played with my pussy and gave myself pleasure, he would never touch me again.
I guess I don't have to tell you that just the threat of Tom holding back the kind of pleasures I had grown to live for was more than enough to make me agree to anything. Shit, I would have stood on my head and spat wooden nickles if that's what it took to hold his interest.
He didn't say anything. He sort of chuckled, though. Then he reached his other hand underneath my skirt and brought it up to the soft triangular nest between my thighs.
He placed one of his hands on either side of my pussy and spread the wet lips as far apart as he could get them to go. I shivered, as I felt the juices really starting to flow out of my hole now, and wondered how long it was going to be until Tom started to rub my clit to orgasm.
But that wasn't what he had in mind at all. Instead, he just started fooling around with my box, teasing in between the lips a little. But just as his flnger tip would start to make contact with my clit and I would begin to moan and shiver with need, he would take his finger away and start stroking my bare thighs instead.
I don't have to tell you that after about fifteen minutes of this torture, I was starting to lose my mind with impatience,
"Please," I groaned, thrashing around on his lap and rubbing my ass extra hard against his stiff prick, hoping to excite him further. "Let me come, Tom. I need to real bad."
"How bad?" he asked, sliding his finger right onto my clit this time and rubbing it in a way that made me tremble from head to toe.
"Shit, do I have to tell you?" I groaned.
No," he answered, sounding very sure of himself. "I think this time I'm going to let you show me, instead. Come on, let's go up to the bedroom."
I followed after him like a dog trailing it's master. Now that I look back on it, I guess there really wasn't too much difference between me and a loyal dog, where Tom was concerned. All I wanted was for him to want me and love me. And, in exchange, I would be willing to forgive any kind of cruelty that he inflicted on my body.
When we got upstairs to the bedroom, Tom sat down at the edge of the mattress and pointed to the rug.
"On your knees," he ordered.
"What?" I asked, suddenly bewildered. What kind of a new game was he playing now? I asked myself.
"You heard me." His tone was rougher now, vaguely threatening.
My pussy was on fire and, to tell you the truth, I was in no position to hold back. Without offering any further resistance, I sank to my knees, on the rug, between his widespread thighs.
"Its time for you to learn a couple of lessons about how you're going to please me from now on," Tom announced, cupping his hand over his own crotch and stroking his massive hard-on through the material of his jeans.
"The first thing I want you to do is to take off all your clothes. And fast."
I started to get up, but his fingers pressed down on my shoulder, forcing me back to my knees. "No, do it down there," he ordered.
There was something weird, something exciting about being forced to strip on my knees in front of this handsome man. As I began to comply with his wishes, Tom reached in through the fly of his pants and pulled his prick out.
There it was, all of it, right in front of me. Close up like this, it seemed even larger and more imposing than it had all those times I had spied on him and my mother through the keyhole of their bedroom door.
I was fascinated. Compelled. I couldn't take my eyes off it, and I found myself actually licking my lips.
Tom knew where my head was at and he laughed confidently, stroking his cock and drawing it up to it's full, impossible length. He was showing off for me and making me more excited than ever before.
"You gonna take all day?" he asked, pulling his huge balls out into the open also.
I gulped and hurried to rid myself of the rest of my clothing. Naked at last, I waited on my knees for him to tell me what he wanted me to do next.
"Touch it," he said, suddenly letting go of his own prick. "Go ahead, baby. It doesn't bite."
I reached out and my fingers were shaking wildly as I touched them to the head of his prick. As soon as I made contact, the mushroom shaped knob swelled and seemed to grow hotter.
"Put your fingers around it," Tom commanded. "Rub it up and down. Make it feel real good."
I did as he told me to, closing my fingers around his thick organ and then stroking the stiff flesh up and down. I could feel the thick veins throbbing with blood as I played with his tool, and the heat from his cock seemed to burn all the way into my palm.
"Okay, its time," Tom announced, suddenly pushing my hand away. "Take my shoes off."
It struck me as a kind of strange request, but in the highly worked-up condition I was in, I was in no shape or mood to argue with the man. Obediently, I leaned over and pulled his shoes off.
"Now my socks," Tom said. He had gone back to jerking himself off and his tone of voice told me that he, too, was highly excited.
I could feel the lips of my own pussy swelling and dripping as I pulled down Tom's socks and felt the flesh of his feet against my fingers. I heard him unbutton the top of his pants, and a moment later, they were down around his ankles. "Let's go. Get 'em off!" he told me.
I worked his jeans down off his feet and looked back up, just in time to see Tom shimming out of his shorts.
This was the first time I had been with Tom when he was totally naked, and let me tell you that the sight of that man's body, close up, was almost more than I could bear. My heart was beating like it wanted to leap out of my chest, and my nipples were standing up almost a half inch away from their surrounding soft flesh.
"Okay, kid, this is the way it's gonna be," Tom said, grasping his prick again and stroking the mammoth tool languidly. "You're gonna start from my feet and give me a tongue bath. You know what that is?"
I shook my head no, even though I could guess.
Tom smiled. "Stick out your tongue," he said.
I did it.
"Good. Now put it down on my foot and start licking your way, up to my prick. For your own good, though, I warn you, you'd better not stop ... or else you're going to pay the consequences." And with that, he reached over, picked up his crumpled pants and pulled the belt out of the loops.
The sight of that thick leather strap was enough to let me know exactly what the man had in mind for me if I didn't obey everything he said to the letter. I was scared, for sure, but I have to admit that in the state of excitement I was in, the thought of anything he would do to me that was remotely connected with sex was enough to make me even hotter and more eager to get going.
I moved back a couple of inches on my knees, and then leaned my head all the way over, until my mouth was barely an inch away from his toes.
The leather whistled through the air and snapped across my bare ass cheeks, making me scream with pain and shock.
"That's just a sample," Tom growled, in a tone of voice that told me he was off, someplace, tripping on his own fantasies and needs. "Now get going, before I really have to tan your hide."
Still shivering with the pain of his belt, I pressed my mouth to the toes of Tom's right foot and started to lick his hard, hairy flesh. Instead of being revolted, as I would have suspected would have been the case, I found myself experiencing a strange kind of excitement. The smell and taste of his flesh was like nothing" I'd ever known, and I soon found myself licking my way up over his shin with eagerness and enjoyment.
When I got to his hard, hairy thigh, I started to smell the heat of his genitals, and the effect was that my own pussy started to tingle and throb. I kissed my way up his thigh, leaving a glistening trail of saliva where my tongue had touched him.
Just as my nose had come within a couple of inches of his balls, Torn twisted his fingers into my hair and pulled. I moaned with pain and looked up into his face, wondering what he had in mind for me next.
"You forgot the other foot," he said, staring right into my eyes in a way that melted my entire body. "Don't worry, kid, you're going, to get a chance at this cock and balls, today. No way in the world you could escape it, even if you wanted to. But half the fun is in the expectation, if you know what I mean." And with that, he pushed me roughly down toward the floor again.
I repeated the action of before, licking and kissing my way up over his toes and ankle and then to his shin and knee. The smell of his excited sweat had mixed in the air with the strong fragrance of the juices that were dripping out of my pussy as each passing moment made me hotter and hotter and more desperately in need of coming.
By the time my lips had reached his thigh, the nipples on my breasts were so swollen and tight they felt as if they were going to burst. I pressed them to either side of Tom's thigh while, at the same time, I continued to lick and kiss his hard flesh, loving the way the little hairs were beginning to snag on my teeth as I got closer and closer to his groin.
"Okay, baby, now its time to do my balls," Tom said, leaning back and spreading his thighs a little wider, in order to give me complete access to his huge, male equipment.
I had never imagined myself, in my wildest dreams doing anything like this to a man before. Previously, I would have thought that, behavior such as this was degrading and against everything that women are fighting to become, now. But all he had to do was tell me what he expected of me and I responded as though I was some kind of automatic toy, directed by the sound of his voice.
Groaning with urgency, I pressed my lips to the ridged globes and started to lick the hairy surfaces. Tom and I started to groan at the same, time, as I felt the heat, of his crotch rising up into my nostrils like the headiest perfume ...
I took one of the little globes into my mouth and very gently ran my tongue over the uneven surface. Tom pressed the fingers of his left hand to my skull and started to move me, telling me without words just the right pace to go at in order to afford him the maximum pleasure.
While I moved from one of his nuts to the other, I slipped my hand down between my own legs and started to stroke my dripping cunt. The lips of my pussy were swollen to twice their normal size and the clit was standing up straight and hard, like a miniature penis ... and I do mean miniature, because compared to the piece of meat that was standing up straight between Tom's hairy thighs, it was invisible.
There was a strong odor coming up from his crotch and it only served to heighten my excitement. Breathing heavily, I continued to suck on Tom's balls while, at the same time, I slid my finger along the dripping wet crack of my throbbing pussy.
Tom suddenly realized what I had been doing with my hand and he grabbed me by the hair again. Pulling my face up out of his crotch, he slapped me hard, back and forth across the cheeks, until the room started to spin and the tears were rolling freely down my face.
"I told you never to do that. NEVER!" he shouted, as he continued to backhand me. "Now, you're going to have to see what happens when you disobey."
He held me in place with his fingers twisted deeply into my hair while he grabbed his leather belt. Before I had a chance to beg him to forgive me, he started to whip me with the strap ... catching me across the shoulders and back, and even snapping, the end of the leather, now and again in between the widespread cheeks of my ass.
All the time, he held me so that I couldn't possibly escape the stinging blows, for I was forced to remain on my knees while he whipped me.
"You sorry?" he asked, glaring menacingly at me.
All I could do was nod, yes. My throat felt like it was sealed closed with pain and agitation.
"Well, I guess I should give you a chance to show me how sorry you really are," Tom said, putting the belt down, but close enough to him so that we both knew he could grab it up again at any moment. "Get your mouth over here and start sucking on my cock."
I had never done anything like that before, never even thought of it, to tell you the truth, and the fact of the matter is that my mind rebelled at the notion.
Tom jumped forward and caught my breasts in his hands. Without saying a word, he applied pressure to my nipples with his fingers, until I was panting and screaming and begging him to let go.
"You gonna suck me off?" he said, squeezing so hard that I was afraid he was going to draw blood.
"Yes, yes ... anything you want," I gasped. I would have promised to cut off my right arm if only to stop the unbearable pain that he was causing in my nipples.
"Okay then, let's see you do it," he snapped, releasing me and leaning back on the bed.
I moved forward and took his prick into my hands again. It flexed against my palm, as though it were alive and waiting for me to take it into my mouth.
"Suck!" Tom yelled. "If you know what's good for you. Unless you want another beating, kid."
That was all I had to hear. The thought of him using his strap on me again was more than my mind could handle. Besides, there was still that impossibly strong need burning down between my thighs, and I knew full well that if I didn't do everything Tom wanted' me to do, I was not going to get any relief.
So I started sucking his cock.
Slowly, at first, because the thing was so big I had trouble getting it into my mouth. But slowly, as I stretched my jaws as wide apart as I could get them to go and slid my lips down over the stiff flesh, I found that it wasn't half as bad as I had expected it would be. As a matter of fact, to my own great surprise and delight, I felt my body responding with excitement to the feeling of Tom's enormous hard-on sliding in and out between my lips.
"Use your tongue," he said. "Lick it up and down. Do it around the head, kid. I like it there."
I did exactly as he told me to, do, running my wet tongue all the way up and down the length of his tool, until his entire shaft was dripping with my hot saliva. Then, I took the head of his cock in between my lips and teased the sensitive cap with the edges of my teeth, loving the way Tom jumped and moaned when I would hit a particularly sensitive and exciting place that really turned him on.
Needless to say, I was pretty damned turned on myself. As I drew his shaft down into my throat, I could feel my entire body responding to the awareness that Tom was inside me.
Little did I know just how far inside me he was going to get, that day!
All of a sudden, he sat up and started rubbing in between my shoulder blades. "I want you to take it all the way down your throat, kid," he said, in a gravelly-rough sounding voice. "You better get it good and wet, cause the wetter it is, the easier its going to get inside you."
Suddenly, the full awareness of what he had in mind bit me like a ton of bricks and I froze. Without thinking, I pulled my mouth off his cock and looked up into his face, my own face twisted with, terror.
"You're not serious," I rasped. "You know I couldn't possibly take that up inside of me. You're much too big ... I'm much too small. I'm a virgin, remember?"
Tom just smiled and looked down the length of his own naked body into my wide-open eyes. "You better get used to the idea, kid," he said. "You haven't got any choice. Today is the day you're going to get fucked. It's time to pop a little cherry around here."
I couldn't help myself. I panicked before I even knew what I was doing, I started screaming and pulling myself up onto my feet.
But Tom was too fast for me. Before I got half way off my knees, he grabbed my hair and yanked it in his direction. I toppled back over and landed hard on my kneecaps, shivering with all kinds of pain and fear.
Tom's face with twisted with anger and, determination. He reached over and grabbed the belt that was laying next to him on the bed. Flipping the leather around his knuckles a couple of times, he started to whip me with it, catching me across the breasts and belly and over my shoulders.
Each time the leather cut into my flesh, it felt like a red-hot knife slicing through me. I screamed until I felt as though my vocal cords were going to tear. And still he kept beating me, without let up, snapping that leather over my skin until there wasn't anyplace that wasn't on fire.
"Get your ass up here on the bed," he snarled between clenched teeth. "I ain't gonna stop whipping you till that tight little pussy of yours is wedged good and tight over the head of my cock."
It was absolutely impossible not to obey him. With my hair hopelessly entangled in his strong fingers and that whip crashing down over my naked body again and again, I felt that if I didn't get him to stop soon, I was going to be dead.
Screaming with anguish, I somehow managed to pull myself up onto the mattress and straddle his midsection.
"Grab it with your hands and put it in between those pussy lips," Tom ordered. And then, as if to underscore the seriousness of his intentions, he let me have it with the belt, curling the leather around my middle and cutting deeper into the soft flesh of my ass cheeks.
Groaning with pain, I climbed up a little further onto his body and reached down between my naked thighs for his cock. The head was hot and heavy in my hands, and I brought it up to my narrow crack, wondering if this was to be the last day I would remain alive on this earth.
As soon as the cockhead was wedged between my cunt lips, Tom stopped whipping me. He dropped the leather belt and grabbed the curve of my hip instead. Holding me tight, he ordered me to lower myself onto his red hot cock.
"Please," I managed to find enough voice to beg him one last time. "I can't do this. It's too much for me to handle."
Tom let go of his hold on my hair. He moved that hand to my other hip and dug his fingers in deeply. At the same time, he raised his knees behind my ass, so there was no way I could wriggle backward, off ,his stiff, demanding cock.
Then, with one brutal thrust, he shoved his hips upward and his cock tore into my narrow, virgin passage.
I screamed and tried to throw myself off him as my pussy hole felt as though it was being torn to pieces by the impossibly-wide thickness of his ramrod. But Tom's firm grip on my hips made it absolutely impossible for me to escape in 'any direction. The only way I could be allowed to move was downward ... and that would mean taking even more of his cruel prick up into my torn and bleeding hole.
Again and again, he rammed his hips upward, forcing his cock deeper and deeper into my little hole I screamed and thrashed around as I felt myself being impaled still further with each passing moment, but there was nothing I could do but try to endure my punishment and still remain alive.
I thought, for a moment, that I could actually hear the sound of my own internal flesh being ripped apart, as his massive cock plunged higher and higher into my bruised cunt. Inch by inch he shoved his way into me, tearing through my maidenhead and shoving deeper and deeper until, at last, I could feel the nest of his pubic hair rubbing against the insides of my wide open thighs.
I fell forward, his cock boned all the way up inside me. I seemed to be crippled, immobilized, as I felt that pole buried all the way up under my heart. My throat had long since gone dry and my eyes were wide open with pain.
And still, Tom refused to stop.
As I lay on top of him, trapped on his cock, he wound his powerful arms around my body and started to pump in and out of me; I don't know how there was room for him to move, but somehow, the walls of my stretched out pussy seemed to be able to give just the slightest bit more, making him slide his cock in and out of me without killing me altogether.
And then, suddenly, the most miraculous thing started to happen. I hadn't given a thought to my clit, which must have undoubtedly been crushed flat before the impossibly powerful force of Tom's thrusting cock ... but now, that little button of flesh was starting to come to life ... throbbing with excitement ... stirring and responding to the back and forth motion of Tom's pecker inside my bleeding hole.
"Move that cunt," Tom snapped and slapped me hard on the naked ass.
I shuddered and started to rub myself up and down along the front of his body, very very aware of the sensation of his club moving in and out of my hole. The pain was still enormous, but there was pleasure in it too ... and, even though it seems hard for me to believe, even at-this moment, I started to pant with excitement and hump my hips faster and harder.
I was taking the entire length of Tom's rod up inside my cunt now, and my clit was loving every thrust. I started to moan and grunt as each motion brought me closer and closer to the finish.
Tom was pretty far gone himself. He was mumbling something that I couldn't understand under his breath while he fucked the life out of me. And, at the same time, each time he thrust his long cock into my pussy, his powerful hand landed on my ass, slapping me as hard as he could, making my flesh sting and tingle while he lucked me.
The two of us seemed to explode at the same time. In the middle of our orgasm, Tom rolled us around and landed on top of me. Immediately, he grabbed my legs and threw them up over my shoulders, so he could plough his way all the way up inside of me, and I couldn't move an inch to escape him ... even if I had wanted to.
I came and came hard, thrashing and screaming and biting my lower lip until I could taste the hot salty flavor of my own blood. High up inside my cunt, I could feel the cream shooting out of Tom's dick, flooding my passage and easing the friction on my poor, torn up pussy walls.
And still, that wasn't the end.
Tom was still hard, and he started to fuck me again. I begged him to stop, to give me a moment's rest ... but all I got for my efforts were a couple of sharp slaps across the face and the full length of his cock thrust inside my aching hole.
Would you believe it, Doctor, I started to respond again? The harder he fucked me and the more he hit me, the hotter I got ... until I was creaming all around his enormous cock, screaming for him to luck the shit out of me and do it as hard as he could.
Tom grabbed my tits and squeezed until I started to cry and beg for mercy. Then he shot another huge load up into my tunnel and collapsed on top of me.
For the next six months or so, this was the way we had sex. Tom taught me things about myself that I would never have thought possible.
He made me take his come in my mouth. Made me sit on his prick without having an orgasm for hours, until I was literally crying and pleading with him to let me come.
Sometimes, he would tie me up with his leather belts and fuck me till my cunt was raw and bleeding before he'd let me experience relief. Once or twice he even raped me anally ... making me take the whole length of his tool up my ass while he finger-fucked me at the same time, until I came, despite myself.
I got to look forward to the wild, crazy things Tom would do with my body next. The sight of his strap no longer frightened me. I came to think of it as an instrument of pleasure, a way of knowing how very much I was pleasing the man I loved.
Yes, loved, Doctor, Even though it even sounds crazy to me, there's no other way I can think of to describe what I came to feel for Tom. The more he hurt me, the more he humiliated me, the more I wanted. Gladly, I drank his urine and washed his, asshole with my tongue. There was nothing, absolutely nothing that I wasn't willing to do for him, as long as he continued to bring me the most wonderful orgasms a girl could ever hope for.
It's really too bad that mom had to walk in and catch us at it one day. The only reason she didn't have Tom thrown in jail, so she says, is because the scandal would involve me and I'm a minor. I don't believe that phony bitch at all. She's just pissed off because I know she digs the same kind of rough sex I do.
Anyhow, she kicked Tom out of the house and I don't know what the hell has happened to him now. I've tried to get over it, even attempted to have sex with a couple of guys at school, but I guess I don't have to tell you it just ain't the same.
I want a man, not a boy. I want someone like Tom who can just take me over and make me do what he wants, whether I'm willing or not. I don't know if you can understand it, Doc, but there's nothing in the world like having some guy use your body like its just an instrument for his pleasure. Being fucked and spanked and degraded sort of lets you know where its really at.
And the fact of the matter is I'm shit, anyhow, just like my mother. So why shouldn't I be allowed to get whatever little pleasure I can find in this crazy, lucked-up world'?
CONCLUSION
Without necessarily being aware of it, Anita stated the crux of her problem very succinctly, when she described herself as being nothing but "shit." Unfortunately, young girls who lose their fathers at an early age, or don't have fathers to begin with, often subconsciously assume that the reason for parental absence is because they are not worthy of the love a parent is supposed to give.
When Anita's mother turned her attentions and focus to Tom, Anita felt forced to strive for the man's affection, doing whatever was necessary in order to keep his attention and be Number One, as she put it, with someone.
This is a girl who is going to need quite a bit of ego rehabilitation before she is able to conceive of having a satisfying and non-masochistic relationship with anybody who is important to her.
CASE HISTORY FIVE SUBJECT: Sherry V. AGE: Seventeen
INTERVIEW ONE
I met Sherry, during a period of time when I was volunteering my services to a social work agency that dealt with runaway youngsters. The unusual aspect of Sherry's case was that, even though" she had been kidnapped and violently abused, she absolutely refused to be reunited with her parents or to cooperate in any way toward an alteration of her point of VICW. The only reason she spoke to me was that I was empowered to prescribe certain drugs for her which eased the' discomfort of her withdrawal process. Sherry had been an addict for nearly a year, and without the funds to support her habit, she was truly at the mercy of her need and of anyone who could assuage it. This is the story she told me.
took, Doc, I don't know what kind of jollies you expect to get from having me tell you everything that happened to me on the road, but let's just get it straight between us, right here and now, that the minute that Methadone stops, so does my talking. Okay?
Now, what was it you wanted to know? Oh yeah, how I came to get on the stuff and that's been happening to me this last year or so. Well, that means I'll have to start my story from when I ran away from New York and got hooked up with the Raiders. I was going with this guy, Gene, and mom didn't like it because I was fifteen and he was twenty three. I don't see what the fuck business it was of hers to begin with. Shit, we loved each other so of course we were sleeping together. We even planned to get married as soon as I was old enough to do it without that cunt's permission.
But oh no! That wasn't good enough for her. She had to go and call up his folks and make a whole thing about it, threatening to have him put in jail for fucking around with a minor and all that kind of shit.
I guess it was small wonder that Gene decided to enlist in the army and split town. So that's when I got the notion to do the same thing. One day, I just left. No goodbyes, no notes, nothing. Shit on all of them. I was heading out on my own.
Let me tell you Doc, it was great, too. Hitching across the country like that was the best time I had ever known up until then. I never had any trouble getting rides or anything like that. There are plenty of guys who were willing to pick me up and give me a lift in exchange for me helping them to get their rocks off.
And let me tell you, I didn't mind it a bit. I sure had some swell times in those cars, sucking off cocks and getting my pussy filled. Lots of times the guys would even spring for the price of a motel, just so as they could get into bed with me and do a real good job stuffing my cunt.
I guess by now you got the message that I love to fuck. Well, you're damned right. Its my favorite hobby, my best past-time.
I guess I have Gene to thank for that, too. He sure as hell broke me in good. When I first started going with him, I was this snot nosed virgin who didn't know a thing about getting her rocks off. Sure I used to finger-fuck myself and all that kind of shit, but there's nothing on earth like having a man's big whang pumping away up inside your box like a steam shovel while your arms and legs are wrapped around him and you're digging it all.
But I got to admit, that even as good as sex with Gene and fucking across the country was for me, there was nothing like the times I had when I was one of the Raiders' girls.
They're a gang. A motorcycle club, pardon me. And let me tell you, they got some ideas about sex that would make your hair stand on end. And I mean your pubic hair, baby.
I had just gotten to the coast when it happened. I was traveling with this guy, Buddy. He had picked me up in Nevada and we rode all the way to California together.
He was kinda sweet, in his own way. He'd had his problems back home, too. His dad was an alky and his mother ... well, she kinda drifted off sometimes and would disappear. When she got home, she would give his old man a real hard way to go, and Buddy just couldn't take the hassle of living in that kind of atmosphere. So as soon as he got out of school, he split.
I taught him a couple of things about fun in the sack too, let me tell you! Would you believe this kid was eighteen years old and had never had a blow-job before? You shoulda seen him, the first time he shot his load in my mouth. He made so much damned noise I thought he was going to wake everybody in that two-bit motel where we were staying.
And he couldn't get enough either. Three, four times a day he used to ask me to go down on him. Lots of times I did it right there in the car, and I swear I think its a miracle that he didn't drive off the fucking highway.
He used to carry on so much when I would swallow his wang, and the car would wobble this way and that while he emptied his nuts. What a guy! I'm really glad the Raiders didn't hurt him.
You see, I was with Buddy when the guys picked me up. Yeah, I got kidnapped, you might say. But it ain't what you think. It was a gas.
We were riding along, about thirty miles outside Los Angeles, when suddenly, it was like the whole fucking world was in an uproar. Be fore I knew it, twenty or thirty motorcycles were surrounding the car and a couple of the guys were waving Buddy off to the side of the road.
At first we were both pretty scared, but what can you do in a case like that. Buddy just pulled over and said that he hoped we didn't both get killed.
But it wasn't Buddy they wanted. It was me. And they said so, straight out.
"Okay, Dude," Mickey, he was the leader, said to Buddy, "you can split. Just leave the broad with us."
Buddy looked at me, kind of helpless. For a minute, I thought he was going to try and high tail it out of there, or take them all on single-handed. You know, real hero stuff. But it was obvious there was nothing he could do but obey their orders.
Besides, a couple of seconds after he'd stopped the car, one of the other guys had yanked my door open and was pulling me out onto the side of the road.
"Go ahead," I said to Buddy, figuring there was no sense in the two of us getting killed. But I think that somewhere deep inside of me, I kind of hid the feeling that I would be able to take care of myself, even those these guys looked real rough.
Besides, we were surrounded.
The next thing I knew, I was watching Buddy's car drive off down the road, and I was standing there with all these guys.
"Foxy ... real foxy," Mickey said, looking me up and down like I was something he was going to have for supper.
And that's just how it was. As soon as he laid eyes on me, he claimed me for his own. And he told me so straight out.
"From now on, chick, you belong to me, get it?"
"Up your ass," I said to him, not liking the way he just assumed that because he had the upper hand for now, I was not even worth talking to like a person who had feelings and a mind of her own.
Well, right there, in front of all those guys, he slapped me back and forth across the face until I was howling and screaming with pain and embarrassment.
"Let that be the last time you talk back to me, that is if you know what's good for you," he said. Then he pointed to his big, black Harley. "Now just get your ass on the back of that bike and we'll be going back to the camp."
I had a lot more to say to him, let me tell you ... but the stinging sensation in my jaw told me that at least for now it would be the best idea to keep my mouth shut. Figuring that there was no way I could escape by making a run for it or anything like that, I swung my leg over the leather seat and watched him climb onto the bike in front of me.
And then, we were off, roaring down the road, all of us ... like some kind of army or something, dressed in black leather.
And despite myself and the crazy way all of this was happening to me, somewhere inside myself I knew that I was starting to dig this whole scene.
Their 'camp' as they called it, was a thrown together collection of pup tents and old trailers and stuff like that, hidden off in the middle of the woods, someplace. I guess they did that on purpose, so that no one could find them if they didn't want to be found.
As far as I was concerned, I was torn, right from the first. On one hand, I was digging the fact that Mickey was a guy who knew his own mind and wasn't going to take shit from anyone. But on the other, I was very well aware of the fact that they could kill me out there, if they fucking well wanted to, and no one would necessarily find my body for years.
So when Mickey pulled the bike to a stop and told me to get off, you better believe I was not about to start arguing with him. I pulled myself back onto my feet and tried not to let it show that inside me, I was damned scared.
"You ever ride with a club before?" he asked, eyeing me up and down again in a way that told me exactly, what was on his mind, or so I thought.
I shook my head no.
"I guess you don't know what that's all about then," he went on. "I mean, about being a club girl, and all that."
"I can imagine."
They all laughed. The guys had formed kind of a loose circle, and were standing around me, digging my looks and getting off on whatever Mickey meant by what he was implying.
"Well, for the first thing," he went on, "it means that you have just become the property of the Raiders ... and of me in particular."
"And just what the fuck is that supposed to mean?" I said, trying to sound as tough as he was, so he wouldn't realize that by then I was really starting to shit in my pants.
"What does it sound like?" he said.
"It sounds like you don't seem to dig the fact that I'm nobody's property but my own. If I like a guy sure, I'll ball him. But that doesn't mean I belong to anybody."
"Wanna bet?" Mickey said. And with that, he walked over a couple of steps to stand right in front of me. Then he stuck out his fist, grabbed the front of the shirt I was wearing and ripped the fucking thing right off my body.
I didn't have any bra on, so I was standing there with my bare tits hanging out, exposed to the whole damned world. And let me tell you, that was enough to make me see red.
Without thinking, I flew into action. I jumped uo and started pounding away at him with my fists, trying to catch his nose or eyes while, at the same time, I hoped I could find some way to plant my knee smack in the middle of his balls.
The next thing I knew, he had grabbed me around thy waist, spun me around and twisted my arms behind my back.
"Okay, Jed," he said, to one of the guys who was standing next to him. "Show her what a little discipline means."
As I watched this tall guy walk over to me, two others moved at the same time. Before I hardly knew what the fuck was going on, my feet were grabbed and lifted right up off the ground.
Jed took the cigarette out of his mouth and held it very close to my naked breasts. "You are about to be branded, Babe," he said.
As the full meaning of what he was talking about registered inside my head, I tried to yank my arms and legs free, but there was no way. A moment later, Jed took the lit end of his cigarette and pressed it up against the bare flesh of my right breast.
Two seconds of that and I was out cold from pain.
When I woke up who knows how long later ... I was alone in one of the big tents. My arms and legs were tied with heavy rope and my breast felt like it was still on fire.
I started to scream. I guess I was hysterical and two minutes later the place was filled with people, running inside to take a look and see what the fuck all the noise was about.
Suddenly, a big, tough-looking redhead started yelling at all of them and barking orders.
"Okay all of you wiseguys, clear out of here and leave me alone with the kid for awhile. You hear me? Beat it!"
She must have had a lot of clout, because they all sort of melted away like roaches disappearing into the woodwork, and soon the two of us were left alone.
"Jed's handiwork, right?" the redhead said, looking down at my scarred breast and shaking her head wistfully.
"Yeah, the bastard," I grunted. "Kind of a weird way to get your kicks, don't you think?"
She reached out and pushed away a clump of hair that had fallen down over my face. "My name's Betty," she said softly, smiling at me like she was my big sister or something. "You mind if I give you a little advice, honey?"
I shrugged. Tied up like that, hand and feet, stripped to the, waist and with no way to get out of there, I didn't exactly feel like I had a hell of a lot of choice about the company I kept. Besides, there was something about the girl that was soft, almost understanding and sympathetic.
"I've been hanging around with this group for a long time now, and I know how they operate. They can be a hell of a lot of fun to run with, or they can be the meanest mother-fuckers on the face of the earth. It's really all up to you, babe. If you cooperate and do what they tell you, you'll make out fine. If you don't. Well, I hate to tell you a couple of things I've seen happen around here in my time."
A cold shudder ran up and down my spine and I felt" the tears starting to well up in my eyes. "It hurts," was all I could manage to say, nodding down toward the wound on my breast and sniffling like some snot nosed kid.
Betty smiled knowingly. "You just hang in there a little longer. I've got some stuff in my tent that'll take care of you just fine. Be right back, okay?"
I nodded and managed a weak smile, suddenly glad that she was around. Shit, I sure as hell felt like I needed a friend, right then.
In a couple of minutes, Betty returned carrying a tube of ointment in her hand. "This will kill the pain and make sure it doesn't get infected," she promised, squeezing a little of the thick white cream onto the tips of her fingers.
"Could you ... would you untie my hands and feet?" I asked, feeling as if my muscles were going to freeze in that position. My arms and legs ached fiercely, and my shoulders were starting to throb.
"I'm sorry, babe," Betty said, as she started to rub the cool, soothing ointment, over the tender spot. "That's one of the rules around here. When a chick is being punished, only the guy who is doling it out can release her. If we didn't have some kinds of rules and regulations, everyone would be at each other's throats, accused of playing favorites and all that shit. Just try and do like you're told and you'll see ... after awhile you'll get used to it. Shit, if you're anything like myself and all the other girls in the club, you'll get to like it. And I mean a lot!"
I couldn't imagine what the fuck she was talking about. How the hell could anyone come to like being tied up and burned and stuff like that, I thought to myself. But, like I said, I was in position to argue. So I just kept my mouth shut and felt grateful as the medicine started to do its work, relieving the pain that might otherwise have driven me right out of my fucking skull.
"How you feeling now?" Betty asked, a couple of minutes after she'd smeared the stuff on my aching tit.
"Okay, I guess. Thanks a lot. I really appreciate it"
She smiled again and patted my cheek lightly. For a minute, I thought maybe she was a dyke or something, but I quickly put that out of my mind. She was just trying to be helpful, I guess.
"Now look, I want to give you a little advice," Betty went on, as she screwed the top of the tube back on. "When Mickey comes back in here, don't give him any flack, okay? Just do what he tells you and you'll see, everything is going to work out all right. Otherwise ... " She pointed at the burn on my breast, and her meaning became perfectly clear and obvious.
I thanked her again and watched as she walked out of the tent. Something inside me wanted to call out to her, to ask her to come back and talk for a little while longer. But I knew in my gut that there was no point. Even, though she was sweet to me, and all, Betty was still part of the group. That's where her first loyalties were. There was no sense in trying to make her my ally, or anything like that.
A few minutes later, the flap to the tent flew open and Mickey walked back inside. He seemed even taller and more muscular than before. Hs wore a pair of skin tight leather pants. His broad, hairy chest was bare, except, for a black leather vest made out of the same material as his pants. Even his boots were shining now, and I had the strange feeling that he must spend a lot of time polishing them ... or maybe having one of his flunkies do that for him.
"Well, well, well ... if it ain't the titless wonder," Mickey cracked, looking at my bare breasts with a devilish gleam in his eye.
I knew he was trying to rile me, and I swore inside myself that I wasn't going to take the bait and lose my temper. No way that I was going to give him an excuse to try any more of that rough stuff on me ... even though, deep down, I knew that Mickey .didn't really need any excuses to do what he wanted to.
His word was law around here.
And I was his prisoner. Literally.
"So how are ya feelin' kid?" he asked, in a cocky, upper handed manner, almost as though he were rubbing the miserable truth in.
Again, I didn't take the bait. Thank goodness my instincts, or feminine intuition, or whatever you want to call it, came through for me and showed me what to do in order to get around him somewhat.
"I'd feel a whole lot better if you'd untie my hands and feet," I said, phrasing those words in a way that said it was completely up to him ... but that I'd be oh so appreciative if he showed me a little kindness and consideration.
A slow, satisfied smile crossed his face and he suddenly looked very proud of himself.
"Now, that's the way I like to hear a chick talk to me. Nice and respectful. I see you're beginning to catch on and wise up, baby."
And with that, Mickey came over to me, squatted down and started to loosen the rope around my wrists.
"I expect that you're going to be a good girl from now on, though," he warned. "Because I want you to remember this: Just as easily as I'm untying you now, I can rope you down again whenever I feel like it. And a lot worse too, understand?"
I nodded, more aware as each minute passed by, that Mickey really got off on taking control over his women and bossing them around.
"I'll be good," I promised, resisting a shudder as I wondered just exactly what being good, in Mickey's terms, was going to entail.
When the rope slipped off my wrists, Doc, it was like a blessing. I rubbed the raw, bruised skin until the circulation started to return to normal, while Mickey untied the knots that were still around my ankles.
"Okay, babe, now I'm going to tell you the score and I want you to listen and listen good," Mickey said, pulling himself back up onto his feet and crossing his powerful, thickly-muscled arms over his chest.
"According to the rules of the club, I've claimed you, and that means you belong to me, get it?"
I nodded, not because I understood completely, but because I was in no head for creating any more hassles with 'this guy.
"Would you mind telling me just what belonging to you is going to mean?" I asked, in the sweetest tone of voice I could manage, considering how scared shitless I was, at that moment.
"Sure thing," Mickey said, smiling in almost a friendly way. "It means that I get first crack at you, and anything I say goes. Then, when I'm finished, you're going to have to go through the initiation ceremony. All the girls who belong to the club have done it. It's really far out."
My insides were shaking like Jell-o, but I was determined not to let my fear show through.
"And what exactly goes on at the initiation?" I asked, almost afraid to hear his answer.
Mickey's smile turned mysterious, taunting. "You'll find out, babe. First things first. Now, take off the rest of you clothes and let me see that sweet muff you've been hiding from me."
For another couple of moments I hesitated, but then I realized that there was really no point in it. Mickey was going to fuck me whether I liked it or not, so there really was no sense resisting him.
Besides, if you want to know the whole truth, there was something about the guy that was really starting to turn me on. I mean, the way he just walked into a place and took over ... man, that kind of power is a real strong turn on for a girl, if you know what I mean.
So I reached for the top button of my jeans and started to strip.
There was an old, beat up chair in the corner of the tent. Mickey walked over to it, sat himself down and stretched his legs while he watched me undress. "Take your time," he said. "I like it better when it happens nice-and slow. It turns me on real strong."
The sound of his voice, the sex laden atmosphere in the air was starting to turn me on real strong too. Almost as though I was performing some kind of a striptease for him, I shimmied .out of my jeans, turning around' slowly, so Mickey could get himself a good look at my rear end and the dark triangle of my pussy hairs, peeking through the thin panties I was wearing.
As I faced him once more, naked except for those panties, I couldn't help but notice the big lump that had grown up in his crotch. The bulge there was huge and unmistakable, and I found myself fantasizing about what a big cock that dude had to have.
The thought of an enormous pole forcing its way up into my little snatch caused little' shivers and goose-bumps to start running over my bare flesh. I felt myself blushing and tried to think about other things.
I started to hook my thumbs through the elastic wasit band of the pink panties, when all of a sudden; Mickey's gruff voice interrupted my action.
"Hold it!" he ordered. "I'll do that for you when I'm ready. Right now, I want you to walk over here to me. Come on, girl. I'm waiting!"
That authority in his tone and manner was doing crazy things to my body. I could feel the little tingles of excitement starting to dance around through my nipples and down at the base of my belly. I wiggled over in Mickey's direction and stood, trembling in front of him.
He reached out, without a word, and shoved his right hand in between my thighs. I gasped as he cupped my pussy and squeezed it through the panties, forcing his finger in between the crack of my cunt lips.
It seemed like there was heat from his hand, burning right through the material of my panties, deep into the twitching channel between my pussy lips. I shivered as his grip started to tighten, almost to the point of pain.
"I want you wet, bitch!" he growled, and started to rub his hand back and forth over my thick nest of pubic curls. "I want that cunt of yours to drip for me like a faucet, understand?"
I nodded, but frankly I was confused. Normally, by this time of making out with a guy, my crotch would be sopping wet and my panties would be sticking to my cunt hairs. But this time, even though I was damned excited by the newness of the experience, for some reason I was still bone dry.
I closed my eyes and tried to concentrate ... tried to focus in on the feel of his strong hand, rubbing back and forth along my cunt crack, but still I couldn't seem to work up any juice.
And to Mickey, this seemed to be vitally important.
"Okay, I see you're going to have to learn the hard way," he snarled. Then, he unbuckled his thick, leather, studded belt and whipped it out of his pants loops.
That's when I lost my cool again. The sight of that dangerous thing started me screaming as I realized just what he intended to use it for, and that I was going to be the victim of this far out way of turning on.
I might as well have saved my energy. I didn't have a chance against that big bruiser.
He reached out, grabbed me around the waist and yanked me over in his direction. He pushed me, hard, and I lost my balance ... topping forward and falling across his knees on my belly.
Immediately, his thick forearm clamped down across the small of my back, and he intertwined one of his legs around one of mine, so that even though I kicked and screamed, there was just no way I could get myself off his lap.
I managed to work my left elbow loose and I jabbed him in the gut with it. I really don't know what the fuck came over me, Doc, and as I look back on it now, I guess I'm pretty damned lucky that Mickey didn't kill me, right then and there. Still, after a few minutes, it started to feel like he was going to come damned close to doing just that!
The arm that had been across my lower back flew out to the left and Mickey grabbed a handful of my hair, down near the scalp. He yanked so hard that I saw stars, and as I started to scream my lungs out, he pulled even harder, blinding me with pain.
My heed was pulled backward now, from the force of his grip on my hair. My neck felt like it was going to crack from the strain. And my spine seemed to be warning me that one more inch was going to cause a lot of splinters and a life long stay in a wheelchair.
That's when the first blow landed.
The loud, sharp crack of Mickey's thick leather belt immobilized me with excruciating pain. I jumped reflexively, as my ass seemed to catch fire and my flesh smoldered achingly.
"You like this treatment, cunt?" Mickey growled, and whacked me again ... this time, across the backs of my bare thighs.
"Stop, please, you're killing me!" I screamed, gasping for breath as the pain seemed to close the air supply off from my lungs.
"Cunts like you have to learn a lesson,"
Mickey snarled. Then he started to whip me again, double time, until my ass cheeks and the backs of my thighs felt like they were being torn to shreds.
And then, suddenly, the strangest thing happened. Something that I would never have thought could happen in a million years.
I don't know if it was on purpose or not, but one of the blows landed between my spread thighs, the leather edge of the belt catching me right on the pussy lips.
I shrieked in agony as my cunt turned white hot but, all of a sudden, I felt my crotch starting to get wet, and the familiar sensation of my panties sticking to my skin.
Mickey must have seen it too, because all of a sudden he stopped lashing me with his belt and just stared in between my legs, breathing loudly from the effort he had put out.
He tossed the belt onto the floor and shoved his hand into my crotch, groping my cunt area tightly. His fingers dove into the moist folds of my panties, and I could feel the juice oozing out of my throbbing hot crack.
I whimpered softly, as Mickey pulled my panties down over my asscheeks, and started to slide the tip of his finger in and out of my dripping hole.
"So, that's what it takes to turn you on," he said, wheezing between his clenched teeth as he continued to finger fuck me from behind.
I guess that was a hell of a time to start getting embarrassed, but I squeezed my thighs shut, imprisoning his hand between them.
Mickey was not about to take any shit from me. Pulling his middle finger out of my hole, he forced the lips of my pussy apart and shoved his whole fist in past the opening.
"You get those legs apart, babe, or you're going to feel my whole fist ramming up your twat."
I had no doubt in my mind that he meant every word he said, and so I obeyed him, spreading my thighs wide and giving him full access to my quivering twat.
He took two fingers and spread my outer cunt lips wide apart. Then, without releasing the grip, he slid still another finger into my hole, pressing the tip against my rock-hard little clit.
I groaned with excitement and started to bump my ass up and down. Little did I know that I was going to distract him from my pussy by presenting an equally exciting moving target for him.
Before I hardly knew what had happened, Mickey yanked his finger out of my cunt and ripped the little panties off my ass. Then, he started to spank my ass with his bare hand, slapping my bottom cheeks until they were sore and swollen and throbbing with pain.
I bounced up and down with each blow that landed stingingly on my rear end ... and that's when I started to feel the hard-on in Mickey's pants, pressing against my belly. He was good and hot, and I knew it wouldn't be long before we got onto the next part of this far out sex game we were playing.
I was right. A moment later, he stopped spanking me, and started to feel the round globes of my naked ass.
"Okay, cunt. On your knees," he said.
With that, he gave me a shove that sent me rolling off his lap. I landed painfully on the floor, stark naked at his feet.
Mickey leaned back, unzipped his fly and pulled out the biggest cock I had ever laid eyes on.
I'm telling you, that thing was as wide as your fist and close to a foot long.
"Suck," he said. "If you know what's good for you."
Now, I was back in my league. Without hesitation, I crawled in between Mickey's legs and started to eat his prick, opening my mouth as far as I could get my jaws to spread, in order to take all of that monster tool inside my lips.
I felt it throb and flex against my tongue as I ran my mouth up and down the heavy shaft.
"Use your tongue, bitch. Do me good, or you're gonna be real sorry."
I didn't need any more encouragement than that. The tone of Mickey's voice and the level of excitement told me that he'd stop at nothing to have a good time for himself ... especially at my expense. So I started to lap away at the underside of his rod, following the thick blue veins all the way down toward his nest of thick black pubic hair.
No matter how hard I tried, though, it just wasn't possible for me to take the entire length of Mickey's long rod down into my throat. He grabbed my ears and shoved his cock forward, ramming into my gullet. I gagged and choked, and I could feel my face turning beet red as I started to lose oxygen.
I don't know if Mickey lost patience with me, then, or was just too hot to delay any, longer. Without warning, he pulled me up onto my feet, so that I was standing in front of him, shivering with fear and pain.
"Okay," he said, clutching his enormous cock and rubbing it slowly up and down in front of me. "Crawl onto my lap, babe. I want you to sit on this."
I gulped as I looked at that thing, and wondered how I was going to possibly take that baseball bat up into my narrow cunt.
"What are you waiting for?" Mickey snapped. "You want me to use that belt on you again?"
That was the last thing I wanted. Trembling with fear, I started to move forward.
"That's the way ... just put your knees outside of mine ... right, just like that. Now, spread those thighs and let me see that beaver spread out real far for me."
Mickey reached out and grabbed the sides of my hips, pulling me toward him, until my legs were far apart, and my knees were out to either side of his. I felt my cunt lips spreading wide, and I shivered, as Mickey reached for my crotch and shoved two fingers into my hole, finger fucking me while I stood there, fighting to keep my balance.
My cunt juices started to flow in earnest, then, and pretty soon his hand was shining with my drippings and glistening, all the way down to his wrist.
He reached out his other hand, and with his fingers, he grabbed both sides of my pussy and spread the lips until I cried out with pain.
"Onto my cock ... and make it fast, if you know what's good for you," he ordered me.
I moved the last little bit forward and waited, trembling, while Mickey aimed the thick head of his rammer in between my pussy lips. Then, he suddenly kicked his legs outward, pushing my own feet out from under me.
I fell ... directly down onto his cock. With one, quick motion, his ramrod plowed all the way up inside me, stretching my inside hunt walls wide open until they felt like they were being torn apart.
I shivered, with pain and screamed. I put my hands on his shoulders, trying to get some leverage to pull myself up off his gigantic pole, but he'd already grabbed my hips and was forcing me to remain where I was, impaled on his thick poker.
"Okay, slave ... you're gonna slide your pussy up and down over my stick till I. shoot my load, understand? I'm gonna count to fifty, and if my cream ain't flyin' by then, you're gonna take this cock up your ass, instead. Get it?"
I got it, all right. And fast.
And I'm glad to say that Mickey didn't manage to count any higher than thirty five.
INTERVIEW TWO
The following week, which was the next time I saw Sherry she seemed calmer, much less nervous. I supposed that the withdrawal therapy I had prescribed was beginning to have its positive effect and I smiled sincerely at her, waiting for her to continue with her story.
You know, Doc, I've been thinking a lot, since the last time we talked, and I'm beginning to suspect that even though I was doing a, lot of yelling and carrying on, I really dug what Mickey was doing to me at the time.
I mean, doesn't it make sense that I really grooved on being smacked ,around like that? If I didn't why else would my pussy start to get all wet when he was smacking my cunt?
Anyhow, I had myself a real good chance to find out 'just how far' I was willing to go to get my kicks, the following night. That was the night of my initiation.
Mickey fucked me two more times, after the first round. He didn't beat me up as much, even though he was always rough with me. Each time he shoved his flagpole up into my stretched out snatch, I felt like I was going to die, but I have to admit that by the third round, I was starting to really get off on it. I mean, feeling that enormous thing all the way up inside me, pressing the shit out of my love button is more than a girl can ignore ... at least if she's alive.
When he was finally finished, Mickey tied me up again. But this time, he didn't use rope. Instead, he bound my ankles and wrists with leather strips, so I wouldn't try and run away during the night, he said. And he made me sleep down at the foot of the bed.
Once, in the middle of the night, he woke up and made me suck him off. He didn't ask me or anything. He just crawled down to where I was lying, told me to open my mouth and shoved his whang inside. Then, he jerked himself off until he shot his load, and he made me swallow it all.
Strangely enough, I really didn't mind, all that much. It sure beat the shit out of getting my ass whipped.
When I woke up, it was the following afternoon. I was alone in the tent, still tied hand and foot, still naked with blood and come stains all over me. I lay there for a long time, almost unable to believe that all of this was really happening to me. But the pain in my cunt and the welts on my ass told me that it hadn't been any kind of weirdo-dream. I was really the prisoner of the Raiders.
I don't know how long I was laying there, before I heard footsteps coming into the tent. I craned my neck around, just in time to see Betty walking toward me, carrying a dog leash in her hand.
I opened my mouth, but she placed a finger over her own lips, telling me not to start carrying on.
"Look," she said, sitting down on the edge of Mickey's bed. "Tonight's going to be your initiation. I just got the word and I have to get you ready. If you don't play along, the boys are going to take care of it ... and let me tell you, that can get pretty rough."
I didn't know exactly what she was referring to, but I knew the chances were good that she wasn't handing me a line of bullshit. After all, I'd already had a taste of Jed's tactics and I knew the kind of pain that Mickey could make a girl feel.
"What do I have to do?" I asked, my voice shaking, along with the rest of my body.
"First, I have to put this on you," she said, showing me the dog leash and its thick, leather collar.
"No way," I protested tearfully, shaking like a leaf.' "I ain't no fucking animal."
"Its just a symbol," Betty tried to console me. "It shows that you really belong to the Raiders. Come on, honey, be a good sport. You don't want one of the guys to do this to you, do you? I mean, they're just as likely as not to drag you around the whole fucking camp by the neck, once you've got the collar on.
I'll at least take it nice and slow so you don't fall on the way."
"On the way to where?" I asked.
"We've got to go to the latrine," Betty informed me. "To give you a chance to go, and to clean you up for tonight. It's the rule," she said, and the finality of her tone left no more room for answers.
Let me tell you I felt pretty fucking weird as she buckled that thick dog collar around my neck and snapped the leash onto the metal clasp. Then, she reached around and untied my arms and legs.
"You have to get down on your hands and knees," Betty said.
"You mean like this? Naked?" I screeched, hardly able to believe that I'd ever survive such humiliating treatment.
Betty nodded. "And there's something else I think I better tell you, but for heaven's sake don't ever let on that I said anything."
"And what's that?" I asked, holding my breath, hardly daring to listen to the answer.
"The thing that you've got to make sure of, is that no matter what happens, you don't get up off your hands and knees until we get to the latrine. Now don't ask me to say any more than that to you, honey. Just take my word for it. If you try any funny stuff, like trying to run or stand up, you're going to be tied naked and spread eagled, right out in front of everyone, for the whole day. No food, no water, nothing. And if you have to take a shit or anything like that, they'll make you lay in your own mess till tonight. You dig what I'm saying?"
I was shivering all over at the thought of what such treatment would feel like. I nodded grimly. "Thanks, Betty. You're a pal."
She winked. "Just keep it to yourself, though, okay? Remember, you promised. Now come on, get down on all fours and let's get this over with."
I felt like I was going crazy with a combination of dread and disbelief, but nevertheless, I did like Betty told me. Down on all fours, with the dog collar around my neck, I crawled after Betty like some kind of animal.
It was the strangest feeling I'd ever known, walking across the floor of the tent like a dog. No matter how I tried, there was no way for me to move in that position without wiggling my ass and exposing my brutalized cunt. I knew that the evidence of all the things Mickey had done to me were clearly visible on my ass and down my thighs, and all I could do was, pray that no one would see me like this.
Fat chance!
When I got outside the door flap of the tent, I got the shock of my life.
Every one of the Raiders was standing outside. They had arranged themselves into two lines, forming a path with their bodies through which I was going to have to crawl.
And worst of all, I noticed, every single one of them was holding something in his hand ... a paddle, or a belt, or a stick. Some of them even had little leather whips, like the kind you use on race horses.
As soon as my bare body appeared out in the daylight, they all started to yell and cheer. My first instinct was to get up and run as fast as my feet would carry me, but I remembered Betty's words, and simply looked down at the ground, unable to meet any of their eyes.
That's when I realized that the path in front of me was inches deep with soft mud. Apparently, it had rained during the night, and the ground was a sloppy as chocolate pudding. And that's what I was going to have to crawl through, being led like a dog on a collar arid leash!
My throat got tight and my eyes filled with tears. I hesitated for a moment, down there on my hands and knees, unable to move, unable to think, hardly able to breathe.
Then, I felt an insistent little tugging on the collar around my neck. When I looked up, Betty was gazing back at me, telling me with her eyes that I had better get a move on, or else there was going to be more trouble than I was already in.
I crawled forward, following after her on the leather leash, my heart pounding as though it was going to explode. The guys were practically dancing up and down, waiting for me to pass by them.
"Nice tits," one of them commented.
"She sure is gonna be good fuckin' tonight," another one said.
Their words shot through me like bullets as I started to slosh through the mud. The dirt splashed up into my face and I licked it off my lips, retching from the sensation of the stuff on my tongue.
Ks I started to move between the double row of bikers, one of the guys lifted his paddle and caught me squarely on my naked ass. I screamed and leaped forward ... and fell flat on my face.
My tits and belly and thighs and cunt landed in the mushy mud, and I felt a couple of little stones lodge themselves in my cunt hairs. My bush was dripping as I pulled myself back up onto my hands and knees, and the curls were sticking uncomfortably to my pussy lips.
All around me, there seemed to be nothing but the sound of those bastards, laughing at me ... mocking me in my misery ... making me feel like a damn piece of shit. Still, I had to continue moving forward, following after Betty on that leather lead.
True to her word, Betty moved slowly enough, giving me time to catch up each time I slipped and slid onto my belly. Still, it was the most humiliating experience I can ever imagine, anyone having to go through.
Suddenly, a thin leather whip whistled through the air and snaked up between my muddy thighs. The thing caught me on the cunt lips and I screamed out in pain, trying to twist my body away from my, torturer.
Fortunately, I suppose, each of them was allowed only one swipe at my naked flesh. Still, each time I was struck, I landed flat on my face in the damned mud ... and by the time I reached the end of that double line of bikers, I was covered from head to toe with the stuff. My hair was hanging in wet, brown clumps and the thick liquid was dripping out of my cunt like shit colored pussy juice.
By the time we finally reached the latrine, I felt like I was going to faint.
Betty waited patiently while I dragged myself up the couple of stairs leading to the ramshackle building. It must have been a fishing cabin, once upon a time. Just one bare room, with a toilet in the corner.
She closed the door behind us and removed the collar from around my neck. "How are you doing?" she asked.
I opened my mouth, but no words would come. I couldn't speak. Couldn't hardly think. All I could do was wish that I was dead.
Betty walked across the room and pulled back a curtain. To my surprise, there was an old bathtub on legs behind it, and a long, wooden table. Next to the tub, sticking out of the floor, was an old fashioned pump ... the kind you see in all the old western movies.
"You're gonna have a chance now to get yourself cleaned up," Betty said. "You go ahead and use the john while I fill up the tub for you. You'll see, in a very little while, you're going to feel a hell of a lot better."
I couldn't imagine ever feeling better, as I staggered across the room and sat down on the pot. I was beyond all modesty now, and I just went ahead and relieved myself, grateful that I had been able to hold out this long. Let me tell you, when you have to pee bad, it ain't easy to control it, crawling through the mud on your hands and knees while a couple of dozen dudes are beatin' on your bare ass!
Betty was braless, and her huge tits jiggled loosely as she pumped the water into the old metal tub. I couldn't help but admire her strength and wonder, at the same time, how a girl who seemed to be relatively sane could enjoy the kind of life she led.
The idea stuck with me, but I didn't have the courage or the energy, really to ask her, point black, until later.
"Okay," she said, at last. "Tub's ready. Hop in."
I moved slowly, across the distance between me and that bath. Every muscle in my body felt strained to the breaking point. My flesh was bruised and swollen. The mud had started to dry and was irritating my skin something fierce. Despite the pain, I was actually eager to get into that water.
What I didn't realize, until it was too late, was that the water was ice cold.
I screamed as the shock of the frigid temperature, hit me. My teeth started to shatter and I felt sure that my lips were turning blue.
"Take it easy and just try to go with it," Betty advised, standing beside the tub. "Believe me, you'll feel much better when that mud is off your body. Besides, honey, the cold water will help all those swollen, hot places ... if you know what I mean." She winked.
I knew exactly what she meant, and after a couple of more minutes, I realized that I couldn't help but agree with her. My tits and my ass cheeks and my whole pussy area had been beaten, pinched, bruised and fucked, unmercifully. I could feel the tightness in the flesh there. I'd suffered with it all through the night.
Now little by little, it seemed as if those raw areas at flesh were starting to ease. The tension was flowing out of them as the swelling decreased.
In no time, the water was dark and cloudy with mud.
"Close your eyes, hold your nose and dunk," Betty advised. "That's the only way you're going to get that stuff out of your hair."
I didn't like the idea, no way, but I realized that there really wasn't any alternative. So I followed her instructions and immersed myself completely underneath the icy cold water.
When I came back up above the surface, I was gasping for air and shivering violently. "Can I get out now?" I asked, pleading with my eyes and my tone of voice.
Betty extended her arm in my direction and handed me a cake of brown soap. "This first," she said.
I nodded, resigned to my fate, and started to rub the hard cake over my flesh. Wherever I had, been bruised, the crude soap burned and stung, making me tremble even more fiercely. Somehow, I managed to clean my body and then, Betty gave me permission to get up.
Now, she was holding a towel out toward me. "Quick, wrap yourself in this and dry off," she said. "We still have work to do."
I heard her words, but to tell you the truth I just didn't have the heart to ask her for any more details. I felt as if I was almost beyond caring what happened to me. I was so tired, so beaten in body and spirit, that all I wanted to do was crawl into a hole and pull the top in over my head.
Still, I went through the motions of patting my body dry, wincing with pain as-the wounds smarted to the touch and started to throb all over again. Still, I have to admit that I didn't feel half so bad as I had before the icy cold dunk in that old tub.
When I was finished with towel, Betty pointed toward that long, wooden table.
"Climb aboard," she said. "On your back, baby. Now we're going to give you the chance to rest for awhile."
I could hardly believe my ears. Was it really true? Was my torture over, at least for a little while.
You know, Doc, its amazing how your point of view can change with your circumstances. Can you believe that an old, hard, wooden table actually looked as soft and inviting to me as my very own bed? Considering the condition that my fucked up body was in, "I was grateful to haul my aching flesh onto it and stretch out.
Little did I know that I was not in store for any real rest at all.
I closed my eyes and tried to loosen up, only half-aware of the sounds of Betty's footsteps, paddling around the room. Then, suddenly, I felt her hand curving over my bare shoulder.
"Come on, Sherry," she whispered. "You've got to turn over onto your back, now."
"Can't I just have a few more minutes?" I pleaded earnestly.
Betty chuckled. "Believe me, I know how you feel. I went through exactly the same routine. But you'll see, this won't hurt you a bit. I promise. Compared to what you've already been through, this is going to be a breeze."
What the fuck was she talking about? I wondered. In another second, my eyes gave me the answer ... or at least, part of the answer.
She was standing next to me, beside the table. in her hand, she had several lengths of smooth, thick rope.
"What's that for?" I asked, raising myself up onto one elbow, and feeling myself starting to quake inside, all over again.
"Calm down," Betty said, trying to console me. "I told you, this isn't going to hurt. I've got to tie you down again. But only for a little while, I promise."
Inside my mind, I was having all I could do to fight off the rising hysteria in my brain. My eyes opened wide and my lips went dry.
"What are those bastards going to do to me now?" I screeched, my voice coming out sounding like an old lady's croaking complaint.
"They're not going to lay a hand on you in this room," Betty promised. "I already told you that. Now, will you just do, what I tell you to? Believe me, its all for your own good ... I can make this a lot easier on you than anybody else will. And besides, if you don't do what I tell you to do, I'm just going to have to go out there and ask the boys for some help ... I told you, I have my orders and I have to follow the rules ... just like you do."
There was no arguing with her logic, really, and so I consented to do as she asked me to. Groaning with discomfort, I lay, down flat on my back and allowed Betty to tie me to the table, one wrist and one ankle at a time.
When she was finished, I was lying on my back, with my arms down over the edge of the table, and my legs spread wide apart. She had fastened the other ends of the ropes to the table's legs, and I have to admit that the position wasn't really painful at all. I just didn't like the notion of not being able to move very far or lift my own body upright.
"Now there's a good girl," Betty said, looking down the entire length of my naked body. "You see, I told you it wasn't going to hurt." And with that, she turned away from me and walked over to an old fashioned medicine cabinet that was attached to the wall.
I craned my neck in order to follow her, motions. Somehow, inside myself, I had the suspicious feeling that I really wasn't going to be let off this easy. I mean, if, she was tying me down again, there had to be a good reason. Something was going to be done to my body again. Something that I probably wouldn't dig.
I was absolutely, fucking right!
When Betty returned to stand next to me, she was carrying a can of shaving cream in one hand, and a man's razor and a par of scissors in the other.
"What the fuck is this all about?" I croaked. Betty smiled. "No big deal, really. I have to shave your pussy hair, that's all."
"That's all!" I croaked, straining against the cords that were holding me down on that hard table. "What the hell for?"
"Because that's the way the boys like it, when they initiate a new girl. I guess it sort of makes you look younger. You know, kind of pure and innocent. Like a little, virgin."
The thought of having my crotch shaved was both frightening and deeply humiliating to me. Every part of my mind was screaming out silently against being demeaned in this way. Still, Betty proceeded, as though it were the most natural thing in the world that she was about to do.
"If you lay still, there won't be any hairs pulled," she advised. "But if you decide to try and fight this ... well, you know how much it hurts to have your cunt hairs yanked. Right?"
Once again, I knew that I had been beaten, I sank down limply onto that table and gritted my teeth against what was about to be done to my poor, helpless crotch.
With her left hand, Betty lifted a tuft of pussy hair away from my skin. Then, I heard and felt the scissors sheer through the curls, cutting them down toward the roots.
I couldn't help it.
I jumped.
And I started to cry.
Betty just looked at me and shook her head. I suppose, inside herself, she must have been thinking that I had to be a little crazy to carry on like that about having my crotch shaved ... especially after everything else that I'd already managed to survive. Still, there was something about it that frazzled my nerves toward the breaking point, and the tears continued to roll down my cheeks.
With each sound of the scissors cutting through hair, I found myself feeling more and more depressed. For the first time, since I had been a little girl, I could feel the sensation of air rushing over my naked pussy. Its funny, how you come to take something like that absolutely for granted. That is, until something like what I was going through happens to you.
After awhile, Betty had finished cutting all the curls away. Then, she squeezed a palm full of the shaving cream onto her hand and rubbed the thick stuff all around my crotch.
I could feel, the rough edges of the hair stubble being pushed against the grain as Betty coated my crotch with the wet lather. Then, she slid a fresh razor into the holder.
"Now, I'm really warning you," she began, in a very serious tone of voice. "This razor is sharp, baby. You're just going to have to make up your mind to control yourself and lay absolutely still ... that is, unless you want your box sliced to ribbons."
There was no denying the absolute truth in what she said. "Okay," I answered very softly, my voice coming out sounding awfully weak and defeated. "I won't make a move. Just get it over with quickly, will you? I can't stand this much longer."
Betty seemed to understand. "Sure thing, kid," she said. And then she went to work, sliding the razor blade back and forth, until my crotch was as smooth as a new born baby's.
Long after she was finished, I was still shivering on that table. No matter how much I tried to get used to the idea, I just couldn't be cool about losing the hair on my pussy.
Little did I know, 'that I had a hell of a lot more to lose than that. Compared to what went on later, this was all kid stuff.
My training was just starting.
I had yet to experience the impossible.
But it was right around the corner ...
INTERVIEW THREE
During the time between the second and third interviews with Sherry, it was necessary for me to fly East to attend a three week conference in New York. I left strict orders for her medication to be continued without interruption in my absence, realizing that it was imperative that I keep my end of the "bargain" with her, so that she would be willing to go on talking to me. When I returned, however, and saw her next, she seemed deeply depressed and remote. When I asked her what the problem seemed to be, this is what she told me.
No, Doctor, its not getting off the drugs that's buggin' the shit out of me. I can't help it.
I've been thinking and thinking about what I told you last time, and no matter how hard I try, I can't seem to get that whole scene out of my mind.
When I first came in to talk to you, I thought I was cool about my kind of kinky sex habits. Now, I'm not so sure. Somehow, talking about it and reliving it all over again is making me feel all confused and mixed up. I guess what it boils down to is I'm not really all that sure that the things I do are okay anymore.
Well, I guess the only thing to do is to continue with the story where I left off, after Betty had shaved me bald, down there.
The next thing I became aware of was a very uncomfortable itching and burning sensation, down around my newly-shaven pussy area. I squirmed and shivered, dying to scratch myself but unable to, of course, because my hands and feet were still tied to the table.
"Problem?" Betty asked, setting the razor blade down and wiping her hands on the towel.
I turned scarlet with embarrassment.
Betty smiled knowingly. "Oh, I get it. The post-op scratches, right? Not to worry. I have something that it take care of that for sure."
She walked back over to the medcine chest and returned with another tube of ointment. "I guess you can call me the Camp Nurse," she said jokingly, as she started to smear the sticky stuff over my tender, red skin.
It worked, and I felt relief. Yet, there was something else that I was experiencing. Something that I didn't really want to know about ...
As Betty rubbed the ointment around my pussy, I felt myself starting to heat up inside, and to get-very excited.
"Turning on to this?" Betty asked, as usual, knowing everything that was going on in my mind and in my body.
My cheeks felt like they were burning and I couldn't look her straight in the eye.
"Don't let it bug you, kid. That's what's supposed to happen. It's a special cream, designed for that very purpose. It's part of the preparation for later. I'm supposed to make sure you're all worked up and hot to trot when the' boys get to work on you. Why don't you just relax and go with it. You can't fight it, anyway."
And with that, Betty squeezed some more of the sticky stuff onto her middle finger and inserted it in between my naked pussy lips.
I moaned as the wild sensations started to rocket up through my groin. Involuntarily, I squeezed the internal muscles of my cunt, responding as though some guy was sticking his cock up inside my steaming hole.
Betty chuckled and went about her business of fingering my pussy, almost in a businesslike, detached manner. But something told me she was getting off on this too.
After a little while, I felt the wetness starting to grow and collect inside my hole. As Betty slid her finger in and out of my dampening slot, the moist, slushy sounds of an excited cunt filled the room.
With her other hand, she reached across my quivering belly and started to fondle my right nipple. I groaned, helplessly, as the tender flesh got hard and started to stand up away from my tit.
All kinds of weird thoughts were going through my aching head. Was I AC-DC without having known it all these years? Was it possible that there was a part of me that could really turn on to women?
It was more than my battered brain could handle. Besides, who could think with someone's finger going in and out of that hole ... pressing over the sensitive head of my clit ... driving me nuts with the need to come.
All of a sudden, Betty pulled her finger out of my pussy and smeared the cunt cream on the towel. "I think its time we started to turn you on, babe," she said. And with that, she reached into the pocket of her jeans and pulled out a joint ...
I've got to ten you, Doc, I was never so grateful to see a stick of Maryjane in all my life. Shit, my lips were trembling with anticipation and my tongue was flicking around inside my mouth like a man in the desert who suddenly spots a pool of water.
I watched, fascinated, as though I'd never seen it done before, as Betty placed the joint between her lips and struck a match to light it up. Then, she took it out and placed the tip near my mouth.
I sucked it in deeply, filling my lungs. Then, all of a sudden, I got wise to what was happening.
"What kind of grass is this?" I asked, my, face screwing up into an expression of complete confusion.
"Its not," Betty answered, as matter-of-factly as if she were talking about a grocery list. "Its an opium joint. Go ahead, hon. If you've never turned on with this stuff, you're in fort e experience of your life. Have fun." And with that she brought the tip of the cigarette back to my trembling, dry lips.
I don't know exactly how to describe this to you, Doc, but the girl was absolutely, one hundred percent right. The trip I was about to take was like no high I'd ever lived through in my life.
After a little while, I started to experience a very light, floating sensation. My body seemed to become weightless and things that I knew weren't capable of motion seemed to be moving around me.
The walls were breathing and the tips of my toes were floating somewhere up near the ceiling. I could even feel the little points of sensation where my pussy hair had been shaved off ... each follicle individually, throbbing and pulsing and shivering with a life of its own.
Somehow, miraculously, the fear and concern I had been experiencing about where I was, what had happened, and what was about to happen, seemed to just disintegrate into a mood of complete indifference. To my own surprise, I heard a voice giggling its silly head off, and it took a few minutes before I realized that the insane cackling was coming from me!
Betty kept bringing the tip of the joint to my lips, and I kept sucking in that smoke like a hungry baby, drinking milk from it's mother's nipple. The higher I got, the higher I wanted to go. And after a little while, nothing at all seemed to matter.
That's when Betty walked across the room, opened the door and said to someone I couldn't see, "She's ready."
One thing you've got to understand clearly, Doc, before I tell you the details of what happened during the test of that evening. From that point on, I had absolutely no sense of time, no sense of right or wrong, and no sense of fear. The opium Betty had given me, and the drugs that I used later on in the ceremony, turned me into a living, breathing sex machine.
The only thing I was aware of were the new, wild sensations in my body. Everything was a thrill, a trip, a new experience. I know, because I can remember most of the wild things I did, or were done to me. It never occurred to me, during all that time, to feel embarrassed or to hesitate in the least about anything that was asked of me. And if I'm going to tell you the entire truth, from my point of view, I was having one hell of a good time.
The next thing I was aware of were the sound of heavy boots ... of footsteps coming closer and closer. Soon, all the guys in the club had filed into the room and were surrounding the table where I was tied, naked, with my shaved pussy and my spaced-out head.
"Will you look at that sweet cunt," someone said.
"Sure sin gonna throw a heavy hump into that hole."
"Come on, Betty, let's get her cleaned out so we can get on with this. My cock is busting, already."
Suddenly, there were hands on my breasts, on my belly, on the insides of my thighs. They were rubbing me and feeling me up all over, driving me crazy with all kinds of new sensations.
Somebody got his hands on that crazy cream and started to smear it all around my naked pussy area, and I went nuts all over again, moaning and shivering. I can even remember calling out, begging for someone to fuck me and put me out of my misery.
That got a big laugh, and more than one of the guys promised me that before the night was over, I would have my wish. In every conceivable position, until I was good and fucked out.
"Okay now, Sherry. I've untied your ankles. I want you to slide your ass down until you can feel the edge of the table underneath your cheeks."
It was Betty, talking to me as though I was some kind of patient in a hospital under either, about to be operated on ... which, come to think of it was not too very far away from the way I was feeling, just then.
I did as she told me to. Actually, in the state of mind I was in, drugged to the gills, it would never have occurred to me to do anything else or to even try and think for myself.
Now, suddenly, I was quite content to follow instructions and to cooperate to the limit. No longer was I responding to these people as my enemies or my captors. They were all my friends. The people who were going to bring relief to my hot, throbbing cunt. The instruments of my pleasure.
Never once, during the rest of the evening, did it dawn on me that it was actually the other way around.
So I did exactly what Betty told me to do, wiggling my bare ass down along the top of that wooden table, until my ass cheeks were half hanging over the edge.
"That's a good girl," she said. Now, I'm going to lift your feet up onto the table top. Come on, now, let's do it together.
One and then the other. I felt the soles of my bate feet pressing down tightly against the wood. I smiled, as my thighs were coaxed apart, spreading the lips of my pussy.
"Will you get a load of that gorgeous beaver!" one of the guys said, followed by a low whistle.
I felt leather straps being fastened, around my ankles, and I supposed that somebody or other had tied the other end, someplace, because all of a sudden, I couldn't move my feet from that wide open position. But I didn't mind. I was happy. Stoned and secure.
"Here we go, boys," someone said ... and the next thing I new, I was feeling a cold, pasty sensation around my asshole. Reflexively, I tightened the muscles, but that really didn't do me any good. A second later, I felt the tip of someone's finger, sliding its way up into my anus, greasing up my little back door.
"You're going to get an enema now," Betty said, her voice still soothing and smooth as silk. "It's going to feel real good and clean everything out of you. Just relax and take it all in, Sherry. This won't hurt you a bit."
I wrinkled my nose, experiencing a slight confusion. Somewhere, sometime, it seemed as if I had lived through all of this before. I couldn't get my mind together enough to place the experience, but it sure as hell felt familiar as the nozzle was inserted into my rectum and I felt a warm, steady gush of liquid rushing up into my bowel.
The feeling in my belly started to expand and grow and I smiled, enjoying the way I was filling up and expanding inside. It didn't hurt a bit. On the contrary, I was loving every moment of the attention that this usually-overlooked part of my anatomy was receiving.
"Good girl," Betty said. "Now, it's time for the second bag. Make sure and hold it in, sweetie. Don't lose a drop."
Eager to please her, wanting to be a good girl, just like she said, I squeezed the muscles of my asshole tightly closed just as soon as the nozzle was pulled out of my rear end. Inside me, I could feel the pressure of the water, moving higher and higher into my belly as the liquid was absorbed through my system.
"All right now, honey ... we're going to use a bigger nozzle, this time. As big as a good, stiff cock. Think you're ready to take it?"
There was an excited buzzing from the gang, looking at everything that was going on and digging the whole scene. I was only peripherally aware of them, though. Most of my concentration was centered around the wonderful feelings down there between my asscheeks, as the thickness of the new nozzle spread the sides of my asshole wide apart and plunged high up into my rectum.
This time, I sighed happily as I felt more liquid being forced into my guts. The pressure inside my body was building to an impossibly pleasurable level and I could feel my stomach starting to bulge.
"Shit I don't believe it," Betty said, a second after the fluid had stopped rushing in.
"She's taken two bags without batting an eyelash."
Everyone else in the room suddenly started to clap and cheer. I smiled happily, feeling as though I'd accomplished something terrific.
"I'm very proud of you, Sherry," Betty said. "Now, I want you to do something for me. When I pull the nozzle out of your ass, squeeze very hard, so you don't lose any of the water. Okay? Do it just like you did the last time."
I agreed of course, and once more, I was successful.
Suddenly, I felt something pushing against the opening of my rectum. "What's that?" I asked.
"That's a butt plug, honey," Betty's voice was soft and kind. "It's got a belt attached to it, so you won't have to worry about losing control of yourself."
I didn't understand quite what she was talking about, but everything was just fine with me. I relaxed as she slid the thick, cock-shaped rubber dong into my ass and wound a leather belt around my middle, fastening the dildo in place.
Vaguely, I remember having my arms and legs untied then and being helped off the table. There were wild, excited shouts from all the guys as I staggered around the room dizzily, leaning on Bevy's shoulder, shivering with delight from' the sensation of that long, rubber prick that had been deeply lodged high up inside my ass.
"Betty sat me down on the toilet seat and told me to open my mouth. When I did, she placed a purple colored pill on my tongue and gave me a glass of water to wash it down.
It didn't occur to me to ask what kind of drug I was taking or what it would do to me. All I knew was that I was caught up in the middle of some kind of wild adventure. A trip like nothing I'd ever known before. And I didn't want it to stop.
"Okay," Betty said, when I was seated on the toilet, giggling to myself about something or other. "Now, I want you to spread your legs and show everybody what a pretty little cunt you have."
I tried to do that, but a sudden pain, an irresistible pressure made me shiver.
"What's the matter, hon?" Betty asked, smiling down at me.
I leaned over and whispered ... I thought. But actually, I was yelling at the top of my lungs. "I think I have to go to the bathroom."
Everybody laughed and so did I.
"Well, why didn't you tell us?" Betty asked. "Here, let me help you unbuckle this belt."
She did, something with her fingers, and before I could stop it, the butt plug came rushing out of my ass, followed by two enema bags full of liquid. It felt like it would never stop, as the stuff poured out of me, washing me clean from the inside out.
"There, now ... does that feel better?" Betty asked, when I was finally finished emptying thyself.
I nodded happily.
"Good girl," she continued, taking me by the hand and leading me across the room.
"Now, I want you to lay down right here on this mattress and get good and comfortable on your back."
Then, everyone else piled on top of me and I was lost in a sea of flesh.
CONCLUSION
There is no doubt in my mind, that Sherry's response to her experience with the motorcycle gang, her enjoyment of their use of her body dates back to her childhood needs for the loving attention of her parents. Despite the complications of heavy drug abuse, there still remains the clarity of her need which is the need of a child.
Fortunately, she has begun to have an inkling of insight as to the truth about whether or not she really enjoys drugs and group sex as she originally stated that she did. It is my feeling that with continued treatment, both physical and emotional, this young woman can be helped to achieve a normal set of attitudes toward living.
GENERAL CONCLUSION
In each of the cases presented in this volume, we have seen extreme, yet valid examples of what can happen when a vulnerable young child does not receive the prop emotional nourishment from its parents and seeks, in later years, to substitute for this deprivation.
There is no predicting how the mind will work, in order to attempt to provide itself with something resembling fulfillment of a basic need. When a youngster is neglected, the response is often a feeling of worthlessness. All too frequently, this is manifested in masochistic behavior, an unconscious attempt to punish one's self for not being valuable to have received parental love and affection in the first place.
And so, pain becomes satisfying.
Fortunately, psychiatrists and psychologists are sometimes able to trace backward, with the patient, and find the root of' the disturbance. But all too often, the problem is too deeply rooted to correct, and the person affected must live out the rest of his life proving that in fact his parents were right, and that he deserves nothing but abuse.
