FRANKLIN J. Age eighteen. A confused young man who went back and forth between wanting to be the aggressor and needing to be punished for it. Through ads in the underground newspaper, he becomes involved in orgy scenes, at which he is usually the victim.
PETER B. Age sixteen. A boy who is made the victim of his older sister and her sadistic boyfriends when he is only eight. By the time he is old enough to make a choice for himself, he is too entrenched in the pleasure-pain syndrome to enjoy any other way.
MARY-LOU J. Age fourteen. A child bride from the mountains who has been taught that strict discipline is the only way to treat a female. Her older husband puts her in the position of being a series of domestic animals, and often humiliates her publicly.
MARCY J. Age fifteen. Her parents, the founders of a bizarre sadistic sex cult, choose her as their constantly abused example for their following. The young children are punished with equal cruelty, as well.
MIRANDA J. Age fourteen. A rich girl, bored with life early in her age, who has many sexual episodes in the normal manner and finds them boring as well. She turns to sadistic sex with older men, and finds the thrills she has been looking for.
JAMIE W. Age seventeen. A masochistic young man who feels that he is paying back a debt to all women from the men of the world by allowing them to punish him. His primary desires are for strong older women.
CASE HISTORY ONE
Subject: Cara J. Age: Sixteen
INTERVIEW ONE
Cara, and her brother who was some six years older than herself, were sent in for analysis through the insight of their probation officer. He recognized the condition of their offenses more as an illness than a criminal leaning, and was instrumental in keeping them out of penal institutions. But even he was horrified at the aspects of the case.
Only a professional therapist could listen to the story, first told in the girl's version, and still retain some kind of scientific detachment about it. But he was touched to the heart by the innocence of the girl, even when she was being taken down the road of such perversions. It seemed from the outset that she was totally oblivious to the dangers to her mental health from engaging in such relationships.
Everybody says we're so sick for what we've done, and they keep calling my brother Mike evil, but I'm really getting sick of being talked to that way. So if you hand me the same kind of line, I'm not going to stay here and listen to it.
My brother is the only family I've got, and he's done his best to raise me ever since our parents died. It isn't easy for a guy his age to be a mother and father for a girl. And he never was one for showing all that gushy kind of love and affection.
I know he was worried for me running around in this pretty fast crowd. He was afraid I would turn into a street tramp like some of the other girls on the block. So he figured that he better be a little strict with me, just to be sure I was afraid to get into any real trouble.
But he saw that a couple of the older girls could talk me into doing some things even when I didn't want to, and he said he wouldn't feel right about me, unless I was with him every night, but I didn't want him to give up all his fun just to be with me.
So we worked it the other way around, and I started going places with him. One good thing, at least, I think, came out of us being together so much of the time. We got to talking a lot, and got really close in our heads and our vibrations.
Rob got to feeling so good about me that he didn't mind talking about his sex kicks. With the kind of kids that I had for friends, I already knew a lot of that junk. But what the kids did, and what they talked about wasn't near as freaky.
The first couple of times that we talked about ft, I couldn't even believe what I was hearing. It all sounded like something from out of those sickie books. So you could see why I thought he must have been putting me on.
But Rob told me that once you've been around some, the other stuff is boring and you could really get to dig his way. I didn't have any reason to think he wasn't telling me something the whole world knew, because for one thing, I didn't think my brother would ever lie to me. And for the other, everything I knew about sex in those days was just talk.
I hung around with that rough gang all right. But I always chickened out when it came to the real action. They came on to me all the time about how much fun it was, and what great kicks. All kinds of talk like that. I was still chicken to try it.
Now here was Rob coming on to me with the same story, and it really did begin to sound like fun to me. So one night he worked things out for a guy to be with me in one room, while he was in the other with this older woman he was screwing at the time.
Before the two of them showed up, he gave me this big lecture on how just because he was getting the stud for me, he still wouldn't hold for me turning into a tramp that screwed every guy who came along. And he was gonna check up on me from time to time during the night to make sure I knew how to behave.
I didn't think much of what he was saying, even when it was sex he was talking about, because he always talked like that to me before I was going out to do something. I just thought he was watching over me and being strict the way he always was.
The woman's name was Sarah, and she looked like she was old enough to be my mother. And the guy didn't look much younger. His name was Jack. He was one of those big truck driver types, with hair all over his body. Even on his back and hands. He looked like a gigantic ape, and his prick was just as big.
I was real scared of him right from the start because he was a real powerfully built guy and he had a look on his face that just made you know you better not dare cross him. I wished my brother would have found me more of a gentleman type for my first time around. But I figured he knew what he was doing, and I let it go at that. Turned out my brother knew just what he was doing in picking that guy. Jack had a real taste for virgins.
He said that it was important for a girl to know just where she belonged in bed with a guy right from the start. I didn't know what the hell he was talking about so he explained it. The girl was supposed to know she was a servant to the dude, and she was supposed to be grateful he was giving his prick to her.
That sounded kind of funny to me, and I guess I must have giggled. But I only did it once. Jack didn't think it was funny, and he slapped me around until I started to see things his way. Now I was really scared, and I thought about calling Rob to come in and get the guy away from me.
But Jack put a stop to that before I could even get the words out of my mouth. Seems Rob and he made all the plans before he got there, and whatever Jack thought I needed, it was okay for him to do it to me.
After smacking me around, I didn't want to ask any more questions. And why shouldn't I believe him? He was my brother's friend ever since high school.
Even if he wasn't, those guys were a lot older and smarter than me, so I guessed that they had to know what they were talking about. Whenever I would ask Rob why other people didn't know the stuff he did, he just told me that they weren't sharp enough.
That's how he made me feel that whatever we did was kind of special, and people who didn't were a bunch of creeps. If Jack wasn't so scary, I would have been lots more excited than I was because I felt so lucky. Here I was so much younger than my brother and his friends, and they were taking me in just like I was the same as them.
When Jack started moving in on me, pushing me back toward my bed, I figured that my brother must already have been at it with his woman. Why should he be interested in what I was doing just then?. Maybe he was gonna check on me later, and get the score from Jack on how I behaved, but why would a brother want to see his kid sister actually going at it?
It helped me to know that he probably didn't see what I was doing, because the first thing Jack said I should learn, was how to blow a guy. He had me down on my knees, and put his log that he called a prick into my mouth, but I kept gagging on it.
So he said that I probably needed some inspiration. Now we were on my bed, and he started to eat me out before pushing his dick into my mouth again. Like I said, that guy really knew what he was doing. After a few more licks to my virgin hole, I found out that I really did have room for his whole prick in my mouth.
But when it came time for him to come, he wanted to shoot in my mouth, and I backed away from it just at the wrong time. Was he ever mad about that! He started screaming, calling me all kinds of names, and yanked at my hair when he tossed me on the floor.
I thought he was going to kill me, and I started screaming for my brother to come in and help. I must have been screaming that the guy was killing me or something like that, because you should have seen the look on my brother's face when he came in with his hard-on standing out straight, to rescue me.
He didn't even take the time to ask Jack what was going on before he started beating at the buy's belly with his fists. I told you they were friends and all, but Rob was my brother before anything else. Later he said that if anyone was going to teach me how to behave it was going to be him. But all that changed in a big hurry.
Jack wasn't going to stand for being told how to treat a girl, even by the girl's brother. He punched Rob around some, and then threw him face down over a chair. I saw this real worried look on my brother's face, like he knew that he better stop fighting.
He must have been worried that he was gonna be strangled. Jack was a semi-pro wrestler. Then he screamed that my brother was gonna have to take what I wouldn't. I was just petrified and I stayed right where I was.
But my eyes were wide open, because I had to know what was happening to my brother. Jack had his own hand wrapped around my brother's throat, real tight, and whenever he tried to move off the chair, he closed his hand a little tighter.
Finally, my brother stopped trying to move away. I guess he knew what Jack was going to do to him, but I didn't. Jack spread the cheeks of my brother's ass with his hand, and then rammed his dick all the way up his asshole. I couldn't believe that I was watching something like that. Sarah came in because she heard my brother screaming bloody murder. But it didn't bother her much when she saw what Jack was doing. Not in the sad way I felt.
Jack was laughing his head off when he pulled back on his dick a little, and saw the blood on it from where he must have torn my brother's asshole. Then he started to really fuck him back there. After awhile, my brother stopped screaming, and I guess he kind of liked it after that, because he reached under his belly and rubbed his prick which was still hard.
Sarah was really getting her jollies from watching my brother get raped like that. She sat down on the bed next to me and grabbed one of my tits. Then she started fingering herself right on the spot, making remarks to me about how my brother really needed discipline like that. I cried all the way through it.
Jack was glad I was crying. He said he could see I was learning my lesson at the same time. My brother had tears in his eyes too. But he was beating his meat toward the end, and he groaned and shot a load all over the chair by the time Jack was through with him.
When it was over, he told my brother to stay the hell out of the room, unless he was called, and the same went for Sarah. I don't know what my brother was able to do with the woman for the rest of the night, but he didn't come back into the room again.
Then Jack said it was my turn, and he hoped I didn't forget my lesson already. Then he laughed and said that he really hoped I did. When he told me to spread my legs and get ready to fuck, I did just what he said. I was too scared not to. And besides, I don't mind telling you that the whole scene that happened a few minutes before must have got to me somehow, because I was really hot and bothered. Even if I was scared.
He climbed on top of me and pushed all the way in, just like I wasn't getting it for the first time. I already promised myself that I wouldn't fight him, but then it got to hurting so much and I wouldn't help it. I started screaming and hitting at him with my fists.
Jack laughed some more, even when I was hitting him, and he kept ramming me like he wanted to rip my cunt into bloody pieces. Then, just when I must have been getting used to it, because it stopped hurting so much, he pulled his prick out of there.
INTERVIEW TWO
I did know that it wouldn't be any treat for me. He sneered and told me to get over the same chair that my brother was on when he got fucked. It was still gooey from my brother's come, and all I had to do was look at it and get sick in my belly all over again.
That must have been exactly what he wanted. Because he didn't touch me for a couple of seconds. Then he grabbed me by the back of my neck and dragged me over there. I don't have to tell you that he didn't have to push me very hard to get me over that chair first.
I was shaking all over because I was so scared, and I closed my eyes, because I knew that if I looked back to see what was happening, I would faint. But even with my eyes closed, I could see how dark his prick was, and how it came out bloody from my brother's ass.
Now he was gonna do the same thing to mine. My cunt was already bloody and I found out how sore I was inside, when it started getting ground down against the wooden seat of that chair. He did the same bloody job to my ass that he did to my brother's.
Only I didn't get all that excited and come the way he did. At least not that time. Since then, I learned how to take it up the ass real good, and I have some great comes getting fucked that way, especially if they let me finger myself while they're doing it.
But that time, all I could do was faint, when that bad pain started getting to me. I was bleeding front and back, and Jack kept ramming my ass until he shot his load in there. Then he said he was through for the night, and stopped into the other room to say goodbye to my brother.
I got up and went running in there just in time to see the two of them shaking hands and slapping each other's backs just like they were still the best of buddies. Sarah had this banana in her hand, and from the blood on it, I guessed that she must have been using it to fuck my brother some more.
He learned to like getting it up there even faster than I did. Since that time, I've seen him have women spank him with a paddly, and then shove all kinds of things up there. When it's happening, he either jerks off, or he saves it and fucked the lady who did it for him.
A couple of times I made fun of him because I thought he wasn't a real man for having people do all that stuff to me. But he said Jack was the only guy who ever did it, and that what he did with women was okay and not sick, whatever it was.
I still thought it was sick, so he said he would teach me more respect than that. That's when he got out all that stuff and did the same thing to me.
First I got paddled on my bare ass, and then he stuck this big rubber thing up my ass and fucked me with it. I got the idea of what he was talking about after that.
Please don't look at me with that sick look on your face. My brother never fucked me and he never made me suck his dick or anything like that. The only things he ever did to me were for my own good. He just thought it was the best way to teach me a lesson.
The time I told you about, that first time was really the worst of all. After that, I guess you could say the rest was kind of normal, at least in the way that you or a judge think about sex.
The only part of it, I guess a person might think was sick was because my brother got me into those parties and we were in the same room, doing all kinds of sex things. Sometimes, those people would ask him how he could bring me to their kind of parties when I should be home studying my schoolbooks like a nice little girl.
He always answered them the same way. The only people we had in the world were each other, and the best way he knew to keep an eye on me was to bring me along. That way, whatever I did, wasn't on the sneak. He knew everything I was doing, and he was always there to see that I didn't get into any bad trouble.
I guess everybody has different ideas about what bad trouble is. The law says he was the one that got me into the bad trouble he was talking about. But he didn't think so and neither do I. My brother never had me do anything that he didn't do himself, or would do to somebody else.
And the time I told, you about was the one and only time he let anybody beat me up really bad. Oh, I got slapped around a few times, and like I said I got spanked or paddled, but whenever I got that I was usually looking for it, and the jollies I got from fucking after it always made up for any kind of pain I felt.
The only thing he really didn't like was seeing me get too drunk, or too stoned, on something. Not that he didn't do it, too. But he didn't want both of us in that condition, at the same time, because if we happened to be at a party with a new crowd of people, we were supposed to look out for each other because some of them can get really bad.
When we were in court, I heard the lawyers and the shrinks saying all kinds of stuff about sadism and masochism, but they were wrong, calling some of the stuff we were in words like that. I don't care what the books say. That was the stuff we really tried to stay away from. But sometimes, you don't know.
You see, you really can't tell which way one of those parties will turn, because the gang changes all the time. And some of the new people might be into the really heavy stuff. Stuff that Rob and I don't exactly dig.
I said that he digs on getting spanked and fucked sometimes. But mostly by women. And I dig that stuff too. That's okay if it's a hand or a paddle. Maybe a hairbrush once in awhile. But never anything worse.
So whenever someone brings out a pair of cuffs, or a cat of nine tails, we beat it the hell out of there. If they're playing, then maybe they don't get rough. But once the cuffs are on you, just your hands, or maybe your hands and your feet, you don't get much of a chance to change your mind and back out.
That's not all that can happen when one of us is high on something. One time I got really high, and I bet I could suck off every guy in the place before I had too much come and got sick. So they all took bets and I sat down in a chair and made myself comfortable.
Every guy in the place got in line, and I started sucking one after the other. My brother was so far out of it himself that he didn't even know what was happening. He couldn't even make out faces or names very clear.
He wasn't even sure exactly what was happening. He just saw this line of guys who were busy working on their hard-ons, before they got to their turn, and he figured he was supposed to be in that line, too. Lucky for both of us that he wound up somewhere near the end.
Because I was just getting to feel sick to my stomach, and so dizzy sort of, that I couldn't make him out either. My eyes were frozen, just about prick level, and that was all I saw of any of those guys when it got to be their turn.
Rob's prick was already in my mouth, and I just might have sucked him off. But the guy behind him started laughing and making jokes about the brother and sister act. That's what saved us. I pulled my head back and felt so sick that I had to go to the bathroom and retch.
Later I grabbed my clothes and ran out of the house without even telling my brother that I was going. When I got home I rinsed my mouth out with every kind of junk I could find in the medicine cabinet, and I really started to think.
Maybe all of those people knew what they were talking about after all, and I shouldn't be going all those places, and doing all those things with my brother. It was kind of dangerous all the time, but really dangerous when we were stoned.
So you could see that I did have times when I thought what we were doing was wrong. But I never thought it was sick. How could it be, when we were both there to take care of each other, instead of going our separate ways and not being a family any more?
And how sick is all that stuff anyway, when there are so many people doing it and getting together to have parties for it all over town? So if it is some kind of sickness, then you better know an awful lot of people have it.
We would go to these parties two, maybe three times a week, and it could be an awfully long time before I would see anybody at one of them that I had seen before. If you ever went to one of those parties, maybe you would wonder which group of people are the normal ones.
It's your kind of people that have all the hang-ups, you know. None of us is shy, or jumpy all the time, or makes out to be something we're not. What you see is what you get at those parties. Everybody walks in the door and knows what kind of a party it is, and what they're supposed to be doing there.
So you never have one of those big scenes where somebody carries on like you committed the crime of the century, a guy gets his face slapped, and there's a lot of carrying on before people leave in a huff. At our parties, once everybody gets there, the door is locked and it stays locked until the party is over.
It's kind of like belonging to a secret club, and that can be pretty exciting, if you walk into somebody on the street, that you fucked around with the night before. If there's anybody else around, then you have to make out like you don't know each other. But you give this little secret movement with your body, you know like truck drivers have their thing on the road.
I think that's kind of a kick right there. By the time I get around to everybody at a party, they're stoned or naked. But when you see them out on the streets, it's hard to believe they're really the same people. One of the guys who was about the roughest spanker outside of Jack happens to be a minister. Would you believe, that the only thing I saw him wear at our party was a mask that covered his whole face.
The only way I knew who he was and pegged him for a minister was that his mask got all sticky from eating me out and he had to take it off to wash it before he left. This guy had a thing for eating cunts that were full of other men's come.
I wonder what the people who go to his church would think if they knew what he liked to do with little girls like me. And there's a guy that everybody thinks is so normal, if he said anything, it would probably stand you on your ear.
Everybody so far has told me I'm supposed to be such a smart girl, and think these things out for myself, now that I know what the score is. But that's just the trouble. I don't care if six more shrinks tell me the same story.
I still can't see how my brother is so wrong, or why we're supposed to be sickies for hanging out with a bunch like that. None of us has ever been busted for anything except that one party. And you know the story about that one.
The only reason they got on to us, was because somebody got a candle stuck up his ass and somebody else set a light to it, and the next thing you know, a couple of them were kidding around and yelling fire next to a window which happened to be open.
And that never happened before either. Somebody always makes sure that it's closed so no one will hear us or be able to climb in and watch the show if they find out.
Wouldn't you know that it was me who was the only under-age one there. They wouldn't even put me in the same cell with everybody else. What do you think they caught me doing when they busted in? I was being a human sandwich for a couple of pricks, and this third guy was smacking me back and forth across the face with his.
We both have to come, you see, to see you, and my brother says I have to be polite and do everything I'm told. So I'm doing it. But I don't mind telling you this ain't exactly my idea of heaven. In fact, it's downright boring.
CONCLUSION
This young lady from beginning to end, took her therapy sessions as if she were a student and her doctor was her grade advisor. She spoke as matter-of-factly as all that, and her analyst found no reason to suspect that it was a put-on.
It was most difficult to convince her of the difference between right and wrong, since she didn't have the slightest understanding of her brother's abuse of the girl's trust in him. Furthermore, on interviewing the young man, this same physician discovered that he had no more concern with bad and good than his younger sister.
For this reason, it was decided that neither individual would benefit from penal institutionalizing, in any way. Intensive therapy and close supervision seemed more advisable. It was later decided that the two should be separated for an indefinite period of time, as the brother was too great an influence on his sister's thinking processes.
Once this was accomplished, the girl began to think more clearly, and her therapy progressed well.
CASE HISTORY TWO
Subject: Marcia M. Age: Fourteen
INTERVIEW ONE
This case had some strange aspects in that it was the girl's own boyfriend who got her in sexual deviations. And later on it was this same young man who brought her in to a free clinic so that she could receive psychological counseling.
When he was making the necessary arrangements for her, the boy did express true guilt over the mess he said he had made of her life. But he did not profess a wish for any counseling for himself. He would only go as far as bringing her to the sessions, and waiting outside to take her home when they were over.
Mickey and I really had a good thing going between us until he went into the National Guard. It wasn't even his idea. His father found out he was screwing around with a girl who was almost five years younger than he was, and he didn't like it.
He never told my folks what was happening. But Mickey had to go into the Guard, and we were both supposed to learn how to go around with other people. He made this big speech about making a man out of a boy, so he wouldn't want to fool around with silly little girls like me anymore.
But Mickey and I made a pact not to go near other people until he could come back to town. Then we would be together again, and he was going to get a job. Soon as I could, I was going to run away with him. It was a really dynamite plan, and it worked for about three weeks. I mean, for me.
Since he was at the training camp, it was a lot easier for him to stay away from girls. He wrote me one or two letters every day. When he did have free time in town, he said that the girls were such cheap trash that he wouldn't have bothered with them even if we hadn't made that promise.
It wasn't that easy staying back in town. I was still going to the same school and hanging around with the same gang of kids. So when the weekends came around, and everybody was going out to have some fun, it was real creepy for me to be staying home all the time. Even my folks said it was wrong for a girl like me not to be going out with my friends and enjoying life.
So between my folks and all my friends who had a hundred blind dates lined up for me, I guess the promise got broken without me really knowing about it. It was just that one night I couldn't stand hanging around the house any more, and everybody was pushing me to go to this party. So I just went.
After that, I couldn't hang around the house at all. I saw I was missing some really great times. And there was something else. A couple of really dynamite guys wanted to make it with me. At first I didn't because I told myself breaking the promise wasn't so bad, as long as I didn't screw around.
And it worked too, until the guys started getting sharper and better looking. And then I started feeling real horny. What did he expect from me anyway? If he never showed me what a kick it was to get laid, maybe I wouldn't have known what I was missing.
But I did know, and it really started getting to me. How long you think a girl can fight a guy off, especially when her heart isn't in it? Around our way, the folks don't exactly watch like hawks, and we get stuff from the clinics so we don't get knocked up.
The kids think you're kind of weird, if you don't fool around at all, much less stop once they know you already got started with some guy. I didn't want anybody to think I was weird, so I started fooling around again.
First it was just the one guy, and I figured that wasn't so bad, but he got to being a creep and I wound up with another guy. You see how it went, don't you?
Maybe I was stupid or something, but I never thought Mickey would catch On to what was happening back home. The first couple of guys promised they wouldn't say anything, and I guess they didn't, but as soon as I started screwing around a lot more, the word started getting around a lot more. Next thing I knew there was this letter from Mickey saying he was coming home, and I better watch my ass when he got there.
He didn't say anything about what I must have been doing. But he didn't have to, because Mickey never talked to me like that before. He was always nice and gentle. Matter of fact, sometimes I used to think that he was a little too gentle.
Mickey never went out much with girls his own age. I guess he must have felt safe with me, because I always told him how I thought he was a real man. When he found out I was around so much, Mickey was madder than hell.
He started saying a lot of stuff that I didn't even understand. Like how I might as well have cut his balls off, and why the guys must all be laughing at him now. Then he started to cry.
I mean it. Mickey sat down and cried. He was holding his head in his hands and telling me how he always counted on me to make him feel like a man and now he didn't feel it any more. I felt so awful about the whole thing that I just wanted to crawl into a hole someplace and die. I really did.
That's when I told him that I deserved to be punished for hurting him like that. I was gonna be a good girl from then on, and I would do whatever he told me to. And I would never do anything behind his back again.
For awhile there, he didn't say anything at all. Then he started talking about how giving me some kind of punishment might be a good idea. It would teach me to. respect him more, and he would feel like he got even for what I did to him.
Like I said before, Mickey was always such a gentle guy, and I couldn't see him doing anything to me that was so terrible. So I still didn't know what he was talking about when he said he was going to arrange a little lesson for me. But I wasn't worried at all. Why should I be? He was still my dear, sweet Mickey.
Then there was this one night when he had his house all to himself. I thought we were just going to spend some time up in his room messing around, and maybe go for some hamburgers later. But when he brought me over, I saw that the house was full of guys. That wasn't anything to cheer me up. Let me tell you! Because there wasn't one in the pack outside of Mickey that I wouldn't have been scared shit of to pass in a dark alley. There were some his age, and maybe a little older. But there were also some that were grown-up men, and I didn't like them a bit.
If I didn't know better, I would have thought that Mickey picked them all out because they were so big and ugly. One was uglier than the other, and they had these big, overgrown, hairy bodies that make your skin crawl when you see them. And they all smelled like a brewery, and dirty, sweaty, too.
He said that it was a kind of reunion from the Guard, and the guys were there especially to get to know me a lot better. I was kind of confused, but when he started saying stuff like how I was the star attraction, I started getting nervous.
I heard about gang bangs before, but I never figured Mickey would do a thing like that to me. It just didn't make any sense for him to go all kinds of crazy when he found out I was screwing around behind his back, and then get thirty guys in here just to fuck me. It didn't make any sense at all.
You'd think that was pretty bad, wouldn't you? It sounded now like he wanted to share my hole with the whole world. It made me pretty sick when I figured out what was going to happen to me there. But it got even worse later on.
You see, Mickey didn't want to fuck me at all that night. All he wanted to do was have the best seat in the house so he could watch every guy there stick his dick into me and fuck the hell out of me. And every time one of them got started at it, Mickey would start to pull on his own thing and shoot when the guy did.
I didn't think he could keep going that way for very long, matching come for come with thirty guys. And I turned out that I was right in a way. Mickey started to get bored.
He said he was tired of watching the guys fuck me the same old way every time, and if they would find someplace else to fuck me it would help him get his own prick up. They looked kind of funny at him for a couple of seconds, like they weren't sure if he really knew what he was doing by then.
But he said it like he did. If I was acting like a tramp all the time he was away, then I might as well be treated like one now. If they wanted to fuck me up the ass, or make me suck them off, it was just fine with him. I started to cry when the first guy went into me. But now I was crying really hard and I kept telling him over and over again that none of the guys did me the ways he was talking about now.
He said it didn't make any difference at all. If I was going to learn what it meant to be like a tramp, then I would have to get that kind of treatment. So the guys said it was okay, if that was what he wanted, that was what I was going to get.
I kept saying that I already learned my lesson, but nobody was listening to me. I think there was a couple of times when he felt guilty and wanted to tell the rest of them to go home. But so many of them had been hanging around with big hard-ons, and waiting for their turn, that I guess he didn't want them to be mad at him.
Maybe he missed beating his meat on a few of them, but now the guys had his permission to do whatever they wanted with me. So whenever one of them tried a different way, and I started in to hurt bad, maybe cry, and sometimes I screamed because they were hurting me so much, he would get an instant hard-on and go crazy beating his meat and watching them fuck me so bad.
Think that was bad enough? Well, wait until you hear the rest. He never even let me go to the bathroom, and take a piss until the last guy shot his load in me. By that time, I was full of come in every hole I had.
Even while I was sitting on the bowl, pissing come and shitting come, I had this big bottle of mouthwash in my hand, and I was gargling at the same time. After that, I jumped into the shower, and soaped myself up about three times before I felt clean enough to come out again.
I noticed that the house was getting more quiet all the time. And I figured that the guys were all tired and going home. Nobody seemed to be looking for me, so I stayed there until I didn't hear anyone talking at all.
Then I was going to go out and get my clothes. I would make Mickey take me home and I would tell him that I never wanted to see him again. I figured that would make him feel awful, and then he would be very sorry, and start treating me nice again. Between you and me, I was hoping he would be feeling good and sorry, before I even came out of the bathroom. But it didn't go that way.
I figured he was either gonna be happy that he punished me like that, or he was gonna be feeling sorry that he let any of them touch me. It wasn't either.
INTERVIEW TWO
Mickey grabbed me as soon as I came into the room, and started screaming that I was even more of a tramp than he thought in the first place. He said if I was trying to be a real little lady like I promised, I would never have let one of those guys touch me.
You see, no matter what I did, Mickey was never happy with me again. He wouldn't even take me home. He said he was sick of the sight of me and I better get the hell out of the house before he killed me. You can bet I ran!
The next day Mickey called me to tell me how sorry he was for letting all that awful stuff happen to me, and I believed him. So we started going around together again. But it was a week before I could take on his dick, and even then he was very gentle with me.
He never asked me to take it up the ass, or suck him off, because he said it reminded him too much of what those guys did to me, and he didn't want either one of us to have to remember it again.
For awhile, things were even better between us, than they ever were. His father was out of town on business, and we could spend all of our free time with each other. It looked like we really could forget what happened with all those guys.
But it turned out that they didn't want to forget any of it. Mickey didn't call or write to them, but one night, about six of them just turned up outside his front door. I was already in the house, and he was parking the car. Since it was his mother's bridge night, that was the night we usually had the house to ourselves and we could fuck in every room in the house if we wanted to.
It was all getting back to normal with us, and we were just startingto make plans to run away again. Then those guys had to show up and spoil it all. They had all these six-packs of beer along with them, and all I had to do was take a breath, and I knew they already must have finished off a lot before they even got to the house.
You wouldn't believe the way they were talking to us. They were acting like that night was the most natural thing in the world, and they were sorry they couldn't get back sooner for more of the same. I was just coming down the stairs from the John when I heard that, and I tried to turn tail and run before they saw me.
Mickey knew that I was back there, and he tried to close the door real fast before any of them could get in. This time he was real scared, just like I was, and he didn't want any part of those guys coming into the house, and getting at me.
I was real proud of the way he tried to protect me, even if it didn't work. There were too many of those big animals, and there was just one of him. Mickey might have been a big man to me, but the truth is that he is a little on the skinny side.
So they just pushed him out of the way, and they came in after me. I still had my clothes on, but that didn't stop them. They started ripping them right off me. But Mickey begged them not to do it. I wouldn't have had anything to go home in, and he would get the blame for it all.
He tried every speech he could think of to talk them out of it. But they wouldn't listen. They acted like they were doing him a big favor when they took the clothes off of me instead of ripping them off.
Mickey tried to pull a couple of them off of me. But they kept kicking and punching him so much, that he figured it wasn't any use. So then he tried to make it to the phone, and that didn't work. Finally, he just sat and waited until he figured none of them was paying any attention to him anymore, and he tried to make it to the front door.
Well, a couple of them did notice what he was up to, and they grabbed him before he could get very far. Mickey fought as hard as he could, but the rest of them were all over him in no time, except for the one that was actually sitting on top of me to keep me from helping Mickey if I could.
I could tell that the guys were really glad Mickey was putting up such a fight. Because now they had the two of us to hurt and scare. First they tied Mickey up, and then they made him sit and watch while they did all the stuff to me that they did on that other night.
And then it was my turn to be tied up. Every time I closed my eyes so I wouldn't have to see what they were doing to Mickey, I got slapped around until I opened them again. One of those dudes took his leather belt off his pants, and started beating Mickey across his back and all over his ass.
Then one of them said that since his ass was all nice and warm like that, they might as well get some use out of it. Well, I think the neighbors had to be deaf not to hear the way he was screaming and kicking. But one of the guys kept punching at his face. Then another one went back there and spread out Mickey's ass, so he could help his friend get his dick in there.
Wouldn't you know that the guy with the biggest prick in the bunch, and I do mean big! was the guy who wanted to be first into Mickey's ass. That guy was hung with a salami instead of a prick.
Mickey screamed like he was dying, and then he blacked out because that pig rammed his prick right in there without even being a little bit careful about how he got the hole big enough for him to fit. I wanted to faint too when I saw what they were doing to him.
My face was all sweaty, and I felt like I was going to puke. But every time I looked like I was going to pass out, they would piss all over my face. I don't know which one of us got it worse, but when the guys finally left us alone in the house, we just grabbed onto each other, and cried like a couple of babies.
You see, they did leave the house. But they said they weren't through with us at all. Since it was Mickey's idea in the first place, and he once showed them he just loved gang-bangs, then they didn't see why he shouldn't be a part of the entertainment just like me. And they were going to be back every time they had the chance.
Soon as we could calm down, we tried to figure out a way that we could get out of town before the next time they came back. Mickey thought we might have two or three weeks to get up some money and a couple of suitcases.
He already had his own car, so we figured the rest wouldn't be so bad. But ten days later, that gang showed up again, and they brought a few more friends with them. Mickey had a hunch something like that would happen and he told his friends a little bit of the story. Just enough to make them think they were only beating up on me and stuff like that.
I didn't care if he told it that way, because I knew he was ashamed of what the guys did to him. So his bunch of friends in our town took turns watching the house, mine or his, whenever they knew we were alone.
One of his buddies lived right next door to him, and since they didn't know where I lived, we figured that would probably be the place they would show up again. So two guys watched outside, and this other guy watched out the window, so he could grab the phone and get the rest of the bunch in case any of them showed up.
Well, they did show up. We were ready for the first six, but when they brought all those big buddies along, some of Mickey's friends took off for parts unknown. The couple of real friends that were brave enough to stick around and try to help us got beaten up just like us. The tougher ones were the ones they tied up and fucked.
A couple of those pigs had guns with them, and they made the other guys that were Mickey's buddies do all kinds of bad things to me like whipping me with a leather strap, and shoving things into my holes that made me hurt and bleed. They tried to get them to fuck Mickey, but of course, they couldn't get away with it, since those guys were all so sick, they didn't have hard-ons.
So they made Mickey and his friends suck them off instead. They kept them sucking until they were almost ready to come. And then they would come over to where I was and shoot their loads all over my body. I don't know how many times I passed out.
But every time I opened my eyes again, it was because I felt piss or come spilling all over me. I kept throwing up all over the floor, but that didn't stop anybody. They just walked around it. Once they tried to make Mickey lick up some of the slop, but he got so crazy, that he could rip his ropes right off his hand, and then he went for the big guy's throat and tried to kill him.
He was so crazy, that it took the whole rest of the other five to pull him off. And they still didn't keep him down. They had to hit him over the back of the head with a chair.
Then they ran like hell, and that was the end of it. We never saw them again. Mickey had a concussion, and we all went to the free clinic because we were too scared to go to the hospital.
I know you'll think it was dumb. But we were still trying to keep all our folks from finding out. Most of it wasn't Mickey's fault.
But if those guys got arrested they could tell how it was his idea in the first place. But that's not all. Nobody, and that includes me, naturally, was too damn proud of what we been through and what happened to our bodies.
So that's why I'm here. You don't know it yet, but you'll be seeing a couple of our guys too. I guess you'll know they were part of my bunch, because there can't be two stories like mine, can there?
I wish I could get Mickey to come in and see you. I know you won't tell our folks any of this, so he should come in too. You see, I think he's the one that's suffering most of all.
He feels so bad because it was his idea in the first place. And then he went and sold me down the river to them. Sometimes he says that he doesn't know which hurts the most, seeing what they did to me, or having to live through the same thing himself.
He does need help the most, doesn't he? But how do we get him in here? It's been so long since any of us could even talk about sex except to you, Doctor. And when Mickey gets to feeling really bad, he talks about cutting his balls off so he won't be an animal like those guys ever again.
I worry so much about him, specially when he talks about needing to be punished some more for what he did. Can't he see that what they all did to him was more punishment than anybody's supposed to stand? Maybe I don't have the right to decide stuff like that, because I'm still so young. But after what I been through, I feel like an old lady.
And I think I picked up a lot of smarts because of that. Life is kind of important to me these days. And so is sex. I mean the good kind of sex.
I know a whole lot of new stuff now. Like that I think I really do feel love for Mickey. And how I never should have screwed around in the first place, because it just ain't the same as when you make it with someone you really dig.
It's really all my fault. If anybody deserved to be punished some more, then I think it should be me. You want to hear something real funny? In a way, I feel like I'm being punished every single day. You know why I say that?
Because Mickey won't touch me, and I can't make myself touch anybody else. Just when I found out how beautiful sex could really be with the right guy, I can't get it any more.
If I had the whole thing to do all over again, I would have kept my promise and spent all those nights at home learning to cook or maybe sew. That way, when Mickey came home, I would be able to take care of him, just like a real woman should. And from waiting so long for my jollies, we would probably have had the best sex in the whole world.
Now I ain't got shit! 'scuse me for saying that, but it's just the way I feel. If I ain't got Mickey, if I can't be with him, then I really ain't got a thing.
My folks know there's something wrong, and they know it has to do with Mickey. My mother has the guts to ask me every month if I got my period. And when I show her that I have, she makes a big heavy sigh like the world was just lifted from off her shoulders.
To her the worst thing in the world that could happen to me would be to get knocked up. I think that's what she worries about because she feels it's the worst thing that could happen to her and my father. They would be so ashamed of the scandal.
If they knew what really happened, they would probably be sick. But at least they could make out like I was the innocent victim, and they wouldn't have to feel so ashamed.
I don't give a shit how they think or feel. Maybe at the bottom, it's their fault. They thought it was so cute for me to be going out with an older boy, and making out like I was so pretty and the most popular, because a good-looking boy like Mickey was seeing me steady.
And whenever the kids had parties, none of the folks ever thought about hanging around and seeing what we were up to. They were so proud that we kids were acting like grown-ups that they bragged that we were better class kids, and didn't have to be spied on like the tramps that lived in the slums.
You could bet we did more fucking around than those kids did, because they always had grandmas and little babies sharing their rooms with them, and the house was always too crowded for them to be alone with anyone, much less have the kind of parties we did with food, and even beer that the folks supplied.
Would you just look at us now? If they did find out, they would say shit like they can't understand how we went wrong. Like it could never be their fault that we did so many screwy things and got. into so many kinds of trouble.
Oh, no, we got all screwy in the heads ourselves, and they had not one single thing to do with it. So we might as well not tell them anything at all. Why should we anyway? They would never understand because they can't see anything except their bridge clubs and their charities and their tennis matches.
We kids really thank you doctors for setting up this free clinic. I don't know what I would have done if I couldn't come here and tell you the whole thing. Because just talking about it is making me start to feel better.
CONCLUSION
This young lady showed signs of great intuition, and she made good recovery because she learned from her tragedies instead of feeling sorry for herself. In fact, she became so self-assured that she was able to convince her boyfriend to join her in later sessions.
They would come in together, and talk until the doctor suggested that there might be some things that Mickey would like to talk about with the doctor alone. And by that time, he was feeling so much more secure, about coming for therapy, that he took that suggestion.
All of the youngsters involved were able to put the pieces of their lives back together, because they were able to recognize their need for help and do something about it.
Their parents never learned of what had occurred, and Mickey decided the idea to run away from home really wasn't necessary. Needless to say, the gang of ruffians was never heard from again.
CASE HISTORY THREE
Subject: Franklin J. Age: Eighteen
INTERVIEW ONE
This young man was on his third analyst in as many years. He would begin his with a great deal of enthusiasm, and then drop out whenever it looked like he might be close to a cure. Straight from the doctor's office, he would go back to the group of people for more of the same cruel abuse that he was constantly running from.
His life was a constant battle between getting to know and like himself, only to hate himself for what he had learned and seek to start the punishment treatment all over again.
But his third analysis was his last, as this man saw all the episodes coming, and he was prepared for them with some very stern language when it became necessary.
It's been like this with me ever since I started going to military schools. And that's been going on since I was nine years old. My old man is a career officer, and he wanted his son to be just like him. Only I didn't want to be.
All I ever wanted to be was me. I like to read a lot, and I thought maybe some day I could be a writer. I was so proud that I ran in to tell my dad one day. You know what he said? That writing was for girls and fags.
Then he gave me a smack across the face to remind me it would be a lot worse, if I ever thought about sick stuff like that again. But you know something? Even the teachers at the academy didn't see anything wrong with a guy wanting to be a writer.
So I started doing it secretly. And I think that's about where all this punishment stuff began. My dad didn't stop at just punishing me either. Since he has all those stripes and jazz, he figured he could scare the whole school into seeing things his way.
You can believe those guys were scared all right. And so was I, ever since the time he had that talk with them. The school allowed corporal punishment of the boys by teachers.
But until my father came in and talked to them, they were all afraid to use any kind of rough discipline on me.
All I ever got until then, was a lot of stories about other boys and some pretty red asses that I could see in the showers, and the locker rooms. And then my turn came.
That damn school never did do anything down the middle. Either they let me get away with every trick in the book, or they came down so hard on me that you just wouldn't believe it. But you gotta believe it, so I better talk about it, even though it still gets to me just to have to remember.
No sooner did my old man leave me up there, than they started laying it into me hot and heavy. I just know half of those commanding officers must be queer or maybe more of them. I know a few of them are for sure. And when I tell you what they did to me, you will think so too. It's not pretty.
If I did just one little thing wrong, like maybe forgetting a lesson, this one officer would take off his belt. Then he would order me to drop my pants and shorts. Even though I was still a little kid when it all first started, I never got the luxury of getting my punishment any way except on my bare ass.
When I was in that condition, I had to bend over and grab my ankles, so my ass would be up so high that it was almost in the guy's face. Then he would start to whack me with that big leather belt until my ass felt like it was bloody raw.
That guy must have liked taking it out on the son of such a big shot. Because it started getting so that he would do it to me for lots of stuff that didn't really mean anything. I knew they were taking real advantage of my father's orders to be extra strict with me, but there wasn't a damn thing I could do about it.
The only way I could keep my head together, and get any kind of work done at all, was to tell myself I was damn lucky that a whacking across my rear was the worst thing they could do to me. There were plenty of stories around school about guys who got worse from certain instructors. But it looked like I was getting away with that part for the whole school year.
But the next year I wasn't so lucky. It was a little past my tenth birthday, and I was starting to feel better about military school. I had some classes that I really liked, and for some stupid reason, after a summer away from that place, I thought I wouldn't be getting any more beatings.
After my lessons were done at night, I would write short stories and poetry, and hide them. I didn't know even my roommate saw what I was doing, or where I put them. But he did, and he was one of the commanding officer's little spies. I found out later on that he was also the old man's fuck boy, but he denied it all the time.
I knew I was gonna be in for it as soon as I got the message that he wanted to see me in his office. It was very late at night, and the only time any of us were called in there so late had to mean that we were in a hell of a lot of trouble.
Before that, he always left my other instructors to take care of the discipline. Don't ask me why, but before I even got to his office, I had this feeling in the bottom of my heart that I wasn't getting away with just a whacking from a belt this time.
Then he started making this big speech to me.
"Your father has high hopes for you, and so far he hasn't seen anything to be proud of. I really thought your instructors were reaching you on that level. Tonight I found out that wasn't so."
"I'm sorry, sir. I don't know what you're talking about."
"You don't?"
"No, sir."
"How about these prissy little poems you've been writing and hiding in your room?"
"What? How!!"
"None of that matters. What does is that only a weak little faggot would be writing stuff like this. What would your father do to you if he found out?"
"Please don't tell him."
"You have to be punished for this by somebody."
"Please don't tell him. He'd kill me."
"Would you rather that I applied the discipline?"
"Uhh, yes sir."
"That's wise of you. Because whatever I do, I'm sure your father would do worse."
"I'm pretty sure of that myself."
"But punishment for something this serious has to be a little out of the ordinary. It seems that they weren't getting the message across to you in the past."
"Well-"
"Don't bother making excuses. The results speak for themselves right here."
"But-"
"Strip and get ready for your punishment."
Well, when he said that I figured that it might not be so bad after all. Probably just another whacking of some kind. Maybe with something worse than a leather belt, or maybe a lot of the same. Whatever it was, if my old man didn't find out about it, then I figured I would be getting off easy.
You know what easy was? He made me bend over and grab my ankles, just the way the others did, when they were getting ready to punish me. Next thing I knew he was squeezing the cheeks of my ass, and pinching them.
When I dared to ask him why, he smacked straight across and said that he was checking to see if I would really be man enough to take the punishment. At the time, I couldn't figure out what the hell he was talking about.
It didn't matter, because he didn't give me much of a chance to try. Next tiling I knew he had his finger jabbing right up my ass, and he was saying stuff about how he was going to teach me what it was like to be a queer, so I would stop writing all that poetry, and try to grow up and be a man, like the rest of them.
He must have known that I was too scared to move, because he didn't try to tie me down or anything like that. All he did was walk around in front of me and pull his own pants down. His hard prick poked out, and he started to laugh as if nothing could be funnier.
"This is sure gonna give you a taste of what being queer is like. Knock all that shit out of you."
I started to cry real hard now that I understood what he was talking about, and I wasn't ashamed to beg him not to do that to me. For that, I got a fist across my mouth, and he ordered me to stop whining like a girl.
After the first few minutes, I can't remember very well how it happened. All I know is that I never felt more like a little kid than when I saw him walk around behind me with his prick in his hand. This creep wasn't even kind enough to use grease or anything like that. That was just for fags, according to him.
He wasn't a fag, no matter how many kids he raped, because he was only doing it to teach them a lesson. Maybe it was true about him, because I heard he had lots of ladies stashed around town where the school is. From what they say, the ladies are just as weird as he is, and I wouldn't be surprised.
I felt him spread my ass out, and I felt the tip of his prick pressed in there. But I was so small and young, and this guy was a big prick for any full grown man. He stuffed it straight in like this was the best thing he ever did, and I blacked out when I felt it ripping through my insides.
Next thing I knew, I was in my own room, and the creep was gone. The little snitch was sitting on the edge of my bed, and laughing his head off like he never saw anything funnier than my bloody ass. Boy, if anybody ever needed a lesson he did. And that's what I gave him. When I went into the bathroom, to clean myself up back there, I took the bloody wash rag, and stuffed it into his mouth.
Most of the time I was in school, until I was fifteen, and I got to go with a gang of other guys to this cathouse, I was punished a lot. Most of the time it was those spankings. A few more times it was with the commanding officer.
But that one time, was the only time he fucked me. Another time, he beat me across the back with his belt. I was supposed to jerk him off, and he was using the belt to keep the beat for me. By the time he was ready to come, my back was red, and so hot, I couldn't put a shirt on for the rest of the day.
That was the first time I noticed how I got an erection when one of them was punishing me. I don't know why. Maybe I was just getting to that time when I was becoming a horny kid anyway.
But ever since that time, all my sex feelings got mixed up together. Whenever somebody's punishing me I feel like I could come a thousand times. And whenever I'm in a real horny mood, I feel so guilty about it that I figure I should be punished.
I wonder how the other boys found out about me. But I never did get the answer to that one. I think it was the little snitch who used to be my roommate, but I could never prove it.
Anyway, there I was, finally getting to make myself some friends in the older classes, and they asked me if I wanted to come along with them to this whorehouse. Naturally, I said yes. I was so excited that they wanted me along. And then I was finally getting myself some cunt, and I thought it would make me into a real man, just like my father wanted me to be. I thought this was what I really needed.
INTERVIEW TWO
It all started out looking normal enough. After checking us over, and taking ten dollars from each of us, this ugly old hag showed us into kind of a living room, where there were a lot of women sitting around in funny clothes. Some of them were wearing just bras and garters.
But the bras had holes where the nipples could peek through, and they wore these black shoes with very pointy toes and heels so high that I couldn't figure out how they walked in them.
They were pretty weird looking dressed like that. There were a few sitting around in all kinds of sexy nightgowns, and they looked kind of dynamite to me.
Then there were the real weird-looking ones, and those were the ones that my friends picked out and walked over to talk to. I was kind of wondering why they would pick hookers like that, when all I could get was the creeps when I looked at them. But I never was at one of those places before, so I didn't pay much attention to my buddies because I was too busy looking around the whole place.
Those others would have scared the shit out of the devil. They were wearing these black leather kind of corsets, only they strapped up the front just to under their tits, and those spilled out over the top. Then they had on these black leather garter belts, with no panties, and their bushes pushed out in the front.
The last thing they were wearing was these high-heeled black leather boots that came all the way up to their knees. And that was a long way up, let me tell you. Those were about the tallest women I ever saw in my life.
And tall wasn't the only thing that was big about them. Those heavy bitches were stacked like brick shithouses, and built like lady wrestlers. One of them was wearing a black halloween mask and the other one had on dark glasses so big they covered most of her face. I wondered if they might be moonlighting mothers. But I never did get to see their faces.
They certainly did see a lot of me, though. The guys made up with those two, to take me up to this funny room at the top of the stairs that was special for the women to work out in. There was a sign on the front door that said, "Discipline," and nothing else. Just that word. I bet no John ever walked in there by mistake.
Because once you got inside, there wasn't any way you could get out until those two were ready to let you leave. It locked on the inside with this special key, and one of them wore it on a chain around her neck. Must have been a couple of guys who tried to get it away from her, but I'll bet they were sure sorry.
Most of their customers have to go up there knowing what's going to happen to them and wanting it, but if any of them gets a sudden change of heart and wants out of there, they might make a grab for the key. That lady could tear your ball right off you with one hand if she wanted to, and then go to work on your arms and legs.
I know, because when I realized what they set me up for, I tried to get out of there in the worst way, and I got my arms and legs twisted so badly by those two, that I thought the only way I was going out of that place was as a basket case. But all that happened later on. First, I had to get up there.
The guys were laughing like it was just a sick joke about the sign on the door, and the way the women were dressed. They promised that once I got up there with them, I would be in for the time of my life. That room was supposed to be a real fun place, according to them.
I should have known better. I really should have, because of the sign on the door. It was the same word my father and all of the officers used whenever they were talking about whaling the tar out of me. If I just would have trusted my own brain, and stayed downstairs or maybe run right out of there, they never could have done it to me.
Even when I was out in the hall, and I saw the door, I still had a chance to back out, because I was the last man up the stairs, but I already had my hand on the doorknob, when I thought twice about it, and that was too late.
The guys had me by the arms and they dragged me into the room while the ladies were setting up shop. There were chairs all arranged in a circle and this long bench in the middle. On the bench sat the two women, and they had a leather kind of suitcase with them.
It wasn't hard to figure out that I was going to be the center of attraction. The guys didn't have to do any of the work at all, now that they got me in the room. They just took chairs and sat around in the circle.
Later on, when the action on my end started getting hot and heavy, they got their pricks out and masturbated while I was the one putting on the show for their stimulation, and those two girls wrestled me into the middle of the circle and then they stripped me naked.
I was pushed across their laps and each of them picked up something to spank me with. One of them was holding a leather belt, and the other one had a thing with a lot of rawhide pieces dangling from the end of it. The first thing they did was rub their hands all over the back of my body, and they leaned over so far, that I could feel the sharp nipples of their tits sticking into my back and against my ass.
They sure were professionals all right. That gave me one hell of a hard-on, and one of them reached under to play with me a little and check it out. Meanwhile, the other one started in with the spanking. The same thing happened to me as it did in school. Only this time, it was even wilder. I was excited as hell to be across those two laps, and I could feel the hairy cunt of one of them rubbing against my prick as she spanked me.
I can't tell you how many times I came while the two of them were spanking me like that. But it did go on for a very long time, and I didn't pass out with this one. When I did shoot in that girl's lap, she would reach under and start to work me over with her hand again, so I was hard all the time.
You can bet that I screamed and cried. I threw my arms and legs around, but not once did I try to get up from there. Everything was so mixed up. The whipping from those things was very painful, but the comes that I had because of it were just dynamite. I guess that's why I could scream and beg them to stop at the same time my prick was shooting off all over the place.
And I wasn't the only one that kept coming like that. The guys were beating their meat like crazy while they watched, and they kept shooting off one after the other, and then starting over again. It was like a weird nightmare, but I don't remember anything that was more exciting for me.
Finally, when my ass was red and sore, and my balls were so empty they were aching, they let me get up, but I didn't get very far. The one that I came all over pushed me down on my knees, and made me lick all of my own come off her body.
When I was through with that, they made me eat both of their cunts, and then their asses. One of my smart aleck buddies got such a kick out of that, that he wanted the same thing done to him front and back. So the women held me by the neck and dragged me around the room from one guy to the other.
First I had to suck their pricks off until I had their come to swallow, and then I had to lick inside their assholes, until they got it up again, and beat their meat while I was doing it to them. When they shot, they shot all over my head and in my face.
I had to go around, and do it to every one of them. You can bet that by the time I was finished with the last one, I felt like I was going to throw my guts up. Which was exactly what I did. But I also did something else.
I'm ashamed to admit it to you, but I came two or three times while I was making the rounds of the boys. And if they made fun of me, or kicked me around a little while I was doing it, then I got off even better.
They all knew it and so did I. Before I even got my clothes on and left that place, I was hooked on the punishment thing. Those bitches were so sure of it that they gave me their names for the next time I felt the need for their discipline. I could call and make a reservation.
I had to laugh at that, because I couldn't imagine that there were too many guys as sick as I thought I was getting to be. That's when they laughed. They showed me their little appointment book with all the code names, and I went out of my skull when I saw that every appointment was filled from morning until night.
The kind of spanking that I got was just mild stuff according to them. Some of the guys went into really heavy stuff, like getting their asses burned with cigarettes, and matches, or being bound and stretched while the women piss and shit into their mouths and all over them. It made me sick just to hear about it, and I swore that I would never come back to a place like that.
Not that the guys cared any more. They had their jollies by tricking me into it. I don't think they expected me to get any kind of kick at all from it. They just got me there to make a fool out of me, and have some fun for themselves.
But now when they looked at me, I could see the sick look on their faces. And you know something? It wasn't just me that they were feeling sick about. I could tell they felt pretty sick about themselves for getting off the way they did from another guy doing all that stuff to them.
So to my way of thinking, those guys are just as much sex freaks as I am, but I'll bet they would never admit to it. They just make out that I'm the victim, and they're willing to let it go at that. At least I have the courage to admit what I am now, and try to do something about it.
And I really have tried. I swear it. You know why I ran away from those other doctors? They would get such awful looks on their faces, like I really was a freak. One of them even asked me how I could keep going back for that kind of punishment.
There I was, coming to him for treatment so I wouldn't have to do that anymore, and he was criticizing me. Sometimes, I almost thought that he was making fun of me like everybody else. So naturally, I started to feeling guilty. And naturally I had to go looking for some more punishment.
Like I said before, I told them and I promised myself I would never go back to that place, or any like it. I thought the guys would really be watching me to see if I did, and they would probably make it even worse for me. After I got back to school, I was so ashamed of myself that I buried my nose in my books, and never took it out. The guys seemed to forget I was alive, and I started feeling better about everything. But then, the instructors started bullying me again, and I wanted to fight back, but I just didn't have the guts because I knew they would tell my father. And they knew it too.
It was beginning to feel like the whole world wanted to dump on me, and I couldn't so much as brush my teeth in the morning without somebody getting on my back, because I put the cap on the tube the wrong way. I really got to feeling that I had to be the worst piece of shit on earth, or why would everybody do things like that to me?
And whenever I got to feeling like that it was like only a good session of discipline that would make me clean again, so I would make another try at being normal like the rest of them. It was like the beating would get all the bad out of me.
Now I didn't need my father or anybody else to tell me what was right and what was wrong. I could do all that for myself. And most of the time, it felt like everything I did was wrong. So I needed an awful lot of punishment.
I fought that kind of feeling for as long as I could, but one night about four o'clock, in the morning, it felt like I should either go out there, and have myself shot on the rifle range, or get all of those bad feelings beaten out of my system.
At that time of night, I didn't have to worry about anybody seeing me, and I made it all the way into town, and over to that place. The old hag didn't want to let me in because she said I didn't have an appointment and the girls were sleeping it off after their last customer who gave them blisters on their hands.
You know what I had to do? I had to get down on my knees and beg that old bitch to let me up there to see the girls. But she kept on saying no, until I handed her three times the price they usually get, and she finally went upstairs and got the girls.
They were madder than hell for losing their beauty sleep and they were awfully glad to give me a beating because of it. Man did they ever beat up on me!
There were times up there that I was sure they would kill me before they were through. And they very nearly did. But to show you what aces they are, there wasn't a mark on me the next morning that I could prove happened at that place.
Well, I got my rocks off three or four times, and while they were beating up on me, I cried and yelled about what a miserable creep I was. They kept calling me every dirty name in the book, and kicking me down every time I got up.
It was sensational. I had to just about crawl down those stairs when they were through with me. And if you can understand what I'm saying now, I might have felt almost dead, but I also felt like I was on top of the world.
And that's the way it's been every since. I know how sick this whole thing is, and I've tried to kick the habit so many times. That's why I've been to so many doctors. The truth is that I'm ashamed to go back to the same one, because they'll know I went right from their office back to a place like the one I've been telling you about.
And I am so scared. It takes more discipline every time to get me straight. I know that one of these days I'm going to see to it that somebody kills me.
CONCLUSION
In reading back the transcripts of this patient's sessions, the fear of dying, or rather the implied wish for it did come up several times. His hatred of himself seemed to be seated in hatred for a father who brought about the onset of his need for punishment, and then his guilt for hating his own parent so much.
He had some healthy thoughts in the back of his mind, that his father was completely wrong, but he felt that he had no right to those thoughts.
This was the real conflict. When it was brought out in therapy that he was right about his father, his emotions began to mend, and he began to like himself more.
CASE HISTORY FOUR
Subject: Peter B. Age: Sixteen
INTERVIEW ONE
Peter had run away from home some two months before coming into a city hospital room and asking to see a psychiatrist. He stated in no uncertain terms that unless he could see one immediately, he was going straight out and kill himself.
Of course, he did get to see one on the spot, and the result was that he found himself in intensive therapy from that day on.
Being a glib speaker, there were no problems in communications, and it was easy to get to the heart of the matter.
I'm surprised at me for being able to talk myself into this, because I don't know for sure if I could have gone through with jumping off the bridge, the way I said I would. I wasn't lying. I don't want you to think that it was some kind of a con game with me.
I don't know what I really would have done if they told me I had to come back another day or something like that, because it took all I had just to come here in the first place. Talking about the kind of trouble I've been in isn't easy at all.
Sometimes, I think it would be a lot less trouble just going on the way I have been. Because I never really had any choice and it's been this way with me ever since I was kind of a little boy. I suppose I was really too young to do anything about it in those days, except maybe scream for help. But I was too scared.
And when I was older, I still don't know why for sure. Maybe you could say that it was habit forming. I guess I see now why they say that a guy can get used to just about anything. Telling you about it, it must sound pretty bad, and I know it probably is, but I have to tell the truth that I wasn't so miserable until now.
It started when I was young, that I guess you could say I've begun to think about it as being normal. Anything that happens all the time is normal, isn't it?
I was only eight when it all started, so I guess it's safe to say that I've just about been this way all my life. And it wasn't any kiddie game either. I'm saying that because the people that made me this way weren't exactly children.
My mother told me I was a change of life baby, and that was why my sister was twelve years older than me. Ever since she told me that story, I always felt like I was some kind of mistake and wasn't worth very much, because I never should have happened. Even my sister felt that way about me, and she never let me forget it.
She was always hitting me when my mother wasn't looking, or nobody was around. And that was a whole lot of the time, because both of my parents worked. My sister should have been too, but she kept on getting fired from her jobs, and then telling my folks she couldn't find another one. She was a real lazy bitch.
At least, that's the way she was when it came to working or doing her share of the chores. About the only thing she was willing to do around the house, was take care of me because she knew she could get away with anything just having me around.
That was how I found out she wasn't so lazy about some things. Peg had love affairs going with two different men at the same time, and they never found out about each other.
But I certainly found out about them, because both of these jerk-offs had a lot more than just my sister in common.
You see, both of them dug on having a little boy as a cute little slave around the house. And that slave was me. It started off pretty simple, and I didn't care much because they promised me all kinds of goodies if I would play their little game with them. And they always delivered, candy and games, even money so I could go out and buy something that I especially wanted.
So in the beginning, I didn't see why I should be afraid of them. They didn't ask me to do anything that was too terrible. Not in the beginning. Most of it was so silly that I laughed while I did it and thought it was the greatest fun.
Why should I care if they wanted me to walk around the room on all fours, of when the put a rope around my neck and made like they were walking a puppy. But one day, that puppy game got a little more serious.
I was just finishing taking off this guy Barry's shoes and socks for him and putting his feet up on a stool, when he ordered me to get down in the puppy position. So I figured why not? Except this time was not the same as all the last times.
This time, he wanted me to take my pants down, and go around until I came to the leg of a chair. That was supposed to be the tree, and when I got to it, I had to lift my leg and pee. I felt kind of stupid doing that, and at first I couldn't get the pee to come out.
But Peg promised me that they would clean it right up and my mother would never find out about it. I felt a little better about it then, and my piss did come out. Barry got a real funny look on his face, and then he took Peggy into the other room to talk to her. I couldn't figure out what they were up to, but when they came back into the living room, together, they both had that same funny look on their faces.
That's when my sister told me that I was big enough to be trusted with a very special secret. If I was a very good boy, and did everything I was supposed to, I would be getting even better treats from now on. I didn't know what they were talking about, and every time I looked at their faces, I started getting really scared, because they looked weird with their eyes all big and shiny like that.
They told me if I behaved like a real grown-up, they would take me into the bedroom with them, and I could watch what they did in there. And maybe later on, I could do stuff with them, too. Don't ask me why, but something told me I better say no, and I did. That's when everything started to change in the way they treated me.
My sister said I wasn't to give them any trouble and do what I was told, or they would not be so nice to me any more. There would be no more treats and no more spending money.
But I still said no. Part of it was, I was being stubborn, because I didn't like the way they were talking to me now. But part of it was that their faces were starting to look even worse, and Barry got real mad at me then.
He grabbed my arm and started twisting it. He was yelling that they shouldn't be so soft on me anymore, because I didn't have any manners or know when I was well off. So they were going to teach those things to me, since my folks certainly weren't.
And I better not say anything to them about what my sister and he taught me because it would only go worse on me the next time, if I did. My sister was really happy about the way it was going, because her other boyfriend Mike was after her to get me to suck him off, and stuff like that.
But he was never tough with me. He was just AC-DC and he always wanted a young boy that he could train his own way. My sister always told him to wait until I got my training. I could only hear snatches of what they said when they talked like that, but they weren't very careful because they thought I didn't know what they were talking about anyway. Then she would tell him to wait awhile.
I finally had that part of it all figured out. The guy Barry was gonna beat me into being the perfect little boy slave, and then she was gonna have me do a lot of things for Mike, too.
So first, I was getting scared just on a kid's hunch. And then I found out that I sure as hell had a good enough reason to be scared like that. Barry was still pulling on my arm.
He pulled it so hard that I was lifted way up in the air, and that's the way he carried me into the bedroom. Kicking and screaming all the way. It didn't sound anything like a game to me now.
It sounded like I was going to be punished something awful. The worst I ever got before was a spanking from my father with his military brush. But even then I knew that his heart wasn't in it, because he didn't hit me very hard at all. I just knew I wasn't going to be getting off that easy with Barry and Peg.
We got into the room, and Peggy got out of all her clothes. I never saw a woman naked before and all I could do was stare at first. I did feel this kind of strange tingling in my belly. But I remember that I was only a little kid, and I didn't understand what it meant. Barry sure did, though.
He had a hard-on that could have knocked down a brick wall, and he was out of his clothes in a flash. Man, his prick was so big, that all I could do was stare at it. Until that time, I used to be so proud of mine, and here I was staring at this hard-on that I thought must have been the biggest ever.
I felt shitty and small, and I think I've been feeling that way ever since. Anyhow, I started shaking like crazy, and yelling that they better let me out of there, or I was gonna call the cops. Barry grabbed me and pulled off all my clothes.
Then he threw me across his lap, and started spanking the hell out of me with the flat of his hand. All the crying I did must have done wonders for my sister, because she sat right across the room from me and frigged herself.
Barry must have thought it was good for me to see her doing herself like that, because whenever I turned my head away, he always yanked it right back. And then he spanked me even harder than before for not paying attention.
My sister was pretty crazy from fingering herself all that time, and she said that she needed a nice, wet tongue to finish her off.
Barry's tongue wasn't good enough for her.
It had to be mine, because they wanted me to learn how, while I was still young enough to have any bad habits. Can you imagine two weirdos like them talking about seeing to it that I grew up the right way?
So my sister stretched out on the bed on her back, and this creep makes me get down on all fours, and crawl between her legs until my face gets buried in her hairy snatch, which is already pretty wet because she was fingering herself so much.
I didn't see why she needed a wet tongue down there when it was already so sticky. But who was I to argue when I had this big guy holding onto my arm behind my back and making like he was going to break it off from my body?
So I got down there the way they told me to, and started licking exactly the way Barry said I should. I didn't like the taste of it very much, but nobody was asking me for my opinion, and they kept my mouth too full of cunt to do any talking at all.
After they were satisfied that I would do what I was told, Peggy grabbed onto my head and held me down there by me ears. I thought that Barry was going off in the corner now to play with himself while he watched the two of us. I didn't much care what he did as long as he wasn't breaking my arm any more, so I kept on licking.
All of a sudden, I feel the bed creaking under us, and I know that he's back there someplace, only I can't see him, because I'm too busy someplace else. I found out where he was fast enough. Too fast for me.
He had crawled up behind me and decided to give me his prick since my sister's hole was otherwise occupied. I fainted from the pain, but when I woke up nothing was changed, except that his prick was inside of me and it hurt like hell.
I was screaming my head off, but my sister said she would kill me if I didn't finish eating her because she was going to be coming pretty soon, and she needed it bad. Barry was screaming at me, too, and he said he would go on fucking me until my sister came, so I should hurry it up if I knew what was good for me.
I think he was going to pull out and shoot into her, instead of me, after I was through with her. But he must have been too excited because I was the one who got it instead.
INTERVIEW TWO
My ass was kind of bloody and when my sister saw what the guy had done to me, she started feeling pretty bad. She put some ointment in back there, and gave me a warm bath. Then I was put to bed and the two of them did some talking.
That bitch almost had me convinced that she really did care about what happened to me. Then I found out she was worried they would do something so bad to me that my folks would find out about it.
Only they didn't. She watched over me like a real Florence Nightingale, getting down there and looking up my ass to see the way it was healing up. And she wouldn't let Barry touch me until it did. Instead, I got to suck her other boyfriend off while she fingered herself again.
I hated what they made me do. It made me feel sick and when he shot in my mouth, I spit up all over the place. He didn't like that one single bit. The way he carried on, you would think he was insulted because I didn't like the flavor.
So after I was all finished sucking him and throwing up, the guy tosses me over his lap and starts to whale the tar out of my ass. So I'm crying some more and my sister is fingering herself some more, and sure enough she gets off like that.
Sometimes I think that if she didn't get so much out of it for herself, she might have decided to make the guys lay off me. Because she always felt guilty about it later. Of course, it was also after her own come, so she could afford to.
Maybe I should be mad at her after all. When I think about it the way I'm talking now, I can see she was damn selfish, and wasn't doing it just to make them happy. It probably was kind of the other way around more than anything else.
After a few months of this, my sister started to notice that my little prick would get stiff when all this was going on. And that's when she stopped feeling so guilty about the whole thing. I was always quiet and well-behaved in the house whenever my parents were home because I was afraid if I started talking, I would break down and tell them the whole thing.
So they decided that my sister and I got along so well that they could start taking trips and stuff like that without having to take me along with them. This went on for years, and my sister and her two boyfriends kept coming up with new things to do to me.
Peg was really turned on by seeing me get fucked up the ass, and a couple of years later, she went to some weird kind of store, and bought a fake prick that she could strap on herself. She told me it was a little experiment she wanted to see if she could get as much of a kick out of doing the whole thing herself as she did when she was watching one of the guys do it to me.
So we were sitting Indian style on the floor, and she had this thin belt in her hand. I was supposed to bend over and lick her, and she would whack me around pretty good while I was doing it. Then, when I had her nice and worked up, she made me stay down there on all fours, and she got on top of me, and started to fuck me herself with that thing. And all the time she was doing it, she kept hitting me across the back with the strap.
That was the first time in my life that I had a come. I can still remember it because it was so intense that it really blew my mind. I think I might even have blacked out there for a little while, but if I did, she must have been so far gone, that she never noticed.
But she did notice what it all did to me. And she was so glad to see that I was finally old enough to get my jollies that she was on the phone in a flash telling the other two guys about it. The one that was AC-DC wanted to come right over and try his prick out on my asshole himself. He didn't know they already trained me to take it that way, and he thought he was getting the second trip in, almost like getting a cherry ass, according to him since there never was a real prick in there before. That's what he thought.
You can call that guy a sick one just like Barry. But I have to say this much for him. He never hit me himself unless I did something that made him mad, and he didn't let my sister do it to me either just to get her own jollies. He told her that you didn't hit kids just for your own pleasure. But he saw nothing wrong with strict discipline, when he thought it was necessary.
Barry, the other guy, was as much into getting his kicks by punishing me as my sister was. So there were times when I was still smarting from the beating those two gave me the last time, and I actually begged her to invite her other boyfriend over because I knew that I could work it so he got everything he wanted and so did she.
I would be giving them their jollies, but at least my back would have a chance to heal. Funny thing about the pain. It was getting so that I really dug it while it was happening, because I knew that when it was time for me to get my rocks off, I would have a really tremendous orgasm. I also had orgasms when the other guy was fucking me and I was eating my sister or something like that. But they were never as good as when one of them was hitting me.
Does that have anything to do with training? That's what they say, but I really can't be sure because I never had it any other way. All I know is that whenever I try to get off by myself, I can get it hard, but nothing much happens unless I can at least think about some of the stuff they would do to me when I was with them. My prick would get even harder, and I could shoot.
But I never did very much of that because the kick I got wasn't anything close to what they did to me. Anyway, most of the time I was either too tired or too sore to bother. Once my sister got real mad at me, and said I didn't deserve to have a come when I wasn't doing such a good job with either of them. She tied a piece of elastic around my prick because she thought it wouldn't be able to get hard that way, and I wouldn't enjoy myself while they were enjoying me.
Except that I did enjoy myself, and then it got to be a problem. Because my prick got hard and the elastic could only stretch so far. It was awfully tight, and I can't remember any kind of pain that felt worse than that. Not even the first time I got fucked.
I wanted to scream and tell them what was happening, but somehow I couldn't make myself do it because I knew everything would stop short if I did. They would probably beat me really bad for messing up their fun, and I had this wild hunch that I was going to have one hell of an orgasm for myself if I could just keep everything going a little while longer.
Well, that was just the way it happened. The pain was so bad that I thought I was going to black out just about every second. It felt like the elastic was cutting my prick right in half. But I kept on going at sucking that guy off, and my sister kept fucking me from behind. When I did shoot, I thought I was going to strangle, but the load that came out of me was not to be believed.
I don't know how long the whole thing would have gone on between the three of them and me. There were never any marks that my parents could see, so they probably never would have caught on. But one day, Barry got transferred to another town, and my sister decided to go with him. The other guy naturally disappeared from my life, too.
You would think that I would have thanked my lucky stars for the way it turned out, and try to start living a normal life from then on. But I didn't. It happened just about the time the other boys I knew (and I never said a word to them about what was happening at home) started experimenting with stuff like masturbation, and they talked about it all the time.
It was a really great kick to them, and it probably would have been for me too, if I was just starting to learn about sex the way they were. I tried my best to be normal like the rest of them, and did my part in circle jerks and stuff like that.
But it was a real let down for me. I tried as hard as I could to get all excited the way the rest of them did. It was just a real let down for me, and after awhile, I stopped hanging around with them, when I thought they might be getting into stuff like that.
My sex life was just nothing until I was fourteen. Whenever the nothing really started getting to me, I would jerk off. But it usually didn't do very much for me either, unless I was day-dreaming about the old days. Once I tied some elastic around my prick while I was doing it, and that seemed to help a little. But when it started to hurt pretty bad I took it off. It just wasn't the same when I could take it off whenever I wanted to.
Then when I was fourteen, I heard these older boys talking about a place that just opened up in town. They said you could get all kinds of sex things done to you if you had the price. I was sure they weren't talking about the kind of stuff I was used to.
But I couldn't be sure, because I never talked about what happened with me to anyone. I just guessed that it wasn't the average, everyday kind of thing because of all the warnings I used to get about what would happen to me if I ever told anybody.
For awhile, I just hung around with those guys and listened to them talk. Just in case I wasn't the only kid who got off on that kind of stuff, I wanted to know about it beforehand because it meant I might be able to pay for some of that kind of action up at the sex place.
I never heard one of those guys say that they got their kicks from that kind of action. They only talked about fucking women front and back, getting blowjobs, and one of them said he learned how to eat a girl at a place like that, and didn't see anything wrong with it. Some other time, I heard them say they heard about women up there who did S&M specialties.
But I didn't know they were talking about the same thing I was thinking about. Lucky for me that by that time, they didn't mind me hanging around so much because they felt sorry my Dad wasn't home most of the time, and I didn't have any older brother to learn my stuff from. So I had to come out and asked what it meant.
When they told me it had to do with guys who dug on getting beatings, and some weird kinds of torture that guys actually got off on, I made out like I thought it was as sick as they did. But inside I was very excited.
How was I going to ask if they let young boys like myself into a place like that so soon after they told me about S&M? I guess I could have gotten away with it, because they went right on to talking about the next subject. But I knew that I had a secret even if they didn't, and I was afraid to say much more because I was just so sure they would know why I was asking all of a sudden.
So I had to wait a couple more weeks, until I heard one of them talking about his last trip to that place, and then I asked how old the guys were who could go there. I remember how shaky I was when I was talking, and how worried I was that they'd notice.
Those guys were only eighteen. But that was legal in our state. Fourteen sure as hell wasn't, anyplace! I was glad I finally spoke up though, because Al thought it was kind of cute for such a young guy to be looking for a lay. So he said that he would arrange it so they could sneak me in around back some night.
There I was. I had a way of getting into the place all right. But if I went there with one of them along, I was sure they would find out what kind of action I got there for sure. I went through all kinds of excuses for asking them to wait outside for me. But none of them sounded like something that could be believed.
So I would have either to forget about the whole thing, or do it their way and take my chances. While I was making up my mind, they went back to talking about how great they felt after getting laid and stuff like that. All the time they were talking, I could just picture this whore who would probably look a lot like my sister. Maybe she would have another woman there, and the both of them would work on me.
But there wouldn't be any guys. I didn't want any more men to use me like that. I had this thing that if I went in for the beating and the fucking, but there wasn't any guy included, I might feel more like I was normal like everybody else.
Just thinking about it and listening to them talking had me so excited that I just couldn't back down no matter how scared I was. I would just have to take my chances, and hope that the guys would be too busy with their own kicks to ask about what I was doing.
And it worked out kind of great. At least as far as I could see. They only hung around until I got in by the back door, and then the two of them each went into some room or other. I had my whole savings with me and I bought two women and I was damn scared.
But I knew I had to tell them my story, or they wouldn't know what I needed for them to do to me. I remember that it was much easier than I thought it would be. They were nice and polite while I told them my story, and that made it a lot easier for me.
Then one of them patted me on the shoulder, and she told me I wasn't the only one with problems like that. So I shouldn't worry because they knew just how to take care of me. They certainly did! The both spanked and fucked me, and I had to eat out both of them.
Those women really gave me my money's worth, and they let me get off a couple of times before they said the session was over. I felt so beaten, and I felt so good. Much better than I have felt since my sister moved away.
There was just one thing wrong with the whole rosy picture. My buddies got finished before me, and they asked the girls how I did while I was in the bathroom cleaning up. I know they were just interested in me being all right and having a good time. But the women told them what they did for me.
And then it was all over. I came out of the John just in time to see the sick look on their faces, and then I beat it out of there before they could catch up with me. I went home and grabbed a few things, and then I caught the next bus out of town. But this was as far as I could get. You've got to help me.
CONCLUSION
This was a most fortunate young man, because he knew that his was an emotional illness based on his early childhood, and he had to do something about it. The very fact that he was able to go several years before seeking further sexual relations of that kind, and only did after having the suggestion made to him, proved that his problem was not as serious as he thought it might be.
He stated his shame at being found out, and his youthful attempts to be as normal as his friends. These were all healthy signs.
Since he also pleaded for psychiatric help, he was a most willing patient, and began to make a quick and easy recovery. The boy remained in town until his doctor felt he was stable enough to return to his parents. Then he continued his therapy in his home town.
CASE HISTORY FIVE
Subject: Mary-Lou J. Age: Fourteen
INTERVIEW ONE
This young lady was brought in for therapy by her social worker, after she walked ten miles into town on bare feet in search of a way that she could be legally separated from her husband. It was learned that she had been married to a forty-two-year-old man for more than one year, through no choice of her own.
Many bruises and scars were found on he body after the customary medical examination, but the girl claimed that they were old, and had been' administered by her parents. According to her story, her husband's punishment of her came in quite another form.
Maybe they put one over on me when I was married off to Watson, but I ain't so dumb not to know when it's all wrong between us. Trouble is, I couldn't know it right off, because I was so used to be treated that way. My folks thought I could use the same kind of treatment when they married me off to him, because I always thought I was so high and mighty.
So what if I was? I'm prettier than the rest of the girls out our way, and I was also a lot smarter. The teacher out at the one school we got wanted me to go right on learning. But my folks said I already had too much, and where we live they can get away with stuff like that. Might be years before anybody important comes around to find out if we kids been to school or not.
My folks really ain't no different from most folks in our parts. They treat their kids like animals. Horse don't work, he don't get fed, or maybe he winds up being shot in the head. No kid every been killed for being bad that I know of. But a lot of them been beat pretty bad.
Sometimes you might not see a kid for days and days. Then he would turn up in school or someplace with his head down low, and you just know he got some hell of a beating. Maybe you could say I was a fighter, or one of these girls that's got a man's mean streak in her.
Anyway, the more they tried to beat me down, the more I got up again and tried to fight back. I never .tried to hit them or anything like that. But I sure did mean-mouth them. Sometimes they had to stop hitting me because they were so mad, they were afraid they were going to kill me.
That's when they decided to marry me off. I don't know which it was more. They was either afraid they was gonna kill me one of these days, or they just figured I was too much work to take care of.
Watson was as old as my dad, but twice as big and twice as strong. I guess he figured if any man could handle me, Watson could. He was a man with a mite more education than my father and I figured I might not be too bad off at that.
The man had a nice place, with a good piece of land beside it. And a lot of his furniture was store-bought, with real china dishes and everything. I felt really uppity now because it looked like I was gonna have a lot more pretty things than any of the other girls. And even my own mama.
Watson was nice and polite around my folks, and around most of the people in town. But I heard tell that he used to go someplace else for his fooling around before he married me, and I figured he must have learned some nice big city ways.
He learned some big city ways, but they wasn't nice at all. I thought he might know how to treat a girl like a real lady. You know what I mean? With respect and manners. That kind of stuff. But he said in the big city, they really know how to show a girl her place.
I thought he was making ready to start beating up on me the way my folks used to do. So I asked him straight out if that was what he had on his mind. Because he should have known right off that it didn't even work with me.
No, he said. He had much better ways to show a girl where she belonged in a man's home. The first thing he said I better learn was not to ever again be interested in another man. And just to be sure I wasn't thinking about going into town and having a high time for myself until I learned proper respect for him, Watson took all my clothes away from me, and hid them away someplace. I mean all of my clothes.
He hid every stitch of clothes on me, even my drawers. I guess you call them panties. Only thing I had in the whole house to wear was my apron. He wouldn't even give me one of his shirts to sleep in, even if it was colder than ice.
I can't tell you how many times I near burned my titties right off when I bent over the stove to tend to my cooking. Then I would get mad as a wet hornet, and start to curse him out. He didn't smack me around like my paw would have.
Watson just said I needed something else to teach me obedience, like a good little brood mare should. You won't believe this. But I suppose I better tell you just the same. That man put blinders and a horse collar on me. I ain't funning you. He took them right off his mule and put them on me.
Maybe I shouldn't be so mad about that, because the mule was his favorite animal on the whole place. It certainly did the trick for me, while it was on that is. Watson made me feel just like a dumb animal when I was naked and walking around with that mule's gear on. You'd be surprised the way I changed how I talked to him when I was walking around like that.
Got so I didn't even pick my head up too high when I walked around like that. I couldn't look him straight in the eye. And if I did, he would near laugh his head off, and say how proud my dad would be if he could see my like that.
Then my face would get all red, and I would slink out of the room. Second week I had that on, I was kind of slunk over, just about walking like the animal he was making me out to be. He went out with the boys for a few beers one night, and when he came home, I was still slinking around the kitchen like that.
Guess I could have taken the gear off while he was gone, but it got to be a habit. I really had gotten used to the stuff. Besides I didn't know for sure what time he would be home, or what he would do to me if he found out I took that thing off, either.
So he came in higher than a kite, and said I was finally getting to look like a fitting wife. That's when he got this notion into his head that since I was behaving like a good little animal, I might as well be fucked like one.
He made me get all the way down, like I was the kind that walked around on four legs. And that was the way he took me. You know what I mean? The way a man takes his woman?
After that, I didn't have to wear the collar no more. I did try hard to obey the way he wanted me to, and he started giving me my clothes back because he said he was testing me to see if I could be trusted, and then it was summer.
You know how hot it can get in the mountains? I wasn't looking for nobody to see me. But it was just so hot up there, and so many chores to do, I just took off my top and walked around in my bra. Travelling salesman came around and saw me like that through the window. And then Watson saw him standing there.
So he dragged that fancy man into the house by his ear, and sat him down in our best chair. Told that man if he really wanted to see a peep show, he was gonna make me put on one for him. I didn't know what to say.
I told him how it was an accident, and he didn't see much more a man could see on a lady at the beach. But Watson didn't pay me no never-mind and said I was to get up on the kitchen table and spread my legs. I looked at him like he was crazy.
But I could see that murderous look in his eyes, and I figured this was the time he just might get it into his head to beat me from here till hell freezes over. So I got up there, and I spread my legs wide in their direction.
Next thing he made me do was to pull down my drawers. You shouldda seen the look on that salesman's face when he saw he was staring right into my furry hole. And as if that wasn't bad enough, I was to play with myself.
You know what I mean? I had to take my hand and do the stuff little girls do in the outhouse out behind the school, when they think nobody might be looking. I ain't done that stuff since I was maybe ten years old, and my mother started telling me I had to start getting ready to be a wife and a mother.
Now I had to do it in front of my husband and this man. I didn't even know his name, and he was gonna watch me do that stuff. But what else could I do? He was my husband and he was ordering me to do it, or else. So I put my finger inside there and I started to wiggle it around a little.
Then I stopped and Watson started yelling at me. I had to keep going until I made myself wet the table. I didn't see how I could with the two of them watching, and I figured it would take me all night before anything happened.
Then both their faces started to get very red, and I could tell even Watson was liking what I was doing for himself, and not just to teach me a lesson in front of that man. I felt just terrible to be putting on a show like that in front of them, and my face must have been very red. Then it started to make me feel all hot and bothered. I wanted to stop, but I knew they wouldn't let me.
So I kept going until I wet myself, and then Watson let me get off the table. That salesman had this big puddle in front of his pants. He picked up his suitcase, and he ran away. Then
Watson took me over his lap and gave me a good spanking on my bare bottom. I never tried walking around the house that way again.
INTERVIEW TWO
Watson took me to bed right after that, and he made me his woman all night long. He was really different that time. It was like I knew the beers already musta wore off. But it was still like he was drunk. He was going after me all night like a stallion with a mare in heat. I was plumb wore out by morning.
After that, I began getting a lot more spankings. Sometimes he took the harness straps and used them on my behind. Another time, I was so tired, I forgot to slop the hogs. So he put this ox-yoke around my neck and he made me pull the plow for a couple hours.
When we got really deep into the fields, where nobody walking along the road could see us, he made me his woman right out in the open, while I was still hitched up to that plow. But he shouldda been hitched up because he went after me like a real bull.
It was getting so I could tell that he liked taking me more when I was looking real humble or like a dumb animal. But I have to say this much for his way of teaching me. I sure did feel respectful to that man when he was through with me.
I didn't mind it half so much what he was doing to me when we were alone. My daddy and my mommy both taught me how it is you're supposed to take all that from a man when you're his woman. It's supposed to be part of your job like washing the dishes and slopping the hogs. So him beating up on me was something I sort of expected.
Matter of fact is, I guess you could say he did a lot less of it than most of the men around our parts. They wouldn't count the other stuff he did to me as a real beating. I don't know for real sure what anybody would a thought of it outside of me, because I never could tell nobody about it.
Only people ever saw what it was he did to me was his friends from the city and some strangers, I didn't know who they was. Don't ask my why he was so careful about who found out, because I know my daddy wouldn't a done nothing to save me from him.
He always said once you was married off to your man whatever he did with you was his business. That's how come it took me so long to get out of there and come here to find out was there some way I could get away from him for good.
Wasn't no point in me going to my folks and asking them to help out because they didn't have no money in the first place, and they never wouldda helped me get away from him in the second place. Not that they wasn't good folks in their own sorta way.
It was just they figured I was doing all right with that big place, and a man was supposed to be so well off. Only question they ever asked me was when I was gonna give them a grandchild. Sometimes I think I oughtta have told them something.
Maybe my mama wouldda at least said something to Watson about the really bad stuff he was making me do. I know she wouldda cared about me getting hurt and stuff like that. But I guess it's just as well, because she only wouldda been upset, and then she wouldda been too scared to do anything about it.
I think she had a hunch just the same because wasn't a few months ago, she told me I oughtta start saving some pennies in a. secret hiding place, and she was gonna help me do it with some of hers. Getting any kind of money together at all warn't easy for us because we never had much of it to spend for ourselves.
So we used to wangle at the stores, dickering here and there to save a penny or two, on the groceries and things like that. She never told me to run away and come to a place like this. But I knew what she was making me save it for, and it made some of the stuff he made me do later on, a little easier to stomach.
Like the time he had some of his men friends over to the house for a card game and beer. I hustled around best I could with the cigarettes and the foodstuff. But they just wasn't happy with the service, no matter how hard I tried.
These was the very same guys who done so much braggin' about how women should be treated and learn where their place was. So I guess you can imagine how Watson treated me worse than usual in front of those men.
And they pushed him to do more to me. One was braggin' on how he never let his old lady go to bed without a good paddling first. And Watson said he could go him one better. He said he gave his wife her lessons in front of company, so as she would be sure never to forget them. I knew what was coming next.
He was gonna do something to make me feel like an animal again.
I felt like if he was gonna put that horse collar or the ox-yoke on me in front of all those men, I was gonna die of embarrassment. Better yet, maybe I would just slit his throat while he was sleeping first chance I got.
But that wasn't what he had on his mind at the time. No sir. Since the other guy was spouting off his mouth so much about giving paddling nice and regular, Watson made me pull up my skirt and pull my drawers down in front of everybody.
Then he took me over his knee, and whacked me a couple dozen times with his belt. That was the worst he ever whacked me, and I know my rear end mustta been redder than hell because of the way it burned. Watson was pretty satisfied with what he done to me because all the guys were slapping him on the back and telling him what a mighty fine job he done. He was so proud of himself he wouldn't let me pull up my drawers or pull my skirt down to cover that red ass of mine for the rest of the night.
Those guys thought Watson had the greatest card parties and after that night, seemed like it was always his turn to have the party over to our place. He never did ask me if it was all right or nothing. Couple a times I said I was just too tired to make that whole mountain of food for them, and couldn't they go someplace else for just the once. You can be sure I got myself a real whacking for that.
He wasn't wearing no belt that time, so he used a witch and it left these real red bumpy lines all over my ass. I cried my little heart out when I saw that. I was sure I was gonna be marked for life and even if I did ever find a way to run away from him, wasn't no man would want to take me when my ass looked like that.
Watson really felt good when he saw how my ass still looked so red and had all those lines on it about an hour later, when the guys was supposed to be coming. So he wouldn't let me put no drawers on and no skirt neither. All he gave me to wear was this little apron so they wouldn't see too much of my furry hole.
But they could see my whole ass anyway I turned, and he was so proud of that. Those guys said Watson was the biggest he-man in the county for having his woman so good and trained. They wanted to know was I his slave or just his woman.
So he said I was his slave and would do anything he told me to. They wanted to know if he had me so well trained I would take orders from his friends, too. So he said I belonged to all of them for the night and they could do whatever they wanted with me.
He said I better not say a word or give nobody no trouble or there would be all hell to pay in the morning. I was scared they all wanted to fuck me and I couldn't stand that no how. It ain't the code of the hills that any man touches somebody else's woman, no matter how he hates her or how bad he treats her. And no woman thinks about no other man unless she's real low, or she's looking to get beat to death. I wasn't none of those.
They just wanted me to do stuff like walk around on my hands and knees. One of them put a rope in my mouth and rode around on top of me. Another guy stuck his cigarette butt against my ass to see if it could get any redder being burned on top of those marks from the whupping.
Watson wasn't too happy about that, because he didn't want any marks left on me for good. He must a knowed what he was doing when he first gave me the whuppings, because he told me I could go to the sheriff if I wanted to, but he was gonna take my clothes away for a couple a weeks first. By the time he was willing to let me go out of the house, the marks was near gone.
But the cigarette burn was there, and that's why he didn't like it so much. I think maybe he had a lady friend or two in the city, and he did a lot of that stuff on them, 'cause he knew just when to give me my clothes back. By the time he did, I didn't have nothing to show for the trouble I been through but the burn, and I couldda got that by accident.
After that time, he always gave me a spanking with his leather belt before the men was supposed to show up, and made me walk around bare ass naked so as they would be sure to notice. I felt low as a snail when those guys were in the house.
Time went by and I just didn't feel like fighting back no more. Maybe people would say he really was a weird kind of monster or something like that. But I will tell you this much. When it comes to taking ladies down a peg or two when they're feeling high and mighty, Watson sure knows how to do it.
I just didn't feel like nothing at all any more. If he wouldda told me to do dirty things for those guys, I probably wouldda done it just like I was supposed to. You see, he was teaching me to do all kinds of stuff I thought the women only did in those sporting houses.
He used to put his thing all over my body, and make me take it in all kinds of private places. Like he would take me where you're only supposed to sit. Or he would put it in my mouth and make me suck on it until I had to swallow all the stuff that came out of it. And that ain't all.
If he didn't like his supper, he would drag me with the kettle into the barn, and he would feed it to the animals. Then he would throw me in the hay right where they slept, and did their dirties. And then he would make me have him while I was lying in it.
I sure as hell took a lot of that stuff, so no lawyer nor no judge can tell me I didn't try to be a good wife. How many wives you think wouldda put up with that stuff for longer?
He'd still be at it if I was there. Every time he comes up with something new, that's supposed to make me feel ever lower than a skunk. And since I don't even bother talking back to him no more, he must be thinking he can get away with anything he pleases.
I don't even understand my own head too much about some of this stuff. I don't know why I didn't run away or maybe go to the sheriff long time before this. Maybe there's a part of me inside my head saying I needed to be treated like that so as I'll learn my place now.
You see, I know I'm still a little girl in a lot of ways, even if I am supposed to be a married lady. Maybe when you're married off young, the way I am, you need to be treated kind of rough so you learn your place in a real big hurry.
But now I think it doesn't have to be so rough, as he's doing to me now. Sometimes I just don't understand how a man can treat his woman that way and still make out that he loves her. It just don't seem right to my way of thinking.
Only trouble is, that's all I ever seen at home or around where I live. I don't think anybody's got it worse than I have with Watson, but I don't see anybody being treated like no duchess either.
Maybe I just don't know good from bad because I ain't never had no way to see what it was like. You can't even talk to our preacher about this kind of thing because he's the kind always preaching about being good and dutiful wives.
There was just no place to turn back up in the hills. It was getting time so as I just got tired of having a bottom that was too much hurting to be sat on. And there was times I couldn't even go to church because my ass was so sore I couldn't put my panties on and then go sit on that hard wooden bench.
So you tell me, please, do I have to go back up there, and live with Watson like that some more? Because if I do, I'm gonna run away to one of these sporting houses, and nobody decent will ever see me again. If I got to be treated like that, then I can just get rich on my ass being sore all the time.
CONCLUSION
This girl was not a masochist in the true sense of the word. She simply was not raised to know much better than the way she was being treated.
However, she was a clever young girl and had a suspicion that there must be a better way to run a marriage. To this end, she was able to be educated and soon realized that the law would be on her side, as soon as her story was told and in some way could be verified.
There was one problem that needed intensive work, however. She confessed to having some need to be treated in such a humiliating manner, and did state that she experienced some orgasms when being so treated.
Self respect was the name of her therapy, and it soon began to work, as she understood more and more about herself.
CASE HISTORY SIX
Subject: Marcy J. Age: Fifteen
INTERVIEW ONE
This is a young lady whose own family put bonds of humiliation on her, and actually felt that they were doing good by it. Her father was a self-professed preacher in a little-known cult somewhere in the middle west, whose region it is best not to mention.
It is horrifying to imagine that he was even able to gather a small following. But to know that his flock numbered more than one hundred can make one's blood curdle. While the story is told in Marcy's words, the reader should keep in mind that she was one of six children who were treated in a like manner.
My brothers and sisters were all born about a year apart, and I don't think any one of us can say we were born in the same town. My folks kept traveling across the country, trying to get a group together for this religious sect that my father was trying to start.
When I tell you about some of the things that happened to me and my brothers and sisters, I know you won't believe it. But every word of it is true. And we weren't the only ones that were treated that way. The only difference is that we didn't have any choice.
If you want to feel sorry for somebody, then feel sorry for us, because nobody asked us if we wanted to belong. Those other people could come and go as they pleased, and no matter how bad they got treated the Sunday before, you can just bet most of these people would be coming back the next Sunday, and every Sunday after that.
I really believe that those are the sick ones. You know why I say that? Because my daddy never got hurt himself, by what he preached or what he did to others. Neither did my mother. And on top of everything else, they got filthy rich on this religion, the way they call it.
But we kids don't call it religion. When we pray and we do a lot of that, because we're suffering so much of the time, well, we pray that they're gonna get their just punishment for what they did to us and so many people. And that punishment is gonna be a million times worse than anything they could hand out themselves.
Meanwhile, it's still going on, and I am very much afraid for my sisters and brothers. Only one of us could get away from here and run for help. So we stole money out of the collection boxes and saved up. Then we drew lots for who would be the one to try and get away.
Maybe you could say I was the lucky one, but that's only because I made it. If I didn't, the beating I would have gotten for my fitting punishment as they called it, probably would have landed me in the hospital for a few months.
We were all really very little when the whole thing got started. In those days, my mother was the one who needed discipline. They didn't have much money because my father wouldn't take any kind of a decent job.
And my father was all the time punishing her for being so sinfully passionate that she would make him lust after her and make so many babies there wasn't enough food to go around. In those days, she wouldn't allow for him to hit us, because the oldest was just a toddler, so she took all the beatings herself.
But he would make us all sit around the room and watch it, so we would grow up to be good and religious children. That was the speech he made all the time before he would start punishing my mother. She had to be pregnant a lot of the time that he was beating her up like that, so I don't know just how many kids we might have been if she wasn't in such a sorry condition most of the time.
You would think that after being the victim herself for so long, she would take us away from him, or at least see that the same thing didn't happen to us. But by the time we were old enough to stand up on our own feet and take some punishment, she was all for it. Sometimes I think she was just happy that somebody else was gonna have to take all that instead of her. Maybe she was just relieved in the beginning.
But that's as far as I'm going to go on understanding her. Because today she is a very evil woman, and she's just as much into this religious thing as my father is. Why shouldn't she be? She gets a lot of money out of it. She acts like she's really important, and we kids have to take all that shit.
It makes me feel good just to be able to tell you what it was like in the beginning. Because that's the part I always remember when I'm getting the worst of it, and I'm hating her for it. That's the time when we kids were sitting on the seats and my father was delivering his sermon and using my mother for his example.
That's how come I can understand how he can get people into his flock to start out. What I can't understand is the victims, not the audience. When you're sitting out there, and watching somebody else getting it, there's a kind of excitement that I can't tell you about, because you wouldn't understand unless you saw it yourself.
Or would you? Would it be different for a normal person who wasn't raised that way? Because I think we kids just didn't know any better. And those people in the flock? You know what I think they must be? I think they must be the sickest of all for wanting to be a part of all that blood and to keep coming back for more when they could turn their backs on it and run away as fast as they want to.
I want so much to tell you about them. But first I better tell you how it feels to see something like that, so as you can understand the rest. You want to know something funny? Now I'm the one feels like the preacher.
Only I wouldn't ever hurt a soul, not even a fly. If I don't have to go back there, and you can help me get my brothers and sisters away, then I would never want to be nothing like that. I would just want to grow things and take care of sick animals.
My father had all different kinds of punishments for the things he said my mother was doing wrong. Like I said, he would have all of us sitting around in a sort of circle, and my mother would be standing there with her hands behind her back. Her head was hanging down, and she never looked at one of us kids while it was going on.
He would hold this long wooden ruler in his hand, and then he would run off this list of all the things my mother did wrong, and what he was going to do to her, and to us when we grew up, if any of us dared to do something like that again. Don't ask me what it was that could have been so terrible, because I couldn't even tell you. So it must have been stuff that was pretty small.
And all the time he was talking, he would tap the ruler against the side of my mother's body, tapping harder as he went down the list of what he called sins. By the time he got to the last one, he was hitting my mother so hard, that we could almost feel those whacks ourselves, just from the sound of them.
But my mother never moved a muscle all the time it was going on. All of a sudden, my father would twist her around, and he would take this piece of rope out of his pocket, and tie her hands behind her back. She never said a word to us or to him.
She knew what was going to happen next, and so did we. Some of us were crying, and some of us wanted to yell or scream. But nobody said a word, because we were all too scared that the next one would be us. I just didn't understand my mother. She could have run away from him before her hands were tied.
But she never did. She just stood there, and took it. Her face was just as plain and ugly as it was all the rest of the time. Mom never was much to look at. A lot of women aren't too pretty, I guess, but some of them have nice smiles, or they have something that just makes you like them, even if they are ugly.
But not our mom. I don't think I ever saw her smile. And I know I never heard her laugh. There were so many of us, and our mother never kissed any one of us. Not even the ones that were still babies. I never really saw her cry or scream either.
Can you imagine that? She would be standing there with her hands tied behind her back, and he would start in to beat her with the ruler, or a switch. And she would never cry out or ask him to stop. Not one sob, and not a single tear.
It wasn't that way with me or the rest of us. We cried and screamed our heads off when the time came. Sometimes he would whip her so hard, with the cat o'nine tails; that her clothes would be ripped to shreds, and we could see the way her skin underneath was starting to get red. It might take me a little while to notice the way it was getting to Daddy, because we were all kind of hypnotized by seeing how Mama's face never changed, but her body kept getting those awful red stripes all over it.
When I finally could look at Daddy's face, I always wished that I didn't. He had this wicked twisted smile, and he was doing something under that baggy suit jacket with the velvet collar, that he always wore. In those days I didn't know what it was, but I sure do now. Daddy was making himself come because he was so excited over what he was doing to our mama.
Once I started watching him, it wasn't easy to stop. His face and Mama's body would get to be the same color pretty soon. But Mama's face, and the way she was standing would never change. Daddy's face would get meaner and meaner. Then his body would start to twitch all over, and he would drop the strap.
His hand was going like crazy under his jacket. But none of us could see for sure what he was doing under there. We didn't have to. None of us was very old before we figured that one out. His face would be sweating by now, and I think he would forget that Mama and the rest of us were even there.
And he stayed kind of in a trance like that for awhile. Mama would walk away and go into the bedroom. We never knew what she did in there for the few minutes that she was alone. That was the time we could get up and leave the room if we wanted to. Which we always did. Daddy would be quiet for the rest of the night.
Mama would be quiet for the rest of the week sometimes. Then it would start off slow all over again, with her yelling at us for doing too much of something or doing too little. The whacks on the behind would come next. But they were never very much when they came from her. The screaming was a lot worse.
It was like she was getting her motor started again, and it would keep speeding up until she was screaming at all of us and throwing dishes at. heads, including Daddy's. He would stay quiet for a little longer, like he was just giving her enough rope to hang herself.
And then the whole thing would start over again. Years went by and we got a little older. I don't know when Daddy got the idea to start that strict religious order about discipline. But I could guess that it had something to do with ' all the weird friends that he kept making.
He would invite them over to the house, and we kids would all be locked up in the attic.
Mama would have to stay downstairs, and late at night, when we were trying to sleep best we could up there on the old clothes and the dust, we could hear the belt whacks, and all the people down there telling Daddy where to hit her, and how he could use something else that she would feel more and see less later on.
The way they were giving out pointers and instructions down there, you would have thought that Daddy was taking sewing lessons instead of learning how to punish people better.
INTERVIEW TWO
Then we started moving around again, and we kids were really hoping that things would change every time we moved on to someplace else. I just thought there couldn't be too many people who believed in stuff like that. But the friends he made in one town started showing up in the next, and he kept on picking up new ones all over the place.
Daddy was really feeling his oats and sounding more powerful all the time. I think he really believed he could make a religion out of being such an evil man and wanting others to be just like him. So far, he was still leaving us kids alone.
It was somebody else who said he could set a good example by using us kids at his meetings, imagine using his own children for a show, because so many of the following was worried about how they should be bringing up their children. Daddy was already getting plenty of money from what he called his following.
So I guess he figured that if he could also teach them something about how to raise kids, instead of just how to teach their wives obedience, he could do even better financially. Those freaky men preferred seeing little girls used for the examples. But I guess we know why they wanted that all right.
Maybe my father really did think of it as a religion, and I still don't believe that one. But it's even harder to believe that those characters didn't get more jollies from it than religious inspiration. Anybody who thought they were all that serious-minded about it would just have to look at their faces and see what it all meant to them.
I can even tell you why I was the one picked to be the first young example for the flock. Of all the kids, I think even you can see that I have the biggest mouth. Just seeing those men all but drooling over themselves while they watched my mother getting the once-over would have to make anybody break out laughing.
But when you're a kid and you have to sit on the floor because there aren't enough chairs in the house, you get a bird's eye view of everybody's lap, and you can tell exactly what's going on. More men left our house with wet pants than any other house in the territory. And you should have seen the way their faces looked when it was over.
They were all red and sweaty, and their eyes would be burning out of their heads. After they left, Mama would go to her room, just the way she always did, and our father would be standing there, and counting his money. There was more of it every day.
So naturally, I had a few choice remarks to make, including some quotes from the Bible that he had taught me. But I know he never thought they would be used against him. In the beginning he would just stare at me, and look like he was running some ideas through his head.
Then one Sunday morning, just before the time for the regular meeting, he told all the other kids to get lost, and I was supposed to go with him and my mother to the meeting. She wasn't wringing her hands like she usually did before the meetings when she knew that she was going to be up there with her bruised body on display.
If my mother could have smiled, I would say that was the closest she ever came to one. I just knew what was going to happen, but I guess I couldn't believe it. That's probably why I didn't run like anything when I still had the chance.
Something kept saying over and over in my mind that my father wouldn't do a thing like that to me, no matter what kind of sick things he did to my mother. Maybe I was plain scared stiff. But whatever it was, I could have run away with the rest of the kids. But I didn't. He didn't even have to drag me into the barn that he was using as his meeting hall. He just ordered me to come, and I followed after him and my mother, with my head hung low, just the way she used to.
It was like he put me into some kind of a trance when he looked at me with those burning eyes of his. Up until that time, he never saw me except with all my clothes on. And that was for the girls, dresses longer than what the other girls wore in the town, with very long sleeves and high stiff collars.
I'm surprised he even knew that myself and two of my sisters were already changing into women. You certainly couldn't tell from the way he kept us dressed, all of us the same. Maybe that's not why he picked me at all.
Although it did cross my mind that he might want me up there to really get those old lechers going, since I had the most curves in those days, and the biggest bra size. Who knows? Maybe his eyes burned like that because he had X-ray vision and he could see right through my frumpy old dress.
But those other characters certainly couldn't, so they were in for the surprise of their lives. Daddy made his usual speech about wives and children following dutifully after the master of the house, and he spit his usual fire and brimstone at them. Then it would be time for him to make his example.
This time, it was me. I stood on the little platform that he had set up by his side, with my hand down at my side, and my head hung low, just the way I had seen my mother do it a thousand times before. Oh, maybe that's the clue. Maybe it was just a habit I picked up from my mother, and didn't even realize what I was doing.
I felt the fear all right. It was gnawing away at my insides, like I had swallowed a rat live, and it was awfully hungry. My hands were cold and clammy, and my legs were shaking so much that they were making the platform rattle. I might have been able to take them by surprise and quietly walk away before my father put his hands on me, but some blind thing I didn't understand made me stay right where I was, shaking.
My eyes were closed tight, and I remember that I had the fingers of both my hands crossed like I was wishing that the whole meeting would just disappear. And then I felt my father's hand on my shoulder, and I wished lightning would strike me dead on the spot, so I wouldn't have to go through what I knew was going to happen next.
I wasn't lucky enough for lightning to strike me. The only thing that struck me that night was my father's whip. It was specially made by one of his following out of this braided silk rope, so that you felt every stripe he gave you, but it never left a mark on you for the next time. Daddy always wanted fresh, white skin for the following to see before it got all red and marked.
He was shouting at those people at the top of his lungs, especially to the women and girls and even pointing his finger at some of them, saying what they were going to see next could happen to them if they didn't learn the error of their ways right on the spot and start to make things right with their masters.
Then he ripped my dress from top to bottom with one hand, and I stood there shaking in just my white cotton bra and panties. I must have been the perfect sight of the sacrificial maiden in that white underwear, and looking so frightened. I know most of them thought so, because that's what they started to call me whenever they talked about my father and his sermons.
This time he had something really dramatic set up. There was this huge wooden cross and it had something like handcuffs attached to the two outside posts and two at the bottom of the cross. He must have known that I was too frightened once I saw that thing unveiled, to just walk up to it and wait.
So he asked for two assistants from out there, and he had so many hands raised that it took ten minutes for him to pick two. Wouldn't you know that he picked the two men that always donated the most money at the end of each meeting?
But this time, I was crying, but nothing would come to my head that I could say, and have everything stop from happening. They were carrying me with one of them holding me under each arm, and I felt so limp that my feet weren't even touching the floor.
Just when they had me standing in front of the cross, my father ripped off my underwear, and you could hear loud gasps from all over the room. Some of them must have been gasps of shock or surprise, but it sure sounded to me like most of them were gasps of pleasure.
It wouldn't have been half bad if he had me facing out at them. Maybe some other girls would have wanted to hide their faces in shame. But I felt if I could see them, I could spit or snicker. Whatever it was, I would do something that would make them know how low I thought they all were and how much I hated them.
But Daddy knew me pretty well. He had me turned the other way around, before they put the cuffs on my hands and feet, and then locked them. To have my behind facing them like that, and my face crushed against the wooden post like I wasn't even a real person-that he knew was the most humiliating way it could be for me.
If I was facing them I know I wouldn't have cried a single tear, because I would have wanted to come on like nothing they could do would hurt me. I would have wanted to look brave because it would keep them from getting their kicks out of watching me getting that beating. And seeing all those sick faces would have given me the courage to do it.
By facing the other way, and feeling that rough pine against my face and my breasts, I really knew how scared I was. Later I had to pick splinters out of the whole front of my body.
You might think that being naked and facing such a large crowd with your privates showing would be the most humiliating way for a girl my age and younger to be, the way I was last year, or like two of my sisters are now.
But having my rear end first, and my face hidden, so that I couldn't even see what they were going to do to me before it happened was making me wish I was dead all over again. As soon as I felt that wood against my face, and one of the men taking a quick feel of my ass before he jumped down off the platform, I started to cry, and I didn't stop for two days after it was over.
It started with a whipping and my mother was to stand there and count the strokes until he got to twenty-five. When he got to that, and I wanted to faint, but they kept washing my face with cold water, he called in the rest of the kids, so they could witness the worst of it.
According to him, if they saw that, they would never even be bad enough to need the mild punishment that happened before they got there. I thought the only thing worse he could do to me, was have me hanged by the neck until dead. But what he had done to me by most of the congregation was even worse than that.
First he told them what an arrogant child I was, and how I was disobedient to both my parents. They raised their hands, with suggestions like whipping, caning, being hung by my thumbs for a few hours and stuff like that.
But Daddy didn't like any of those suggestions. He said he was concerned that a snotty kid like myself was going to grow up into a tramp, especially since I already had a body that was much too tempting for men to see. He said that one day I might tempt the devil himself, and then I would be in league with him.
He didn't want that to happen, and the best way he could think of to keep me away from the wages of sexual sin was to give me a taste of its evils before I went out to try it for myself. I should see how degrading it is for a good woman to submit to carnal lust instead of patiently waiting to do her duty at times when a man's passions overtook him and it couldn't be helped. Since her only duty in life was to be a faithful servant to her master, and her only pleasure was the knowledge that she had pleased her man.
What it boiled down to was that a woman wasn't supposed to get her kicks out of a single thing she did. She was supposed to suffer through it all and never ask for anything for herself. A lot of words, wouldn't you say?
But you know what it all led up to? He invited all those men who felt they had been wronged by evil women to make a line, and they could punish them all through the use of my body. When the man's turn came, he could use any method he pleased to cleanse his soul of all the anger he felt for being so wronged.
What that meant was that some of them beat me or whipped me. A few just wanted to kick me in my rear end. One of them wanted to slash a chunk right out of it, but my father said no to that one. He didn't want me winding up dead or in a hospital where he would have some tall explaining to do.
Most of them weren't satisfied with punishing me like that. This is why I'm so sure that the bunch of them come to my father's meetings to get their jollies. Most of them thought that the fitting punishment was to do something biblical called sodomy.
Can you imagine? I didn't even know what the word meant before they did it to me. There I was with my face being rubbed against that raw wood all the time, and when they hit me, the whole front of my body would get chafed to a bloody pulp.
The back of my body wasn't in much better condition. And that was the part they used. It's not easy to see, but I think you're getting the picture. Must have been ten or twelve of them that took out all of their sexual frustrations on my rear end.
My little sisters fainted or threw up and my brothers carried them all out. Then they had to come back and carry me out because once they unhooked the cuffs, they just let me lie right where I fell down, and went on with the meeting. I guess it would be easy to say that we kids were the only ones who didn't enjoy ourselves at these meetings. Every Sunday a different one of us had a turn.
My mother never looked happier. Oh, she still didn't smile, but you could tell how happy she was on the inside. Now that my father had the whole brood to work on, my mother felt like the high priestess and she never got hit again.
We don't understand any of it, and we hope you'll explain. But that doesn't mean the rest of us won't run away. I think it will just help to keep us all from losing what we have left of our minds.
CONCLUSION
The children of course, were located and the authorities saw to it that their parents could never abuse them physically again. But they couldn't do much for the emotional wounds that would always be with them. This was the task of a team of psychiatrists who worked desperately to put their emotions back in order so they would still have a chance to live out the rest of their lives in normalcy.
But Marcy, the spokeswoman for the children said she would never let a man touch her again and vowed that she would become a lesbian, if somebody would just explain how she was supposed to go about it.
CASE HISTORY SEVEN
Subject: Miranda J. Age: Fourteen
INTERVIEW ONE
Miranda was the product of a very affluent of European boarding schools. Even her mannerisms indicated that she-was bored with having so many of the more common luxuries. When she spoke, she sounded as close to being downright arrogant as anyone could while still having the semblance of manners.
But her face did not look as happy as her voice sounded. There was a sadness there that could not be denied. Yet, when she began to tell the tale of her young and perverted sex life, her entire being seemed to light up as if she were coming freshly alive.
My life really began to change when I started school in Switzerland. But then, it was still in my mind, and from things I picked up listening to the older girls, and reading all the books that they told me about.
Even though we were going to those exclusive private schools, nobody watched us very carefully. When we weren't in class, we pretty much had the run of the place, which was just the way we liked it. And there was plenty of free time for fooling around with certain gentlemen in town, if you know what I mean.
I never did much like hanging around with the younger girls, and the older girls didn't mind if I hung around with hem, as long as I looked and acted like I was their age. That was pretty simple for me to do since I was already more developed in the chest area, than some of them were, and I could speak just as well in three different languages.
So I got to go along with them when they arranged for those private parties in the homes of certain rich gentlemen. Sooner or later, we all wound upstairs in the bedrooms. So you can see why it wound up that I had my lessons in lovemaking from older men who really knew their way around a girl's body.
Once I had my virginity taken away from me, I learned all kinds of sex tricks from those guys. Since I knew that all of the girls were fooling around as much as I was, I didn't see anything wrong with doing whatever was suggested to me. So before I was thirteen years old, I learned to fuck and suck in all kinds of wild arrangements, and I certainly enjoyed getting a whole bunch of stuff done to me.
Maybe you could say I was getting burnt out at an early age. You can call it whatever you want for all I care. But whatever the reason was, before six months or so went by, I was starting to get bored with doing all that same fucking over and over again. And I didn't mind telling those characters off, either.
That was when they decided that the school wasn't teaching me the proper manners. This guy Henri said he could be a much better teacher in that sort of thing than any of the ladies at the school could. He also said that I would like taking it much better from him than the ladies, and I soon would understand why.
I didn't know for sure what he was talking about, but I was naked and getting fucked while sitting on his lap, so it sounded like a pretty good suggestion at the time. After he shot into me, he gave he a hard smack on my ass, and I remember that it felt kind of good, because I was still feeling so warm and cozy all over my body.
And that was just the way my first lesson went. I remember that he wanted me to suck him off one night for a second time, and I started complaining that I was entitled to some kicks too.
Before I knew it, he had me over his knee and he was spanking the daylights out of me. But he only had to use one hand to do it. The other hand was used someplace else. That's right. He used it to finger me while he was spanking me.
He had a pretty good fingering technique, too. My hole, my clit and everything got a pretty thorough working over, while he was spanking me. And my little bottom kept getting warmer and warmer. Just like my cunt only for a different reason.
It's funny how you can stand for all kinds of things that you wouldn't ordinarily, when someone is getting your sex heat up at the same time. When it happened to me for the first time, I started to understand how deSade got so many women to stay with him. And men, too.
But I didn't find that out until later on.
All I knew from that time around was that I could have myself a pretty great come when the guy was punishing me while he was doing that fun stuff to my front. So even after I came and he started to yell at me, and take a few more whacks at my behind while he warned me that it would be even worse for me next time, if I didn't show him more respect, I just smiled, but I didn't say anything.
I could even see then that I was going to get my jollies, whichever way the wind blew. Probably because he was making me feel so good at the same time he was hitting me.
But I did start to notice it later on. I would have to have been deaf, dumb and blind not to. Because the pain kept getting worse each time, and the things he did to me kept getting more far-out, and I don't know if the other girls got treated as roughly.
Still, the other guys said they all believed in discipline, and the girls would sometimes be rubbing their bottoms on the trip back to the school. So I guessed they were at least getting spankings while I was getting the rest of the treatment.
I always thought of myself as being hornier than the rest of them, and they told me that they had given me the wildest of the men. So it's just possible that I got the wildest punishment to go along with it.
European men are strange, I think. They come on so gentle and refined in public, and then they turn into these crazy sadists as soon as the door is locked. But don't even accuse them of being crazy, because they'll only laugh in your face.
They don't see anything wrong or unusual about what they do. To them, it's perfectly normal to do their banking and be such perfect gentlemen in the daytime, and then to beat the daylights out of their teenage mistresses before they fuck them at night. To hear them tell it, it's been that way since before most of their ancient castles were built, and that's the way it should be for all time.
In my head, I know it's supposed to be just awful to allow yourself to be punished like that for what you might think is no good reason at all. And for sure, you're not supposed to enjoy it.
But you'd be surprised how many good reasons they have for punishing you. They could say that you have a fresh mouth, and what it needs is to be washed out with a good helping of sperm.
Or they can say that you're a smart-ass kid, and first you would get a good, long spanking on your sweet little bottom, and then you would wind up having his dick shoved in there when you were least expecting it. Nobody ever asked you for any excuses for the way you behaved either.
If one of those guys was in the mood to punish you, anything you said or tried to do would only make it worse for you. If you were afraid that the punishment might go a little too far this time, you knew enough to keep your big mouth shut, unless you wanted something big and hard stuffed into it.
One time, I decided that I was tired of this one guy, because he would rather fuck me up the ass any old time than do it in the regular way. I was getting good and tired of the same way every night that we were together, even if he did eat me first, or maybe spanked the back of my thighs while he licked out my asshole before he fucked me back there. So I decided to call it a night before we even got started. . But he wouldn't buy it, no matter how nice I said the words. This character felt that no snotty girl was going to reject him. He plain said he wouldn't hear of it, and that was the end of the discussion. I told him that just because I let him push me around until then, it didn't mean that he owned me and that I was not coming back any more. I never made it to the door.
That night he pulled a lot of stuff on me that I never even heard of before. I remember that he locked the door, and I knew that there wouldn't be time for me to open the lock before he would grab me again. Then maybe it would be even worse.
Not that I could imagine anything worse than what he did to me for just saying I wanted out. Don't ask me where all that stuff came from.
But it seemed like I saw all that cold gray metal flashing out from the sky. Suddenly he had four pairs of handcuffs, and he was dragging me to this big four poster bed of his.
I thought my arms and legs were going to be pulled right out of their sockets, because I just wasn't long enough to really reach with the way he had me stretched out and shackled to the bedposts. Then he brought out this riding crop and beat me with it until I started to cry, and promised that I would never talk about leaving him again.
But he wasn't sure that I really meant it, and he said I better have one more lesson just for insurance that I wouldn't even think about it. So just when I was tensing my body because I was expecting him to start whipping me again, I screamed and almost fainted. He had taken the hard end of the crop, and shoved it right up my ass as far as it would go.
That's the way he worked me over while he took care of business for himself with the other hand. I didn't say anything, which wasn't easy, considering all the pain I was in. I knew if I cried or screamed he would get even more kicks from it. And if I cursed him out, I wouldn't be able to sit for a week. So I bit down on my lips and tried to keep as quiet as I could until he was through with me.
The whole thing was really stupid, when you think about it. Because I really didn't have to say anything at all. I could have just gone back to school after the night was over, and never gone back to his place again, no matter how many messages from him, and how hard the other girls tried to talk me into it.
Don't ask me why I didn't think of that before I started making my farewell speech up in the bedroom. Somebody once accused me of asking for trouble because I got my kicks out of it. Now I'm beginning to think that may be true.
Because I already knew that when the other girls got tired of some guy or another, they just went back with the rest of us, and then sent a note or something like that saying that their studies would keep them away from town in the indefinite future.
I guess that's where they finally saw that I might be a little too young for what we were into after all. Because until that time, there never was any trouble. All the men knew about each other, but they didn't care as long as their manly dignity wasn't bruised, as my guy said when he gave the message to the girl leader of our little group.
Seems after I walked out the door, he said a few words to Melina, and from the way all the girls glared at me when we got back to the dorm, I could tell right away that he wasn't paying me any compliments back there. I was right. He warned them that if they didn't take care of me, and see to it that I didn't go around insulting perfect gentlemen, he was going to make more trouble than any of us knew what to do with.
You see, this guy was European nobility, and he owned about half the town where the school was situated. I wouldn't be surprised if he owned a good part of the school, too. So since none of the girls wanted to be shipped back to the states, and then have their parents find out what they were doing in their social lives, they decided to take it all out on me.
They picked the recreation room at eleven o'clock on a Saturday because the school was always deserted at that time. It was just going to be the girls and me, from the way I could tell. What I didn't know was that they had the janitor stashed away, just waiting to be called to do his little bit.
The girls could have really done quite a job without him, but they knew I never liked the guy because he was so greasy and he smelled so bad. So they figured it was the perfect way to pay me back for almost getting them all into a lot of hot water.
I would say they all talked it over beforehand, because each of the girls had her little job for taking care of me.
My wrists were tied together, and they hung me up from the chandelier. Melina was the one they chose to whip me. Then it was time to call out the janitor and he fucked me front and back before they finally untied my hands and let me drop to the floor.
But that wasn't too bad. I was so surprised that he could even get it up twice in a row, that fast, that it was almost a pleasure to find out that he was a man and not an old grease rag after all. Except that the way he did it to me, like I wasn't much more than a piece of liver did hurt my pride since I always thought he wasn't good enough to lick my shoes.
So I did feel a little bit bad, and the whipping didn't exactly make me feel good, on top of it, but it wasn't turning out as well as they wanted it to. I was supposed to be screaming or at least showing some tears, but all I did was wait quietly.
I was so sure that we were all much too close friends for them to do anything really bad to me. I guess I made them frustrated, and they had to think of something fast to save the day.
So I got tossed on the floor, and one of them sat on my legs. Some of the other girls sat on my face with their cunts over my mouth, and also jumped on my belly.
That's how they got me to do some kicking and screaming. In our school we were proud of the fact that we didn't fool around with each other, like they do at most of the other places but here I had a series of girls taking turns sitting on my face making me eat them out.
That was hitting below the belt. But there was this girl with the heel of her foot digging into my belly and I decided I better do as I was told. It wasn't too terrific, but it wasn't as bad as I expected it to be. The next one was even worse.
INTERVIEW TWO
The next girl wanted me to suck out her ass, and I never even did that for the men. For sure I was sick to my stomach by the time I was through with the girls. About three of them did come, and they did it in my mouth. I still wonder about those two.
But even that wasn't as bad as getting the janitor back and him taking a leak all over my face. They really got to me with that one, and I was so ashamed of everything that happened that I wanted to crawl into a hole somewhere and stay there for the rest of my life. I was willing to promise them anything.
So that's how they got me caught up in the whole messy business again. I could have stayed out of it by not being friends with any of them, and minding my own business until the school session was over, but that would have been so boring.
If I had to go back to the girls that were my own age, and listen to all their silly giggling, I was sure I would have died. And none of them made it with men, so that would mean I would have to give up sex entirely.
Didn't look like I had much of a choice at all, did it? I didn't think so either. Most of the time what we had together in town wasn't all that bad, and I have to admit to you that I did get my kicks out of being punished a little every now and then.
What I didn't know was how I would be feeling once we all got together again. I thought we could all be friends just like before, and it wouldn't be so bad, since they promised me that I could have a different man this time, and the other one wouldn't give me any trouble.
I didn't think that I would work up such a hate against the girls, and especially against the man that made all the trouble for me in he first place. But that was exactly what happened and was I ever surprised!
The girls said there was going to be an all weekend party and they had worked it out with the headmistress so we would be able to get away with it. I asked them if I was going to be punished some more once we got there, but they told me not to worry about a thing because now we were all good friends again, and I always knew I could have a lot of good fun for myself when we were all together.
I went along with the crowd, and pretty soon we were in the middle of a real orgy, which was something that was kind of new, at least for me.
Now we were all supposed to be getting together and sharing in the festivities. I really thought that everyone would be equal at a party, and that whatever happened to one would happen to all. I really did think that.
What a didn't think was that they had all elected me to be the mule for the night. Do you know what that means? It means whoever was supposed to get the worst of the games and the worst of the punishment was the mule. And that was me.
But when it first got started, one of the men asked me if I wanted a chance to get back at my former lover for what he did to me. Of course I said yes, and I was really looking forward to what devilish little schemes they might have cooked up for him.
You see, I didn't know that my guy got as much of a kick out of being punished as he did punishing someone else. Up until that night, I never saw that part of him.
But when he was told that the men were going to help me pay him back for the punishment that the girls gave me in school, he didn't even flinch. He just sat there very calmly, and let them drag him out of his chair.
Then they went to work on him. He was stripped and naked and brought down on his knees while his hands were tied behind his back. I was allowed the first choice of what I wanted done to him.
Since he always refused to eat me when I wanted it, and only did it after his own kicks were really wiped out, that was naturally what I picked. He never had a taste for girl's cunt when his prick was soft, so he made this horrible face like maybe he was going to be sick.
So I pushed my little pussy into his face, and they grabbed his head and rubbed it back and forth across my cunt.
Well, he started to eat me all right. But they went ahead and whipped him across the shoulders as he was doing it. That's when his prick started to get hard, and he really went to town on my pussy. I had a very lovely come while he was at it, and I noticed that he did, too.
Then I told the men that they could do whatever they wanted to him, because I was going to enjoy watching him getting a beating very much. They told me that they had something in mind that I might enjoy even more. And you know what?
They were perfectly right. The girls lined up in front of his face, and he had to eat every one of them. And the men made a line too. They lined up behind him, and every one of them fucked his ass before they finally let him go.
This was all done right in front of me so I would be sure to have a very good view. And I have to confess that I enjoyed myself so much that I completely forgot myself and started to frig my little cunt after the first one and kept on going until the last.
We all had a wonderful time at first, even the mule. That time around it was the lover that I didn't want any more. Even he had a good time.
But as soon as they untied his hands, he said that he still felt he could teach me a much better lesson than those girls could. But they didn't like being put down like that and they dared him to prove it in front of me.
Nobody asked me for my opinion. But then, they never did. Now it was my turn and I got the very same treatment as he did. Except that the girls each got two turns at me, one in a really weird way. They got to fuck me.
Do you know how girls can fuck other girls? Well, the men did, and they brought one of these special rubber dildoes out that could be strapped on. It was huge, much bigger than any of the men I ever had. I guess you could say that wound up being my reward for putting up with everything else that they did to me.
And the girls must have known it too, because they saved-that part for last. I could get kissed and hugged while they were fucking me with it, and I heard one of the girls whispering that it must feel awfully delicious judging from the way I was acting, and she wouldn't mind being the mule herself.
She didn't think anybody else heard her. But I did. And after getting fucked with that big thing five times in a row, I was feeling so wonderful that I chased her around the room, until I grabbed her. Then they gave me the thing and I fucked her with it.
You wouldn't believe the moans and groans when I fucked her with it. I only did it to get even, not because I had any real kick from it. But it wound up that I did just the same. That was because I started to understand what a man must feel like when he's up there and being so powerful.
To me it was a special treat because it happened after they had all dominated me like that. Changing roles like that gives you a real appreciation of the guy on the other side of the fence.
About five o'clock in he morning, we girls were in the kitchen getting breakfast together, and we got to talking on the really serious side. Some of them thought that spoiled rich girls like us could really get some benefit from spending time with these guys.
That wasn't the way I put it. They put it that way. They were saying that we could wind up being snotty arrogant women just like our mothers and miss out on so much of life, because we thought that we were so much better than everybody else. Especially since we were all gifted students and everybody in school was always drumming our superiority into our heads.
And they weren't putting me on, either. They sincerely felt that it would do us all a lot of good to be taught how to obey instead of giving orders all the time. One of them told me that was why she got involved with this sort of man in the first place. She really felt that an occasional spanking and a bit of a beating when she got her nose up in the air a little too high would get her back to where it belonged. It did wind up that they sold me on it.
But she wasn't fooling me all the way. I know that she meant every word she was saying about us being arrogant and all that, but she just happened to be one of those types who loved being kicked around and sexually abused.
Not me. I agreed to some of it, because at the time I really could see that I was turning from a snotty kid into an arrogant woman, and that was exactly the way my mother was. I never cared much for her which is why I wound up at the school.
It was the only way I could get away from her strong influence and try to be my own person. But then I found out that I was winding up being just like her, and I knew I would have to do something about it while I was still young.
I was just thinking about that all over again, and the party came up, and then the girls started talking about it. Maybe that was why I picked up on it so easily. I couldn't come up with any solution for myself, so I grabbed at it.
Or should I say that it grabbed at me. It was this girl that I was just telling you about who really got me into the thing in a heavy sort of way. By watching her at the party, you could just tell that she loved every minute of being used for a sex slave.
One time, this guy was standing over her, and he lightly ground his heel into her face. She looked like she couldn't be happier when it was happening, but when he took his foot away, her nose was so swollen that we thought it was broken.
Later on, she said that it happened while the bunch of us was playing volleyball in the school gym. But I think she enjoyed the way she really got it much more.
I watched her whenever I had the chance, because to tell the truth I was really fascinated with her. One of the men tried being very nice to her, and hugged her so sweetly, that I wished somebody would do it to me.
He had a huge hard-on, and he laid her down on the floor, and got between her legs to fuck her. She let him do whatever he wanted, but I could tell that she wasn't getting much out of it for herself.
The man knew just what her problem was, and he dragged her away from the first one as soon as he was through. He had a birch rod in his hand. It was the old fashioned kind that I saw in some of the lithographs that hang in the school library.
That's what he used to give her what she needed to really get her going. From everywhere in the room, we could see the red lines coming out all over the back of her body, and you could hear her moan with such pleasure, at receiving every one of them.
There was no way we could explain those marks as coming from any kind of game, that wouldn't put us all in jail. So we just had to all stand around her and hide her body whenever she was in the shower, or changing her clothes. She wasn't ashamed of a single one of those stripes, but none of us was looking for any trouble.
But when that man got around to fucking her after giving her the whipping of her life, you should have seen how crazy she went with him. Later she told me that she must have come three or four times, while he was doing it to her. Then, when he was through with her, she got down on her knees and actually kissed every one of his bare toes.
I thought that looked so terrific, that I wanted to try it for myself. So I got down on my knees, and I crawled all around the room like that, kissing and licking everybody's toes. They all got a big charge out of it, but I didn't like it very much at all. Some of them tasted funny, and some of them smelled bad.
I got away from the party without too many bruises, and I have to admit that I had myself a good time. So don't ask me why I started thinking the whole thing over again when we got back to school. But I did, and that's when I got sick to my stomach.
Even being like my mother had to be better than turning into a freak like that girl. Everybody should be so proud of themselves that they won't let a man or anybody else walk all over them. But if it turns them on every once in awhile to play the game of being slaves, then maybe it's not too bad, as long as both of them remember that it's only supposed to be a game.
So once I started thinking it all over, and I got the ideas that I just told you about, I began to get very confused. There are times when I still feel the need to be walked on like that, and I don't like myself very much for wanting it.
Isn't there some way that I can keep from turning into a snotty woman, without getting to be like that other girl?
CONCLUSION
Actually, this young lady was answering her own question, because she was showing grave doubts about being in the masochistic position. She had been indoctrinated through the auspices of the other girls, and had gone along with it because it seemed so exciting, especially when it was part of the sexual adventure for her.
But she really was still maturing, and the adult portion of her questioned whether she really needed to have her self-respect beaten down to the ground before she could become a natural and gracious woman.
The young lady did very well in therapy.
CASE HISTORY EIGHT
Subject: Jamie W. Age: Seventeen
INTERVIEW ONE
Jamie was a self-conceived masochist and been every since he reached puberty. While he could not come up with a reason for being so disposed at the outset, this became apparent as the interviews continued. He was quite an easy patient to deal with.
Just to look at him, one would think that the good-looking well-built young man was anything but a masochist. He was obviously a good athlete, took excellent care of his physique and health. Also, he sat in a very masculine manner, and had none of the typical characteristics that would be expected in a masochistic male.
Ever since I was a very little boy, I had two different ideas running around in my head at the same time. They just didn't fit together. I wanted to be a real man, the kind of man that my father wanted me to grow up to be. And the other part of me wanted to be soft and gentle, like my mother and my sister were.
I don't mean that I wanted to be gay. Just the thought of making it with another guy turned my stomach then, and it does even more now. But I just couldn't see how I could be tough and hard twenty-four hours a day for the rest of my life.
The real trouble was that I loved my father very much. I wanted to be the way he wanted me to grow up. It wasn't out of fear or anything like that. My father never beat me and he never threatened me with any kind of punishment if I didn't do things his way. My lifting weights and going out for all the sports was because I wanted to please him, not because I had to.
It wasn't the sports that I minded all that much, either. I've always dug on a lot of physical activity. It was the guys and all that locker room talk that really got to me. Especially the way they talked about girls.
They talked about all those sweet, pretty things like some guys talk about a bank hold-up or stealing a car. Stuff like how they knocked her over, or how they turned over a great piece of action.
And when the older ones gave out advice on how to handle those girls, that's when you really could run to the John and puke. You were supposed to be real rough on them, treat them like shit, and they would love you to pieces for it.
I just could never understand that.
I could never see treating a woman like anything but a queen. But I listened to so much of that, that by the time I was old enough to get my feet wet and go with a girl on my own, I didn't know any other way to try it but their way.
So I treated her rough, and I got my lay out of her. But when I was finished she just lay there and cried her pretty little eyes out. I felt so bad that I told her she could get even with me if she wanted to. You see, I had smacked her around a little before she got into the bed with me.
I told her she could smack me or anything else that would make her feel better. But what she wanted was to spank me on my bare behind like she had seen her mother do to her little brother when he was bad. I guess she must have gotten some kind of a kick out of it, or it wouldn't have come to her mind.
We were both naked, and I could still feel how silky and smooth her thighs were against my prick and my belly as I lay down over her lap and gave her my ass to be worked on. She was very gentle in the beginning and I could tell that she never did it to anyone else before. But I wanted her to get it out of her system. And I also wanted it for another reason.
I knew by then that I really needed that spanking. I was feeling so bad about roughing her up like that. I knew I couldn't walk out of that house until she did something to me that would wipe away the awful guilt.
So when she started to spank me, she did it so lightly that I had to ask her to do it harder so that we would be even. She didn't understand what I was saying at first. But she did understand that I was asking her to hit me harder, and she didn't mind going along with it. First she was spanking me harder for my sake, but once she really got into it, I could tell that she was grooving on it and hitting me harder for her own sake now.
It was really weird and very exciting the way my prick got hard all over again,. And every time she hit me, I could feel my balls filling way up to the brim, even fuller than they were when I was fucking her. It was really incredible.
That was the first fuck I ever had, and I really liked what it felt like to be inside her warm, wet hole. But to me that was nothing compared to the way I felt when my prick and balls were rubbing against her lap every time she spanked me on my rear end.
I shot my load just in time, because she told me that the palm of her hand was actually stinging from hitting me so hard. You would think that my balls would have been reading empty after just fucking her a few minutes before that, and especially since it was the first fuck of my life.
But I must have pumped gallons because it was leaking down between her legs and all over the floor when we finally got up. She just stared down at it, and then she looked at me. She didn't feel sick or anything like that. She was a very sweet girl.
It was just that neither one of us really understood what happened. I never heard of a guy getting off by being spanked, and I could tell that she had a million questions she wanted to ask me. But I didn't give her a chance to ask even one.
I just explained that I really didn't understand it myself and would she mind keeping it a secret just between the two of us. She didn't mind at all, and she even invited me back sometime so we could experiment a little more.
That's when she admitted to me that she felt a thrill spanking a good-looking guy like me. She said it was like doing her bit for women's lib. I told her it was okay, and I understood. Then she went a little further and told me that she had an orgasm while she was hitting me. That made me feel a lot better because I knew she wouldn't think of me as being weird if she got something like that out of it for herself. But I never did go back.
You see, I knew she was really too straight for that sort of thing no matter what she was saying. And it turned out that I was right. Two days later when I saw her in the street, she walked right by me like we never met.
Now that made me feel even worse than the night I was with her and played it so rough. But I could never forget how great it had felt to be getting a spanking from a girl, and how it had taught me to respect her. I made up my mind while I was waiting for the traffic light to change that I would never want a girl to avoid me like that again.
I wanted every female to know how much I respected them, and I thought that showing them a powerful dude like myself was willing to be humble and let them have their way would be the perfect sign of my respect. That's how I got started in this thing.
You can talk about most kinds of sex kicks and know that the guys will respect you. That's why they're willing to compare notes, and do stuff like giving pointers and even swapping phone numbers now and then. But how could I tell them that I was looking for a strong-willed girl, maybe one that they were a little too rough with, who would love a guy that they could take out all their frustrations on?
If they didn't think that I had lost all my marbles, they would have thought I was some kind of emotional weakling for sure. And I couldn't take either one of those opinions from those guys. I liked them all, and I needed them to be my buddies. Besides, something told me that it would be kind of dangerous for my reputation if I stuck to girls from my own neighborhood.
Something told me it wouldn't be long before I hit the wrong one and she thought my sex tastes were so ridiculous that she either laughed right in my face or ran around town telling the whole world about it. I knew how ashamed my parents would be of me if they ever found out, and I wouldn't have been able to stand it.
And knowing that my father would think so little of me only made me feel even worse about needing that kind of punishment. I guess you could say it was kind of a vicious cycle, because the worse I felt about needing it, the more I seemed to need it. But it was a couple of months before I got up the nerve to look for some other girl to understand my problem and help me out with it.
There was this one night when I knew that all the guys were out on dates, and I was probably the only one sitting home alone. I decided to take the bus downtown and see if I could find some action for myself. I knew a certain street where there were a lot of hookers hanging around I figured they weren't likely to dig up my friends and tell them what I was up to.
If any woman in town might be likely to take care of my special kind of needs, I figured this kind would be it. At the time I didn't know that most hookers will do just about anything to give a guy a sex thrill as long as he's got the right price for it. I thought I would have to try and hit it lucky with one woman who specialized in a way of speaking. I didn't know how easy it could be.
The first one I walked up to looked me up and down for a couple of seconds. Then she spoke very plainly and asked me if I wasn't into S & M. I stood there with my mouth hanging open.
She said she guessed that I was but she just thought she would ask before she took me upstairs since time was the customer's money and she didn't believe in wasting any of it. As we were going up the stairs in these sleazy hotel, I figured I better tell her that I wasn't into anything too heavy, which was the truth at the time, since I was sure that just about anything could happen to me once I was locked into that room with her.
How did I know she didn't have some pimp upstairs who helped her out with customers like myself? I might have been beaten to a pulp before they let me out of there. Okay, that's not the only thing I was afraid of. I was getting to know myself too well.
What I mean by that is if she went at me a little too heavy, I was just hung up enough on this punishment thing to let her go as far as she wanted once we were both naked and she had me good and hard. I just wasn't ready for that and I knew that I better set the limits before we got started because I wouldn't be able to stop her once we did.
I wound up with being naked in her bed while she stripped down to just a black lace garter belt and these incredibly high heeled shoes. The tips were very pointy and I can swear that I felt them digging into the cheeks of my ass a couple of times while she was beating me with this soft leather belt.
But I can't be sure since I kind of went stoned crazy once she started hitting me. You gotta believe this man. Once you let yourself get into it, it's like being in another world. And stuff that would sound really awful when you're just thinking about it or listening to some other guy talk about it is really dynamite when you're all hot and bothered while it's being done to you.
I remember moaning to her how hard my prick was, and she ordered me not to dare shoot until she gave me the command to. It was amazing that once she said those words I was able to hold back until she gave me permission. I think that's when I felt the shoe against my ass. She said to shoot, and I did.
While it was happening I felt this steady rhythm of sharp little pains, like someone was jabbing a needle into my ass. I always used to hate getting shots from the doctor. But it was really strange how good that felt while J was having my orgasm.
Before I went home that night, I went to this special bookstore that's on the same cruising street, and I bought a whole bunch of books on the subject. Some of them were just jerk-off books with make believe stories about characters who dug the same kind of stuff that I did. But I also got some that doctors were supposed to have written about why a guy can dig it.
In one of them it told how hookers can pick out the right kind of customers and train them into liking more pain than they were used to. They could get them going so far that they would be willing to pay hookers all kinds of money just to be beaten or tortured.
It sounded so unbelievable on a printed page. But when they got to the part about how the patients swore their jollies were really dynamite when it was happening, I could picture myself in her bed, and I knew it was her shoe that I was feeling.
And they were so right. The come you had at a time like that really was dynamite. I read that book from cover to cover, and when I got to the end, I found this special section with sort of classified advertisement in it.
Everybody had a post office box number and they also had code names or no names at all. Some of them were single men or women, and a lot of them were from couples. They listed all kinds of sexual things that they liked and promised photographs if you wrote them a letter and told them about yourself.
INTERVIEW TWO
At first I was really afraid to try it because I thought there might be some kind of a gimmick behind it all. I could wind up getting pinched by the law, or maybe people would track me down and two weeks later my body would be found in the back of a dark alley.
So I called the phone number that was listed on this special newspaper that I also bought with the same kind of ads. And they said that they checked out every one of them before they were published, so they were guaranteed to be genuine.
That made me feel a lot better and I decided to give it a try. And I began to feel even better when I started getting the answers. Just to be on the safe side, I had rented a post office box too. And since I had it, I took a gamble and wrote to every name that sounded like they were talking about what I was looking for.
I got an answer to every one of them, and most of the envelopes had some very interesting pictures included. Even before I got involved with any of those people I found out that this need for punishment is not only the case with guys.
Some of the pictures showed women of all ages. Most of the time they weren't wearing anything at all. They would be spread out on something, and sometimes either their hands or feet would be tied. One of them even had a gag in her mouth. I guess that was put there so she would be able to scream.
I could see why the guy would want to do that, because the stick he was holding over her ass, if he really did use it on her, would even make me scream. When I first looked at that picture I kept going back and forth in my mind. I couldn't decide which end of that stick I would rather be on.
There have been times when I wanted to show that I had as much power as my body looked like it had. And when I roughed up that girl, I could see how the other guys really felt big and important to have this weak, frail thing at their mercy. When I have that image of myself, I know that's the way my father wants me to be, and I'm kind of proud when I'm feeling that way.
But there are more of the times when I feel that I don't have the right to be so powerful, and certainly not to take it out on a girl. And I feel that the other guys don't have that right either. That's when I feel this need to be punished. Not just for myself, but for all the guys that ever feel the urge to be so strong against a woman. We just don't have the right to take advantage of them like that. Even if I'm the only one, and it wasn't looking that way from all the mail I got, then I wanted some man to make up for all the hurt they've suffered.
And it does me good to suffer too I mean that. It really does make me feel better for a week or more after it happens, and I seem to be happier about everything that goes on in my life during that time.
I answered a couple of the letters that were near enough to where I lived to go there and back without coming home so late that my parents would wonder what happened to me. The first few weren't anything special to talk about.
There was the usual spanking either from one of them or the man and the woman. Afterwards I would get to fuck the woman, or maybe she would want me to eat her. I didn't know what that was the first time, but they taught me, and then I didn't mind it at all. In fact, I liked it quite a lot when the one man was hitting me across the back with this belt, and I was down on my knees and eating his wife.
But a few after that started getting a little heavy and that was when I started really thinking about what I was getting myself into. There's really no way of telling how bad it's going to be until you get there, no matter how much they're willing to tell you in the letter.
You get a rough idea of which side of the fence they're on, and whether it's one or both of them that are into it. But the one couple that I want to visit, even though I knew beforehand that the guy was into it too, took me by surprise.
I didn't mind that he wanted to take a share of the punishment part of it. And I didn't mind that he was right there in the room with us when I started to fuck his wife. But while I was on top of her, he came along and climbed up on the bed with us.
This guy must have had perfect timing, because I remember that my ass was up in the air before I went back down into her again. And when I did get down it was with his prick in my ass, and he was the one pushing both of us down.
It hurt like hell, but he did it in such a way that I wouldn't try to fight him off. I could feel his hands tracing the lines of the marks his belt left on my back, like he was reminding me that he was really the boss in that room. And even though I hated the idea of a guy doing something like that to me, I could see the sneer on the woman's face because she was happy at the way her husband took me by surprise.
So it made everything all right. What could be worse for a guy, make him feel any lower than to have another man fucking his ass?
Later on, when he knew that his wife was getting ready to come, I guess he could tell that I was pretty close myself.
He had the belt in his hand again, and he started to whack me with it in the very same spots that he used before. The pain was just awful. But it made my prick swell up even more inside of her, and she was sure getting a jolt out of that.
A few of the whacks happened to land on her body, and she didn't seem to mind at all. She was moaning like crazy, and I'm sure she came more than once before I finally climbed off of her. All I know is that I had the come of my life, feeling what was happening to the woman, and having this guy beat up my back with that belt even worse than before while my balls tightened and I shot my load into his woman.
Then only maybe a second or so after I did, maybe even while I was shooting the last of it, I felt his come shooting into my ass, and I think that was the lowest I ever felt, and also the best, if you can understand what I mean by that.
It was a really dynamite trip with those two, but I never went back there again. They said I could if I wanted to sometime. But I never feel like being had by any couple more than one time. I wonder why?
I think I just don't want to get too close to those people. Now I know that sounds kind of funny when you think about what we already have been through together. But I think that as long as I can walk away from it in pretty much one piece, needing that kind of stuff is not going to get me down so much that I can't live with myself anymore. Does that sound confusing?
Here I am telling you that I actually go out looking for what happens to me. It's not that I'm an innocent victim or anything like that. And I can still say that there are times when I hate myself for needing to go through stuff like that.
That's when I start to think about how my parents would feel, especially my father if he knew that I actually dug on people beating me up. And if he ever knew that another guy fucked me once or twice, I think that he would have a heart attack and die.
I know that would happen, because that's the way I feel sometimes when I look at myself in a mirror after I get home from a really heavy session and I could see all the bruises and the red marks where they worked me over. If my ass was sore, or my jaws hurt from eating the woman and then sucking the guy, I would feel really low and dirty, and that's when I would hate myself the most.
I struggle with what I feel. I really try to fight it, but I'll bet that doesn't show from the way I've been talking. It just doesn't seem to work for me. Because the more thought I put into what's happening to my life, since that's the only way I know to even try fighting it, the more I start to hate myself for what's been happening.
Nobody's been putting a gun to my head and forcing me to go looking for all those people. But the little bit of time after those sessions is just about the only time in my life these days when I feel like a really decent person.
So that's only half bad if I could at least be in control of it. I can't seem to keep what's happening down to any kind of level that I can live with. That's where the real trouble is. Do you know what happened to me the last night just before I came here to see if I could get some help?
A couple invited me to a party, and I didn't think twice about going. I guessed that there might be a few people like myself there, since that couple advertised in the paper where I met most of my partners. But I didn't think I would be the only one that everybody dumped on. That's what happened.
They all beat up on me. It seemed like everyone was given something to hit me with, like mothers give out party favors to kids at children's parties. I was really dead tired when I left that party because I wound up having some kind of sex with everybody in the place.
It was all so wild that I don't even remember where the beating left off and the fucking began. But I'm pretty sure that it was all mixed up together. Most of the people in those groups are a lot older than I am, and they seem to be pretty experienced A lot of them don't mind telling you that they change places every now and then, just for the kick of it. But so far I've never really beaten anybody unless you count the time when I roughed up the girl.
I don't mean to sound like I don't have any of that anger, or violence if that's what you call it, in me. It's just that I can take it out on the football field, or wrestling, and then I don't have any of it left in me.
And it's not the same thing anyhow. No matter how rough you may think contact sports are, you just can't imagine what the real violence feels like when a guy that's hung like a horse beats up on you with a stick or a belt, and then shoves his prick up your ass without even letting you know about it beforehand.
If you think that isn't bad, then what about having a whole bunch of people beat up on you and then you have to eat out a couple of women while some of the guys are whipping you and the others are fucking you or want you to beat their meat. And it's all going on at the same time, so fast that it can make you dizzy.
You come home at night, and you see the bruises, maybe some blood and it makes you feel really sick to your stomach. You ask yourself how you could let people do that to you. And just when you think you can't come up with any answer that doesn't mean you've lost your mind, or remember the great high you got on it all, and the incredible orgasms at the end of it.
That's what makes you really go looking for more. I know I've said a lot about feeling guilty and needing to be punished. But I don't think I'd keep going back for more, especially when some of them can get almost too rough to handle, if it weren't for the great sex kick that goes along with the feeling of paying your dues and then having the slate wiped clean for you.
So it sounds like I want to keep right on going the way I have been until I'm an adult like the rest of them and can maybe find a woman who will share my sex tastes. That's the speech they make to me whenever I mention to one of them that I'm thinking of getting out of their kind of life.
But I don't like it. I really want out. And that's the way I've been thinking ever since I met this woman at one of those parties. I should really call her a girl because she was a lot younger than the others I've seen. But she was older than me. Old enough to be married and have a little baby waiting at home for her.
She told me the story of how she got started, and how sick she's been of the whole thing ever since. But she doesn't know how to stop herself. She answered one of those ads just like I did.
But it was different for her, being that she was a girl and even less able to protect herself than I could. If I really wanted to get myself out of a situation, I'm sure I could have fought my way out of it.
She couldn't and the couple who invited her over to their place knew it. They tied her up as soon as she got there, and they kept her that way all weekend. From what she was telling me they did worse to her in that one night that I had ever since I got into this thing.
Not only was she whipped, but they burnt her with matches on the soles of her feet, and stuck pins into her breasts. I felt like my hair was standing on end just to be listening to this stuff. But then she told me how they made her eat the woman, and then the man, and I could see from the look on her face while she was talking that she must have gotten herself off in spite of what they had done to her before. That was one story that I haven't been able to forget.
It's just that it's not easy to give something up once you've learned how to make it a part of your life, and you do get a lot of pleasure from it. It would be so much easier to give up all bad habits, I think, if you didn't enjoy them in any way.
I guess this is like trying to give up smoking, only a thousand times worse. You know how much damage it can do to you. But the taste is just so good!
Except that I really do want to give it up in the worst way, and I know that I won't be able to do it on my own because of the pleasure part of it. That's why I've come to see you. If you can just help me separate the good from the bad, I know that I can make it.
There's one more incident that I didn't tell you about yet. I really didn't think I'd ever have the courage to tell this to you. I never even thought that I'd have the courage to face the whole sordid affair again myself.
Shit, it took real balls to carry it off. But I know that I wasn't thinking too clearly at the time anyway. Sometimes these things come over me, you know. Lately they've been happening a lot. Mostly, they occur right after I've had some humiliation from a woman and then go back home and find my father there. The tensions inside of me become fierce, and then I have these, well, the only word I can use is "spells".
Anyway, this particular day, it was the worst. The woman I had just been with took more than just her hand to my ass-she used a paddle, and then a whip.
She was really getting off on the whole thing when she turned me over. I became frightened that she was going to start in on my cock, so I split.
I just took off. I don't even remember getting dressed or anything. Suddenly I was walking up the steps to my house and I saw my father's car come down the street. He was the last person I wanted to see then. So I high-tailed it out of there and just kept moving.
The very next thing I remember was standing in . front of this playground. It was just loaded with little screaming kids and their disinterested mothers. But, over in one corner was a slightly older kid, a girl. She was about 11 or 12 years-old and just starting to develop. She wasn't wearing a bra and her little tits were standing up nice and firm. And, oh yeah, she had on these tight jeans. But she seemed very unconscious of the image she was presenting.
When I got to talking to Janet, that was her name, I realized that she had no idea that she was coming off sexy. It's just that her body was changing, and her old clothes were just fitting her differently now. And she seemed very embarrassed by it all. Anyway, I got to talking to her. Just bullshitting away the time, but knew that I had other things cooking in my head. You see, I was still under the influence of that past sex experience and I was feeling real nervous and jittery. I just couldn't help talking to her, though.
Janet didn't seem to notice and she seemed very happy to sit there with me. We talked about everything and nothing. Part of me was happy and calm and the other part was all strung out.
I'm sure that it's these periods of lapse that I go through that brought me here. It's not exactly lapse, as I can remember a lot of it. But I'm certainly not able to help my actions and a demon-like thing takes me over.
That may all sound silly to you, but after you hear the rest of this story, if I can get the nerve to relate it all, you'll understand why it has me so bothered.
So, Janet and I were just talking and she began to look really good to me. So cute and child-like and yet so very womanly. That tight T-shirt really hugged her tits and her little cherry nipples were erect. Her face was very pretty also. Shit, I'd have liked her for a younger sister, and every time I think about that aspect of it I just want to cry!
We sat there talking for awhile and my arm was slowly slipping around her shoulders. It was all very natural and then as she was talking she would occasionally touch my leg, for emphasis you know.
Well, in my "crazed" state I thought that she was coming on to me. By now I really had no control over myself. I have no idea what kept me from throwing her on the ground right then and there in front of all those kiddies and mommies. But then she said she had to get home to feed her cat or something, as her parents were away for a few hours and to me that sounded just like a sign from the heavens.
"Look, Janet," I said, "why don't I just walk with you and then we can continue our chat. You really are fun to be with."
"Are you sure you want to? I mean, I'm just a kid and you're practically al! grown up. Are you sure you want to spend time with me?"
"Of course. I enjoy you very much. You really are quite grown-up, you know."
I can get sick just thinking about this come-on I was giving her. But at the time I thought that she was flirting with me and this little "miss coy" act she was putting on was pissing me off. Like I said, I have no idea what held my rage in at this point, unless it was some part of the real me that was still around and not letting that other part take over completely.
Not yet, anyway.
So, we walked back to her house. I don't remember the walk, but somehow we got there and we were standing in her kitchen. She was standing there preparing the cat's meal and then she bent over to place it on the floor and zap! From that moment on I was no longer myself. Thank God, for that, but not for what he turned me into..
Her cute little ass was just staring me in the face now. It was plump and round and screaming to be let out of those jeans. I couldn't resist. I walked right over to it and gave it the hardest, loudest smack I had ever heard, and certainly the most forceful that I had ever administered.
Poor Janet! She turned around, expressionless. How could a person even register the shock that she must have felt? As quickly as I had hit her, that's how quickly she began to cry. Big tears rolling down her cheeks and that hurt expression that was now on her face. All of this triggered off a reaction within me. I reached out for her. She must have thought that I was kidding with that hit and was going to brush away her tears, but that wasn't it, not at all!
My hand didn't go for her cheek, but rather for her hair. I grabbed a handful of it and yanked, forcing her down to her knees in front of me.
Well, if that's not the obvious set-up for a blow-job, nothing is. Poor kid, she was terrified. She had probably never even seen a cock before, much less tasted one. She looked up at me with those big eyes, did I tell you they were clear blue and huge, and she opened her mouth to say something but I cut that short.
"Bitch! You come on to me like in the park and now you think you can act innocent. Forget it, sister. We're going to finish off you're little game. And we are going to play it by rules. And my rules only!" I was yelling like a madman, which I now know I was. Never had I carried on like that. My sex, and particularly my S & M was very non-verbal. The harsh sound of my voice was jarring, but it only increased my mood.
Here I was, the dominant partner, barking out orders, and about to rape a child. Force her to suck me off! There was nothing I could do to stop myself either. I began to call her all sorts of names. All the time that I was doing that I was shaking her shoulders and making her head bob up and down. The tears were pouring from her eyes now. The more I shook her the more frightened she became. The more frightened she became, the more enraged I became and the more I shook her.
I thought her teeth would come spilling out of her mouth. And of course, I would have loved something like that to happen.
Her little tits were bouncing up and down, so I drew her very close to me. Now they were rubbing against my cock. Oh, I started to get an erection when Janet first bent over. Now, what with all the activity and violence it was raging. The action of her young breasts against it was the final straw. I pulled open my fly and out it came. Big, strong, quivering with its own needs and lust.
I then ripped off her blouse, literally tore it to shreds and rubbed her naked chest against my dick. I knew that I was going to shoot off soon, and this was not a load that I wanted to waste in the air.
So, I grabbed her chin and her nose and forced her mouth open. Then I just jerked my hips forward and in I went. I swore to her that if she didn't do a good job, that if even so much as one tooth grazed my skin, I would kill her. She believed that alright, and you know, the scary and saddest part is that at that time I know that I believed it too.
One thing I have to say, the kid was good. I know that that sounds awful of me to say, but that is a factor that probably saved her life and one reason that I'm here talking to you, and telling it to some judge and jury.
I shot my load right down her throat and she took it. Poor kid, probably was too scared not to. I mean, she most likely had no idea whatsoever of what she was doing anyway. The terror that had taken over her was as violent as the terrorizer that had taken over me. We made the perfect pair--outraged inflicter and mortified victim.
Anyway, after I came I pushed her off of me, very roughly. She slid back on the floor a bit. I think her head hit up against the refrigerator, but I'm not sure. I know that she did not cry, though. I really put the fear of death into that poor little girl.
She was laying there, breathing heavy, her chest rising and falling rapidly. And I was all lust and power. I dove for her, head first and hit the bulls eye-her tits. My mouth capture one and I began to suck, viciously and hard. Poor Janet, her first sexual experience and she was getting it all twisted and perverted.
You know, that's what happened to me and made me the way that I am now. Oh, God, please don't let that happen to her. If I made her into the kind of person I now am, I'd rather just die right now!
Maybe those thoughts hit me at that point also, because the next thing I knew I was walking out her backdoor, and of course threatening her very life if she so much as breathed a word of this to anyone.
Christ, here I am getting it off my chest and she's forced to keep it bottled up. I'm going to give you her name and then some money to pay for her treatment. You've got to help Janet, too. I'm afraid it's the only way that I could ever be cured!
CONCLUSION
Here was a young man who knew that what he was doing was very wrong for him from the beginning, and yet he could not stop himself from getting into it. Nor could he prevent subsequent traumas from affecting his well-being.
This was due to his confused emotions about what kind of a man he should be.
He felt that the manly image his father had for him could not be happily lived by himself.
And yet, he was not satisfied with the image of himself that his own mind had formed, either.
Everywhere he turned, what he saw of masculinity did not appeal to him as his own goals, and soon he felt as if he were just not capable of being a man at all. The reader can see through his analysis how he compiled one guilt feeling on another until there was such a great need to purge his consciousness of its burden.
But he soon found that he could accomplish this in a much more constructive manner by baring his soul to his therapist.
GENERAL CONCLUSION
While it may seem to the reader that such individuals can only have been created in the imagination of a very sick author, this reader should be made to realize that such patients number among the least ill of this type, and not the worst.
We say this because a patient cannot be all that ill when he realizes that something is wrong with him, and he seeks help because of that realization. Their cases sound like horror plots from the goriest movies, and yet there must be situations far more bizarre that are never heard of.
Such individuals, the type that will maim and even murder for a thrill must number among the emotionally sickest on this earth because they harm not only themselves, but other individuals who are much too weak emotionally to know where the dangers lie.
The dangers to the physical body itself should be obvious to all, but what may go unthought of by the casual observer are the serious emotional dangers. Even the person who thinks they will try it once, either on the sadistic or the masochistic side of the fence is just as apt to become addicted to violence as the one-time user of drugs to his thrill.
